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thesedangeroustemptations · 3 years ago

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Baki boy’s handling a S/O who randomly flinches at being unexpectedly touched due to their past

Hi guys! I haven’t written in a while and I haven’t gotten any requests, so I thought I’d write about something that I struggle with and that other people might as well! So, Trigger Warning is in effect for down below, if you think it might bother you, feel free to keep scrolling and I’ll see you around for the next one, have a great day <3

TW: Prior abusive relationships, dementia, anxiety, PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) and family issues

Baki Hanma:

The first time Baki notices it, the two of them are at school and he snuck up behind them to surprise them as they didn’t have classes together until after lunch, his hands resting on their hips and the moment he did this, they about jumped out of their skin.

He instinctively believes that something is wrong, and despite his brain telling him to bring it up in conversation, he didn’t want to possibly upset them. Simply rationalizing it as he snuck up on them, of course they’d be spooked. Anyone would be... right?

Wrong. This behavior continued at the most random of times; they’d be having a good time and then he’d move his arm too fast, the next moment they were flinching away from him with a frightened expression that they were consciously trying to control.

This was no longer something that Baki could ignore, and chose to approach the conversation as gently and casually as he could to not upset them too much, but it seemed by the tears welling in their eyes that this was a sensitive topic.

They explain about their relationship with their parents, how when they were living with them, they were physically abusive when it came to getting their way or discipline. Anything could be used as an excuse to hit them, not taking out the trash on time? Slap. Not doing the dishes and laundry before their parents got home? Smack. Seemed to be having an attitude when answering a question? Slap. Anything ranging to them ‘breathing with attitude’. So, when they were old enough and had enough money, they moved out and cut off contact.

Upon hearing this, Baki could hardly think straight, and it took everything in him to keep himself from finding them himself to give them a piece of what they put his beloved through, but he couldn’t do that.

He knew that the place he was most needed was right there, so he’d wrap his arms around their shakily breaking frame and hold them close to his chest, one hand rubbing their back while the other smoothed back their hair, gentle kisses peppering their forehead as he rocked the two of them.

He would never allow anything to harm them again, and if he ever got the chance to meet their parents... it’s game on. “I know it’s something that you can’t help, but try to remember as best you can that I’d die before I laid a hand on you in anger or allowed anyone else to ever again.”

Jack Hanma:

This man is nowhere near as patient as his brother, so the first moment he notices something is off with his partner and quick, unexpected movements, he confronts them and he wants his answers then, not the second time he asks, something he makes very clear. Jack doesn’t like repeating himself or vague answers.

However, what he wasn’t expecting was for them to tell him to mind his own business and stalk away as if he had done something wrong. This doesn’t sit well with the blonde giant, they’re normally very open and honest about nearly anything and everything with him, so this personality flip only deepened his concern.

Letting the pot simmer for a few hours while he worked to collect his thoughts on the matter, he would later find them in their shared room, an apologetic look etched into his expression which was a rarity held only for the likes of his S/O.

“I’m sorry... can you please just tell me what it is that’s upsetting you already?” He would murmur from the door, waiting like a puppy to be called over to the bed and as soon as he is, he clears the room in two strides, taking a seat beside them and wrapping his protective arms around them.

Jack doesn’t have much tact when it comes to this, but his heart is in the right place and his S/O can see that he means well, so despite his blunt approach, so the moment his arms wrapped around them, they relent and finally open up to him about their past relationships with their older siblings and how they would frequently be used as the punching bag, figuratively and literally.

Just as his anger was beginning to boil over, and he was ready to sit them down with a movie while he went out to have a ‘conversation’ with them all, they hit him with something that he hadn’t been expecting,

“You know, if it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have wanted to start training, and then maybe I wouldn’t have met you. So, I guess I owe them a thank you for giving me you.” They spoke with such sincerity, how could he argue back at that? Their hands gently cupping his cheeks as they smiled slightly at him, hoping to get one back.

It was with that, he felt every ounce of anger leave his body and all he could feel was love for the person he was holding. They had a point, there was no guarantee that they would have met outside of their shared love for the gym, so maybe he did have them to thank. Not out loud of course, because fuck them, all he cared about was what was in his arms.

Katsumi Orochi:

Katsumi would be one of the first to notice something was wrong with his S/O, he had known them for a bit of time before deciding to ask them to be his, so he had time to observe the way they interacted with others and the little tics that they had.

The first time he had seen it happen as when someone in his class had walked up beside them without their noticing and then spoke, earning them a clock to the face and a thousand apologies after that. Of course, he like Baki, would try to rationalize it as them being spooked until the issue persisted into their relationship, and they were doing it with him.

The first time it happened in private, he would catch their fist as it swung in his direction and pulled them close, speaking in as soft and soothing voice as he could while addressing the issue at hand. “I don’t want to upset you, in fact that’s my last wish, but I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

No longer able to run from it, they finally broke down and the two curled up in their shared bed while they went over their past relationship and how they were frequently met with physical violence at any time, ranging from a slap across the face, to a punch, to things further that they weren’t comfortable telling him.

This was what he wanted, he wanted them to tell him what was wrong, why they acted the way they did, so why was he so upset over knowing the truth? Seeing the tears welling in his S/O’s eyes and trickling down their rosy cheeks told him the reason; who could hurt someone so kind and gentle? It infuriated him, but he couldn’t show it, he needed to be strong for the person he loved when they needed him the most.

Wrapping his muscular arms around their frame, he pulled them closer to him and rested his chin on top of their head, eyes focused on the wall ahead of them as he listened to their breathing, reminding himself that they were safe with him, and there wasn’t a chance in hell of them ever harming them again; if they tried, that’s free anger management.

When the two of them laid down that night, he made them a promise that he would never let anything happen to them again, and that he would help them get their sense of safety back, that they wouldn’t have to react in such a defensive and reactionary way when the people around them would never hurt them. They didn’t understand fully just how seriously he would take that promise.

From that day forward, he would frequently remind them that they were safe, they would train harder and longer so they would feel as though they could handle themselves in any situation, and anytime they would start to feel anxious or out of control, he would hold them in his arms and remind them of the promise he made, and that he would never leave them alone to deal with this.

Kaioh Retsu:

This man would be the best out of all of them when it comes to noticing and reaction, not gonna lie. He didn’t need to see them flinch away from people, he could see the way that they would scan the room before making any movements, how they would take note of everyone else in the room with them and where they were, the consistently worried and alert look in their eye. It had him coming to conclusions of his own, and he was afraid that they would be right.

Would approach the topic after a night at home, the two in the shower and them flinching at his touch once he finally joined them in the water. He would bring it up gently, his arms wrapping around their body so that they would feel safe with him, pressing his toned form against theirs in an attempt to show that they are one.

“I love you, and I can feel when you’re upset by something, so please, trust me enough to confide in me. I simply wish to help you.” He would plead with them, his dark eyes showing nothing but sincerity and honesty to where his S/O can’t deny him.

Retsu would let them stray from the topic a few times before finally pressing the topic a bit more firmly, showing that he would not be relenting on this and that it would save them both some time if they just went ahead and told him what he wanted to know.

Gently stroking their cheek with the back of his fingers, his other hand still placed on their lower back and holding them still as he listened to their words, processing how they had been bullied when they were younger and dealt with physical attacks at school that no one did anything about, so they had to always be on guard and be able to run at a seconds notice, hence the flinching away at unexpected touching.

It made sense to him, it did, but what he couldn’t grasp just yet was why they hadn’t chosen to defend themselves, until they explained it was nearly everyone, so one against a huge group when they were just a child wouldn’t have ended well and he had to admit they were right.

Makes it his mission to make them feel as safe as possible, keeping them away from any type of danger or stressful situation where people would be moving at fast paces so not to trigger their fight or flight reaction and cause them anxiety. Retsu is very mindful of his S/O and makes sure that they’re comfortable wherever they go, and asks if there’s anything they need from him.

Also goes the route of teaching them self defense if they don’t already know any, and if they do, simply helps them sharpen them and shows them new techniques that might be more effective to use, but never once does he make them feel like they aren’t strong enough. He wants to build their confidence, and he knows the right way to go about it.

Kaoru Hanayama:

Kaoru’s S/O is incredibly private about their past, not wanting to let the poor guy in on anything about their prior experiences and why they act the way that they do or why they flinch away from people at the most random times. It’s frustrating to say the least, and whenever it happens, they give him a look that simply says ‘don’t say anything if you don’t want an argument.’

However, Hanayama isn’t the type to shy away from confrontation, and if he feels it’s something that’s detrimental to his S/O, you’d best believe he’s going to bring it up when he feels the time is right and won’t let up on it until he gets a satisfactory answer. Standing in front of the door and blocking it with his large frame to make his point clear as he stares them down with his shadowy hues.

“I’m not doing this to upset you or trap you here, I’m doing this so you’ll finally tell me what goes on in your head and how I can fix it. If you really want to leave I’ll let you go but just... please. Let me try and do something to help for once instead of shutting me out.” This is not the type of man to beg for anything, he’s head of the Hanayama gang after all, but when it came to the person he loved, he’s willing to do anything, even look like a lovesick fool.

Somehow, that finally got through to them, and they’d sit down on the nearest piece of furniture, be it a couch or bed, and begin to explain slowly, as if they would run out of air every few sentences, about their relationship with their abusive, alcoholic mother, and how she would ‘discipline’ her children in the cruelest ways possible, how it could be at the drop of a hat, over the most obscure and miniscule things, anything that she felt like.

Being the eldest child, his S/O was forced to endure the brunt of it to keep their siblings safe, things only ever happening to their siblings when they weren’t around, and how they aren’t understood by them now because of how they were raised effected them differently due to this dynamic.

His mind goes blank for a moment as rage seeps in and takes over, causing his large frame to tense from his position in front of the door; the only thought he had was on repeat: Kill that bitch. Kill that bitch. Kill that bitch. He had the men to do it, he had the strength to do it himself, he had the police under his thumb, he could really get away with this.

All of these thoughts flooded his mind and clouded his vision until he felt warm hands on his scarred face, earning his attention immediately as his vision cleared and all that he could see was the loving eyes of his S/O as they stood in front of him, a worried expression adorning their face. “Promise me that you won’t do anything to her, she isn’t worth your time or mine. What is, is going forward and leaving the past behind, okay?”

Fuck, they had him there. He was the one who wanted to help them after all, how could he do that by sinking down and doing exactly what was done to them to her? As much as he wanted to tell them that they were wrong, that they would feel better with her off this earth, he couldn’t. Instead, he wrapped his large arms around them and engulfed them into his frame, whispering quietly into their ear as he held them close, “I’ll never let anything hurt you again. Ever. I promise you.”

Kiyosumi Katou:

This man understands being twitchy, not liking being touched too much unless initiated and would respect that the moment he noticed that was the way that they were, and would have no complaints.

Until they started acting that way around him in private. They should know that he would never lay a hand on them, and gets slightly insulted that they didn’t register that.

That is, until they explain that it’s something that they’ve always struggled with due to their high levels of anxiety and that they’d spent years living in an unpredictable environment where they didn’t know if someone was going to start throwing punches or not, unable to defend themselves or fight back.

This took a moment to sink in for Katou, not sure how to react or if they were telling him the truth but then he remembers that they’ve never lied to him in the past and this was something incredibly serious, so why would they do that, right? (Tell me you have trust issues without telling me you have trust issues)

However, the moment that it did fully get through that thick skull of his, he is engulfing his S/O in tight hugs and not saying a word, allowing his actions to speak louder than his words for once in his life, knowing that nothing he could say in that moment would make the pain that they’d gone through go away, and it was insulting to try.

Holding them for the remainder of the night, he wouldn’t want them out of his sight for longer than a few moments to go to the bathroom or get food while they sat on the couch and watched whatever it was that they wanted, because they trusted him enough to be vulnerable and express a part of themselves that they didn’t trust many with, so anything they wanted right now, they were going to get.

From that day forward would take it upon himself to ask how his S/O was doing during the day, if he could do anything to help them feel less anxious or stressed whenever he could tell that they were having a bad day. Most would assume that because of his cunning and brutal nature that Katou wouldn’t be very smart, and IQ wise they’d probably be right, however, when it comes to emotional intelligence, he’s pretty spot on.

Keeps his S/O close wherever they go, his arm is permanently wrapped around their shoulder while they walk down the side walk or standing in line, his expression that of ‘I wil break your neck if you come near them with any bad intentions and I’m not afraid of jail.’

Hector Doyle:

Doyle isn’t one to show much emotion, on his expression or in his words, but he is incredibly observant, and takes in far more information than the average person would in a simple situation, so the moment he saw his S/O flinch their shoulder away from a friend appearing suddenly beside them, he took note of it and began to analyze.

Had that friend done something to upset them in the past that made them uncomfortable? Had they smelled bad and his S/O didn’t want to be rude by telling them? Several different things went through his mind based on that small interaction, and by the next time it happened with a different person, that it wasn’t anything to do with anyone else, it was you.

Now, the question is, what was causing his S/O to act the way that they had been? Obviously it was something that had been doing for a reason, and it seemed to stem from people either touching them or showing up without their knowledge, or swift movements by those around them. Could they have dealt with prior abuse? The mere thought made Doyle’s blood boil, but he didn’t want to jump to any conclusions without solid evidence or confirmation from them.

He’d bring up the topic while they’re laying in bed late at night one of the rare one’s he’s in heading to sleep the same time as them, given he’s a night owl and prefers the silence of night time and how few people were out, but he’s willing to sacrifice one night to get the answers that have been nagging at the back of his mind to get confirmation for.

“You seem to freak out at the smallest things, like someone moving their hand too fast near you, or touching you when you didn’t see it coming, even when it’s a friend or myself, what’s the deal?” Boy, he could not word that much worse if he had tried, and the reaction he got to such a topic being brought up in that way was to be expected; hostility.

“So, you’ve been sitting here observing me like I’m a lab rat in some experiment?” “What’s wrong with that?” A lot of things, and they made sure he knew it before deciding to give him the answers he’d been wanting to know so badly. It took them a while to find the right words, starting and stopping themselves several times but Doyle sat in silence, watching quietly as he waited patiently for them. He wouldn’t rush them, he’d already been an asshole with his approach.

After a long while of silence on both ends, they explained to him about how their grandmother had dementia while they were growing up and how she lived with them since her parents didn’t want to send her to a home, and while she was mentally deteriorating, she would get violent and throw things or blows, hitting his S/O several times in the head or body when they weren’t paying attention or fast enough, and so it’s become a reflexive habit.

It wasn’t as bad as he had thought, but still, the mental scars it seemed to take on his S/O were just as bad as real ones in his opinion, so he would start to make it a habit of keeping an eye on their surroundings and stopping anyone from startling his S/O before they had a chance, doing little things like moving slower or announcing his presence; would 100% deny it if his S/O brought it up. He might be a jerk who loves a good fight, but not with his S/O.

#baki the grappler #baki headcanons #baki hanma #jack hanma #katsumi orochi #kiyosumi katou #hector doyle #kaoru hanayama #kaioh retsu #trigger warning #tw

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the-bau-quinjet · 4 years ago

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But with you, it’s different...

So, I’ve combined two of my great obsessions: Criminal Minds and Taylor Swift. Pretend the reader is Taylor Swift in the sense that she wrote and recorded the songs, but that’s it. Also, the songs are all out of order and not from the albums so just pretend that’s okay. I don’t reference the albums, but individual songs and yeah. It’s honestly kind of a mess, but also makes me happy. This is part 1! I have most of it written, so I should be able to post the other parts pretty soon. I think there will be 3 actual parts and then a short epilogue! Last thing, Spencer is a little out of character. I (try to) explain that later!!

Summary: Reader is a famous singer with a murderous stalker. Spencer has to go undercover to protect her.

warnings: mentions of murder, anxious reader

Word Count: 7940

You weren’t expecting anything out of the ordinary to happen tonight. It was just the usual Saturday night. Honestly, you were looking forward to having a boring two weeks off. You absolutely loved touring and performing and seeing your fans, but it was going to be great to have some time just to write again. Writing music has always helped you de-stress and get your emotions out, and you were supposed to finally have a chance to do just that. However, the universe had different plans. Plans that involved the FBI.

This was your second night in DC. It was the first of some of the bigger cities on your tour where you were doing two shows, so you are even more exhausted than normal. You really only just started the US leg of your tour, but the two weeks off was well earned from the Europe, Asia, and South America legs.

As you begin to perform the second to last song, you start to feel the familiar sadness you get when finishing a show. It’s almost as though the adrenaline rush from the excitement of so many screaming fans is wearing off and you can’t help but feel a bit sorry that the fun is coming to an end. After so many performances though, you’ve learned how to hide the emotions and give the audience your best fake smile. The last song is where you have some real fun, so just make it there.

As you duck off stage to change for the final performance, you can’t help but notice the small group of people conversing, quite tensely, with your security team. They don’t look like the normal fans who would try to sneak backstage, too official. You make eye contact with one of them. He looks to be about your age, but you’ve never been great at guessing. There’s something about him that makes you want to find out exactly who he is right now, but you can’t.

You’re left wondering about his identity as you run back onstage for the grand finale. You feel a genuine smile appearing as you feel the heat from the fireworks and listen to the happy cheers from the crowd. You’re last song goes off without a hitch, but you’re exhausted. There’s nothing you want more than to just shower and sleep, but there’s always a buzz about the cast and crew that prevents anyone from leaving right away.

“Thank you for a great second night DC! Goodnight!” You shout into the mic as you duck back offstage to ride out the post show high. You are still chatting with some of the dancers you’ve become friends with when Carrie, the head of security, comes up with one of the men you saw arguing with her earlier.

“Y/N? Can I talk to you for a minute?” You turn, surprised to see the stern man standing behind Carrie. “Yeah, sure.” You turn to excuse yourself from the dancers, wishing them a goodnight before turning back to Carrie.

“We can go do your dressing room, that’s where the others are waiting.” Carrie says with a nervous smile on her face.

“The others?” You ask confused, jogging to keep up with the brisk pace she has set for you and the stern man. “Who are we talking to?”

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions. We will explain everything as soon as we meet up with the rest of the team.” The stern man spoke quietly, but with confidence as he followed behind you and Carrie. Before you could ask anything else, you were being ushered into your dressing room, coming face to face with the other two people you saw arguing with Carrie earlier. The first one you notice is a woman with jet black hair and fierce eyes. The other is the tall, lanky man you made eye contact with.

You’re a little excited to get a closer look. He looks a little awkward at first glance, but you can tell he’s a sneaky sort of attractive underneath the perfectly placed tie and the comfy cardigan. Before you can get too caught up in how good looking these three strangers are, you turn to the stern one and ask “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” Your tone clearly indicates the confusion you’re feeling.

“Ms. L/N, my name is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. I am the Unit Chief for the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI.” You can feel your eyes go wide as he shows you a badge with his picture and title. Before you can respond, he begins talking again. “These are SSAs Emily Prentiss” the woman gives you a reassuring smile and slight wave, “and Dr. Spencer Reid.” The sneakily attractive one nods his head in your general direction.

The woman just introduced as Emily chimes in “we are here because we believe there is a killer targeting fans of your music. We have been tracking murders for the past two weekends. The first was in Louisville, Kentucky, then Columbus, Ohio, and then two right here in D.C.”

“I was just in Louisville… and Columbus.” You feel yourself beginning to get dizzy as you try to comprehend what the agents are telling you.

“Yes, and now you’re in DC.” The boss man is talking again. “We made the connection this afternoon as you had two shows here in DC.” The room is starting to spin as you listen to the man talk. “After more digging, we found each victim had purchased a ticket to your show. Additionally, they all had social media accounts dedicated as fan pages to you.” Agent Hotchner continues speaking as you nod along, trying to comprehend how this was happening. You don’t even realize you are tuning him out as you begin to sway on your feet. You can see his mouth moving, and the growing look of concern on his face is the last thing you see before the world goes dark.

You can hear a faint beeping as you begin to wake up. For a moment, you are blissfully unaware of the murders before the memory of meeting the three agents comes back to you. You instantly sit up and look around, trying to figure out where you are. You can see a very muscular bald man through a window, talking to someone in scrubs.

Scrubs. A nurse. You are in the hospital.

Your heart rate begins to calm down before skyrocketing again when you hear “Ms. L/N?” from the other side of the room. Turning with wide eyes and a scared expression, you throw your arms up to defend yourself from the unknown voice.

“Sorry! Sorry, uh- I didn’t mean to scare you! I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” Instantly you relax again at the familiar face. You drop your arms back to the bed, shifting into a more comfortable position before asking “Okay, Doctor. What’s wrong with me? Why am I in the hospital?”

He looks at you with a sheepish expression, rubbing the back of his neck before he admits, “Oh, I’m not that kind of doctor. I’ll go get a nurse or someone. Try to think back on what you remember before waking up here.” He shuffles out of the room as you try to replay the conversation with the other agents.

Well, it wasn’t much of a conversation with them doing all of the talking, but still. The unknown man from outside your room window and the nurse he was talking to come into the room with Dr. Reid. The nurse begins checking your vitals as she asks you some questions.

“Hi there. It’s good to see you up. How are you feeling?” She wears a small smile.

“Oh, um, I feel fine. I think. I’m just confused about how I ended up here. I remember talking to the agents at the arena, but that’s it.” You close your eyes as you try to remember more, but nothing comes to you.

“That was only about 45 minutes ago, dear.” The nurse’s kind voice helps settle you. “You fainted while the agents were talking to you. They brought you here. You should be good to leave in a few minutes as long as your vitals are good.”

“Thank you.” You return her kind smile as she marks information on your chart before leaving the room.

“Ms. L/N, this is SSA Derek Morgan.” The Doctor Agent is talking again.

“Please, call me Y/N.” You rub your head, continuing to try to remember more about your condition. Before either man in the room can speak up, a new thought occurs to you. “If I fainted, why doesn’t my head hurt? The floor in my dressing room is not soft.” You look between the two men for an explanation.

The doctor shifts his weight from foot to foot a blush appearing on his face as Agent Morgan speaks up. “That is because Pretty Boy over here” he claps a hand onto the doctor’s shoulder “caught you before you hit the ground.” “Oh, um… Thank you.” You can feel the blush beginning to form as you think about his arms being around you.

“It was no problem, really. Can we ask you a few questions?” He moves on quickly. “Oh sure thing Dr. Reid. Or Agent Reid. Agent Dr. Reid?” You can feel the blush growing as you ramble.

“Just Sp-Spencer is fine.” He cuts you off before you can continue suggesting different honorifics. “What do you remember from what Agent Hotchner was telling you?”

“He said someone was mur-murdering fans of me.” Tears spring to your eyes as you think about it. “That someone was killed in Kentucky and Ohio and then two people here in DC.” You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall.

Get a hold of yourself.

You feel a new weight on your hand before hearing Spencer begin talking again. “Take your time.” You open your eyes to see him patting your hand delicately. He moves back after you take a few deep, calming breaths.

“I’m sorry. I just feel awful knowing people are dy-dying because of me. Is there anything I can do to help?” You choke on the words a bit, realizing the full gravity of the situation.

“Do you recognize any of these people?” Agent Morgan pulls out photos of three women and one man, handing them to you to sift through. He seems to be staring at Spencer, but you just focus on the pictures. You can feel the tears building again as you realize who they are.

“I do.” You take another breath before continuing. “I haven’t met them before, but they are all really active on different social sites. I try to talk to as many fans as I can ya know? They are why I am where I am. Is that why they were killed? Oh god. No no no no.” Your breathe increases in speed as you think about everything that is happening.

“Hey, hey, hey, none of this is your fault.” Spencer is patting your hand again as he tries to calm you down. Just then, the nurse comes back with some paperwork for you to sign in order to leave.

“You are free to go Ms. L/N. Just sign these forms and hand them in at the desk on your way out.” She exits the room swiftly.

“Would you mind coming back to our office to finish talking?” Agent Morgan asks.

“Of course not. Anything I can do to help.” You turn in the forms before following them to a black SUV. Spencer opens the door for you to get in the back before he slides in next to you. You don’t even have the brain power to consider why he isn’t sitting in the front. You just grab his hand and squeeze it, unable to get the thoughts out of your head that this was all your fault.

“This is not your fault. You had no idea what was happening, and now that you do you are trying to help.” Spencer looks at you reassuringly as he squeezes your hand right back. You simply nod back. You don’t trust yourself to speak without crying. You just need to calm down before you get to the office.

About 15 minutes later you pull up to the FBI building that houses the BAU. They must’ve brought you to a hospital near Quantico. They lead you through security up to the fifth floor. You walk through a set of glass doors, passing a few desks before entering a conference room. “Do you need anything? Coffee, water?” Spencer asks as Agent Morgan leaves the room.

“Oh, um, no I’m okay for now.” You stare at your hands as you go to sit down. “Actually, could I get a jacket or something?” You gesture to what you’re wearing as you ask. You haven’t had a chance to change yet, meaning you are wearing a black, sequined romper that is basically a leotard with how short it is. Perfect for performing, but not exactly FBI attire. “Of co-course! I’ll be right back.” He practically runs out of the room.

A few minutes later, he pushes the door back open. “Here’s some clothes you can change into if you want. Or just a sweatshirt.” You look up from your position in the chair, rising to take the clothes.

“Thank you.” You look from the clothes to him realizing you need to change, but are in a room full of windows in an unfamiliar building.

He catches on a few seconds later, leading you out of the room. “The bathroom is this way!” He squeaks out as you both walk down a hallway outside the glass doors you came in. “I’ll wait here to show you back.” You smile as you brush past him, whispering thank you as you close the door.

You instantly take off the romper, sliding on some FBI sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt that smells like vanilla and new books. The scent is oddly comforting. You would think a standard FBI sweatshirt would smell new, but this scent is calming your nerves. You fix your makeup as best you can before heading out of the bathroom. Spencer is a few feet away talking to a beautiful blonde woman. She looks effortlessly gorgeous. She smiles as she notices you, waving you to join them.

“Ms. L/N, it’s lovely to meet you, although I do wish it was under better circumstances. I am SSA Jennifer Jureau, but you can call me JJ. The rest of the team is waiting for us to join them.” She smiles kindly, but you are frozen in place. You feel like a deer caught in the headlights.

Spencer grabs your arm lightly, pulling you out of your trance. “It’s okay. Just breathe.” He whispers as the three of you start walking back toward the conference room you were in earlier.

He lets your arm fall back to your side before guiding you back into the room behind JJ. You freeze again upon entering the room. You recognize Agents Hotchner, Prentiss, and Morgan, but are surprised by the other two faces. There is an older man with salt and pepper hair smiling kindly at you. He reminds you of your father. Then there is a very bubbly blonde, in a very colorful dress and matching glasses.

They introduce themselves as SSA David Rossi and technical analyst Penelope Garcia. The unit chief begins to describe the case again, going slower this time given your earlier episode. “We believe the unsub is targeting fans of yours who he believes is unworthy of your attention. He worships you and views his victims as people who are not devoted enough to you.”

You can’t decide how to respond, so you wait for another agent to continue. “Do you know of anyone who might be overly obsessed with you? Maybe they sent you letters that were a bit more personal than normal?” At this point, you decide you are done being controlled by this situation. What happened to those people is awful, but you can’t change it. You need to be strong to help prevent it from happening to anyone else.

“I haven’t finished my fan letters from this week yet. I try to go through as many as possible, but there is only so much time in a day.” At this point you are pacing. Walking around has always helped you with thinking things over. “There is one letter that sticks out from three weeks ago. That was before the murd-” you stutter on the word. “Before anything happened though. Could that be relevant?” You ask, looking hopeful. If the agents are surprised by your change of attitude they don’t mention it.

“It might be. What did it say?” Agent Hotchner asks, the same stern expression adorning his features.

“I don’t remember all of it, but it looked like it was written on a typewriter, so it stood out. It said something about how they wondered if my hair smelled like peaches after I finished a show. I thought it was weird because my shampoo is peach scented, but how could they possibly know that? I figured I must have met them in passing, you know. I meet a lot of fans just walking around the different cities. Something just felt weird about this letter though. Like a bad feeling. I mean, my hair doesn’t really retain the scent of my shampoo all that much. So how could he know that unless he knew what shampoo I use? But actually, I use a personalized shampoo so I can change the scent every time I but it- it must’ve been a lucky guess, right? Maybe I just look like I would use peach scented shampoo” You feel like you are talking a mile a minute, but you can’t get yourself to stop. You practically fall back into your chair as you finish rambling about the letter, looking up to see unmistakable expressions of concern on the agents’ faces.

“What? What does that mean? Oh god- How does he know my shampoo smells like peaches?” You look between all the agents as they seem to be communicating with just their eyes. You resort to taking calming breaths again. They’ll fill you in eventually, you need to breathe. You drop your head between your thighs as you push your chair away from the table. Breathe in for 7 seconds, hold for 7, and breathe out for 7. This always helps calm you down before a show.

You choose to ignore the agents quietly talking to each other again as you focus on slowing your heart rate back to a normal pace.

“Ms. L/N?” You look up exasperatedly, “Please, just call me Y/N.”

“Then you can call me Penelope!” The woman has such a kindness to her that you can’t help but smile back at her.

“What can I do for you Penelope?” She seems a bit surprised, but she responds in kind.

“I just wanted to ask if you wanted some coffee. Or water or anything?” You smile at her kind gesture, rising from your seat.

“Actually, some tea would be wonderful. But, please, let me come help you. These guys seem like they need to talk and it would probably be easier if I wasn’t in the room.” You smile as you walk out the door, leaving the agents slightly stunned at your observational skills in your distressed state.

Penelope follows you out and leads you to what you assume is the break room. “We don’t really have much tea, but I know where the good doctor keeps his private collection.” She whispers conspiratorially as she searches through a small cabinet. “Aha! Here it is.” She presents you with a pretty impressive collection of teas. You opt for the simple peppermint. You have always found peppermint tea the most soothing.

She hands you a mug before gesturing to the Keurig on the counter. You place the teabag in the cup, selecting the largest cup on the machine, and brewing hot water for your tea. The two of you don’t say anything while it steeps. Penelope speaks up when you move to sit down at the small table.

“I just have to say, I am a huge fan of yours.” You can’t hide the smile that forms on your face. You have always loved meeting fans. They are just so sweet and you appreciate them beyond belief.

“Thank you so much!” She seems a bit relieved at your response. “That’s honestly so nice to hear right now. I kind of feel like a mess.” You gesture to the oversized clothes you’ve got on.

“Please, you look so gorgeous right now. It’s amazing. Your music is amazing too. I absolutely love Begin Again! It’s so romantic!” She gushes over the song.

“Honestly, that one took me forever to write. I was in a pretty bad place after a bad breakup, convinced I would never love again. Dramatic, I know.” You roll your eyes at yourself. “But then I saw these two people in a café, and they just looked so happy. The idea of a new love forming so casually right in front of me was beautiful.” You smile thinking about the couple, wondering if they are still together.

“Wow, so you can really right about anything?” She looks while asking the question.

“Pretty much. I mean, they won’t all be good. It could be the tiniest moment or a huge thing in my life. Inspiration comes from everywhere. A lot of songs actually draw from multiple experiences, not just one thing. I could totally see myself writing a song about you.”

“No way! That would be insane.” You smile at her enthusiasm.

“I’m serious! You just give of this energy that is so positive, it’s hard to remember ever being sad. I think it would be about how confident you are. Something like…” you trail off as you begin to hum, setting up your phone to record. “You’re the only one of you, baby that’s the fun of you. And I promise that nobody’s gonna love you like me!” You hum a few more bars before ending the recording.

“That was insane. How do you do that?!” She has a wild kind of excitement in her eyes.

“I don’t know. You just inspired me.” You grin at the shocked expression in her eyes.

“Sing it again!” And you can’t help but give her what she wants.

You hum a bit more of a melody that could work before jumping into the words you already said. You add a few more here and there, but nothing concrete. In your focus on singing, you don’t hear the door open behind you.

“I’m the only one of me, baby that’s the fun of me. Oh oh oh. You’re the only one of you, baby that’s the fun of you. And I promise that you’ll never find another like me.” “I don’t doubt it.” You turn in shock to look at the person behind you, seeing none other than Spencer Reid in the doorway. You don’t notice the flush of embarrassment on his cheeks that you heard his comment, just like he doesn’t notice the matching expression on your face. Penelope though, she notices. And, she can’t wait to tell Derek.

Spencer clears his throat before speaking again. “We’re ready for you to come back in if you’re up for it. We want to talk to you about a plan to keep you safe.”

“Sure thing.” You grab your tea from the table before you and Penelope follow Spencer back to the conference room. You sitting cross-legged in your seat. You feel much calmer after chatting with Penelope. Song writing has always been cathartic for you, and it is reassuring that hasn’t changed.

The agents waste no time getting down to business. “We believe the unsub has broken into your tour bus. If the letter was from him, it would explain how he knows about the peach scent.” Agent Rossi starts.

Agent Morgan continues, “It’s an easier target than a hotel room or your personal home since fewer people would be securing it.” You nod along with them. You are determined to stay strong through this.

“We want to completely ensure your safety, so we think it best to send an agent to stay with you while we work on the case.” Agent Prentiss chimes in. You feel like you’re going to get whiplash looking between all their faces.

“Since we haven’t ruled out people on the crew, we want this to remain as secret as possible. We will inform the head of security on your team, but other than that the agent will be undercover.” Agent Hotchner, stern as ever, appears to be studying your reaction.

“Okay.” You sigh. “Okay, I can handle this. I’ll be fine. I’ll have an agent with me. Who’s going undercover? Do you have a cover story planned?” You look at Agent Hotchner with nervous eyes.

“We wanted to plan the cover story with you to make it as believable as possible. What are you planning on doing for the next few weeks?” You consider what your plans consist of. Honestly, nothing but songwriting.

“I plan on mostly working on songwriting. I usually go to cafes, parks, or anywhere really with people for inspiration. If I already have an idea, I’ll write from my hotel room or from home if I’m there. If any of you have any musical experience, then we could make up a cover story about a new writing partner. Nobody would really question it because I write with new people all the time.” You glance around the room to see if anyone is willing to take you up on your offer. Nobody says anything for a minute. They are communicating with looks again.

Penelope chimes in “Reid knows how to play the piano!” You can’t help but latch on to the statement as you turn toward Spencer.

“Really, that would be so helpful! I normally write to piano or guitar and then add any additional instrumental later in the studio. If you can play, then the story would look even more believable!” You are actually getting excited about this idea working out. You finally feel like you’ve helped them with something. They probably could’ve figured it out without you, but still.

“Yes, I can play. I mean, it’s just mathematics if you think about it.” Spencer responds quietly, like his mind is somewhere else.

“Reid, if you feel comfortable with it, that story sounds like great cover.” Reid nods at Agent Hotchner. “Great. You can go to your place and grab some clothes and anything else you’ll need.” He says to Spencer before turning his attention to you. You watch as Spencer walks out with the rest of the team before turning to meet Agent Hotchner’s eye. “It’s best if we stick to your plans as closely as possible. If the unsub is someone who works with you, he will likely notice if you start changing your behavior too much.” You nod in response, mentally going through everything you do from day to day.

“Agent Reid will stay with you in your hotel room if you are comfortable with it. That is the safest arrangement since he will be close by if anything happens. We will also have agents tail you when you go out in public. We’ll have a rotation of agents in the rooms around yours each night to allow Reid to rest as well. He knows how to contact us, but we will program our numbers into your phone as well for backup. Do not hesitate to call any one of us if something feels even remotely wrong, no matter the time. Do you understand?”

Again, you nod in response. It’s a lot of information to take in and honestly, you’re still thinking about sharing a hotel room with Spencer.

“We will need to see the letter you mentioned earlier if you still have it. We would also like to go through the fan mail you currently have and any new mail that comes in. If you see anything else that feels off or seems suspicious, tell Reid or call one of us. If you remember anything else, tell Reid or call one of us.” He gives you a questioning glance to ensure you are following.

“Basically, tell Reid everything. Got it.” You try to remain lighthearted even though Agent Hotchner’s serious expression hasn’t waned in the slightest.

“It’s good to see you’ve got a good attitude about this. It’s hard to remain calm, but it will help limit any suspicion on the part of the unsub. We don’t want to escalate his plans. Do you have any questions for me?” He gives you a reassuring look as you contemplate everything he’s told you.

“What does unsub mean?” you blurt out, surprising both of you. “Sorry, that was loud.” You cringe. “I just meant, why do you call the criminal, unsub?”

You can see the faintest of smiles on his face as he replies, “Right, we can get pretty wrapped up in a case. It stands for unidentified subject. We try not to assign nicknames or anything to the perpetrators as it can affect their behavior.”

“Right. Behavior.” You try to sound like you understand, but honestly this is so much different from all the detective shows you’ve seen. Apparently, Agent Hotchner notices and explains more.

“We catch criminals by analyzing their behavior and trying to predict what they’ll do next.”

“Like psychology? Nature vs. Nurture and mental disorders?” You ask, suddenly very curious about how this all works.

“Yes, just like that, although we normally go a little deeper.”

“So what can you tell about this unsub? That way I know what to look for.” Agent Hotchner seems pleased with this question.

“The unsub is a man, likely 25-40. Age is the hardest thing to predict, so don’t follow that guideline too strictly. He likely suffers from antisocial personality disorder stemming from negligent parents and has always had trouble interacting with people. He is highly organized, which usually indicates high intelligence, but in this case could be due to the time he spends alone planning. His lack of social skills has resulted in him only working menial jobs. He won’t have worked anywhere for more than a few months before finding a new job since people find him odd or off-putting. He has always felt as though he deserves more because of his self presumed high intelligence. It is possible you met him in passing and any act of kindness toward him resulted in an obsession with you. He doesn’t have the courage to approach you, so he watches from afar or online. That’s how he found his earlier victims. Since you don’t have any shows in the next few weeks, his MO might change slightly. That’s why we want to be so cautious and make sure we can ensure your safety.” You sit quietly for a moment, trying to picture anyone who fits the description. You try to meet the people who work with you, but you certainly don’t know everyone. You were honestly hopeful the description would point you toward a suspect, but you’ve got nothing. “I can’t think of anyone like that, but now I know what to look out for. Thank you Agent Hotchner.” “Please, call me Hotch. Do you have any more questions?”

“Just one, you said earlier that maintaining a sense of normalcy will prevent us from escalating his plans. What plans exactly?” You were nervous to ask this question, wondering if you really wanted to hear the answer.

“We don’t know exactly. It is possible the unsub has been trying to work up the courage to talk to you, but since you won’t be doing shows, it is unclear how he would make contact. Reid and the other agents will be looking for anyone who appears to be in a lot of the same places you are. If you notice anyone more than one time in a day, don’t hesitate to-“

“Tell Reid or call one of you. I got it.” You smile at him again. “Thank you again.” He nods as you both exit the room. Spencer isn’t back from picking up clothes yet, so you aren’t sure exactly what to do. Penelope notices you searching the room and waves you over to her. She is talking with Agent Morgan.

“Y/N! I was just telling my Chocolate Thunder about the song you started earlier. I just need to know, what does this fine specimen inspire you to write?” She sounds so excited you can’t bear to let her down. You study the man in front of you, searching for something to sing. You don’t know why, but there’s a certain sadness in his eye. He hides it well with his masculinity and the clear smirk on his face, but you know he’s been through some shit.

You don’t want to kill the mood though, so you stick to something a little lighter than past pain. “Well, Pen, I have to say he looks like a heartbreaker.” This only encourages the smirk on his face. “The type to love ‘em and leave ‘em.” You have had a song in the back of your mind for a while so why not break it out now. Penelope shrieks as you start humming, drawing a crowd. Again, you set up your phone to record. The rest of the BAU agents crowd around Morgan’s desk as you start singing.

“Magic, madness, heaven, sin, saw you there and I thought, oh my god, look at that face. You look like my next mistake.” That draws a few chuckles as you continue humming. More words pop into your head as you think about past relationships and what the media loves to say about celebrities. “Screaming, crying, perfect storms. I can make all the tables turn. Da dada da da, Keep you second guessing like, Oh my god, who is she. I get drunk on jealousy.” You hum some more, really getting into the flow of the song. “Cause darling I’m a nightmare, dressed like a daydream.” The group claps as you end the recording.

“That was actually pretty impressive.” Agent Morgan smirks at you some more.

“Well, to be honest I’ve had the melody in my notes for weeks, but I just couldn’t think of the right words.” Yet again, his smirk grows.

“I guess I’m just that inspirational.” You choke back a laugh as you roll your eyes. You hadn’t realized the size of the crowd you had garnered. You can’t help but knock him down a few pegs.

“You know what, I changed my mind. Agent Morgan’s song would be called I Knew You Were Trouble.” The entire group laughs at that one, but all the sudden you actually have another idea.

Before long, Penelope is asking you what songs you would write about the entire team.

“Start with Hotch!”

“Well, Hotch is so serious. So it’s kind of hard. His face just screams ‘I’ve been through it and dealt it out’. Maybe something like… your string of lights is still bright to see oh, who you are is not what you did, you’re still an innocent.” Even as you half sing it, the one line feels like it could lead somewhere big. It’s not quite right, but it’s a start.

“That’s so cool. Do me next! And please, just call me Emily.” You nod at her as you think back over your previous interactions.

“Alright, don’t get mad but something just popped into my head and I can’t un-hear it. They say I did something bad, then why’s it feel so good. Most fun I ever had, and I’d do it over and over and over again if I could.” The smile on her face told you everything you needed to know, but so did JJ.

“You absolutely nailed it. That is Emily to a tee.” JJ chimed in. “I’m kind of scared to see what you can come up with for me!” Your head is swimming with lyrics and melodies, but it has been so long since you’ve had this much fun writing music with a group of people. It’s become such a solo activity for you, but these people just have so many stories to tell.

“Okay, let me think.” You pause as you observe JJ. You can tell that she is such a sweetheart from the few hours you’ve known her, but you know you would be intimidated if you went to high school with her. “Sorry to be blunt but, you’re so gorgeous, I can’t say anything to your face. Cause look at your face.”

“Why thank you!” JJ smiles as you defend the lyric choice.

“I know you are so sweet and I of course don’t mean to say you are just a pretty face, but you really do have a pretty face.” The group chuckles again and nods in agreement. “Oh, wait! I’ve got another one. You took a Polaroid of us, then discovered, the rest of the world was black and white. But we were in screaming color.” That one came out of nowhere, but it felt right.

“Beautiful. Okay, okay! Rossi’s turn!” Penelope says right as the man walks out of his office.

“My turn for what?” He looks skeptical of the group, but in a loving way.

“Y/N is coming up with song ideas for everyone! She just did Morgan, Hotch, Emily, and JJ! She did mine earlier. So it’s your turn!”

“Well then by all means, be my guest.” You close your eyes as you think through the words swimming in your head.

“While, Rossi, you have a kind aura. You seem like a parent to this group of rowdy children. Reminds me of my dad.” Again, the group laughs. You begin humming, lightly patting the desk in front of you as you think back on memories of your own parents. “I don’t know why all the trees change in the fall, but I know you’re not scared of anything at all. Don’t know if Snow White’s house is near or far away, but I know I had the best day with you today.” This tune was softer than the rest, more emotional. Everyone stops laughing as they listen to the soft melody you created.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to kill the mood.” You feel slightly awkward with the new found silence.

“Please, bella, that was beautiful. You really know how to read people.” Rossi hugs you as you blush, thanking him for the compliment.

“That only leaves the resident genius. What would you write about Reid?” JJ poses the question and suddenly all eyes are on you. In all the commotion with the other songs, you didn’t notice Spencer exit the elevator. He walked in soon enough to hear the question. Deciding not to interrupt the conversation, he hangs back to listen to your answer.

You can feel the blush heating up your face, subconsciously hugging the sweatshirt he gave you to wear earlier. After all the short melodies and lyrics you’ve come up with, you are way too tired to put your feelings toward Spencer into words.

“I’ll be honest, it’s been in my head all night.” You begin to hum, knowing this would be a song about how you felt when you first saw him backstage, to when you spoke to him in the hospital room and all the little moments since then. “Your eyes whispered have we met…” you fill in for lyrics you’ve yet to write by humming. “All I can say is it was enchanting to meet you.”

“That was beautiful.” Spencer says from behind you. You jump in surprise, nearly falling out of your chair. You didn’t even realize he was in the room.

He looks sheepish as he apologizes for scaring you. “Are you ready to go?” He asks, reaching out a hand to help you up. The rest of the profilers share a knowing look as you rise from your seated position. They all wish you a goodnight as you and Spencer enter the elevator to head to your hotel. The ride to the parking garage is quiet. You keep humming that same melody, looking for the right words to fill in the blanks.

Spencer leads you to another black SUV opening the passenger side door for you to get in the car. He tosses his bag in the back before getting in and starting the drive.

“Penelope said it was my turn, did you do songs for everyone?” Spencer beaks the silence. You turn in your seat to look at him before responding.

“Kind of. Mostly just ideas of songs. Morgan’s was the most put together, only because it was a song I already started. I recorded the whole thing though. That way I won’t forget any ideas. I can play it for you when we actually start to write some music!” You are honestly surprised by the range of ideas you have.

“Wh-what? You actually want me to help you write songs? I th-though that was just a cover.” All of the sudden Spencer seems nervous and shy. You put the ideas swimming through your head on pause so you can devote all your attention to him.

“Spencer, don’t worry about it. You don’t have to come up with any profound lyrics or brand new chord progressions. But, since we are going to be spending a lot of time together, you do have to talk to me. Otherwise it would just be weird.” You try to lighten the mood. You can tell by the way he relaxed his shoulders it worked a little. He nods in agreement as he parks the SUV in the garage dedicated to the hotel you are staying in. You take the elevator straight up to the 11th floor. It’s honestly reassuring to be able to lead him somewhere after everything that happened in the past few hours.

You dig around in your bag- that somehow followed you on your journey from the arena to the hospital to the FBI building and now back to your hotel- to find the room key. No matter what you try, you can’t seem to slide the key card into the slot in the right way. Every time you try, the little light glows red before beeping indicating the door is still locked. After the fifth try, you are about ready to scream.

Suddenly, you can feel the heat from Spencer’s body as he slides up behind you to take the room key. He slides the card into the door, wiggles it around, and then slides it back out. To your surprise, the light glows green and the door unlocks. You must be exhausted to be this shocked at the fact he opened the door. You can’t even seem to force your feet to move. You just stand there like a fool, mouth agape.

“Why?” Spencer turns to look at you with a confused expression. “Why couldn’t I… How did you…?” You just point to the door. He places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the room. He places his bag just inside the door before he turns around to close the door and lock the deadbolt.

Even after he led you into the room, you turned around so you could keep staring at the door. You don’t even realize you started crying. Spencer guides you to the bed and tucks you into the blankets. You know that you are going to wake up in an hour because you never sleep in pants, but you just don’t have the energy to fight him on it. He turns off the lamp, but before he walks away, you grab his arm.

“Can you stay?” You have never heard yourself sound so frail. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the tears to stop. Spencer looks conflicted, but ultimately sits down next to you, his back against the headboard. You lay next to him in the dark, not quite touching. Once your breathe calms enough that you can talk without bursting into tears, you ask “how do you do it?”

“Do what?” You smile at the sound of genuine concern in his voice.

“How do you deal with this kind of stuff all the time? I feel like I’m falling apart. I want to be strong about it, so I can help. But then all of the sudden I can’t keep it in anymore. I just… how do you make it seem so easy?” You feel sniffly again, but you try to focus on your breathing.

“It’s not easy. I hope it never becomes easy. It’s gotten easier, of course, but the minute I stop feeling everything is the moment I let them win. To feel pain in situations like this is human. Somebody wise once told me our best defense is our ability to empathize. It’s a completely natural reaction to experiencing something so traumatic. 70% of adults in the U.S. have experienced some type of traumatic event at least once in their lives. That's 223.4 million people. It would be...” He trailed off.

“It would be what?” You angled your head up to look at him even though you couldn’t see him in the dark.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I tend to ramble. I’m sorry.” He sounded so dejected, you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching for his hand. You had to shift on the bed a bit to reach his arm, so you ended up leaning your cheek against his thigh, tossing your arm over his lap in a sort of make shift hug.

“I like it. It’s calming… and informative.” You couldn’t help but smile into his leg. “People who complain are just jealous.” That actually makes him laugh, but it doesn’t sound like a happy kind of laugh. More like a self-deprecating one. “I’m serious. You are clearly smarter than everyone else is, and you are sneaky attractive. There is a lot to be jealous about.” You dig deeper into his lap as you squeeze his hand in yours. The last thing you remember before falling asleep is the feeling of Spencer running his free hand through your hair.

You wake up slowly, eyes adjusting to the dark. You can just make out the numbers on the bedside clock to be 4:37. You must have fallen asleep talking to Spencer. Your head was still resting on his lap, his hand in your hair. You untangle yourself from the sheets to rid yourself of the extra layers that woke you up. It takes a few minutes of digging around in the dark to find one of the t-shirts you normally sleep in. In that amount of time, Spencer, still sleeping, rearranged himself to be laying on the bed rather than leaning against the headboard. You stopped for a minute to observe his sleeping form. He looks so at peace compared to the furrow of his brow and the glint in his eye that normally mean he’s thinking too hard.

As soon as you lay back down in the bed, Spencer gravitates toward you. Before long, your head is resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around you. You breathe in the scent of vanilla and new books; the rhythmic pattern of his chest rising and falling lulls you back to sleep.

Part 2

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eleanore-delphinium · 4 years ago

Text

The Gift: Chapter 2 (Childhood Arc)

Chapter One

Chapter Two: (you are here)

Jean & Diluc

Diluc and Jean became acquainted with one another at the age of ten and eight respectively. Diluc was a rather bright and happy child growing up and Jean was quiet and reserved. It came to a surprise to a lot of people how the pair got along so well.

In fact, Diluc could be considered rather rambunctious and reckless and Jean was cautious and critical. And because of that, the others who didn’t question how they got along, understood why they did. They were what they considered opposites attract, Yin and Yang.

“Diluc! Wait up for me!” A ten-year old Jean complained as she climbed up a rock with difficulty. She looked up from climbing and a hand was outstretched in front of her. It came from a boy with red hair and red eyes—Diluc Ragnvindr, heir to the Dawn Winery. Her silver eyes glittered under the sun with a hint of blue as she felt blinded and surprised by the presence of the boy in front of her as the sun right behind him.

She took his hand and he pulled her up. The wind blew her blonde hair around.

“Look, I told you that there were knights fighting some hilichurls!” The twelve-year-old Diluc said proudly. He had dragged Jean out so that they could look at some knights in action.

“I’m going to be one of them, Jean. And I will defend Mondstadt with everything I got!” His claymore faded behind him in gold dust, in her eyes it made him look like he was shining as he said those words. Her grey-blue eyes silently look at the claymore floating behind his back as it reappeared in gold dust again.

“You have been training hard.” She couldn’t help but remark, as it was after all the truth. He had been training very hard at swordsmanship at the age of eight, despite it being a skill he didn’t necessarily need. And when he got his vision at the age of ten, it was like the world was fully his, at least that was what he told Jean. But it was different for her, she had trained her posture and strikes with wooden swords since she was five and slowly changed into different kinds of swords as she grew and improved. Recently she had started using an actual sharp metal sword fitted for her. In her case, learning swordsmanship was a necessity.

Jean is known to be the more responsible one between the two, it was a fact that Diluc had set his heart out to being a Knight of Favonius. And Jean wasn’t quite sure about her future, but it was already decided for her, as a Gunnhildr it is natural to be a Knight of Favonius.

She had just recently decided to take up the sword and try to follow her mother’s desires with a passion that should compete with Diluc, but she didn’t even know what her objective was after mastering the short sword. If it was something she even wanted to do.

“Don’t worry Jean, you’re going to be a great swordsman. I know it.” Diluc said, feeling that Jean was slightly upset. She looked at him with pressed lips, he has always known what he wanted to become.

“Says the heir to the Dawn Winery.” She mumbled, and he bumped onto her shoulder playfully.

“That is my Father’s legacy. Of course, I will keep that alive, but I also need to chase my own dreams.” He replied smoothly, she felt as though it must have been something he had known for a long time.

She was envious of that certainty.

Diluc pulled her to hide behind a small bump on the ground. She quietly observed the Knights of Favonius by Diluc’s side and she was rather impressed with their fighting skills. She could only hope to be at that level soon. Jean looked at Diluc and she knew that the boy beside her would surpass the knights fighting right now.

“We should probably go.” Jean urged gently and Diluc looked at her with a slightly stern gaze.

“We just got here, Jean.” He responded quietly.

“But—” Jean said but was cut off.

“Don’t worry, if anything happens, I can protect you!” Diluc said confidently and in all honesty, Jean knew he could, he was rather capable for a twelve-year-old, but her innate nature wouldn’t allow it or perhaps it was her training.

“Diluc—” She tried again.

“They are over here!” A man called out pointing to the kids, and Diluc automatically grabbed Jean’s hand and ran away from the man.

“I can’t believe they found us.” Diluc said as he ran holding her hand firmly, Jean who was forced to follow him wanted to pull her hand away.

“Diluc, I think we should go back.” Jean tried to urge Diluc again.

“No, we just got out! Aren’t you tired of always studying?” He grabbed her and hid behind a tree as he silently observed if they were followed, and they saw no one behind them.

“C’mon, I think we can go to the Winery.” Diluc took a step forward but Jean remained planted on where she stood.

“That’s pretty far, Diluc.” Jean mumbled faintly.

“We’ve gone there many times before.” Diluc replied, keeping an eye for any movement around them.

“With permission.” She quietly added. “This time I ran away from training, you do realize that I will have to make-up for what happened today, some other day.”

“You’re just ten—they are overworking you.” He said sternly and she avoided his red eyes. Diluc was virtually perfect, he could be very good at something new and master it just as easily. And since he has a fiery passion for his claymore and combat, it was natural that he would more than just excel at it. He was at a level no one should be at—at the age of twelve, especially since he started late in training compared to her.

But the same thing could be said about Jean, she knew more than what a ten-year-old should know. But that was a result of the kind of upbringing she had. The sheer effort that she had to always display and give to please her mother, as the next heir of the Gunnhildr clan. And yet, she knew very clearly how Diluc had tried his very best to offer her a glimpse of a normal childhood.

Jean in a sense, aspired to be him in so many ways.

She was very much inspired by his capability. And his passion for justice. And his freedom.

“Alright.” She agreed quietly, even though in her head she disagreed completely. She will have to pay the price of what they are doing today, she knew it well. But looking at Diluc’s clear eyes, she couldn’t help but sigh in hushed tranquility. Diluc was always admirable.

And they carefully made their way to the Dawn Winery while Diluc kept an eye out for anyone following them. They arrived unfollowed, but they realized someone was at his villa’s front yard, Diluc’s father—Crepus was arguing with a blonde-haired woman, the same shade as Jean’s hair. Jean recognized the back of the woman before the woman’s voice could even register in Jean’s head.

Crepus' eyes glanced behind the woman, who had seen his eyes shift and turned around to see Jean and Diluc. The moment she finished her turn, Diluc automatically stood in front of Jean with a glare directed at the older woman.

“Diluc, you have been causing trouble.” Crepus said with crossed arms, but his eyes held the smallest hint of delight at his son’s antics.

“They are overworking Jean!” Diluc argued back with a stronger glare directed at the older woman.

“That is none of your business, kid.” The woman replied.

“She is just a kid; she should be playing around!” Diluc yelled and received a cold glare from the woman. It was cold enough to make him flinch.

“She is not just a kid; she will be the future leader of the Gunnhildr clan.” She said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Frederica,” Crepus called out to the woman in front of him and she tilted her head a bit to the right acknowledging him. “She should still be able to play around like a normal child.” There was a silence that passed by them.

“Jean, what do you think?” Her cold blue eyes landed on the girl behind Diluc who remained quiet in the presence of her mother.

“I do not dare to question my mother's upbringing. I am raised to be well equipped as the future leader of our clan.” Hearing Jean’s reply, Diluc could not help but clench his fists.

It is true that when Diluc was ten he had received his vision, and worked hard to do justice to it. He chose to not play around with children his age because he wanted to master his craft and join the Knights of Favonius even more now that he had a vision. But that was not the case for Jean and he was so aware of his privilege.

“Jean.” Diluc turned to look at her but her expression was steely as she stared back at him.

“When I went out with you today, I knew this would happen. It is inevitable. I thank you for the company Diluc, but sadly I will have to go now.” Jean gently touched Diluc’s shoulder whose face showed his guilt. “Do not feel bad, I wanted to join you.” She gave a faint smile. It was the truth that she wanted to go with him when he arrived under her windowsill earlier that day, even though she knew that there would be consequences that would follow.

“Mother, I apologize for my actions.” Jean stepped out from behind Diluc and approached her mother. “I will take responsibility for my actions.”

“Good, as it should be as the future head of the family.” Frederica said the cold stare from her blue eyes made Jean think her mother’s gaze was certainly made of ice.

“Jean, I—” Jean turned to look at Diluc and the sadness in her face made him pause.

“Till next time then.” Jean feigned a smile and did not wait for a reply from Diluc as she turned to look at her mother. “I am ready, mother.”

“Crepus.” Frederica said with a pointed look towards Crepus and a raised brow. “I would advise you to correct your son’s behavior, but I doubt you would.”

Crepus did not take Frederica’s words as offensive, instead he smiled and nodded to her pretending to take it into consideration. Frederica knew that he was just nodding out of politeness.

Jean followed behind her mother as the two went their way. Diluc’s gaze followed Jean until she was out of his sight and he thought that she looked so forlorn. But she never glanced back at him before she completely disappeared from his sight.

“I hope you had fun.” Crepus couldn’t help but say and Diluc finally turned his head to look at his father who appeared sad.

“I did… but-“ He looked back at the general direction of where he had last seen the mother and daughter pair. “Will she be in big trouble?” He added quietly.

“Frederica wouldn’t give her daughter a hard time, I’m sure of it.” Crepus replied but Diluc looked at his father with pressed lips. He knew his father was lying to comfort him, but Diluc nodded and slowly walked into the mansion with unhurried steps.

“Brother!” A blue haired boy called out to Diluc from atop the staircase, Diluc smiled when his eyes met the other boy’s periwinkle eyes.

“Kaeya.” Diluc said and his distress from what happened outside was completely forgotten after seeing his brother. He quickly walked up the stairs and Kaeya’s eyes widened with delight.

“Father, I will accept any punishment you decide to give me due to my actions!” Diluc said as he ran to his younger brother halfway through the stairs.

Kaeya was a year younger than Diluc and he was adopted over a year ago due to certain circumstances. Kaeya used to be such a cold child, but with great effort, Diluc and Kaeya became close and Kaeya came to look up to his older brother Diluc with much love and respect.

When Diluc reached the top of the stairs Kaeya pulled his brother towards the library door. Diluc chuckled as he watched this playful child attempt to drag him away. He wasn’t always like this, it brought Diluc happiness seeing how joyful and playful Kaeya has become.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you two were up to!” Crepus replied as he watched his two sons with much love in his eyes.

“Kaeya, you seem way too excited.” Crepus laughed looking at his two sons, even though he is pleased in knowing how cheerful the blue haired boy has become after what has happened to him. Although he has to admit that he was very surprised to see that Kaeya developed a great respect for Diluc.

“This is for us boys only!” Kaeya yelled back to his father as he pushed Diluc into the library and shut the door behind him with a bang.

Crepus did not think that the slamming of the door was disrespectful, he knew that Kaeya was merely too excited and Crepus laughed wondering what the two boys could possibly be talking about.

“So, did you see her?” Kaeya asked instantly as he held his brother’s shoulder and Diluc laughed at his reaction.

“Yes, I did.” Diluc replied and his younger brother looked at him as he waited for more to be said. The joy in Diluc’s face slowly faded as he sighed and turned around.

“Based on your reaction, something bad happened?” Kaeya said as he followed behind Diluc who sat on a chair with another sigh.

“Her mother came here to pick her up.” Diluc said in an exasperated tone.

“Ah, that was what that was.” Kaeya mumbled as a frown formed on his lips. “So, you weren’t able to show her?” Kaeya sounded quite upset.

“Why do you sound more upset than me?” Diluc playfully retorted as he crossed his arms over his stomach.

“I went through all that trouble to distract our father.” Kaeya glared at his brother as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You weren’t even able to show her what this was all for. Jean’s mother is too much!”

Diluc stared at his brother who was obviously fuming in anger and laughed.

“It is alright, there are still more chances to see her.” Diluc looked at Kaeya, whose anger was slowly dissipating.

“Have you done your training for today?” Diluc inquired and Kaeya shook his head.

“Then, get your sword and let’s go out and train.” Diluc then stood up. “I will go and inform father.”

“Alright.” Kaeya replied as Diluc walked out. “I will follow in a bit.” Kaeya took a peek from the window and noticed the pair of blondes climbing onto a carriage with the Gunnhildr crest.

But on that day Diluc was gravely mistaken, he had thought he would see Jean again, unfortunately it would take three months to be able to see each other again. He had attempted to see her, but the security and Frederica would not let him through. He did not expect that she would go this far because he had forced Jean to ditch her lessons for a few hours.

Diluc’s mood had soured when he realized in the third week that Jean’s mother would drag this out. She might even use this opportunity to cut off ties. He was quite angry.

“Diluc,” Kaeya got no response. “Brother?” Kaeya called out a little louder in worry as he saw his brother’s expression turn dark.

“Brother!” Kaeya shook Diluc and the latter stared at his brother and sighed.

“I’m sorry I’m making you worry.” Diluc said, resting a hand on Kaeya’s shoulder.

“The Winery hasn’t hosted a party in a while. Your birthday is coming up.” Kaeya said matter-of-factly and Diluc raised a brow at Kaeya, catching on to what he was implying. “And a festival in Monstadt will soon follow, I’m sure something could be arranged.” A warm smile appeared on the red boy’s face.

“Yes. You are right.” Diluc agreed, recalling a memory from two years ago.

“A Party.” Diluc said and Kaeya couldn’t help but be charmed by his brother’s smile. One day, he too would have such charisma.

CHAPTER THREE

#genshin impact #otp #jealuc #jean x diluc #diluc ragnvindr #jean gunnhildr #romance #fanfiction #crepus ragnvindr #frederica gunnhildr #kaeya alberich #childhood #the gift #eleanore delphinium

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nobodyfamousposts · 5 years ago

Text

Miraculous Salt: Bustier

Fair warning: There are some dark and potentially triggering things discussed. Assault, domestic violence, drug use, overdose, and attempted murder are implied if not outright mentioned.

“Today, class, I’ve asked a special guest to come speak to you!” Bustier greeted them all with a smile. She gestured to the woman next to her, a young adult they hadn’t seen before. She seemed a bit nervous awkward, but was dressed professionally and tried to appear confident.

Bustier clasped her hands together.

“Vivienne is a former student of mine from a few years back. She going to talk to us about positive examples and appropriate behavior in the classroom.”

Marinette slumped in her seat, already knowing what this was about and just whom this lecture was meant for. Bustier’s frequent looks at Marinette weren’t even necessary. The fact that several of the other students shot glances back to her made it clear they knew as well.

Apparently Bustier’s lectures to Marinette about the high road and helping her classmates weren’t enough anymore. Now it just felt like she was making a spectacle to prove a point.

The woman, Vivienne, looked to Bustier in confusion.

“I thought I was supposed to give a lecture about preparation for the future?”

“Well certainly.” Bustier agreed, smiling brightly and indulgently. “And about how a good future for everyone can be started by setting an appropriate example in the here and now.”

Several of the students around her nodded. Lila sent a smug look back at her. Marinette merely wanted to crawl under her desk.

The woman stared at Bustier in open-mouthed surprise.

“Are you joking?”

Bustier appeared startled. “I’m sorry?”

“Are you actually joking? Did you mean to tell me you brought me here. All this way. On a weekday. To give a lecture to students about your downright toxic classroom habits?”

Everyone’s eyes widened. Their mouths opened. Because…no one just talked to Bustier like that. She was a teacher! And she was so nice!

Bustier herself was frozen in shock.

“Excuse me?”

“No. No. You’re right. You had me come to give a speech to your class. Fine. I’m going to talk to them.”

She cleared her throat and turned to the class.

“Listen to me. All of you, but especially you in the back because it seems you are Bustier’s target of the year.” She said, looking around to everyone in the class though her eyes remained mostly on Marinette. “You have the right to feel angry when you are wronged. You have the right to be upset when someone hurts you. You have every right to not forgive the one who does it. It is not your fault when someone does wrong. It is not your responsibility for someone else’s choices. You are under NO obligation—ABSOLUTELY NONE to make the person hurting you feel better about it! And at some point, you need to consider what is best for yourself and your life, even if it means cutting people out of it and letting them face the consequences of their actions.”

“What are you doing?” Bustier demanded, outraged.

“Telling them the truth.” Vivienne stated flatly. “It’s the least I could do after what you did to me and my class thanks to your ‘approach’.”

“But you were a great example for your classmates.”

“No, I was their stepping stone and in some cases, their punching bag. And look how well that turned out! I’m STILL in therapy because of you!”

Bustier gaped in horror.

“Yeah, turns out that constantly pushing myself to take on the burden for everyone else’s choices isn’t actually healthy! Either for me OR anyone else.” Vivienne huffed. “And I have you to blame for a huge part of that.”

She pointed at Bustier in outrage.

“Because of you and your lessons, I lost my ability to be assertive. I became passive to the point of being a doormat, and it’s something that STILL affects me today! Because under YOUR guidance, I was taught that other people’s behaviors were MY fault. That if someone was being cruel or hurting me, it was because I wasn’t trying hard enough. That it was MY obligation to make bad people better rather than their own. And that if I tried to speak up for myself, I was the one in the wrong. Especially when you dragged my parents into things and portrayed the entire mess like it was my fault for not being okay with my treatment instead of concern over how I was being treated.”

“Now now, you’re over-exaggerating.” Bustier argued in that annoyingly placating tone.

“You made it MY job to try and better people who didn’t WANT to be better. I was thirteen! I was a student in your care! How was that supposed to be MY job? My only job was supposed to be to learn, and because of you, I’ve learned all the wrong lessons!”

She rubbed her face, frustrated and exasperated and just done with this whole thing.

“I don’t know what’s healthy or not. I don’t know when I’m being selfish or when I’m supposed to let something go. I still freeze up when dealing with people because even years later, I still have your voice ringing in my head about how I need to be ‘the better person’ regardless of whether I actually CAN.”

She stopped and took a breath. Then turned on Bustier, appearing truly angry with the woman.

“You pushed me to the point of self-destruction and said that was love.”

“I’m sorry that you apparently had a rough time of things,” Bustier fumbled. “But I can’t be held responsible for how every student turns out.”

“THEN YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE BECOME A TEACHER!”

Bustier reared back as if struck by a physical blow.

Vivienne breathed deeply, trying to get herself back under control.

“You had a position of power and authority over me. And you used it to push your responsibility on me. To push the responsibility for EVERYONE in that class on me. On top of my own schoolwork. My own issues. My own responsibilities. I had to deal with yours and everyone else’s. Their well being. Their futures. Their selfish little wants and requests I didn’t have time or energy for but was still expected to fulfill. All of that. On me. And now you’ve even gone so far as to bring me here to advocate for you doing the same thing to someone else? And you don’t see anything wrong with that?”

Vivienne gestured to her chest, agitated and hurt and just…finally letting years worth of frustration out.

“Doing what you did? Pushing things the way you did? You put an unreasonable burden on a child. All in the name of being a ‘good example’ for how other people should be. Guess what? The only thing being a ‘good example’ accomplished was showing people what to expect from others rather than anything they should expect from themselves.”

She glared at Bustier.

“I did some reading on psychology after leaving your class. Turns out the thing you missed about modeling is that it’s the ADULTS who are supposed to model for their kids, not other kids under their care and especially NOT the ones being victimized.”

Bustier forced herself to speak. “But…everyone deserves a chance.”

“You have students that struggle. It’s common. They need extra care. That’s understandable.” Vivienne agreed. “The problem is that instead of being the teacher you are supposed to be and giving them that care yourself, you instead push that responsibility on your other students when it should never have been their responsibility in the first place!”

“They can’t change and do better if everyone is expecting them to fail.” Bustier reasoned.

“Maybe so, but they’re certainly not going to change if they don’t see a reason they should. Giving bullies a free pass and then lecturing their victims on ‘being the bigger person’ after they’ve been hurt because of the bullying is NOT going to motivate the bully to change anymore than it’s going to motivate the victims to keep trying! Was it any wonder so many of your students just gave up?”

Bustier’s eyes widened in shock.

“What?”

“Yeah, it turns out that I’m not the only student who left your class with problems down the line. Big surprise, but being reprimanded for feeling hurt and being told that their feelings are less important than those of the ones harming them isn’t exactly motivation to keep going out of their way to do their best. Not in grades, which unsurprisingly fell amongst students in your class by the final year. Not in activities, which—surprise surprise! Your students stopped being invested in because you kept pushing for everyone else to work twice as hard for something that you were letting other students get full advantage of with nowhere near the same effort! Was it any wonder that I was the only one you were able to browbeat into doing anything by the end? It was because everyone else got disillusioned and stopped trying! Because you rewarded the bad students and admonished the good students if they took issue with that. They weren’t blind! They know favoritism when they see it!”

The class was staring. Unsure what to say. Or if they even should speak.

“Oh, and on the subject of favoritism. You surely remember Candace—my bully whose behavior you defended and minimized? Yeah, she’s in jail. Again. For causing a scene in a public setting. Again. And even assaulting police, which is actually a new one for her this time around. But it’s her standard behavior. It’s all she knows how to do. Because you and people like you catered to her tantrums and brattish behavior, gave her whatever she wanted, and admonished anyone who complained about how she treated them.”

“Well…” Bustier simpered. “Treating her cruelly isn’t changing her now, is it?”

“Because she’s an adult used to getting her way!” Vivienne exclaimed. “The time to teach her better was when she was young. It was when she was still a student under YOUR care! Instead, you solidified her into the messed up adult she is today! Speaking of messed up adults, how about dear old Henrik? You remember him?”

“He…he was…a perfect student…” Bustier muttered, uncertain and wary.

“Sure was. Your model student. He sure road your high horse all throughout school and even all the way to his own wedding to Delia—your OTHER favorite student to coddle. You must have been so proud of how that turned out. And even after she’s cheated on him. Among other things. He’d be the picture of domestic violence at this point…you know…if he could actually acknowledge that the relationship is even abusive.”

She sighed.

“But he still insists he can ‘change her’. That he can ‘help her be better’. And some other reasons about ‘make a bad person be good’ that sounds like the sort of tripe you fed him. You know, most of us just thought he was a wannabe stud who like having girls rubbing themselves all over him. It never occurred to us that he was uncomfortable and just didn’t know how to ask them to stop.”

Several of the students gasped in shock. Adrien in particular appeared uncomfortable, like the story was a point for him in particular. Remembering the way Chloe and Lila hung off him, Marinette had to wonder if Adrien and this Henrik didn’t have a few concerning things in common.

Vivienne, however, continued. And even started to tick off on her fingers. “Elodie joined the police force and is so caught up in her own brand of ‘justice’ that she jumps into things without thinking and a number of her arrests ended up going free regardless of the charge due to her not following procedure. Arthur was always the sort to ‘go with the flow’ rather than stand up for anything, so he ‘went with the flow’ all the way to a strip club where he spends his nights, still waiting on some new job opportunity Delia promised him years ago. Kent and Morgan were arrested for embezzlement of some charity’s funds. Michael works at a repair shop, so he has a steady job at least. Sam’s charged for property destruction from illegal street racing. Again. Vincent is claiming some close relationship with Jagged Stone that I don't even want to consider. Randall died from drug overdose last year, otherwise I’m sure you would have called him up instead of me.”

Everyone gaped at her in growing horror. Alya and Max both seemed to be looking at their phones, only to wince or appear more agitated with whatever they found—Marinette assumed it was likely proof of Vivienne’s claims. Bustier looked almost ready to faint at the news of what’s become of her former students.

Vivienne just tapped her chin.

“And you know, now that I think about it, it makes sense that you called me out of everyone to come lecture your class because I think I’m probably the only former student NOT a complete wreck—if only because I’m a few steps away from it thanks to therapy.”

She sneered at Bustier in downright disgust.

“All these people you said it was my job to save. All of them—every single one of them fell apart when I finally gave up. Though they were admittedly barely hanging on as it was while they still had me to dump on. And I’m pretty sure that I could have been a millionaire by now if I’d held firm on charging people for the things they wanted from me instead of bowing to your insistence on doing things for people for free to be ‘nice’. Or, you know…NOT wasting my time and giving up on my own opportunities to pull everyone else out of the fires they kept starting.”

Feeling the weight of everyone’s gazes on her, Bustier spoke up to attempt to defend herself.

“To make a healthy classroom—”

“Your classroom isn’t healthy!” Vivienne shouted. And it was only now that Marinette realized there was a growing number of people hovering outside the door and listening in. “It says something that we have a magical emotion-based terrorist running around and his most frequent targets other than a guy obsessed with pigeons have been your students! Hell, in the past year the majority of akuma attacks have all been from this very class! If i didn’t already know you were doing this all along, I would think you were grooming these kids to be taken by Hawk Moth!"

“They’re not...that bad...” Bustier weakly defended.

“One of your students is the girl who tried to CRASH A TRAIN! And it didn’t take me all of five minutes after entering to see you catering to what can only be a chronic liar.”

Lila immediately started the waterworks. “How could you say that about me?”

“Actually, I hadn’t pointed you out. But thanks for doing it yourself, and while we’re on the subject, GOOGLE. Five minutes is more than enough to debunk your stories. Anyone could do it if they bothered to. Which might have gone a long way in preventing the classroom from becoming toxic, Bustier, if you had helped to develop your students’ critical thinking skills so they could figure things out for themselves instead of demanding they become doormats to make other people ‘feel better’.”

“I—I—” Bustier looked almost ready to cry.

“Couldn’t be bothered to tell them they’re being lied to?” Vivienne asked, sarcastically.

“She has a condition! I didn’t want to impair her ability to make friends!” Bustier exclaimed, making the class stare at her in growing horror. Others turned on Lila in outrage at the confirmation. Lila in turn started to shrink in on herself, realizing that this had not been the best time to draw attention.

“So you protect one student by letting the rest be used and manipulated. It’s not like that can go wrong! Just ask Henrik…as soon as he gets out of the hospital.”

One student—Rose—actually raised her hand. “What…what happened to Henrik?”

“Officially, food poisoning.” Vivienne replied. “Unofficially, Delia only married him because he’s rich and good as arm candy, but she only needs him alive for one of those two things and his moral righteousness makes him less appealing as the latter.”

Bustier wobbled, her strength giving out. She quickly made it to her chair and almost fell onto it as the sheer magnitude of what was happening hit her.

“But…I don’t understand. It can’t be me. I’m…I’m a good teacher…”

“No.” Vivienne interrupted. “You’re a nice teacher. At least to certain students. For everyone else, you taught pretty words and preached about love and kindness to help build up a rose-tinted view of the world and the people in it. It’s no wonder nobody knew how to deal afterwards.”

“But…it can’t be my fault.” She insisted. “I’m only one influence! There are parents! Guardians!”

Yeah, no. Vivienne was not letting her pass the blame.

“Whom YOU spoke with. Whom YOU influenced with your position to put focus on the wrong problems—not what needed to be addressed but what you wanted to make your classroom easier for you. Parents don’t know what their kids are doing during school hours other than what they’re told is happening. And when they’re told that their kid is ‘problematic’ or ‘causing conflict’ or ‘not a team player’ but they’re not being told WHY? Or not being told that their kid is being mistreated, bullied, or outright assaulted? And those parents then turn on the kids?”

She shrugged.

“Honestly, what were we supposed to think?”

Bustier shook her head, now crying.

“I can’t fix everything!”

Vivienne stared, solemnly.

“But you could have helped. You just…choose not to.”

She looked back to the class.

“Don’t trust blindly. Stand up for yourself without pushing on others. Remember that you are allowed to have limits. And sometimes…” Her eyes fell back on Marinette. “Sometimes, it’s better to just cut out the weeds than hope flowers grow.”

With that, she turned and left the classroom, the various students and faculty listening in parting before her.

It was cold outside. Almost matching the feeling in her chest.

And yet, she let out a sigh.

“Now that’s the closure I’ve been looking for.”

And she carried on.

#ml salt #bustier salt #lila sucks #trigger warning

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genderfluidlucifer · 4 years ago

Text

Response to being asked to give an opinion on Connie’s calout by residentevil-4

(Tw: CSAM, rape fic, incest fic, predatory behavior, racism, ableism, kink mention, nsfw mentions. Minors should probably dni.)

“Connie and I know each other irl and went to school together for 3 years, although they now live in a different state and have cut contact with me. We went to a private therapy school in Manhattan as we're both disabled and were deemed unable to attend public school. Even though we were pretty close, Connie didn't like having photos taken of them, so I don't have any selfies of the two of us; however, these are from our sophomore and senior yearbooks which at least confirms that we were in the same year at school. People who have seen Connie's selfies should be able to confirm that that is what they look like. First and foremost, Connie is not TMA. They are intersex and the two of us have discussed intersex issues both in person and online, but they are still decidedly CAFAB.” Ok so first off, I want to address this part of the callout. To be honest...was it really necessary to literally doxx Connie ehre? Because this textbook definition of doxxing. Yes Connie’s done some shitty things but I freally don’t think that what they’ve done warrants this level of doxxing. Or...even better, any doxxing. This feels like a really unnecessary breach of privacy, revealing sensitive information on Connie’s childhood that they choose to confide in you with. I really don’t agree with this aspect of the callout as it feels very invasive and bordering on stalkerish. Btw when I say bordering on stalkerish I’m not directly calling you a stalker Bonnie. Just so we’re clear. I am not defending Connie supposedly faking being TMA. Because faking being TMA is a very serious issue. HOWEVER since I don’t know Connie irl and to be quite frank it’s none of my business what the nature of their agab is. Were not close and I’m certainly not going to like lead Connie onto thinking we’re friends just to confirm this with them because that would be creepy. So to be honest I’m going to take this part of the callout with again of salt for now.

[ID: A cropped screenshot of a numbered list Connie posted to their blog hadrosaurs in response to an ask.

“3. I’m TMA And that’s completely irrelevant. I’m not accusing them because of their gender I didn’t even know their gender when they said that to me saying that they said that because they fucking said that and the reaction to it was incredibly alarming. Don’t fucking say that stuff to people.]

I mean I”m not a trans woman so take this with a grain of salt if you want but...I don’t see how this is really proof of Connie being deliberately transmisogynistic? Yes Connie gives iffy retellings of mistakes they’ve made in the past. I’ve seen that on their blog before and I won’t pretend it doesn’t happen. BUT here they sound genuine enough and to be honest a growing issue I’ve seen with callouts as of late is. A person confirms they in fact did not do the thing they were called out for. And then the people who make the callout choose to see it as proof of incriminating behavior anyways. To be honest it’s a big problem and it’s also incredibly unfair to the person being called out. If you’re so determined at that point to see the person as bigoted no matter what they say then of course anything they say can be seen as proof. So I’m going to have to pass on this bit of evidence. “Connie responded: “Final note: I have spoken extensively with several trans women about using TMA to describe myself. I will not be getting into discourse about that on this blog again. All that leads to is people demanding my medical records and calling me slurs. If you wanna have a thoughtful conversation about it direct message me cause it’s not happening again here.” Again this really doesn’t seem all that self incriminating. Connie mentions here that they’ve talked to rl trans woman about whether or not they can be considered TMA. Connie really doesn’t have to disclose that personal information to people for any reason. Yes even when people are e including this ask response in a callout. And considering lots of people DO get invasive about Connie’s medical history ans general personal life over matters like this? I feel their reaction is pretty understandable here. “Connie has constantly compared “exclusionists” (or anyone, really) to TERFs, even when the people in question are not transmisogynistic, trans exclusionary radfems, or are even transmisogyny affected themselves.

“ Gonna have to disagree with this part of the callout too. Lots of ace inclus blogs, even some run by trans women , have proven that the ace exclus movement was started by swerfs/terfs. But the blog that has the most evidence for this is courteousmingler on tumblr. I suggest you check out that blog’s archiving of the history of ace exclus rhetoric before rushing to call me a transmisogynist for disagreeing with this part of the callout. I looked through all of the evidence for Connie being racist and tbh as a black ndn it all feels incredibly flimsy. It’d be one thing if Connie was using their experiences to derail and invalidate the discussions about how black people are oppressed But they weren’t doing that there at all. This part of the post feels incredibly biased. And like OP is looking for things to be mad about. Going to have to pass on this list of evidence. Also uh I seem to recall that residentevil04 got called out for some questionable behavior as well. “Both me (insepsy, hi) and ezrat have had really weird spikes in activity on our Statcounters, both on the same day. (Saturday, 4/17/21) For both of us, majority of the pages looked at by these visitors have been related to or about Connie, or have been posts that Connie would find "problematic" such as the f slur untagged or something related to "panphobia"/aphobia. I’m sorry but...none of the proof of cyberstalking holds any water. Visiting someone’s blogs and rbing posts to disagree with them is not cyberstalking. Keeping tabs on urls that an abusive person who has harassed are using so you can block them (in this case with kyoshi) and warn your mutuals is not stalking. As a victim of rl stalking it’s...really weird to call this legit stalking at all. Much less claim that you have damning proof of it being stalking when no such evidence exists in the callout. Besides after Connie and nonbinarydave called out one of kyoshi’s buddies for sending a death threat hate anon to nonbinarydave’s toddler st4lker partly admitted to doing it a few times. Then other mutuals in kyoshi’s toxic social circle clearly began joining in. Making side accounts where they tried to spin a false narrative of nonbinarydave’s daughter being one of their alters (ableist as hell.) And also trying to do it in such a way that they thought would trigger nonibnarydave’s psychosis (also ableist as hell.) If you’re going to drag Connie for their mistakes and never let them move on from those mistakes then it’s only fair to do that to people you agree with who also do toxic/bigoted things. ALso the fact that your wording here suggests that you think panphobia and aphobia aren’t real makes me doubt this claim even more. Exclus and their allies are notorious for mislabeling inclus disagreeing with them as stalking. “connie said that they would release that info at a later time and the minor began to argue with them that they had a responsibility regardless of their complicated relationship with age. in this argument connie for a time kept their age ambiguous and at one point told the minor (who confirmed in a later ask that they were severely traumatized by adults) that they obviously weren’t traumatized. connie quickly deleted this ask and any mentions of it and the next post they reblogged was about how wrong it was to try and quantify or discount others’ trauma. on my old blog i @ed them in the replies and asked if they had just done that. connie admitted to it and said it was fucked up but quickly blocked + deleted my comment. i can’t remember whether or not connie apologized to the minor, they may have? but yeah. i thought that was pretty weird.”] I do agree with some of the concern here that adults shouldn’t over expose minors in discourse. I’ve been contemplating this for awhile myself. And trying to figure out how to take better steps to avoid including minors who are triggered by discourse in discourse, especially. HOWEVER I have one little issue with this addition to the callout. If that is the case then exclus and their allies need to practice this as well. You cannot ignore the fact that the reason a lot of minors are getting involved in exclus discourse is due to adult exclus and their allies forcing minors to pick a side in the discourse. Y’all are not at all exempt from this problem. I still remember an ex mutual of mine trying to convince a minor to agree that aces can’t face corrective rape. And based on how aggressive it got with me when I tried to avoid giving an opinion on the matter, I can’t imagine that it would’ve reacted better to the minor refusing to give an opinion or to the minor outright disagreed. Refusing to put these standards on exclus and their allies is both hypocritical and quite frankly very transparent. The claims about them glorifying dark topics on AO3 through their fics also seems unfortunately legit. I mean those asks of shaming people who ask their viewers to not romanticize or glorify abusive relationships in their works is very damning. I’m very disappointed to see that Connie has taken being an inclus to the point of validating antis anti culture wholeheartedly. I can’t think of much more to add to my opinion on that part of the callout. As for the issue of Connie interacting with pro shippers in the past, I do know that this claim is legit. I’ve seen it before and so has Breeze. This was why for a brief time we decided to stop following their blogs. Because it was triggering to have pro shippers put on our dash. And sometimes we just don’t feel it’s worth it to always let people we’re platforming know they’re rbing triggering stuff. So sometimes we just quietly unfollow and choose to not interact until we’re sure they’re filtering what they do and don’t rb in some way. I definitely don’t agree with that behavior. And if they’re still doing that I”ll deplatform again. “The anon asks: “A weird question but do you know any other stimboard blogs with your follow criteria? (No radfems, racists, fandom antis, etc.) I was hoping to find more through your “similar blogs” but a lot have no anti-antis for their DNI or allow truscum/transmeds and exclus. :(“

The user responds: “I know of @turtle-pond-stims, @outofangband, and @kinaesthetics! 🍂🍄" “[ID: A cropped screenshot of an ask sent by Connie from their now-deactivated blog, butch-with-a-tortoise.

Connie says: “hey anon I have safe stim blogs. dm me if you want them. And radfems/bigots aren’t allowed to interact. For my own safety (because the community is honestly terrifying) I can’t publicly say on my blogs that I’m safe for proshippers/kinky people but I try to spread word how I can.”] [ID: Screenshot of a post by evilwriter37, which reads, “I’ve been seeing posts about fandom police leaving ao3, and it’s like: Good. We don’t want you here anyway. Go find your own fanfiction site.”

The post is tagged “#Fandom #AO3 #Antis #Purity Culture” and has 87 notes. It was posted on December 21st, 2020.

There is a reply from main-to-outofangband-andothers saying: “there are Silm antis on that site who are against Russigon (Maedhros and Fingon) not because they’re cousins but because they’re both male (coded)”] [ID: A screenshot of an anonymous (though signed off as being from outofangband) ask sent to evilwriter37, which says, “Melkor and Viggo solidarity is ‘Look there’s nothing wrong with keeping my enemy chained up in my personal chambers at all times so please just focus on the war efforts and I’ll focus on the boy* in my chambers’ -@outofbangand.

*boy used figuratively @ antis”

The user responds: “Pfft!!! Hahaha! You’re absolutely right! (And Viggo does refer to Hiccup in canon as ‘my boy’).”] I can’t really say anything to refute this. Because these are all posts of Connie outright stating that they disagree with antis. And not only sympathize with anti antis but are fully against antis. Looks like very damning evidence. Although ngl I’m not entirely against kinky blogs as a whole? Just so long as they truly stay in their lane with their kink content. And don’t force it on others in any way. Or shame people who are triggered by their kinks. It is true that being entirely against kinky blogs no matter what is dipping your toes into swerf rhetoric. Tbh I’m not going to look at the rest. This is pretty much all I need to make a decision on whether or not I”ll continue platforming Connie. Though I will try to get some more perspective from people who I interact with as well. Because I feel better about making a more definitive decision after doing that. Also in general please don’t not try to get an opinion from me on how I feel about syscourse. A lot of the claims about Connie’s age weirdness and them using their alters as a shield feel like syscourse to me. Especially if this callout was written by one or several singlets. Singlets should never be trying to judge how legit someone’s system is ever. Even if their system friends encourage them to. You can call out a horrible person with a system without trying to insinuate that they’re lying about their alters in some way. Doing otherwise is ableist ESPECIALLY if you’re a singlet. Also in general the reason I stay out of discussions of judging how someone is handling their systems is because it’s syscourse and syscourse is triggering for my system and I. If this post was an attempt to get me to give an opinion on the validity of Connie’s system I don’t appreciate it. And I would appreciate not being dragged into such matters again, thank you.

In general there’s like a few parts of this callout that feel legit. Which is unfortunately cluttered with obvious bias and obsessive hatred of Connie. I’m not here to stan or coddle Connie. I know they are not a perfect person. Especially since no human being in the world is perfect. But I feel the way this callout was created was very sloppy since a lot of the evidence was messy at best. And some points were very hypocritical as well as there being some no true scotsman moments from OP. In acting like exclus never do any of the thing that they tried to call out Connie for. Which is behavior that I am not a fan of. This is why people need to be more careful about callouts and like make roughdrafts and have a more unbiased person helping them if they don’t feel they can do it on their own. I’m even trying to make a resolve to do better at that myself. So it’s not like I’m unwilling to put my money where my mouth is. Anyways those are all my thoughts on this messy callout. And tbh I’m not going to get too much more heavily involved in this. Because I need to focus on more immediately serious rl stuff more often, like doing what I can to get out of the hellish landscape of a house I currently am stuck in.

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hookedonapirate · 5 years ago

Text

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

Summary: Detective Killian Jones took an indefinite leave of absence from SBPD after his brother was murdered in the Line of Duty. Bitter and broken, he resides in a cottage on the beach when his brother's former partner, David Nolan brings him a case he knows the vengeful detective won’t be able to resist. A case involving Liam's killer.

Dr. Emma Swan makes all of her decisions like she operates on her patients—with care, competence and compassion. But when her colleague, Graham Humbert, is murdered in cold blood by the man who was freed because of a decision she made as a juror, she starts second-guessing herself. To make matters worse, her squeaky clean reputation is being questioned when she becomes a suspect for Graham’s murder.

There is one detective who believes she’s innocent, and he has a plan to protect Emma and find his brother's killer at the same time. When Killian finds himself caught between his duties to the SBPD and his need for vengeance, matters are only complicated by the feelings he develops for the woman he's supposed to protect.

He's impulsive and hot-tempered, and she's methodical and cool under pressure. Despite their differences, can they work together to bring the murderer to justice, or will the murderer get to them first?

A/N: I decided to post this earlier than I had planned. Thanks for all of your responses so far! Some trigger warnings I forgot to add but don't happen until this and future chapters anyway are inappropriate and unwanted infatuation. There will probably be more tw's as we move along.

Many thanks go to @ultraluckycatnd for her wonderful beta-ing skills and @onceuponaprincessworld as always for her encouragement and letting me bounce ideas off of her.

Rated: Explicit due to mature language, character death, violence, murder and smut. The scenes won’t be too graphic, but I’d rather overrate than underrate it.

Catch up: Prologue

Chapter 1

“Hey.”

The sound of Graham’s voice pulls Emma from her thoughts as she stares blankly into the full margarita glass in her hand. “Hey.”

“There aren’t any hard feelings, right?”

She can hear the concern in his thick, Irish accent as he claims the stool next to her and sets his beer tumbler on the bar top.

Swiveling her head to look at him, she knits her brows in confusion. “Why would there be?”

He shrugs. “Because I know how much you wanted the promotion.”

Right. That.

Emma’s been so consumed by the trial she actually forgot why she was here at the bar—to celebrate Graham’s promotion. The hospital board of directors appointed Graham to Chief of Surgery a week ago, and though the news was a major blow to her at first, she’s thrilled for him; she really is. Yes, she’d wanted the position, and ever since the predecessor announced his retirement, she and Graham had been the leading contenders. She’s proven time and time again she’s more than capable of overtaking the extra responsibilities the job entails, but Graham deserves the title as well.

“You're qualified and capable and you deserved it,” Graham says empathetically with an expression meant to convey his reluctance to say what he wants to say. Averting his eyes from hers, he cradles the back of his neck with his palm, his cheeks reddening as he adds, “Probably more qualified than I am.”

Emma tilts her head from side to side and offers a slight smirk. “Not probably. I am,” she teases playfully, making him chuckle. His left hand rests on the bar top between them as she places her hand over his, her smirk transforming into a sincere smile. “I’m happy for you, Graham, I really am. I’m sorry if I seem…” she pauses, debating which adjective best describes her recent behavior before settling on, “distant.” Distant isn’t really the adequate term, but it’s the best word to convey her mood without putting a damper on his.

Graham swivels toward her on his stool to cover her hand with his other one. “That trial really rattled you, didn’t it?”

Emma drags her hand away to bring the margarita glass to her lips, and mumbles, “In more ways than one,” before taking a sip. Not only does she constantly question her decision, but the visions of the defendant’s eyes watching her keep flittering through her mind. He'd made her feel very uncomfortable in the courtroom. Every time she'd look his way, he was staring. And she knew he wasn’t merely staring aimlessly into space or at someone next to her. No, he was staring directly at her. She kept trying to discourage his attention by scowling at him or looking away, but her attempts only seemed to encourage him. Every time she saw that creepy grin on his face, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end; it was like slimy worms were crawling up her skin. She felt like she were in an episode of Fear Factor.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Em. He could actually be innocent,” Graham says with a spirited grin as he playfully nudges her elbow with his. “And if he is, you saved an innocent man’s life.”

Emma smiles faintly at him, appreciating his optimism. “I didn't. The jury saved him.”

“Oh, come on, where’s that confident surgeon I know? I would’ve thought you’d return from the trial gloating about being picked as a forewoman when I said you wouldn’t even be chosen as a juror.”

Emma laughs. “You have a valid point, I should be brandishing my bragging rights at your celebration party instead of sulking at the bar all by my lonesome.” She takes another sip of her drink.

When she moaned and groaned to Graham in the doctors’ lounge about receiving the jury summons, he was quick to point out she wouldn’t be chosen because she’s too opinionated, too analytical and too bossy. Emma just smirked and took his remarks as compliments. “Guess you were wrong.”

He shrugs indifferently. “Oh well, you win some, you lose some. I can’t expect to win all our battles.”

Emma nods in agreement. “What would be the fun in winning all the time?”

Graham winks at her. “Exactly.”

He chugs the rest of his beer down before asking Emma to play darts with him. She groans, but when he takes her hand in his and pulls her from the barstool, she doesn’t argue.

After she beats him at darts, she chats with other colleagues and switches to water after one margarita, since she has to drive home. Robin Locklsey is the owner of the bar, but his wife, Regina, is one of the doctors celebrating with them tonight, so he joins them at the table to socialize and later, plays a couple rounds of pool with Graham and Regina.

Emma is the first among her colleagues to announce she’s ready to leave because she has to work an early shift in the morning. After saying good night to everyone, she is escorted to her car by Graham.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he says sincerely as they turn to face each other in front of her car.

“Thanks for inviting me.” Emma gnaws on her bottom lip, wondering if he really knows how happy she is for him, and not bitter in any way. Of course, she’d take the promotion in a heartbeat, but she’s glad it went to him and not someone else. “Congratulations, Graham. I‘m really proud of you,” Emma says with a genuine smile. Then she opens her arms, and he follows suit, pulling her into a hug. “If someone other than me had to get the promotion, I’m glad it was you,” she murmurs into his ear, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he whispers, holding her tight.

The hug is longer than she expects, and as soon as she realizes other colleagues could filter out at any second and think something else is happening between the two doctors who are famously known around the hospital as rival surgeons, Emma pulls away. “Have a good night, Graham.” She’s about to turn around and walk away, but he does something else she doesn’t expect.

He leans in and kisses her cheek. “Goodnight, Emma.”

She offers a faint smile. “Goodbye, Graham.”

She walks away from him, not sure what to think or how else to respond to what just happened. They’ve known each other since they were both residents and never once has he kissed her on the cheek, which is actually kind of strange if she thinks about it. They’ve always been too busy poking fun at one another to engage in long hugs and kisses on the cheek.

Once Emma’s inside her car, she places her hand on her cheek as she watches him head back into the bar. The kiss meant nothing. It was just a cheek kiss. They’re friends. They should be able to exchange cheek kisses without it meaning anything.

Yes, it was just a friendly kiss, Emma surmises as she pulls her hand away from her cheek to start her trusty bug. When the engine roars to life, she pulls away from the curb, breathing unsteadily as she drives home. She knows it was only a friendly kiss, but did he? Could he have feelings for her that went beyond the friendly relationship they had established?

If so, she has to put a stop to it now. She can't get romantically involved with a colleague. She doesn't get romantically involved with anyone, and certainly not with anyone she works with. What they have now is good and she doesn't want that to change.

The entire way home, she wonders if the kiss had meant something more than friendship. It's 10:17 pm when she pulls into her garage and decides to ask him about the kiss tomorrow and tell him they can't be anything more than friends.

~*~

Four hours later…

The smoke rings float through the pleasantly cool, Texas air before slowly evaporating into the blackness. The soothing sound of a trumpet from his favorite Frank Sinatra song plays through the audio speakers as he stares at the photo in the Storybrooke Telegram. It’s a glowing article about Storybrooke General’s new Chief of Surgery and confirmation of what his sweet Tamara told him yesterday. It’s not that he didn’t believe her, but he needed proof so he would know without a shadow of a doubt his efforts will not be wasted. It’s not every day he takes a life for his own personal agenda. And truth be told, he doesn’t trust anyone. Not even the pretty nurse who’s been his second pair of eyes and ears since he met her at the strip club six months ago. Two out of the three days a week Tamara’s not working at the hospital, she’s pole dancing to pay off her college debts.

Tossing the paper aside, he brings the cigar between his lips and gently inhales, savoring the warm cherry-flavored smoke before exhaling slowly, blowing the smoke toward the direction where Storybrooke General stands tall. The excitement dancing inside his belly is almost unbearable.

Not guilty.

Since the moment those two delightful words rang through the courtroom, he’d been contemplating ways to thank the beautiful blonde juror who so passionately argued for his acquittal.

And he’s thought of the perfect way to show his gratitude.

His lips expand into a menacing grin. He grows hard just thinking about her and how flushed she got when he stared at her lustfully in the courtroom. Such an exquisite creature she is. She wore those soft, silk blouses and tight black skirts which showed off her long, sexy legs and made her ass look so nice, you could melt ice cubes on it. She looked good enough to eat.

He groans and palms his erection, but the ringing of his phone interrupts his pleasant thoughts. If only he had enough time to finish himself off while fantasizing about her. But not tonight.

With a frustrated grunt, he removes his hand from his crotch and pauses the music with the remote control before accepting the call from the unknown number. He says nothing into the phone, only waits for the caller to speak.

“He’s pulling out of his driveway now.”

He ends the call and slips the phone into his pocket, doing his best to contain his excitement. He reaches over and extinguishes the butt of his cigar with the photo of the chief surgeon’s face, taking immense pleasure in watching the cigar blacken and burn a hole into the thin paper.

Rising from his chair, he leers lasciviously over the city from the vantage point of his penthouse balcony.

He carries the Storybrooke Telegram inside and tosses it into the fireplace, watching it disintegrate into ash before he leaves his condo with a knife hidden in his ankle holster. He descends several floors in the elevator and leaves the building, sashaying down the sidewalk as he lifts his hood over his head before shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. Walking to Storybrooke General takes all of ten minutes, giving him plenty of time to arrive before the Chief Surgeon pulls into the doctor’s parking lot, according to how long it took him to drive from the man’s house to the hospital yesterday morning after he’d followed the doctor home.

Dressed in all black, he’s able to slink around in the night like a black panther. Unlike his father, he always leaves a crime scene like a ghost—invisible and untraceable. He’d burned off his fingerprints long ago and always leaves the weapon at the scene of the crime. It’s too bad his father wasn’t as smart. He may have been cunning and evil, his heart black as night, but there is a reason he’s rotting in prison while his son enjoys a life of luxury as a contract killer, and yet has never been convicted of a crime. No, he’s nothing like his father. He doesn’t have an evil bone in his body. He doesn’t kill people with malice intent; he performs a service—a job—and he does so with a straight face, his eyes devoid of emotion. He’s had nothing against anyone he’s ever murdered.

Well, until tonight.

Tonight, he will be the one wielding the power, tonight he will be the one deciding someone’s fate.

Because tonight he’s doing it for her.

Dr. Emma Swan.

Tagging some people who have shown interest so far. If you would like to be tagged or untagged, please let me know.

@nikkiemms @teamhook @xhookswenchx @nikkiemms @xsajx @julesep3026 @hookedmom @biefaless @cluttermind @yasbio2015 @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @harshini01 @noensnaringnet @xarandomdreamx @onceuponaprincessworld @annastasiarinaldiva @royalswan @brustudyblog @officerrogers @gingerchangeling @melly326 @singersdd @mzbossyboots @unworried-corsair @iamemmaswanjones @authorarsinoe @kingofmyheart14 @nightskylover @jamif @resident-of-storybrooke @iam2307 @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @chinawoodfan @mormonkryptonite @ultraluckycatnd @captainswan-shipper88 @killianswanjones @bethdacattfm @andiirivera

#cs ff #captain swan #beyond a reasonable doubt #my fic

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aswallowssong · 4 years ago

Text

Second Child, Restless Child

Chapter 7 - The World Outside Calling Me

@valkyrie-5583

Read on AO3

Y’all, it happened. We’re finally updating. It would not have happened if @themetaphorgirl had talked me off the ledge so thank you Caitlin. Also thanks to my sweet little duckling of a sister, @starstwinkleplanetsshine, for always reading my drafts, from like, the start of time. OKAY SO

Section Chief Ramos is the least helpful person on the planet, Kit and Hotch have a ridiculously uncomfortable conversation, and Gideon finally confronts nobody's favorite liaison/nurse.

In which Kit feels really lost, really sad, and really unsure of her job.

She would have rather been anywhere else. She would have rather been in Gideon’s office being chewed out for speaking out of turn, or back in the ER during flu season, or facing down an unsub without Morgan.

Anywhere but in front of Section Chief Ramos’s office door, tapping her foot and clenching and unclenching her fingers. She needed to stop messing with the seams on her scrub pants - they were starting to wear - but she didn’t want him to open the door and see her pulling at her hair. She did a good job of masking her quirks and outlets for her pent up energy in the clinic with everything moving at such a rapid pace, but standing in front of the door, waiting for it to open? That was torture. Regardless of the fact that Ramos chose her to represent the clinic, and therefore the health department, as part of the Health Liaison trial run, she knew he didn’t like her very much.

Ramos didn’t like anyone very much.

He let her stand like that for seven minutes before the door opened. Ramos wasn’t exactly a large man. He had nothing on Hotch, who towered like a giant over her and gave off every vibe you would expect from someone in the FBI. Instead, his entire intimidating demeanor was in his eyes. Eyes that were glaring right at her.

“Nurse Colghain,” he said. There was no hint of kindness about him. “Come in.”

She followed him into the room and sat where he directed. His office was more clinical than Hotch’s, which she guessed made sense considering he was the Health Department/Academy Clinic’s Section Chief, but still. He could use some pictures of the wife he was rumored to have. Instead, he had plaques and other achievements around. Egotistical. Narcissistic. She gave a minute shake of her head to will the thoughts away.

I need to spend less time with the profilers.

“This is your monthly review,” he said, jarring her from her thoughts. She nodded, unsure of what else to do. When he didn’t continue right away she awkwardly nodded again. “Yes, sir.”

“You began the pilot Health and Wellness Liaison position on January tenth. Today’s date is February twenty second. In this meeting we will review position requirements, health meeting reviews, and you will give a report of duties and activities you have been able to complete in this time, as well as any other pertinent information to assess the validity of this pilot position. Do you understand the purpose of this meeting?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, looking down to see a small device with a red light blinking sitting right next to his hand.

Ah.

He was recording it. Ramos was formal, but not that formal. She wondered who would hear what she was about to say.

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Good. Let’s begin.”

The first part was easy. Just reviewing her position requirements, which she’d long since memorized for both her Head position, and her position at the BAU. Normally they had quarterly reviews, but because of the infancy of her position, Kit had been notified they would be monthly “until further notice.” She assumed that would mean they would be more like a check-in. Shorter.

She was so incredibly mistaken.

After the first part Ramos leaned back in his chair, something shifting in his eyes and the atmosphere in the room. He was smug. As if he’d caught her in a trap.

“Nurse Colghain,” he said with a little too much confidence. Not Agent Colghain, like Hotch would have said. Nurse. Which, while it was a title she was proud of, he didn’t even call her Head Nurse. Just nurse. One of nearly fifty on staff. Insignificant. Replaceable.

“Please tell me how many Health and Wellness meetings you are required to give a month.”

“Two, sir,” she answered easily. “Every other week, if cases allow, but two a month.”

Ramos nodded, something like mirth cutting across his face. “Then tell me, Nurse Colghain, why have you only held one meeting in nearly six weeks?”

She stared at him for a moment before blinking. “As I said, sir,” she started cautiously. She was being recorded. She would defend herself professionally. “Every other week, if cases allow. As we said before, I’m required to travel for cases related to medical, as well as others, in order to be present for twenty-five percent of out of town cases.”

“And those cases made it impossible for two health meetings to happen over a six week period?”

He was right. She could have made it work, but between Gideon and them going on cases without her, it was hard to find the courage to force the BAU team to sit down and listen to her harp on diet for any length of time. They were busy. She’d seen first hand how their cases wore on them. She’d experienced the wear herself.

“It wasn’t practical based on the number of cases over the last six weeks to take time away from either reports or research for a meeting about one of the approved health topics.”

“Wasn’t practical?”

“No, sir,” She said, voice becoming quieter and more timid as Ramos’s presence in the room seemed to increase. A hand ran over the outside seam on the leg of her scrubs. It itched to tug gently at her braid, but she didn’t dare.

He let there be silence for a moment before he leaned forward towards her. His eyes had narrowed. “Twenty-five percent of cases, Nurse Colghain. That leaves seventy-five percent of your time free to plan and execute the required health meetings.”

She shook her head. “Sir, it’s twenty-five percent of out of town cases. My original duties stated I was to be a part of all in town cases.”

He scoffed. “And what percentage of your time would you say is taken up by cases, in general?”

“Thirty seven percent.”

Ramos looked stunned, and Kit gave herself one moment to be glad she’d been listening to Reid the Friday before when he was rattling off percentages for her. She’d asked because she was worried she would be under the twenty five percent minimum, and was pleasantly surprised to learn she was over.

“That leaves-”

“Plus,” she continued, not letting him get ahead of her, “My team travels on cases without me, too. They were gone another thirty seven percent of the days in the last six weeks, which means that even if I was preparing for a meeting, they weren’t there for me to give it. And we spent three days working on a consultation, which was medical related, and filling out reports for a poisoning case in New Jersey. That’s what, fifteen, sixteen percent? And SSA Hotchner was out one day, which only leaves five-”

“Nurse Colghain,” he warned, “I believe you are far too comfortable. Throwing around percentages as if I am unaware of how you spend your time based on the reports you submit to me.”

She blinked at him for a moment, deflating. The confidence she had spouting numbers withered away under his glare. “But, you- you asked for the percentage.”

“For one. I don’t need a math lesson from a clinic nurse.”

Ouch.

She crossed her arms over her chest, staring down at her knees and staying quiet. She wanted out of Ramos’s office. Back to the clinic where she knew she wouldn’t be questioned.

“This month, I expect three meetings.”

Her eyes snapped up, jaw falling open. “Sir?”

“Three, Nurse Colghain.”

“But-”

“Full reports and reviews. Understood?”

She stared at him for a moment before nodding her head in submission. She wasn’t going to win an argument with Ramos without getting written up, and it wasn’t worth it to aggravate an already aggressive situation.

“Understood?” He repeated with a little more force, and she found her resolve buckling under his harsh tone.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Let’s talk about the meeting you were able to have.”

Let’s talk about literally anything else. Let’s go back to arguing over correct percentages and health meetings that haven’t happened yet. Let me, I don’t know, punch myself in the face repeatedly instead.

Íosa Críost, Kody. Dramatic much?

“The Health and Wellness meeting regarding sleep, sir?” She asked tentatively. Ramos wrote for a while before he addressed her again, setting his pen down and pulling out seven forms from a manila folder. The review surveys filled out by the BAU team.

“Yes. I have the reviews here, written by the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and I will be honest in telling you that the director was… surprised by the results.”

Her heart sank. Surprised couldn’t be good and with the way she’d slammed the forms onto the table in front of them all and stormed off without a word. It hadn’t quite been a week, and they had gone on a case without her on Sunday afternoon. She hadn’t seen them since the Friday after it had happened.

She’d kept to herself, too, and had chickened out of talking to Gideon, telling herself she had meetings to plan and case reports to finish. Morgan had been the only one to try to talk to her, even offering to go to Gideon with her, but she’d declined, and the only reason she’d spoken to Reid was to get the percentages that Ramos had just ostracized her for.

Her tantrum of sorts was embarrassing at best, and after she worked a whole clinic shift, did a full set with her cúpla at the bar, and slept on it, she wasn’t really ready to face him. Any of them. It had been a relief when she’d shown up to the office and found that they’d flown off to Middle-of-Nowhere, Nebraska, population five dead girls and a terrified town.

Kit sat forward in her chair, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Surprised, sir?”

Ramos nodded, face morphing as he gave off a wave of annoyance. “Yes, pleasantly surprised. It isn’t often that a meeting ends with a positivity rating of one hundred percent.”

Kit’s eyebrows pulled together as her jaw went slack, eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to process what he’d said. One hundred percent positivity rating. How was that possible?

“I don’t understand, sir,” she finally said, “All of them? They were all positive?”

He nodded, though looked as if it truly pained him to do so. “Yes. All seven reviews were positive regarding your content and professionalism. Some more positive than others, of course, but all positive.”

“Even Gideon’s?” She said before she could stop herself, not believing what she was hearing. There was no way that Gideon had given her a positive review. There was no way that anyone had given her a positive review. She’d argued with him. She’d slammed the surveys into the round table and abruptly finished their meeting before stomping out. She had to be missing something. Or, being punked. Did the FBI punk people?

Ramos raised an eyebrow at her. “I cannot show you the reports, as it’s a matter of confidentiality, but yes. SSA Gideon is a part of the BAU team, which would mean that his review survey of your meeting was positive.”

It should have made her feel better. It should have made her feel good to hear that Gideon, who she was sure without a doubt hated her, gave her a positive meeting review. Especially considering the fact that he was the one she had been arguing with before she so ceremoniously took her leave. She should have been settled, and put at peace over it.

It should have made her feel better.

It didn’t.

It pissed her off.

Lying to fit the mold didn’t seem to be Gideon’s style, and the fact that he’d done it, to her, made her furious.

“Are we done here?” She spouted without thinking. She suddenly felt like she was vibrating, and she needed out of Ramos’s clinical office and the uncomfortable chair she was sitting in.

He sighed, setting down the review surveys and folding his hands on top of them.

“I have one last thing.”

She shifted in the chair, but stayed quiet. The longer she was quiet and listened, the faster she could probably leave. Anger pulsed through her chest, and she knew exactly where it was going once she was done listening to whatever annoying thing Ramos wanted to finish with.

“Before, you said my team in reference to the BAU.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yes, sir.”

“They are not your team. You are not a part of their team.”

She watched as his eyes went hard, his voice slow and simple as if he was explaining something to a child. Some of the ice that had hardened over her heart started to melt, her anger ebbing slightly as her chest started to swim in the melting slurry.

“I’m sorry?” She asked.

“You are not a part of their team. You are a part of the health department. The clinic staff.”

“But,” she started, “Hotch said-”

“SSA Hotchner is your point of contact for the BAU. He isn’t your supervisor. I am. You report to me. And you, Nurse Colghain, are separate. A liaison. A connecting point. Not a part of the disorganized, ridiculous mess the Behavioral Analysis Unit has become.”

“The BAU is full of incredibly talented people.”

Morgan. Elle. Hotch. Reid.

She’d seen them work first hand, many times in her six weeks with them, and she was always confused as to why people didn’t seem to understand the magnificence of what they did. She could read people’s emotions, sure, and very well. She’d give herself that. But what they did? What each one of them did? It impressed her to no end. Even Gideon, when he wasn’t pissing her off, was an incredible profiler to watch.

“The BAU worries about finding maniacs,” Ramos said dismissively. “You worry about keeping people alive.”

She shook her head, sitting straight up in her chair. “Profiling keeps people alive.”

Ramos shrugged, clicking off the recorder before looking her dead in the eyes. “And you are not a profiler, Nurse Colghain. You are a nurse. Right now, you’re splitting two positions, and not doing one incredibly well. A questionable liaison. Arguably, a decent nurse.”

Questionable. Arguably decent.

“They are a team,” he continued. “You are a clinic nurse, and you will never be more than that. Do I make myself clear?”

Kit let her eyes hold his for a moment. Every bit of her icy anger had melted, leaving her feeling upset, and sloshy, and confused. Hotch assured her all the time that she was a part of their team, but Ramos was her supervisor. He was in charge of her position, and he told her she wasn’t a part of the BAU team. She never would be. She didn’t belong.

She didn’t feel like she belonged in the clinic anymore, either. Between only being there three days a week, once on the weekend when she’d never worked that rotation before, and the traveling for cases that sometimes took more than one day, she had lost some of the “home” feeling she associated with the clinic and her nurses.

I don’t belong much of anywhere.

“Yes, sir.”

She finished her clinic shift quietly. That wasn’t necessarily unusual. Unlike the last six weeks in the BAU, the clinic was never something new. Always something different, but never anything that was surprising or particularly stressful. She could spend days upon days quietly directing with very few words, saving the most gentle and caring ones for younger academy cadets that were very far away from home and either sick or broken. Something about nursing softened her. It always had.

The BAU did the opposite. Somehow, in only six weeks, it had brought a part of her out that she hadn’t known for a long time. The part that smoked cigarettes under the bleachers during study hall and complained loud and long about music lessons and stepdance, though she secretly loved both. That wore dark lipstick so she wouldn’t look just like Monty. Who had more detentions than both her cúpla, though both Ari and Monty had their fair share.

The BAU brought out the part of her that argued. That fidgeted and got frustrated and stood up for herself. The part of her that was confident. The part of her that was trouble.

While her rebellious nature had taken time to soften all those years ago, Ramos had stripped her of its reprise in an hour's time. She stood for far too long after her shift was over, staring at the outside of the locker she shared with Monty. She’d dodged her twin by hiding in the bathroom until five o’clock had come and gone. The chipped paint of their shared space was partially covered by the plastic name plate that sat in the top middle, reading, “D. Colghain / M. Colghain.”

They’d requested to share a locker, and now three days a week, it was empty when Monty came. They didn’t get to meet in the break room and exchange quips back and forth before Monty had to work, and Kit had to go home without having seen her other half, the fire to her ice, before she figured out something for Ari and her to eat, plunging into sleep before he could ask her about the things she saw with the BAU.

So, after her meeting with Ramos, and the rest of her shift, Kit had been sure to clear out long before Monty was there. She didn’t want to talk to Monty, because Monty didn’t get it. No one really could. She was in a strange position that not one person had been in before, and all Monty would do was remind her that the clinic was her home, like Ramos had, even though the clinic didn’t feel entirely like home anymore.

She didn’t belong at the BAU. She never would. Ramos made it very clear she wasn’t supposed to let herself.

What the hell am I doing? What am I supposed to do?

You could talk to Hotch, Kody. He has kind eyes. He’s nothing like Ramos.

Ramos’s words echoed in her ears.

SSA Hotchner is your point of contact for the BAU. He isn’t your supervisor. I am. You report to me. And you, Nurse Colghain, are separate.

“What the hell am I going to do?” she mumbled in her mother tongue, staring at the locker a few minutes longer before she started for the metro station.

-----

Kit stood outside the glass doors the next morning earlier than she normally would. Instead of the anger she felt the day before in Ramos’s office, anxiety lived in her chest. She’d popped her fingers so many times the night before that they were sore, and she was thankful it was still February so she could wear a thick sweater that covered the red marks she’d scratched into her forearms. She hadn’t realized she’d been doing it, and while it hadn’t gone on enough to draw blood, they’d stung in the shower and looked much more angry than they felt. She usually pushed up the sleeves of her sweaters and cardigans, because she hated the way the cuffs felt around her wrists, but she had already mentally prepared herself to leave them down and deal with the annoyance all day.

Time passed faster than she thought it would, and when she was grabbed gently by the shoulder she jolted, turning and shifting into a defensive position without having to think. It didn’t reach her that she was fairly unlikely to be attacked on the sixth floor of their FBI building, but Hotch was clearly unphased by her reaction, hands up in front of him to signal his intent.

“Sorry, I called your name twice,” he said evenly. “I could tell you weren’t quite grounded.”

She took a breath before relaxing, hands coming not down to her sides, but to settle on top of her backpack straps. Her hands clutched tightly around them, and she took another breath before saying, “I um. I wasn’t. Thanks.”

Hotch nodded, picking up his briefcase from the ground and nodding towards the double doors she had just been staring at. She followed behind him as he walked through the door. “How was your meeting with Ramos?” He asked, clearly attempting to be casual. While it should have made her feel good, and included, it just made the weight that had been vibrating around her chest settle deeper.

You aren’t included, Kody. You’re separate.

“It was informative.”

“Anything I need to know?” he asked as they walked. The casual, conversational tone of his voice sounded less forced than before, and it made her chest feel tighter and tighter as their steps synced. Six weeks didn’t seem like a long time, but she felt like she’d been splitting with the BAU a lot longer.

She needed to force that all down and away.

“No, Agent Hotchner. Though, I will be required to give three talks by the end of March. We were short last month, and Section Chief Ramos made it very clear that it’s unacceptable.”

Hotch stopped short, turning and raising an eyebrow at her. She didn’t call him Agent Hotchner, she hadn’t in six weeks. The confusion and concern coming off of him set the weight in her chest even deeper, and she worried at her lip between her bottom teeth as she waited for him to affirm her request.

“Of course,” he finally said, “Though that should be on me. It was a busy month, but I should have made time.”

“No, Chief Ramos made it very clear that it’s my responsibility. I’d like to do one this week, if possible. Friday, if your team isn’t on a case.”

Hotch looked at her with searching eyes, and she could tell he was profiling her. She didn’t need to ask, she knew the look by then. They all had one, and this was Hotch’s.

There’s no inter-team profiling. Even he agrees with Ramos.

“Is there something bothering you, Colghain?” He asked finally, both of them stopped in their tracks. “Something Ramos said?”

She shook her head quickly. If she said something, she would probably get in trouble. She reported to Ramos, not Hotch, and it was clear she was on thin ice.

“No, sir. I just want to do my job well.”

“Is it Gideon?” He continued, dropping his voice though there was no one else in the bullpen. It was too early. “I spoke with him about the meeting last week. He said he would talk to you once we got back, but if you need me to-”

“No,” she said quickly. There was more force behind her words than she intended, and she watched as Hotch shifted from offensive, to defensive. “No, thank you,” she tried again, softening both her tongue and her body language. “It’s nothing. Really.”

“If Ramos made you uncomfortable-”

“Stop.”

Kit shook her head too quickly at him, watching the miniscule shift in his face. He’d flooded the space around them with a level of concern she couldn’t handle. She couldn’t have him care about her.

He shouldn’t care about her. She wasn’t one of his to worry about.

She fiddled with her fingers, letting her hands tug at her sleeves, but not push them up. “Listen, Agent Hotchner, I appreciate your assurance that I’m a part of this team, but I’d like you to stop telling me that.”

His eyebrows came together, eyes softening. “Kit, you are a member of my team.”

“But I’m not. I’m a liaison from the health department.”

He shrugged at her, shaking his head and gesturing towards JJ’s empty office. “JJ is a liaison from the communications department.”

Kit shook her head, giving a sad smile and waving him off. “It’s different.”

She didn't want to tell him about Ramos. It would be like tattling, and they were FBI agents, not kindergarteners. As far as she knew, Hotch was JJ’s supervisor. She was a part of them. Kit was separate.

“I don’t see how it’s different,” he said, “but if you really feel that way, know that it isn’t on our end. By isolating yourself, you’re creating a barrier.”

“I thought we didn’t profile one another,” she said, feeling annoyance start to dance inside her chest. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know what Ramos had said.

What if Ramos is full of shit?

What if Hotch is full of shit?

He simply raised an eyebrow.

“The rule is on inter-team profiling. Did you not just say you weren’t a part of my team?”

She stared him straight in the eyes for a moment. The air around him had settled into the feeling she probably hated most of all.

Pity.

She latched her hands to the backpack straps over her shoulders to keep herself from pulling down hard on her twin braids.

“I need to prepare for the health meeting on Friday. We’ll do one in the afternoon. I’ll see you at the morning briefing.”

She turned away from him and walked to her desk without letting him respond to her, and she knew it was petty, but she didn’t need Hotch’s pity. She didn’t need anyone’s pity.

She could do grief, and anger, and fear all day. She could handle trauma, and regret, and incredible sadness. Illness. Confusion and skepticism.

She hated pity.

She didn't need anyone to pity her. The middle child of nine. The rebel. The decent nurse.

Trouble.

She didn't need it. Not from Hotch.

And she didn't need him to see the tears of frustration and self loathing pooling on her lashline.

She’d clearly gotten too big for her britches, and Ramos had helped bring her back down to earth. She wasn’t a stiff. She was a nurse. That’s all she’d ever be.

-----

“Colghain.”

Kit looked up from the papers in front of her to Gideon’s even voice. He was looking at her with the same intensity he always wore, beckoning at her with one of his hands before walking back into his office without another word.

She raised an eyebrow, significant anxiety flooding into her chest. She didn’t want to deal with it. She’d already had a conversation with Hotch that she didn’t want to have. She’d had a conversation with Ramos the day before that left her upset and self-loathing and desperate to feel like she belonged somewhere she most certainly did not belong, and never could, and never would.

And, Kit had avoided having a conversation with Gideon at every turn. She’d perfected it, as far as she was concerned. Hotch had tried to make them talk, and they’d either argued, or she’d avoided it completely. She didn’t want to have an actual conversation with Gideon. She hated Gideon. He hated her.

Why would he ever want to actually confront the issue?

“You better go, Lep,” Morgan said casually, flipping through a file. He looked exhausted. They all did.

“I don’t want to talk to him.”

“What happened to the girl that was like, ‘oh yeah, I’ll talk to him tomorrow,’ like, a week ago? Scared?” He teased, swapping his voice to a higher pitch in an imitation of her.

Despite the frustration she’d found with Hotch that morning, and the dread that flooded through her at the realization that she shouldn’t be getting close to anyone on the BAU team, she found herself smiling and rolling her eyes at the man in front of her. Morgan was different. He’d said it himself that they were friends, and Kit didn’t think that meant just at work. After all, they trained together on mornings she worked her clinic shifts, too.

“Oh, belt it, Morgan. I saw that you didn’t get a flu shot this year, are you scared of something? Needles?”

She’d been waiting on that one, but he just chuckled and shook his head. “No, that’s pretty ricky over there. I don’t need a flu shot. Immune system of a champion.”

Kit had to bite her tongue in order to keep from calling him “Antibiotics Guy” out loud, settling for rolling her own eyes and standing up from her chair.

“Sure, Morgan. We’ll see. Will you back me up if you hear screaming?” She asked, the nervous energy never leaving her as she stood to face the music. Maybe they’d fight and she’d get fired. It would sure make being a part of just the clinic an easier feat.

She’d never worried about getting fired this often in her life, even when she was nineteen years old and working trauma in the ER. It surprised her how calmly she considered it as her weeks with the BAU added up.

He chuckled and nodded at her, turning back to his file and speaking with his eyes on the page in front of him. “Sure thing. Hey, can I have your desk space if he roasts you to a fine crisp? I like to spread out.”

“Oh, múchadh, Der.”

“I don’t know what that means!” He taunted, but she didn’t turn back around. She was already steeling herself for battle.

Gideon was sitting at his desk, glasses on, and didn’t look up when she entered his office. She stood there for a moment before she knocked on the door frame.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah, sit down,” he mumbled, scribbling something in his notebook.

As bad as she wanted to tell him no, she would definitely not sit down, she could hear Hotch’s voice echoing in her mind.

I spoke with him about the meeting last week. He said he would talk to you once we got back.

The BAU team was back, and now, she needed to sit and listen to whatever it was that Gideon had to say.

You’re just a nurse after all. You should be the one apologizing.

“Gideon-”

“Colghain, I’m going to be honest, I don’t like that you’re here.”

Wow.

“Okay?” she said, dejected confusion on her tongue. Gideon wasn’t oozing annoyance or frustration like he usually was, but she couldn’t read him. He was almost apathetic. He wasn't even looking at her.

“The bureau forcing a new position like this says that they don’t trust units to manage themselves.”

Kit thought about that for a moment. She’d heard that from Morgan, and she understood why he would feel that way. He was a senior agent. He’d come back into the field after being on medical leave. She’d actually been one of the nurses that had read over his file before they would clear him to go back to work. Gideon had been in the BAU since its conception, and it made sense that he didn't like change.

"What about JJ?"

"Pardon?"

He looked up then, the tendrils of his confusion tugging at her skin.

Kit kept her train of thought. "JJ came from the communications department. She was a new position at some point, but you seem to get along with her just fine. You trust her."

"JJ isn't interested in anything but her position," he said simply. "And she’s proven that she does it very well."

"I'm not interested in anything but my position, either," she said. She felt like she was gaining some footing. “And, as of the last six weeks, I feel like I’ve shown that I can do my position well. Or at least, I can when I’m being allowed to do it.”

“Your position as a babysitter?”

“My position as an expert in my field.”

Their eyes were locked now; Gideon’s unwavering, Kit’s challenging.

“My job is to keep the team healthy, inform you all about healthful practices, go on takedowns, and give my input on cases that need it.”

“Reid knows anything your input could give us.”

“Not when he’s running a fever and trying to think straight while masking from you all.”

Gideon’s face shifted for a fraction of a second, but the concern that flooded the room told her she had the upper hand.

Good, asshole.

“Which you didn’t know, did you? In New Jersey. Not only was I reading tox screens and dealing with pushback at every turn, from you, on a case that was medically mine. I was also managing the symptoms of your protégé, who if you hadn’t noticed, has the constitution of a wet piece of cardboard.”

Gideon was on the defensive now, standing up from his chair. “We had an unsub to worry about. Reid can take care of himself.”

Kit stood from her seat to match him. She didn’t report to Gideon. She wasn’t on his team. He was on Hotch’s, and as far as she was concerned, she didn’t have to give in to him. They weren’t on the same team at all.

“And while on that case, regardless of you trying to step in and do my job regarding Hill, I still managed to take care of Reid, give valuable information about botulism and rohypnol, and get our foot in the door at the hospital.”

Gideon didn’t respond for a moment, and while it probably wasn’t a good idea, Kit kept going.

“And, just so you know, I don’t appreciate you lying for me on official documents. I’m a professional, and I’m damn good at my job.” All the things she’d talked to Morgan about were flooding back.

You just told me, so tell him.

That’s what he’d said.

Maybe she would.

She laughed once. “I’m good at my job. I proved it to the Health Department. My siblings and I are the youngest Head Nurses the clinic’s ever seen. We were the youngest in the history of the hospital we were at before that. Hell, the Director sees my files directly, and was on the team that selected me for this position. Me, not either of my cúpla.”

She watched him for a moment before she added, venom on her tongue, “I’ve proved myself again and again. I don’t have to prove it anymore. Not to you.”

“I didn’t lie,” was all he said, though his apathy had melted. There was something else there. Something she couldn’t place.

“What?”

“I didn’t lie on any official documents. Never have.”

She blinked at him for a moment.

The survey, you idiot.

“You gave me a positive review of my health meeting. The one you very specifically stopped before I was done to tell me I was wrong, and then argued with Hotch that I was wasting your time.”

He shrugged, pacing to the window and peering into the February air. “My personal feelings about the necessity, or existence, of your health meeting on sleep don’t change my opinion of your delivery. During the meeting, until I interrupted and jibbed, you were incredibly knowledgeable and professional. You were concise.” He shrugged again. “It was the best delivered health meeting I’ve been a part of during my time with the bureau.”

She stared at him for a moment, face working through a plethora of emotions before she settled on annoyance. “Then why in the hell,” she started, “would you have interrupted me?”

“Principle,” he said simply. “Understand, Colghain, I have an issue with your position. I also have an issue with the fact that you profile as a reformed rebel, and the sort of restless trouble that lies behind your eyes tells me you never really left it in your past. You’ve repressed it. You’ve buried it. You mask it in the clinic, and you’ve tried, unsuccessfully, to mask it around this team.”

What the hell sort of inter-team profiling is that?

You’re not on his team. You aren’t on the same team at all.

“As a person,” he said finally, sitting down in his chair, “I don’t mind you. Elle is a rebel in her own right, and I think it helps her in this job. As a position, yours is one I don’t care for, and don’t anticipate lasting very long. Hotch would like us to get along better, which I’m not opposed to. If you stay out of the way of the profilers, I have no issue with you being here. As a member of the team, I worry that you’re in over your head. Mind your temper.”

“I’m not a member of the team,” she said automatically, though she didn’t sit to match him. “I’m separate.”

“Even better,” he agreed, picking back up his notebook and gesturing towards the door. “That’s it. You can go.”

Is he… dismissing me?

The likeness to her high school principal ignited in her chest like heartburn, and shook her head. “If you stay out of the way of my duties and contributions, I have no issue with you, either.”

She stood for a few seconds before turning towards the door.

“And Colghain?” She turned to face him, but his eyes weren’t on her anymore. Almost like they never were. “Yes?”

“Be nice to Reid. He cares about what others think more than he’d let on.”

Kit stood and blinked at him for a moment before she found herself rolling her eyes. “I thought Reid could take care of himself.”

Gideon scoffed before shaking his head, dismissing her again as he mumbled under his breath. “Trouble.”

“Jaded,” she said simply, striding out the door without another look back.

Did that help? Did that even help at all?

Of course it did, Kody. There was an agreement in there somewhere. Stay out of each other’s way, and everything will be fine. Hotch will be happy to hear it.

Kit walked quickly back to her desk, sliding into her seat and placing her head in her hands. She wished the day was over, but it was barely two, and she needed the next three hours to prepare her meeting for Friday. Two days to prepare wasn’t optimal, and she wondered if she’d need to stay late at her desk. They were supposed to play another set the next night, and she didn’t want to cancel on her cúpla like she had for five straight weeks after starting her position.

“Are you okay?”

She considered leaving her face in her hands and pretending she didn’t hear him, but Gideon’s words, to her great distaste, rang in her ears.

Be nice to Reid. He cares about what others think more than he’d let on.

She sighed and sat up, directing her eyes to the sheepish looking doctor to her right and nodding. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she said. Morgan had disappeared, which she didn’t notice at first, and Elle was nowhere to be found.

“Did you talk with Gideon?”

“Yeah.”

“Was it… good?”

Kit watched his body position shift as his discomfort increased.

He probably thinks you’re going to snap at him, or tell him it’s none of his business. Good job, Kody. Great. You’ve given him anxiety.

She nodded, giving him a small smile. “I guess it was,” she decided. She wasn’t sure, but that’s where she settled. “Thanks for asking.”

“Yeah. Yeah, um, sure. I just know that things have been weird and that you don’t really get along, but I told him that you know a lot of things and you’ve got a lot to add to the team. Actually-” He stopped himself suddenly, eyes lowering and hands fidgeting before he shook his head. “Sorry. I was rambling, I’m sure you have things to do.”

She watched him for a moment before she found herself shaking her head. Reid, she was learning, was largely harmless. Plus, she could use his overflowing memory to her advantage.

“Actually, how much paperwork do you have to do? I could use some help with something.”

He looked back up at her and took a second before grinning. “Oh, my paperwork is done.”

“Great,” she said, settling back into her seat and picking up her pen. “What can you tell me about physical activity in adults between the ages of twenty and sixty?”

His grin shifted into a full smile. “Tons.”

“Perfect,” she said, leaning towards him to show she was engaged and ready. “Tell me everything.”

#Brenna writes things #or at least she tries #Second Child Restless Child #SCRC #Criminal MInds #Criminal Minds fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #gaelic/irish #OC #female OC #I'm updating it's amazing #we did it #Kit is not in a great space in this moment

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mxliv-oftheendless · 4 years ago

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Twist of Fate, Chapter 4

You GUUUUUUUYYYSSS!!!! I FINISHED WRITING THE WHOLE THING!!! GO ME!!! I can’t believe I did it, holy shit. I am so proud of myself right now. And it’s great for you guys because that means more frequent updates!!! Starting with this one! Hope you enjoy! Tagging @cosmicrealmofkissteria and @tanookiroxx. Read on!!

In which unpleasant memories are forced to mind, and Starchild makes either a huge mistake… or a huge leap forward.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The days went on, and soon it had been a full week since the KISSterians arrived on Jendell. Starchild spent most of his time in meetings when his presence was required, and when he wasn’t in meetings he went off by himself to read or draw, or spending time with Ace, Amalthea, his mother, or Tomaziel.

Though with Tomaziel he could never spend as much time with him as he wanted. Being the aide to the King meant Tomaziel was off performing duties and taking care of things when he wasn’t sitting in on the meetings, and so they weren’t able to interact very much. But whenever they did find time to interact, Starchild found he greatly enjoyed it. The Jendellian had a surprisingly good knowledge of politics, which lead to them having often long discussions about the meetings taking place and what they meant for the future of the alliance between KISSteria and Jendell.

Apart from that, Starchild also noted how Tomaziel never minded when he began to passionately ramble about something. Instead, he listened, even contributing when he could. The first time it happened, Starchild stopped in the middle of his spiel when he realized Tomaziel was probably bored and laughed awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” he felt his face flushing, “you probably are bored by what I’m saying…”

But Tomaziel only shook his head. “No, not at all. Keep going; you have me interested.”

The fact that he didn’t mind contributed to the easy feeling Starchild felt when he was with Tomaziel. He just couldn’t help but feel incredibly comfortable around him, and like he could tell him anything. He sincerely hoped Tomaziel felt the same.

Starchild sighed as he realized his thoughts had drifted yet again. He couldn’t do that… especially not now.

He was sitting in the meeting hall and watching with dread as he watched a debate slowly spiral out of control. Senators and Councilmen were firing back at one another, each side growing angrier the longer it was drawn out. Starchild couldn’t even begin to summarize to himself how it had begun, because frankly he wasn’t even sure of that himself—all he knew was that one moment they had all been sitting and listening to Councilwoman Payne present her points for consideration, and suddenly there was a heated debate happening. The Elder was sitting and watching with a fairly neutral look, but he knew it was only a matter of time before she stood to dispel everything.

He sighed and turned to Ace, who was watching the debate with a similar look of dread. “How did this happen, again?” he asked quietly.

Ace shrugged. “I’m not sure,” he muttered back. “I think it was because Councilwoman Payne said something Senator Balem took issue with?” He sighed. “It’s always Senator Balem… I can’t even use the word “outraged” now because he took all the impact out of it.”

Starchild chuckled. “At least they aren’t shouting at each other.” His mind couldn’t help adding on, Yet…

“Yeah, that’s good, at least. Oh, speaking of good things.” Ace leaned over to him, smiling. “You remember how I said Monique wanted to meet you?”

“How could I forget when I’ve been waiting for her to find me all week?” It was true; whenever he had the chance, he made sure he was in obvious places—the Garden Dome, the library, etc—so Monique would have an easier time trying to find him.

“Well, I had a talk with her governesses—turns out she kept trying to sneak away all week but kept getting caught. So we came to a little agreement: if Monique stays on her best behavior all day today, she can join me, Amalthea, you and the Elder for lunch tomorrow.”

Starchild smiled. “That sounds great. I can’t wait to finally meet her.”

“Oh, neither can she,” Ace chuckled. “Just wait; when she sees you, she’ll be starstruck.”

“Pun intended?”

“Pun intended.”

They both laughed… and that was the only little reprieve they got before a sudden shout made them look up. The Senators and Councilmen were now on their feet, and a man with slicked back dark hair and a pale face was shouting at Councilwoman Payne. “Your words are filthy lies and absolute slander!”

Ace sat forward. “Senator Balem, there is no need to accuse Councilwoman Payne of slander,” he said, in a voice that was calm yet stern.

“I am sure Councilwoman Payne did not intend to do so,” Starchild added. He turned to Councilwoman Payne. “Did you, Councilwoman Payne?”

“I promise you, my Prince, I did not,” Councilwoman Payne insisted. She glared at Senator Balem. “It’s him who’s accusing me of such things!”

“That is a lie!” Starchild actually jumped at how loud Senator Balem’s voice became. “This woman slanders the good name of Jendell, and I am outraged she would do so!”

Councilwoman Payne’s glare turned deadly, and Starchild quickly stood up to give Senator Balem a warning look. “Senator, that’s quite enough. I will not have you throw baseless accusations at a member of my Council. If we could all calm ourselves and return to—”

“How dare you call it your Council, boy!” Senator Balem suddenly rounded on him, face blue with rage. “As if you run it! You aren’t fit to run it!”

Ace stood up, frowning. “Senator Balem—”

The Senator ignored him and continued shouting. “All you are is a spoiled, puffed-up prince who cares more about a trivial music group than serving his realm! Your façade has fooled no one from the moment you displayed your ignorance at the simplest of matters! You may be grown, but you are nothing more than a CHILD!”

Starchild had at one point opened his mouth to defend himself, but as Senator Balem continued his raving, he was reduced to staring dumbly at him. But the last few words he screamed at him… he might as well have punched Starchild in the face.

“Enough!”

Everyone froze as the room suddenly went dark. The lights dimmed, and a powerful gust of wind whipped through, even though there were no windows. The Elder had risen to her feet and was holding her staff out in front of her, her markings glowing a dangerous purple.

“This meeting has descended into madness!” Her voice boomed around the room. “Such anger-fueled debates do nothing to strengthen this alliance! We shall reconvene after a twenty-minute recess so that everyone may calm themselves,” here she glared directly at Senator Balem, who to his credit had been shocked speechless, “and after which Senator Balem shall apologize for his childish behavior and insults to the Prince of KISSteria!”

Then she pulled back her staff, and the purple of her markings began to fade. The wind died down, and the lights turned bright again. But before anyone could say anything, the Elder looked around at them all with a look that dared any of them to argue. “Twenty minutes,” she repeated. Then with a sweep of her cloak, she turned on her heel and left out the door.

The Senators and Councilmen quickly dispersed amongst themselves, talking in shock about what had just occurred. Starchild stood frozen, his head bowed and his fists clenched. His mind kept repeating the words Senator Balem had hurled at him.

Ace reached out to nudge his shoulder in concern. “Starchild?”

Without a word, Starchild turned and walked quickly out the door. He couldn’t stay in this room; he had to get out of here.

Unfit. Spoiled. Puffed-up. Ignorant. Child.

You are a child.

-JENDELL-

He finally found a bench far enough away from the meeting hall and sat down heavily. He sat back against the wall and looked down at the floor.

This was ridiculous. He’d come too far to have his confidence shattered by a few simple words. That wasn’t growth or improvement—it felt more like regression. He couldn’t regress, not after so many years of trying.

But not everyone had seen those years of trying. To everyone outside his Inner Circle, Senator Balem was probably right—he probably looked like he had abandoned his realm in favor of going to Earth. No matter how many years he had spent trying to improve himself, everyone probably still saw the impulsive, naïve, idealistic person he’d been before.

Starchild sighed frustratedly. He hadn’t even defended himself. When would he be able to defend himself against people like that?

“Is everything all right?”

Starchild closed his eyes at the voice. He couldn’t… not right now. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he just… he couldn’t. Not when he had practically fled the meeting hall in embarrassment.

And yet he opened his eyes and turned his head anyway. There was Tomaziel, standing there and looking at him in concern.

“No,” his voice came out quiet. “No, everything is not all right.”

Tomaziel sat down beside him. “I’m so sorry that happened,”

“You don’t have to apologize, Tomaziel,”

“I feel as if I do. Senator Balem has a habit of screaming nonsense when he works himself up into a rage.” If only it was just nonsense. “I’m sorry his words were so hurtful.”

“They’re the truth,”

Tomaziel blinked and frowned at Starchild’s quiet words. “What do you mean?”

Starchild’s eyes turned down to the floor again. “What he said… they’re the truth… partially. What he described is everything I don’t want to be anymore.” His fingers dug into his arms as he hugged himself. “Do you remember how I told you about that one day, when I was a child, and how I drew a picture of the roses in the gardens?”

Tomaziel nodded. “Yes,”

“The whole reason I did it was because…” he suddenly trailed off as he realized what was happening. He was about to tell Tomaziel, a person he had only interacted with for a week, everything. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t put a burden like that on a friend. Even if he did feel like he could tell him, he didn’t know how Tomaziel would react.

But then Tomaziel leaned closer. “Starchild?”

Starchild had to close his eyes again. Why did he like hearing his own name coming from Tomaziel’s mouth?

There was no going back now. So he swallowed and continued. “It was because I was all alone. No one to talk to, no friends to play with… Sometimes I wished I had a brother, or something, just so I wouldn’t have to be so alone. And then… then I grew up into everything Senator Balem described. I was emotional, and idealistic, and… and so naïve. I made decisions before I thought them through. I never listened to anyone. And I did leave my realm, so I could go to Earth with my friends and form KISS.” Here he briefly looked up at Tomaziel, hoping and praying he would understand. “I’m trying to be better. I’m trying so hard…” Oh Gods, was he going to cry? “I don’t want to be that person anymore. I don’t want to be someone who doesn’t love himself, o-or even respect himself, enough that he knew he wasn’t happy being with the person he was with anymore but stayed anyway. I’m still trying so hard to be better, and where I am now, I’m so much happier than I was before. But to have it all thrown in my face that people still think I’m that person…” He closed his eyes and looked down. He couldn’t cry. Not in front of Tomaziel.

“Starchild…” he glanced up and found Tomaziel looking at him… incredibly gently. “I don’t think you are that person anymore. No one does. Senator Balem, he’s… he’s everything you don’t want to be, but he’s worse. He lives in his own little bubble, where everyone thinks the same way as him. But he’s the only one who thinks the way he does. Everyone else can see you are no longer that person.”

Starchild fully turned his head to look up at him. “You really think so?”

Tomaziel nodded sincerely. “I do. It’s an admirable thing to want to change and grow as an individual. And I’ve heard the acknowledgement of faults starts one on the path to mending them. And really…” Starchild suddenly became aware of how close their hands were on the bench. His heart began to beat a little faster. “I think accepting oneself is incredibly brave.”

For a moment, Starchild couldn’t speak. “… Do you mean that?” Why had his voice gone quiet again?

Tomaziel gave another sincere nod. “I do,”

After another moment, Starchild hesitantly smiled. “Thank you, Tomaziel. Really… That means a lot to me.”

Smiling back, Tomaziel replied, “Of course. I saw you leave the room and… I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

Sitting up, Starchild took a deep breath and blew it out. “I think I will be now.” He gave Tomaziel a grateful look. “Thank you for coming after me.”

“You’re welcome.” They both stood up. “Are you all right to go back? I think the twenty minutes the Elder dictated are almost up.”

“… Yes, I am.” He pushed the thought of As long as it’s with you out of his head and smiled jokingly. “Even if I wasn’t, we should still probably get back. The Elder would be cross with us if we were late. Besides, Senator Balem is supposed to apologize and I would like to see that.”

Tomaziel chuckled as they set off down the hallway. “So do I. Senator Balem has hardly ever apologized unless the King orders him to.”

Starchild gave a laugh. “How is he even a Senator?”

The aide could only give a shrug. “Despite his anger problems, he does have a very good head for inter-realm trade.”

“Such is the way with politics,”

“It seems that way,”

They looked at each other, then smiled and began to laugh again.

-JENDELL-

The meeting reconvened and Senator Balem did indeed apologize for his disrespectful behavior, to both Starchild and Councilwoman Payne. No doubt Ace had reprimanded him as well. Either way, Senator Balem looked properly scolded, and after the two accepted his apology the meeting continued with no other incidents.

That night, when Starchild turned out his lights and got into bed, he let his hand drift down under his blanket. After a whole week of so many meetings and so many people with only chunks of the days to himself, he needed some form of relief.

Starchild threw back his head and moaned in pleasure as he worked himself over. It had been odd and awkward at first to pleasure himself. But he was used to it now, very used to it. And he knew what to do to make it feel good, and how to be good to himself.

“It ain’t a crime to be good to yourself!” flashed in his head and he let out a laugh into the darkness of his room. The words were true.

His pleasure rose higher and his hand moved faster. Closer and closer… And suddenly images flashed in his head—images of a man with dark hair and a white face with silver markings and brown eyes—oh, what beautiful eyes—lit up in a fire of pleasure. His dark hair fell beautifully around his face as he threw back his head in a cry of ecstasy.

And then Starchild tumbled into his climax. He groaned happily and relaxed into the sheets, stretching out in bliss. This was exactly what he needed. And as he floated in his sweet haze his mind just barely caught him moaning out a name.

“Tomaziel…”

#Shandi's KISSteriaverse #twist of fate #no i totally didn't base senator balem off of balem abrasax from jupiter ascending lol #just kidding i totally did #the elder shutting shit down is also totally inspired by gandalf and his ability to do that #because for some reason i love elderly badasses lol #also i don't wanna spoil anything here in the tags but UM #YEAH. THAT HAPPENED.#are you shocked? GOOD.#spacechild #kiss au writing #my writing #hope you enjoyed!#stay tuned for chapter five!

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taexual · 6 years ago

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HOLIC - 15 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: strong language, some angst

words: 3.5k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

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Your friends didn’t object much after that – Kiera, especially. She had been the one who suggested you confront Jaebum about his abrupt reunion with his ex, so you weren’t very surprised when she whispered an encouraging, “you got this!” into your ear as she walked past you and away from the table, leaving you and Suji alone.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re doing here but—” Suji had started to say once your friends left, but you shook your head, cutting her off.

You were done listening to her. It was time she listened to someone else.

“Look,” you said, your intoxicated mind not providing you with a very clear idea of what to say to her, but you’ve thought about talking to her enough times before to still know what point you wanted to make. “I defended you. Or, at least, I think I did. I got into a whole argument with Jaebum about you, even though, as I can see know, I didn’t know shit about you. I should have never come here – and I changed my mind about seeing you a million times – but here I fucking am, so let’s get this over with.”

“What are you—”

“Do not interrupt me,” you cut her off again, the alcohol giving you the much-needed boost of confidence to keep going. “I don’t know if you realize what you’re doing with Jaebum – and for the sake of what little respect I have left for you, I truly hope you don’t – but you need to stop this. You need to let him go.”

“I need to let him go?” Suji repeated. She was really unable to stay quiet for longer than a minute. Thankfully, her shock gave you the advantage of being the one with a semi-clear mind, excluding the dizziness from all of the alcohol you’ve consumed tonight, of course. “Why do I need to do that? So, you could be with him? Is there something going on between you two?”

You groaned, annoyed because she wasn’t getting it. “No! And that’s not the point!”

She was still very much puzzled, so instead of demanding your explanation, she waited for you to keep going. Perhaps she loved to talk and have control of everything, but, evidently, she also loved to argue. Had she been less oblivious, she would have made an excellent lawyer.

“Suji,” you said after a moment, hoping that tonight wouldn’t end up with you truly knocking her out with your fists because words wouldn’t work. “You’re a huge fucking bitch.”

You stopped for a second because she frowned, her lips parting in surprise, but you weren’t going to stay quiet for much longer because you knew she’d say something once she recovered, and you didn’t know how much longer you could use your drunk mind to force yourself to say all of the things you wanted to say to her.

“Not just that, actually. You’re a controlling bitch,” you continued. “You need to let go of Jaebum. You can’t keep reappearing in his life. You know he has no self-control sometimes and you can’t take advantage of that. You’re bad for him. No, hold on—you’re fucking toxic. And not just for him; for everyone around you. I mean, do you not notice the fake reactions whenever you start to speak? You’re selfish, you’re rude, and you are—for the lack of a better word—an absolute snake. You’re so toxic, Suji, that I’m glad Jaebum and I don’t own any plants or they would have died after you came over.”

You could feel yourself go a little overboard, but you’ve rehearsed this speech a hundred times in your mind – sans the curse words and the obviously unnecessary offensive comments, of course – when you first decided you were going to meet up with Suji in order to let her know everything Jaebum was feeling since he wasn’t able to do it himself. You knew what you wanted to say to her and you were going to say it no matter what.

Contrary to what you’ve imagined – you totally expected her to literally claw your eyes out – Suji had exactly zero emotions on her face after you stopped and you truly envied her in that moment – you knew your face was flushed from the drinks you’ve had before and from your outburst of rage.

“Wow,” was what she said once she finally opened her mouth. “I-I don’t understand where this is coming from. I think there’s a chance you got a little too drunk here, because Jaebum and I want each other, and we—”

“You don’t,” you shook your head. “He doesn’t want you, and you don’t want him, either. You seriously can’t be that stupid not to see it. You just want someone you can control. Since you have me now, you don’t even need him anymore. I don’t doubt that you would have texted him as soon as you left our apartment that morning, but you didn’t because I came along and you realized you could text me instead. I was fresh in your life so you chose to drag me around instead of him.”

Her voice sounded shaky when she spoke, “I don’t drag people around.”

“That’s exactly what you do,” you said, a little surprised once you noticed that she had been listening to everything you’ve said and she seemed to have heard you. “You kept texting me. I’m not kidding -- you literally did not leave me alone. You wouldn’t give up no matter how many times I said no and maybe, in time, you would have gotten bored of me refusing to see you. Then, you’d get back to Jaebum because he’s so easy for you to control. He has so many secrets and the thickest walls I’ve ever seen wrapped all the way around his heart and you’re the reason why. You can’t turn someone who was once open-hearted into someone who’s so afraid to open up, he fights off anyone who wants to get close to him because he’s scared it’ll be you again. You can’t take Jaebum for what he is and then turn him into someone completely different -- someone you want him to be. You can’t ruin his life by forcing your relationship on him. That’s just psychotic. Jaebum isn’t yours – and you have serious problems if you think he is. He belongs to himself.”

You were still standing but Suji hadn’t gotten up, so you were towering over her and, suddenly, when her lower lip quivered, you didn’t feel so comfortable attacking her like this anymore. You sat down to hopefully seem less intimidating, although you weren’t sure how you could have ever intimidated her.

“I’m—I don’t—I never controlled him,” she said, no longer looking at you.

You haven’t expected her to get so emotional about this but your heart was starting to hurt. She looked like she was about to cry and yet there was no way for you to go back from this. If you took everything you said back, it would have no effect whatsoever. You already couldn’t tell if her emotions were genuine or if she was just playing the victim, but perhaps there was a small chance that you’ve gotten to her. You had to keep going no matter how much it upset her – or you.

Furthermore, it was actually good that she was reacting in a way that made you feel pity for her. That meant you were less likely to hit her square in the jaw and spend your night at the police station, obtaining a criminal record.

“Hitting him when he took the job he wanted but not the one you wanted for him,” you started slowly but felt yourself give in to your emotions as you went on. “Locking him out of his apartment when he tried to break up with you. Even having him get rid of his cat because you didn’t like it… all of these are examples of how you tried to live his life for him. Fuck, how do you not think that’s wrong? That’s fucking terrible. I don’t say this often because I like to think that there’s some good in everyone, but, fuck, Suji, you’re truly a shitty fucking person. It’s—you can’t do this type of shit to him—to anyone. What’s the point of dating someone, if you lock them inside of a room -- a jail cell, essentially -- and then fucking force them to do everything you want? Where’s the fun when you make every decision for them?”

Perhaps you were the first person who called her out with concrete facts, or perhaps she just felt humiliated because your attack on her was so sudden and, frankly, so much more brutal than you’d intended, but Suji had tears in her eyes when she dared to look at you again.

You were starting to feel even worse. You wanted to let her know just how toxic her behavior had been but now that she seemed to possibly realize this herself, you wanted to step around the table and give her a comforting hug. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t because you were still so unexplainably angry at her.

The look on Jaebum’s face when he told you about the things Suji had put him through in all the years that they’ve known each other was what kept you in your seat. He’d avoided breaking up with her so many times simply because she always played the victim. And maybe that was exactly what she was doing right now with you, too.

You couldn’t apologize for your words because there was a chance you’d wasted your breath talking to her and she hadn’t actually heard you, she was just pretending. You couldn’t apologize because she never apologized for plainly dismissing all your friends have said tonight to make herself shine. You couldn’t apologize because far behind the tears in her eyes, you could still see her rage – she hated losing control of this situation so quickly that she didn’t know how to get it back.

And yet you still felt uncomfortable. You weren’t used to people manipulating you into taking the blame for simply telling the truth, but you kept your posture firm. You thought you’d made a mistake by agreeing to see Suji here – you knew Jaebum was going to have a fit when you told him what happened – but maybe this had to be done. You knew Jaebum would have never confronted her on his own. And maybe you were sticking your neck in his business uninvited – scratch that “maybe”, you really were doing exactly that – but you were trying to help him. You were angry and upset at her on behalf of him.

“Look…” you said when Suji didn’t reply with anything. “I’m not saying—okay, I did say that you’re a shitty person and, honestly, you are, I’m not taking that back. You’re very literally ruining Jaebum’s lif—anyway. This doesn’t mean you can’t change yourself. Maybe you needed someone to give you a piece of their mind because, clearly, you’ve lived your whole life getting free passes from everyone. We should all be responsible for our actions and I’m sure you know very well that what you were doing to Jaebum throughout your relationship wasn’t right. You never gave him the freedom to leave. Fuck, you chained him against his will. It really should have been him telling you all of this, but it’s me instead. And I’m sorry I called you names, that wasn’t very cool of me, Jaebum would have probably handled this differently, but I was—”

“No,” Suji stopped you, standing up and gathering her purse. She sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I’m going to go. Thank you for finding the time to meet me. I—I’ll leave now.”

She walked away from your booth without letting you add anything and without looking back at you. You debated stopping her – and even considered pulling her back by her hair but that wouldn’t have looked right for the people around you since you clearly had the upper hand because she was crying – but then decided that you’ve said enough. It was starting to get really difficult to keep on yelling at her when she was starting to cry, so maybe it was good that she’d left. You weren’t sure if she’s ever left like this before – Suji was always the last person standing – so, even if she wasn’t going to let your words actually phase her, maybe you’ve still achieved something tonight.

You couldn’t see her face when she left so you didn’t know if she wiped her tears and smiled instead, thinking of all the ways she was going to get back at you for everything you’ve said tonight, or if she genuinely listened to everything you’ve said and her tears were real. Maybe it was naïve of you – lots of things were, after all – but a big part of you wanted to believe that her reaction was genuine. There had to be something about her that drew Jaebum in, right? Perhaps it was her soft heart.

Then again, you didn’t know if Suji even had a heart. Jaebum knew her better than you did. But you weren’t sure if you’d ever ask him what was it that made him like her because you couldn’t see yourself ever admitting to him that, despite going back and forth on your decision to see Suji, you still followed your initial plan and met up with her to try and fix his problems for him.

“Fuck,” you whispered quietly, running your fingers through your hair. You couldn’t come up with a way you were going to get out of this without Jaebum throwing you out of the apartment, or without Suji sending trained assassins after you.

You felt even worse when your friends finally allowed you to leave the bar and go home. The alcohol was starting to wear off, so you felt the first hints of a headache tickle your brain and you were feeling extremely frustrated on top of all that. You’ve talked to Suji because you thought that was the right thing to do, and yet you didn’t feel better about anything. You’ve made her cry – but realized just how compassionate you really were to feel awful about this despite knowing Suji deserved to hear your words – but maybe you didn’t really make an impact tonight and it was all pointless.

It was half past two and the darkness inside of your apartment indicated that Jaebum had gone to sleep already. No wonder, it was Monday and he had to go to work tomorrow, after all.

Both bedroom doors were closed but you thought you’ve caught a glimpse of light coming from your bedroom, which could have meant that the street lights were flickering outside, or that Jaebum was still scrolling on his phone while he tried to fall asleep in a room full of your belongings.

Quietly tip-toeing now that you realized he might have been awake after all, you opened his bedroom and found yourself almost excited to sleep in his bed again. It had a comforting effect on you, but you weren’t quite sure how to explain it. You just knew that crawling into a bed that always smelled vaguely of him would help you forget all that had happened tonight albeit temporarily.

Not even bothering to change into something more comfortable or clean your make-up, you approached the bed, accidentally slamming your foot into the corner of it and then yelping loudly. You were sure Jaebum could hear you from the room next-door, but he didn’t respond so you exhaled slowly – trying to stay quiet – and lifted the blanket, climbing into bed. Immediately, you arranged your body into a fetal position – sleeping with all of your limbs pressed tightly against your body was the only way that allowed you to feel safe.

The moment you hugged your knees to your chest, however, was also the moment your legs touched something warm. Confused, you moved your cold – and hurting – feet again, and then heard a person hiss.

“What—” you started to say but, as soon as you turned your head to inspect what was it that you’ve touched, you saw Jaebum’s sleeping face on the pillow next to you. “Oh, fuck! Shit!”

You leaped up until you were standing on the bed, staring at him in horror, the blanket clutched tightly in your hands as Jaebum was startled awake when you pulled it off of him. Surprised and confused, he sat up, squinting his eyes as he tried to understand what had just happened.

“What are you doing here?!” you squealed, your heart beating rapidly inside of your chest. “You’re supposed to be sleeping in my room!”

“W-what?” Jaebum asked, his voice husky from the sleep. You’d have honestly melted at the sound of it had you not been so frightened and shocked. “Why are you here?”

“I just got back,” you said but that didn’t answer his question so you chose a different way, “I sleep here! You sleep in my room.”

“No—I got you the new bedframe,” he said and you just blinked, your mind empty. “I built it for you. It’s in your room.”

“You built—why didn’t you tell me?”

“I told you I was going to go get the frame this afternoon,” he countered in a tired voice as he lied back down, still watching you stand shakily on the edge of his bed, the gears in your mind finally starting to turn. “I had just left to pick it up when you went out. Remember?”

You realized that you did remember as you sighed deeply, slowly lowering yourself to your knees on his bed, the blanket all around you. Jaebum had even texted you about the crisis he was having when the frame didn’t fit into his car. All of that had completely skipped your mind.

“I forgot,” you admitted, falling back onto the pillow next to him helplessly. “I’m sorry. I was… thinking about a lot of different things and I forgot. Sorry I freaked you out by getting in here with you.”

He watched you lie down on your back.

“Are you drunk?” he asked then, surprising you.

You turned your head to look at him, slowly starting to make out his sleeping features once your eyes adjusted to the dark room. He was still squinting, a slight frown on his eyebrows, as he had a hard time keeping his puffy, tired eyes open. Mix that with the sound of his voice, and you were sure you’d have fallen in love with him right then and there if your mind wasn’t being pulled into twenty different directions.

“I’m not drunk,” you said, turning away to look at the ceiling instead. “I’m pissed.”

“That’s the same thing,” he informed you, not losing his wit despite being tired.

“I mean angry,” you explained, although he knew what you meant. “I made someone cry tonight and I don’t know if it was worth it.”

Jaebum was quiet for a little while, clearly not having expected the sudden confession.

“Did they deserve it?” he asked then.

“I think so,” you said. “But I still feel bad. I went there to take pictures of my friends having fun and instead of that…”

“Life has a funny way of working out,” he mumbled, sighing and then settling into his previous sleeping position again. He sounded like he wanted to keep on talking to you, but he was starting to slur his words, his sleepy state catching up to him.

You looked at him again and, this time, allowed yourself to watch his face for a little longer since he’d closed his eyes as he lied on his side, facing you. He looked so peaceful like this – all people must have looked peaceful when they slept, but you’ve never watched anyone sleep before – which was the exact opposite of what you were feeling. Even though looking at him like this seemed to calm you down, you knew you shouldn’t have been here. He’d built you a bed, you were no longer supposed to be sleeping in his.

“I should go,” you whispered, feeling the need to inform him that you were leaving so you wouldn’t scare him again.

But as soon as you lifted the blanket off of yourself and gently threw it on him, preparing to set your feet down onto the floor so you could leave, Jaebum extended his hand, stopping you. Almost gasping in surprise, you turned to look at him

“It’s fine,” he said sleepily. He didn’t even open his eyes. “You can stay here.”

A little confused, you allowed him to pull you back into bed until he felt you lie down next to him again.

“But my bed is—” you still tried to protest, even though you weren’t sure why you weren’t shutting up – the rapid beating of your heart was a clear indication that you did not want to leave.

“It’s fine,” he repeated, dropping his hand until it landed clumsily on your waist. “Just sleep.”

You were suddenly unable to reply as he sighed softly and shuffled on the bed, trying to get into a better position. You’d turned away from him – preparing to relocate yourself to the furthest corner of his bed to give him more space – but, as Jaebum got more comfortable, he didn’t remove his arm from you, unexpectedly turning you into the little spoon instead as he hugged you from behind, deciding that this was the only proper way for two people to sleep in the same bed.

You had a feeling that this was his way of comforting you – he was far too tired to use actual words, so he settled on using his actions and, honestly, it was so effective, you completely forgot about everything that had made you so uneasy before – and you didn’t protest; not that you could move much in his deathly grip. But you didn’t want to move. You felt like you were right where you were supposed to be.

Jaebum didn’t know what you’d done tonight - if he’d known, he would have never held you like this -- but you decided you were selfish enough not to tell him. You two would have so many cold nights to spend arguing in the future, there was no harm to use one night for comfort, even if it was wrapped in lies that could potentially damage your relationship beyond repair.

Within moments, you felt Jaebum’s breathing slow down as his close proximity and each of his soft sighs washing off on your neck made you shiver. He had his arm wrapped tightly around you as he fell asleep, unconsciously making sure you stayed in bed with him, and although you were afraid you were going to suffocate from how close he was to you, you truly never wanted to leave the bubble of safety he’d created around you with his embrace.

Maybe this was your last night in this apartment. Maybe this was the first and the last time Jaebum voluntarily got close to you. Maybe you’d never see him -- never feel him -- like this again.

You couldn’t risk these possibilities. You weren’t going to sleep tonight.

You were going to focus on every sensation you were feeling in his arms so you’d remember. Because if this was the last time you and Jaebum were at peace with each other, you never wanted to forget about it.

chapter directory

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a-ratt · 6 years ago

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Into the Mari-verse (for real this time)

Alright. Alright. Alright.

I’m back. That’s not a good thing. Maybe it is. I don’t know.

Okay, so, like, a week ago, I made a post about a WIP fanfic I was writing, but, uh, that may or may not happen idk. Anyways, I thought I might as well throw out all the notes I took and ideas and concepts I came up with, so, here goes:

The Goal:

So, when I first brainstormed this I wanted to think about how this would have to differ from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse. First things first, the main character, Marinette, is an established superhero who’s confident about herself, both in her personal and superhero life. Meanwhile, Miles Morales is a normal teenager who suddenly gets superpowers and has to learn how to be Spider-Man to save New York City.

Taking that into consideration, I had to write out a completely different arc for Marinette. From reading multiple fanfics and posts critiquing the show (credits to @zoe-oneesama @miraculouscontent and others.) I decided the best course of action would be for Marinette to work on her self-confidence. Now, here’s the thing, she’s already self-confident. At least, that’s how she’s portrayed. (Unless she’s in the same room as Adrien.) But, through reviewing the show’s canon and plotting out how characters should be growing, I decided that she’s probably got a lot of pent up emotions. Chief among them is probably anger at always being walked on and taken for granted, especially after Chameleon.

With the goal being more introspective, I was also able to validate the idea of the Mari-verse. (i.e. bringing multiple Marinettes into the same reality.) Each one has their own issue that they’re dealing with and each one helps the others with dealing with those issues.

The Marinettes:

Okay, so this is the real meat of the story. This is what everyone’s probably coming for. The base concept of Into the Mari-verse, is that multiple, alternate Marinettes converge on the same reality due to some phenomenon (I’ll explain that later.)

Anyways, the final total of Marinettes to show up in the story was five:

Ladybug!Marinette: The canon Marinette who received the Ladybug Earrings and became the Miraculous Ladybug. She has lived a rather successful life, saving Paris and getting A’s at school. Recently, she’s hit some rough terrain thanks to the return of Lila and her plot to turn her class against her. Thanks to her, Marinette has become tired and detached from her personal life; depressed, but not to an extreme.

This has led to a crisis of identity. Unlike most stories, however, she beholds her superhero alter ego, to the point that she questions her role as Marinette. Though Tikki argues that she shouldn’t neglect her personal life, Marinette cannot help but notice that people take her for granted, but they worship Ladybug.

Butterfly!Marinette: An alternate Marinette that succeeded in giving away the Ladybug Earrings to Alya in the Origins episodes. While Ladybird and Chat Noir continued to protect Paris, Marinette remained a side character. She stayed true to her values, standing up to bullies and helping others, but her she often feels guilt and experiences moments of self-loathing for pushing such a heavy burden as the duties of a superhero onto someone else; i.e. the new girl in class and her best-friend at that. Her closeness with Alya, however, has also translated into favoritism by Ladybird and Chat Noir, something Hawkmoth noticed.

During the events of Hero’s Day, Marinette was captured and used as bait, but after being freed, she helped distract Hawkmoth long enough for Team Miraculous to regroup and defeat the super villain themselves. She was taken to safety before the final fight and in the aftermath, crossed paths with an exhausted Gabriel Agreste who claimed to have been transformed into the Collector. Unbeknownst to either of them, Nuuru stole the Butterfly Brooch from Gabriel and stowed away inside of Marinette’s purse. Later that day, she discovered him. He convinced her to take up the superhero mantle once again and she became Le Monarque. Her inexperience has resulted in self-doubt and a fear of failure.

Bee!Marinette: (credited to @zoe-oneesama) An alternate Marinette that had the Ladybug Earrings stolen from her by Chloé without her ever realizing she had them. While Scarlet Lady and Chat Noir defended Paris (mostly Chat Noir), Marinette remained a resolute figure of confidence and courage among her peers. After receiving the Bee Comb, she became the Miraculous Marigold and clashed with Scarlet Lady over the role of team leader during akuma attacks. Her constant taking command of situations and pushing Scarlet Lady to the side has developed into a kind of controlling behavior, resulting in a minor issue of pride. Usually seen as the obvious leader among her peers, she rarely butts heads with anyone.

However, in Ladybug!Marinette’s reality, she butts heads with the other Marinettes over what course of actions should be taken.

Dragon!Marinette: An alternate Marinette who received the Dragon Miraculous. In a Paris that has long been protected by Ladybug and Chat Noir (in actuality, the married couple, Gabriel and Emilie Agreste), Marinette Dupain-Cheng was born with brown eyes. She adhered to her mother’s Chinese heritage, but was bullied for this. Due to this, she has developed an isolationist demeanor, veering away from social contact.

Later, in collège, Paris came under attack by the former Guardian of the Miraculous, Master Fu, who abused the powers of the Butterfly Miraculous in order to reclaim the Miraculous protected by the Agrestes. To fight him, both Ladybug and Chat Noir required aid, so they gifted Marinette, a notably resolute and resilient classmate of their son, the Dragon Miraculous, turning her into Chu Long.

Cat!Marinette: An alternate Marinette who received the Cat Ring instead of the Ladybug Earrings. Plagg’s influence developed her into a more mischievous and conniving character, often playing pranks, making jokes, and playing around. Though she retains her serious demeanor when it comes to situations demanding it, she is usually playful. (She’s basically a Meme!Marinette) However, she has an issue with self-sacrifice, believing that she must give up herself if it means she is helping others. While it is a tense issue in akuma fights, it is even worse in her personal life, with her classmates usually walking over her and bullies, such as Chloè and Lila taking advantage of her kindness.

Peacock!Marinette: An alternate Marinette that lost faith in herself. (Yeah, this is gonna take a dark turn.) Marinette has always proven to be a strong and confident character, incorruptible and resolute in her beliefs. However, she has had moments of doubt.

She holds Ladybug to an impossible standard. She must be the flawless symbol of heroism and nobility in order to be a superhero. However, is she truly worthy to be Ladybug is she’s been nearly akumatized twice? These seeds of doubt have haunted her for some time, and after the akumatization of her father because of her own emotional, irrational actions, she chooses to give up the Ladybug Earrings.

Her life took a downspiral from then on out. Her classmates abandoned her. Alya and Nino turned their backs on her. She was slowly breaking. Lila’s lies were destroying her life.

In the end, she managed to find comfort in Adrien, but when she managed to build up the courage to confess her feelings, he rebuffed them and told her about his devotion to Ladybug.

That was the last straw.

She once beheld Ladybug, but now she loathed her. While Paris praised their beloved hero, they forsook her.

Her festering negativity drew Hawkmoth’s attention, but instead of akumatizing her, he invited her to the Agreste Mansion under the guise of an internship. She was overjoyed at the prospect, but was quickly horrified to find the super villain in Gabriel Agreste’s place.

Hawkmoth manipulated her emotions, making her believe that the world had turned its back on her. He offered the damaged Peacock Miraculous to her, hoping she would claim it and work as his minion. Marinette, at the lowest point in her life, accepted.

Thus, Le Paon was born and began her reign of terror on Paris, hunting down her former friends and forcing Master Fu into hiding.

The Catalyst:

So, this is the event that actually causes the Marinettes to crossover into Ladybug!Marinette’s reality. It’s not so much of an event as it is an akuma, though.

Her name is Metadrama.

Prior to her akumatization, she lost her father to cancer. He often read her storybooks and she was fascinated with the fantastical tales. Heartbroken at this “bad ending”, she longed for a happy ending. Hawkmoth granted her the ability to search every reality for that happy ending.

In battle against Ladybug and Chat Noir, she proved a powerful opponent. Unlike most akumas, she manipulated the environment around her. Wielding paracausal and reality-warping abilities, she forced Paris to “glitch” and alternate between different versions of itself.

Her ultimate goal was to reach the Eiffel Tower and, from there, alter the entirety of Paris in search of the perfect universe where her father survived.

Ladybug and Chat Noir managed to restrain her with the former’s Lucky Charm, but realized to late that her akumatized object was not on her person, but was actually a storybook that she was using to conjure a portal.

Ladybug was able to destroy it, but was exposed to its paracausal and reality-warping energies, causing multiple Marinettes to converge on Ladybug!Marinette’s universe.

Extra Notes:

So, yeah, that’s Into the Mari-verse, or, at least the base concepts and ideas that I came up with. Thought I’d just throw this out there since I don’t know if I’m actually going to write the story. Pairings with the Marinettes are subjective until I finalize who I want with who. (Kinda gunning for a Chlonette/Kagaminette ending, though.)

Character development is based on how the Marinettes interact with each other, either clashing with or helping each other. For example, the Marinettes, looking for a way home, need Butterfly!Marinette to akumatize someone into Metadrama so they can create another portal. However, Butterfly!Marinette doesn’t know how to use her powers, or even how to be a superhero, so they spend their time teaching her. Another example is Ladybug!Marinette coming to terms with how she’s treated by her friends (i.e. Chat’s neglect of her personal space and feelings, her classmates invalidation of her feelings, and her own weariness of herself.) Over the course of the story, the other Marinettes support her and encourage her to believe in herself.

Characters outside of the Marinettes are still being worked on. I definitely want to include redemption arcs for certain characters, Chloè especially. I would like to put more spotlight on Kagami and Luka, both are characters with an incredible amount of potential. I’d like for Alya to have a moment when she comes down from her pedestal and actually apologize to Marinette for her behavior and confess her faults.

On the note of Gabriel Agreste/Hawmoth, I’m uncertain if I want to resolve the Agreste storyline. It’d be a good conclusion to have the Marinette expose his true identity, but it’d also deprive the show of its basis of Team Miraculous winning the day instead of a single character and her many selves. Also, it’d also leave out a future where Team Miraculous deals with Akumas rather than regular crime.

Anyways, thanks for reading. I hope you all enjoyed what I’ve got jotted down. If you’ve got some constructive criticism, please leave some notes. Share this around if you’d like, I’d love the promotion. It’d help me build this idea more.

Thanks again to @zoe-oneesama for letting me use Marigold in this story concept and thanks to @miraculouscontent for her amazing critique and “fixes” of ML canon.

#miraculous ladybug #tales of ladybug and cat noir #spider-man: into the spider-verse #into the spider verse #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug!marinette #butterflymarinette #bee!marinette #dragon!marinette #cat!marinette #peacock!marinette #kwamiswap #au #fanfic #my way of promoting community creations #you are all amazing and i love you

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gayregis · 6 years ago

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geralt x regis summarized

so let me go over what i think is geregis one more time... i think it would be helpful if i took this chronologically and went through all of their interactions in the books & blood n’ wine

geregis is inchresting in contrast to ships like geralt/yen or gerlion because unlike those two, it’s NOT love at first sight. it begins with... acquaintanceship, with actually a bit of (hidden) apprehension on regis’s end. every member of the hansa has... motives that don’t amount to more than “we are friends, so i will fight for you and your family” but when geralt and regis meet, they aren’t even friends yet, and they have a lot of reason to dislike each other in fact... at least on regis’s end... geralt doesn’t Know yet because... either he’s dumb or regis is smart but i’m gonna go for both... anyways...

they don’t know each other and the only motive i can assign regis at this point in the story is sheer curiosity and intrigue, and of course goodwill... not only does the opportunity to adventure away from the now warring (and blood-covered! not good for sobreity!) land of brugge present itself, but to meet and interact with a witcher... and not just any witcher, geralt of rivia, and not just THAT, but also an epic quest to find his surprise child... it’s such a convoluted kind of knowledge and experience well that he couldn’t just refuse, right? also, i think he had become accustomed to village peasant life and made peace with that part of his past, with those peoples he had wronged... but he had never made peace with a witcher yet.

so the opportunity presents itself and they journey forwards... and as they come to the peasant camp (approaching the horseshoe incident) as geralt and regis relationship stands, it’s leaning towards the beginning of a strong friendship. or at least, geralt actually likes regis’s company, which is bananas to say because this witcher isn’t nice to like ANYONE around him. geralt doesn’t have suspicions about regis’s true identity either, and that allows geralt to begin fully investing himself into this practical stranger. though i’d interpret regis as being more closed off because he, of course, knows his truth. which relates in turn to an imbalance and an anxiousness...

an anxiousness that comes to a head with the rescue of geralt and dandelion. at this point, i think regis has become equally invested in geralt and the rest of the hansa, if he wasn’t already. he could have left at any moment, really, so choosing to rescue them... a bold move, one committed out of friendship and comradery. though this comradery would then be destroyed as he performed the rescue...

geralt is cold when he confronts regis, both in the prison and after, after regis tends to dandelion. what i find peculiar about these scenes is that geralt doesn’t perform any typical witcher-y condemnations, any sort of, “you’re despicable filth / a monster / you don’t deserve my mercy” etc., etc... instead, he does something kind of unusual for facing a supposed enemy and simply asks regis to leave... not in an angry manner, not in a harsh manner. of course, regis tests this, badly, because he’s a bitch who probably thought this was kinda funny, but this whole confrontation is actually emotional for geralt. he’s reserved and cold because he wants to be friends with regis still, but he knows that due to his profession, role... and due to regis’s past, which he doesn’t know at the moment, but very likely assumed he still drinks... it cannot work. or so he presumes. but because of this, geralt is agitated and upset. he’s upset himself because he’s realized that this relationship, which is just the budding of a strong friendship at the moment, cannot work.

it’s interesting to see the apprehension in the relationship turn sides from regis to geralt as regis’s identity is revealed. at the beginning, regis is the one who is closed off (although for regis it doesn’t seem like it much... but him being secretive of his identity is being closed off, because he’s not sharing his true opinions on things, etc.). then geralt becomes apprehensive and withdrawn as regis actually is more inclined to help and give advice.

then, after the fish soup, geralt actually becomes... defensive of regis, almost? at least, he retorts to dandelion and milva that they should trust regis and ask him about his background themselves... his apprehension disappears over the bonding of another simple fireside chat. at this point, i think he realized that he was not betrayed by finding out that regis was a vampire, but instead that he had befriended a vampire from the beginning — and that regis was no different with or without his true identity revealed. so geralt realizes this and accepts that he has befriended and enjoys the company of a vampire, and accepted that regis doesn’t pose a threat. it could also be that geralt is overwhelmed and chalks this bizarre relationship up to fate as much as it is a bizarre occurence that he is now a father on an epic quest to locate and rescue his adoptive child. the unpredictable happens.

geralt isn’t even entirely judgemental when regis tells of his past. he makes some comments to judge vampire society as a whole, but not directly regis. and these comments regis agrees with, or does not find reason to argue. he’s empathetic to the affairs of humans and he judges his own past harshly enough for all five of them. so geralt makes nothing of the opportunity to berate regis. because, oddly enough, he trusts him... they trust each other.

here’s where it gets gay, aka my OWN personal conjecture and interpretaion, aka your chance to stop reading if you’ve happened across this post and “accidentally” read half of it.

regis becomes a very valued confidant of geralt’s... he respects his actions, asks for his advice, for his help, for his thoughts. for him... and one could argue that this is in lieu of dandelion because he’s, er, absent. but even in other situations preceding entry into beauclair, such as when regis treats the prophetic girl, on barge and during the battle of the bridge when aids milva, when he offers the help of, and communicates between the flaminca and geralt. geralt continually chooses to trust regis in all of these situations, because he well and truly does. in any of this situations, he could have objected, accused regis of lying or manipulation, but no... on top of this, he talks to him, asks for his opinion, divulges anxieties. he raises his suspicions against cahir to regis, which just demonstrates that he considers regis such an integral part of the company that he would be able to decide its members.

they talk incessently, geralt begins to speak highly of regis and continues to defend him... he states that he considers regis a friend (and catches regis off-guard), he lies to the chambermaid in beauclair and says that regis is of noble birth, he demands that regis not be excluded from his conversation with the knights and his emotions were so strong towards this that he forgot that regis would be able to hear anyways if he was excluded...

regis also demonstrates a keenness for geralt, to fringilla, as he argues for what seems like the first and only time in the series. he’s calm and collected, as he usually is, but in his tongue there’s an upset and defensive nature... it’s almost, but i would say is, jealousy. he states, “no one in this company has helped the witcher more than you,” which i find to be of a sarcastic and slightly bitter nature. but it’s not just jealousy that leads regis in this argument, it’s also feelings of protection of geralt as well. he knows, can sense, however regis gets his information as we don’t know how he knows what he knows (he just knows), that geralt and fringilla’s relationship isn’t of an exactly exceedingly loving nature... it’s filled with arguments, manipulation, distrust, anger... with regis being highly empathetic i would say that he could sense this from geralt, but i digress. he disapproves of fringilla’s behavior because she is manipulative of geralt and is attempting to keep him from leaving and finding his daughter so that he may stay in toussaint with her, in this dreamy land.

what i find remarkable about this scene is that regis doesn’t discuss geralt’s quest in a particularly optimistic light. in another work of fiction perhaps, the character would defend geralt’s quest as it would be successful and heroic and beautiful... but regis doesn’t pose it as that, he just describes it what must happen, and what is fated to happen. but he also talks about how any beautiful dream, dreamed too much, can turn into a nightmare, and from this we awake with a scream.

i interpret these two themes of regis’s dissertion to be reflective of his OWN thoughts and feelings towards geralt at this moment in the books. regis has fallen a bit for geralt, but doesn’t find it possible — he likely presumes him heterosexual ((think of ALL of the sorceresses geralt has banged)) and also recognizes the whole witcher/vampire debacle. and on top of this, they’re friends. there’s a fear of ruining this special friendship they’ve cultivated. their friendship is so valuable to regis (re: “friend?”) that he wouldn’t dare do anything to disturb it. so instead, he’s decided to accept reality, the road awaiting them. the dream that he dreams of geralt responding to this affection not what is fated, so he is not allowing himself to go on with it.

but from what we’ve seen from geralt, ie. his unwaning trust in regis, protection/defense of him, respect and genuine intrigue in him — as well as tolerance of him — think of regis appearing twice after geralt told him that it would be best if they never saw one another again, regis asking his hypothetical value, giving unsolicited advice, sitting calmly as geralt tells everyone to pack up to leave toussaint and instead asking him how his day was... geralt honestly cares for him too. add their frequent walks in the palace gardens of beauclair, and a relationship isn’t too farfetched.

of course, all of this is denied towards the end of the lady of the lake, as... yes... we all know. but also, at stygga, geralt chooses again and again to trust regis. when regis says he thinks a reconnaisance flight might be in order— geralt immediately okays it, and doesn’t flinch when he disappears. geralt doesn’t rage at him when he says he left ciri because she told him to warm him instead... and he doesn’t do anything more than eye him suspiciously when he says he ‘could knock down this entire castle.’

geralt’s last words to regis are to be careful. because he cares about him. he wants him to stay in his life. but regis sacrifices himself because he didn’t join geralt to not act when the time needed him. he joined so that he could protect him, and see him and his family happy.

if we are going to stick with themes of jealousy leftover from the argument with fringilla, one could say that regis could also be jealous of yennefer as well because she was dating geralt. i would contest this because unlike fringilla, regis sees that yennefer is good for geralt, they have a relationship together that isn’t destructive and hungry like how he and fringilla were... regis could have very well let yennefer die, if he were that much in love with geralt, right? but that wouldn’t be love, that would be domination. instead, because he loved him, he chose to die. because he knew that to be with yennefer, alive and well, would finally give geralt peace. he made that sacrifice because he felt that reuniting with his family would bring him peace...

geralt doesn’t understand this, i think. he looks at a melted column and thinks “my friend is dead,” not “he died because he valued me.” he is relieved to be with his family, exhausted of fighting and surviving and protecting, thankful that ciri and yen are safe... AND he also mourns, experiences such grief and sadness over his lost compatriots... one emotional turmoil has been lifted, but another, which is just beginning, has been placed upon him.

#emiel regis #geralt of rivia #the witcher #regis #geralt #geregis #thoughts #tagged for the tags

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void-official · 6 years ago

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“Micro-identities/’Mogai/ya’ll literally just be making shit up now” OK. i’m sorry im stuck on this and this is the last i’ll talk about it today bc fuck it. I’m gonna be Real for a second. And it’s going to be awkward, and it’s going to be long, and I’m gonna Lose Follower bc defending micro-labels is Cringe. Whatever. I get it. go ahead and unfollow. The rest of you who actually care. and in the spirit of Pride Month, as someone who feels like they’re almost never allowed to express Pride in who I am? Here we go.

I’m bi. Most of you can probably tell, im not exactly subtle about it.

I’m bi. But

my actual interest in dating or having sex with Anyone has been pretty much negligible for my entire life. I just don’t Care. I never have. Dating and sex seem like a hassle to me and I don’t feel like i’m particularly missing out by not taking part in them. It doesn’t negate my enjoyment of peoples bodies necessarily, nor does it mean I never get crushes on people it just means at the end of the day, my desire to go out there and find people to have sex with and/or date has always been like. really really low. Even if the opportunity was there. And i’ve come to terms with this. I accept this about myself.

There is actually a great deal of overlap between bi and ace identity. all those ‘weird little terms’ like ‘demisexual’ you guys hate so much were originally created for people like me, who feel like they are fundamentally not allowed to call themselves something straightforward like ‘bi’ (or straight/gay/lesbian) without people inevitably screaming at them for Doing It Wrong. So they can describe how they feel in a brief word, instead of having to go through the pains of explaining the complex relationship they have with sexual attraction to every fucking person who asks what their sexuality is.

saying ‘well you should just be able to say bi and leave it at that’ doesn’t actually account for the experiences i have when i Just Say i’m Bi. Even me Just Saying ‘im bi’ i’ve always gotta deal with harassment from people whoget weirdly agressive about -why- i’m not out there fucking or dating the people i claim im attracted to. Am I a prude? a Tease? Just an ‘Acey’ lying for brownie points? Am I Actually Just Traumatized? (They ask in a really aggressive condescending way, like thats actually how you should talk to someone you think is potentially traumatized) But by the standards of this discourse, i’m not allowed to call myself ace either, because then people are going to yell at me that if I experience the tiniest smidgen of sexual attraction or romantic inclination sometimes, or post pictures of sexy video game characters, clearly i cant be that either I literally can’t win. there is not a thing I can call myself that won’t earn me the ire of LGBT people on tumblr who think they know me and what i should call myself better than I do. And believe me i hate talking about this More than you do. I’d rather just shut up and let people Assume i’m whatever they want me to be sometimes but then mutuals i thought i trusted will inevitably openly make fun of the people who outwardly call themselves demisexual or whatever microlabel is trendy to shit on currently, and usually i bite my tongue cause at the end of the day its Just Words, right? I don’t even use that word, right? Its just words and some words can be interchangeable and not everyone knows what they mean which can feel alienating and unnecessary to people who don’t understand them. I -get- why people ‘cringe’ when they see like 10 terms they don’t understand in someones bio. why do you think i don’t even list anything about my sexuality in mine other than my pronouns?

but I always remember like. just bc that label isnt For Me, it doesn’t mean there might be someone in a similar position to me who doesnt feel comfortable just calling themeslves bi, and prefers the label ‘demisexual biromantic’ who feels like that phrase puts them in a place of peace and contentment, and I wouldn’t argue with them about it. Bc thats their fucking choice. Them being happy with who they are takes priority over my personal opinions of the language they use. same with gender nonconforming people who dont want call themselves trans or nonbinary. Thats fucking Fine. I’m not telling you to have to use the same words as me if you don’t feel like they’re necessary or accurate. I literally don’t give a rats ass what words you use to identify yourself so long as they’re not being used to hurt other people. I just want to be able to have Words, for myself, that describe how I feel, that don’t result in people treating my entire identity like some shitty discourse Meme. And right now I have none. No matter what I call myself, people choose tell me it’s not accurate, or its too complicated.

As for all these shitty fucking posts about people ‘forcing’ young people to take up labels. This. This doesn’t actually happen? (OK I won’t say it doesn’t happen ever on an individual level? but that its not something enforced or encouraged by any group as a practice, and that distinction is necessary, bc saying it happens on a large scale literally implies predatory intentions from a massive group of people instead of members of the group behaving poorly as individuals)

Demisexual people as a whole have literally never told me i had to call myself demi just bc my sense of how i experience attraction might be similar to theirs. Ace people as a whole don’t usually tell people whose lack of sexual attraction is caused by trauma or who havent developed enough to experience sexual attraction that they -have- to call themselves ace. Most Bi or Pan people are fine with the fact that their labels have a lot of overlap and that the line between these things can be murky, they arent actually constantly ready to tear each others throats out over whose terminology is correct. All of this shit is made up by hateful people, or people taking a few examples of poor behavior out of context as an excuse to shit on everyone else, and well meaning people keep falling for it bc it -seems- helpful to be. reactive. I guess? to people you’re constantly told are hurtful to the causes of marginalized people. but im telling you. its not true. literally nobody forces you to call yourself any of these words, they just Exist out there in case you want them, and if you think thats somehow a threat to other peoples identities or to Minors just like, conceptually, for existing, for being Too Specific, im sorry but what other word is there for your reaction than phobic? If an individual derails a conversation about Y to be like “You didn’t include _X_” or tries to force their views on a minor who hasn’t developed a stable sense of identity yet, that is an Individual behaving in an inappropriate manner, not an invitation for you to throw the whole group under the bus. I hate to tell you but if you’re using examples of individuals on tumblr who say stupid shit, everyone on tumblr says stupid shit and butts in conversationally where they’re not welcome. Universally. It’s how tumblr is formatted. Trust me, I have like 4 viral posts going right now.

i’m just tired of it at this point. im not cool with people who stretch to make fun of micro-labels all the time and think they’re being woke allies or w/e to the ‘real LGBTs’. Even if a lot of the time I personally don’t care for all the labels and wouldn’t choose them for myself, I still feel like If you can’t treat people like individuals and assess their character on a case by case basis, i don’t trust you. I don’t like people who stereotype and LGBT people are not immune to this behavior. Like i don’t say it often but it fucking hurts, and it hurts other people I’m close to who I know have similar complicated identities and struggle coming up w/words to describe themselves that the whole of tumblr LGBT+ will approve of and agree with (clearly an impossibility because there are still people who don’t want bi and trans to even be in there). I might tolerate the constant jokes and not block on principle of knowing not everyone has ingested and thought about this discourse in the same way I have, and im a big tough adult, ultimately i can take it. but inside i know no matter what i call myself, if i were earnest with some of you about how i feel I’d probably be just another ‘special snowflake Delusional mogai creep’ to you, and i can’t deny that fucking hurts to think about. I try not to talk about it openly bc it embarrasses me, bc i dont think my sexuality should have to be battle ground for discourse for people who are supposed to be on my side. But there it is. I think most of this discourse is Trash, and clearly not for the reason most people on here say its trash, not bc theres ‘too many specific words, y’all just be Making Shit Up’ but because so many of you are more caught up in the words than the substance of the arguments or the needs of people whose experiences might have a lot of overlap with yours regardless of what word they’re using to describe it.

Anyway. happy pride to LGBTQA+ people who still dont really feel pride in themselves or their identity. I’d say you’re valid, but you don’t need my validation or anyone elses to understand that you’re a person deserving of respect and compassion. You exist as who you are, and you have to come to terms with who that is, regardless of whether or not you feel like you’re accepted for it. if not pride then, settle for confidence in who you are.

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violetsystems · 4 years ago

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#personal

I guess you could count how many of these I’ve written since I’ve lost my job. It’s been six months of my life. The entire process of whatever goes on in the shadows is far longer than that. You start to look back in times of chaos at the things in your life that are stable. I’ve been living at my address for about ten years now. Yesterday I had a chance conversation with my landlord. I asked them how they were doing. They replied not good. Mostly issues we’ve talked about on the property are ongoing. About the only stable thing in my life that is one hundred percent tangible is the roof over my head. I had just created a logo for my consultancy. A nice Edwardian script that turned the LLC into a gordian knot by accident. The website for it references the street address along with the letters ‘vs.’ It’s very simple. I have an appointment Monday with the bank to set up my checking with it. I decided to pay the rent early with a personal check of my own volition. My personal discovery for anyone contemplating a small business is that Quickbooks is the easiest way to stay accountable for deductions. A business check for rent does look nice. It’s also nice if I ever have to hire someone. I haven’t been in a lease for years. My landlord is a family from Poland and not some huge land developer. Largely my experience with being personally accountable for my own behavior and lifestyle is what gets me by in terms of security. Being able to be always on in terms of being a people person is hard. I have become an ‘on the spot’ sort of person by necessity since everyone is either up in your face or on the periphery here in Chicago. People talk and gossip. You can’t really hide anything here. And yet, it’s hard to shake a stable foundation. People talk a lot about clout out here. When you think your history is buried and what you’ve done, it isn’t like you are in Hoffa’s grave or anything. It’ll be dug up eventually. And people will talk about it again and again. There’s a point when stepping up is more like standing your ground. And the more you stand your ground angry, the more people think you are looking for a fight. Fighting is exhausting. So is defending your every breath. For however needlessly complex people process me behind my back, I’m pretty stubborn and predictable. I’ve been on here saying the same thing for years though it has evolved considerably. People ignore me on a level that is psychosocial at best. I get invited to comment on professional threads on LinkedIn and it further proves the point. Nobody listens or pays attention. I’ve said it over and over again. I begin to feel like the invisible man and it chews on my self worth like a meat grinder every day. The basic metrics people use to evaluate their lives don’t really compare to what I’ve gone through. This I know and am patient with. People in business talk about the long term ‘scarring’ of what this economy has done to it’s people. But they’re never in the streets with the people. Their money is locked behind savings accounts, tax write offs, and bricks of gold not on expanding their payroll for professionals like myself. And yet people are still hurting. Nobody hurts more than I do even if I never show it. I write about it week after week seemingly to an invisible audience. An audience that probably feels exactly as invisible as I do.

That’s the trick, Mr. Potter. I love that line. I’ve been referencing it a lot mostly because Prometheus is on HBO. It counts as a Christmas movie mostly because of Idris Elba’s line about time and the holidays. Michael Fassbinder’s David is the one who is obsessed with Laurence of Arabia. The scene is a trick involving a match. The trick is not minding that it hurts. How did I do it? It was already done to me a long time ago. And it always hurts every day the place I find myself in. One might argue this is the human condition. David is just jealous. He gets his body torn in half by the maker. Not his maker of course. He’s just a slave to the Weyland corporation. And later in the movie, the main tool for humanity to finally confront it’s maker. I like the idea the main character is faced with a choice after losing everything. Go back to earth and wait for the inevitable or head out into the unknown and face the truth. The sacrifices are immense and the unknown just as expansive. Just like the last couple of decades of my life. I could go back. Back to the workforce and fit into a tiny expectation of what my true potential is. But nobody cares to know my name for the most part. It does all hurt. Sometimes it hurts all too well. And it’s a familiar kind of hurt that is almost boring to me. Pain for the most part and suffering largely don’t excite me very much any more. I’m over it. It doesn’t mean I’m beyond it. A bass guitar literally came crashing down on my head the other day. I’m over that as well. It hurts more to settle with not being happy. It hurts to be ignored. To interpret the awkwardness of society not being able to meet you eye to eye as some sort of sleight or punishment. The trick to breaking through people’s barriers are removing them in yourself. What holds you back? What overwhelms you deeply when you experience the mere hint of pain? What keeps you from loving a person freely and what holds you back from opening your arms? I don’t make those judgements for other people. That’s love. You wait and you are patient because you are free and open. You don’t mind that it hurts. To care about someone or something without any guarantee or expectation that they think about you at all. The lack of validation does hurt. It requires you to find the confidence to know that you matter. And sometimes we overshoot this especially when our internal life isn’t in balance. We over speculate or underestimate our value all the time. We get ahead of ourselves or fall behind. There is no pacing. No self control. The zen is somewhere in the middle through trial and error. The trick is we feel pain and we work our way through it. Just like I wake up sore as fuck from whatever exercise routines I keep up daily living in total isolation. Being alone does hurt. Having no real solid connections with people in real life sucks. But once you get over that, you start to see the world a little differently. It’s not about you. It’s about the perception. How did you do that trick? Get your life completely fucked over time and time again and still be so cool about everything. That’s the trick. I’m cool as fuck. And it hurts just as much to stay cool all these years.

It hurts less not to have to revisit the same failed ways and history. It’s a lot easier to pay my rent no questions asked. I can generate income doing things I like to do. I can work as much as I want and see the results. I can still look for a job to work for someone for less than what I’m worth as a tax write off. I can wait six months and get vaccinated and be worth five times as much globally. I can still participate in professional discussions and hope that if everyone ignores me the AI will eventually set me aside like Roko’s Basilisk. And I can just keep making cautious decisions with my own investments and see where that leads. I can be ignored year after year and feel like nobody wants me. And then I can realize that every beautiful person I know still thinks the world of what I go through daily. You see if you could look into my heart and see the emotion I feel after all of this, you’d break down and cry. It’s horrendous. I have been through literal shit. And yet, everyone else has their soapbox. It seems everyone’s problems are more important. I’ve stopped trying to sell my victimhood. It’s not a great look if you are sitting in a position of privilege. Which to be honest, I’m not exactly living the same life of privilege as the entire professional network that pretends I died or became a spy. The truth is I am in levels of pain nobody would ever survive. What the world is asking of me isn’t something anyone would willfully put themselves through. And then there’s the trick that I perform effortlessly. How I show I care about someone without ever saying a word? How it echoes through the net and the streets like a pulse instead of a shout. How I never really know anything and yet I know we connect. It’s painful to see the trick everyday expand in front of my eyes. How I survive with little help but my own. How people use me as a talking point and leave my name out of the equation. How I feel like a fucking ghost and the quote echoes in my head like the memories of people that inspired me to even write here in the first place. How nobody says anything remotely of emotional weight in reality. How everything is just a punchline and joke to the horror nobody wants to face. It hurts horribly to know the truth. That it’s worse to get it half right. To perform the trick but lose the magic. To tell and not show. To talk and not walk it. To be the person who isn’t me constantly comparing themselves to someone they’ll never be. To be on trial for the crimes of humanity and stranded just the same. To move forward with little or no fanfare while the lies around you fall apart. I pay my rent just the same. I keep the faith with my friends without a word. And I love you with no baggage other than that Jaguar rolling suitcase I picked up the other day. Big fan of Pete Buttigieg becoming transportation secretary for the record. I heard him say that airports are the most romantic places in the universe. Different strokes for different folks. Either way get used to seeing me at O’hare. We can kiss and ride the train to my office all you want when the world comes together. Just tell Pete to mind his own business. Better than Rahm by a fucking lightyear. <3 Tim

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prolifeproliberty · 7 years ago

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I need advice for witnessing to an unbeliever, and I'm not sure who to ask at this point. I used to try to witness to people when I was 14 and always butchered it, and I'm a little traumatized by how it turned out. I'm super scared of pushing people away--to the point where I haven't even tried in years. My unbelieving friend is good-hearted and sweet, but vulnerable and depressed right now. I only know him online, and we only started chatting recently, but we're already close friends. (cont.)

(cont.) One question I'd like answered is, is it okay if I don't hide the fact that I'm shy about having this conversation (because of how these conversations have ended up in the past for me?) I've heard that you "absolutely have" to sound confident, but I want to be genuine, too. We're very genuine with each other and having this kind of talk is out of character for me, even as necessary as it is to have it. I know I can't be embarrassed about sharing my faith but it's difficult not to be. (c.(cont.) I'm not an inexperienced Christian and I am reading up about this, but any advice you can give would help, really. And if you think someone else would have a better answer, by all means redirect me. For the most part, if you can think of ways to start the conversation that wouldn't sound awkward, that would be lifesaving ;-; I just think God is pushing me to save this guy (who i'm also unfortunately starting to get a crush on, not that that's relevant) and I'm so so scared of messing up.(cont.) I didn't have room in my last ask, but thank you, by the way. This is really important to me if you couldn't tell. I'm tired of feeling like a fake Christian for being too scared to be a witness, since I fully understand how important it is ;; It's bothered me a lot for years now. So thank you in advance for helping me.

Thank you for reaching out!

First, know that you cannot save your friend. Only the Holy Spirit can create faith in someone. You can’t argue or debate your friend into believing.

So before you do anything else, pray. Pray for the salvation of your friend, and pray for the help of the Holy Spirit in your conversations with him.

Second, absolutely be genuine. Relationship is crucial in apologetics, as is your friend believing that you are being honest with him. If he thinks you’re putting on an act or trying to sell him something, he will shut down.

Third, don’t expect conversion in a single conversation. Most people who convert to Christianity as adults only do so after years of exposure to the Christian faith and many people “planting seeds.” You might be only one of several people the Holy Spirit uses to save your friend. Don’t put it all on yourself, and don’t push for a dramatic conversion story. And, as I’ve said and will keep saying, all glory for someone’s conversion goes to God.

There are many different thoughts and theories on the most “effective” ways to witness to someone. Ultimately, all you really need to do is speak the truth in love.

However, there are some good tools to have on hand to help you do that.

“But even if you should suffer for the sake of righteousness, you [g]are blessed. And do not fear their [h]intimidation, and do not be troubled, 15 but [i]sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts, always being ready to make a [j]defense to everyone who asks you to give an account for the hope that is in you, yet with gentleness and [k]reverence; 16 [l]and keep a good conscience so that in the thing in which you are slandered, those who revile your good behavior in Christ will be put to shame.“

(1 Peter 3:14-16)

Your first step is to know why you believe. Is it because Christianity makes you feel good? Is it because your parents raised you that way? Is it because you “just do”? If you’re thinking any of those, you need to take a step back to reexamine your faith before trying to make the case to your friend.

“12 Now if Christ is preached, that He has been raised from the dead, how do some among you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? 13 But if there is no resurrection of the dead, not even Christ has been raised; 14 and if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is vain, your faith also is vain. 15 Moreover we are even found to be false witnesses of God, because we testified [f]against God that He raised [g]Christ, whom He did not raise, if in fact the dead are not raised. 16 For if the dead are not raised, not even Christ has been raised; 17 and if Christ has not been raised, your faith is worthless; you are still in your sins. 18 Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished. 19 If we have hoped in Christ in this life only, we are of all men most to be pitied.”

(1 Corinthians 15:12-19)

The central fact of the Christian faith is that Jesus died and was raised from the dead. Without this fact, Christianity is meaningless. If someone could prove that Jesus was still dead and buried, I would walk away from the church right now. Seriously. Christ’s resurrection is the ONLY reason to be a Christian.

“What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin so that grace may increase?2 May it never be! How shall we who died to sin still live in it? 3 Or do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus have been baptized into His death? 4 Therefore we have been buried with Him through baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. 5 For if we have become [a]united with Him in the likeness of His death, certainly we shall also be [b]in the likeness of His resurrection, 6 knowing this, that our old [c]self was crucified with Him, in order that our body of sin might be [d]done away with, so that we would no longer be slaves to sin; 7 for he who has died is [e]freed from sin.

8 Now if we have died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with Him,9 knowing that Christ, having been raised from the dead, [f]is never to die again; death no longer is master over Him. 10 For the death that He died, He died to sin once for all; but the life that He lives, He lives to God. 11 Even so consider yourselves to be dead to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus.”

(Romans 6:1-11)

If we are baptized into Christ but Jesus is still dead, then our faith is meaningless. But if we are baptized into Christ and He is alive, then we too will be raised from the dead and be united with Him in that resurrection. That is the central hope of the Christian faith for which St. Peter tells us to be ready to make a defense.

If someone asks you why you are a Christian, the basic answer is:

“Jesus lived a perfect life in my place, died to pay for my sin, and was raised from the dead after three days and ascended into heaven to secure my eternal life with Him in paradise after I die. Someday, Jesus will return and raise all the dead, and both living and dead will be judged. Having been baptized into Him, I am clothed with His perfection, and so I will not be judged on my own merit but on the merit He earned for me. That same clothing is available to all who have faith in Him.”

But how do we know that Jesus rose from the dead? The simple answer is that:

The Resurrection of Jesus is a historical fact recorded by four different authors who either were eyewitnesses themselves or who recorded the testimony of eyewitnesses.

These records were written, copied, and distributed within the lifetime of the eyewitnesses.

We know this for multiple reasons, including that absolutely none of them mention the destruction of the Jewish Temple, a major geopolitical event prophesied by Jesus which occurred in 70 AD, about forty years after the Resurrection. If these records were written or even edited after 70 AD, the destruction of the Temple would have certainly been included as further proof that Jesus knew what was coming.

Those same eyewitnesses traveled the known world sharing their story, and faced poverty, rejection, imprisonment, torture, and death for doing so.

They received no earthly, material benefit for their testimony, and yet continued to insist on the truth of what they saw.

These same records name other eyewitnesses and encourage the reader who lived at the time of writing to go and ask these eyewitnesses themselves.

We know that we have accurate copies of these original records because our first copies date to within two centuries of the original writing. Compared to other historical documents written around that time or earlier, this is incredible.

These records refer to historical events that can be independently verified by other secular sources, including those hostile to the faith.

If Jesus died and then rose from the dead, we have much more reason to believe Him when He claims to be God, performs miracles, and promises resurrection for those who trust in Him. We also have reason to take Him seriously when He refers to Old Testament Scripture as the Word of God and quotes it in debates with the religious leaders of the time.

If we then believe both the Old and New Testament as the Word of an all-powerful, all-knowing, and ever-present God, we can see from those writings that God loves us, sent His only Son to die for us, and wants us to live eternally with Him in paradise. We also see that we do not deserve any of that, as we are all inherently sinful and corrupt. We cannot remove that corruption ourselves, any more than a dirty rag can clean itself. However, as I said above, Jesus’ perfection can and does cleanse us and make us able to stand before God with confidence in our salvation and in our Savior.

There are several excellent books that I recommend to help you learn about defending your faith:

History, Law, and Christianity by John Warwick Montgomery (Makes the historical case I just made, and goes into more depth on how we can trust the four Gospels as historical documents)

Why Should Anyone Believe Anything at All? by James W. Sire(The first half describes what makes a good foundation for believing anything, and then the second half applies that to Christianity)

The Case for Christ by Lee Strobel(Lee Strobel is a former journalist and the former legal editor of the Chicago Tribune. As an atheist, he investigated Christianity intending to prove it false, and ended up doing the opposite. In this book he makes a case for the Resurrection based on the same kinds of evidence that a court would use to reach a verdict.)

I especially recommend the first two. I’m a little biased in favor of Montgomery, as my Christian Apologetics professor in college was his protégé. All three of these are excellent explanations of why Christians believe what we do and how to explain that to nonbelievers.

Also, if your friend or anyone else tries to attack your faith by attacking the Bible, saying it was assembled by people who arbitrarily decided which books to keep and which to throw out, or tries to use non-canonical books to dispute the Scriptures, check out this one:

The Canon of Scripture by F.F. Bruce

With all of this information in mind, remember that honesty and love are going to be your guiding principles in any apologetics discussion, led always of course by the Holy Spirit. Use the information I provided as it’s needed, and don’t try to bury your friend in information.

Be sure to start by asking him what he thinks about Christianity and why he doesn’t believe that it’s true. Try to answer the particular issues he is facing first. Make sure you listen to what he has to say, and make him feel heard. Emphasize the grace and love of Christ for all human beings, including him. Make sure he knows he is welcome in Christianity.

If he brings up the problem of evil (a.k.a why God “allows” evil in the world), let me know and I can get into that (that’s another long post). Also, if he does express interest in the faith and needs help finding a church in his area that will preach Jesus’ death and resurrection as the central fact of Christianity, I’m happy to help with that as well.

I hope this helps, and please let me know if you have any questions!

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