#but as it turns out ive just been reminded we have a very important cannot be rescheduled thing on the day of our final project

[dreamcast-official]

shit. fuck. shit goddammit

[violottie]

I cant stress enough how much bi lesbians and bi lesbian discourse flared up my SO-ocd, I was fine for a few months and then I returned to this side of tumblr and I get reminded of them. One of my worst fears is that I am somehow a “bi lesbian” or if after all these years of questioning and finally coming to the conclusion that I’m a lesbian I’ll turn out to be straight in the end. Idk if I should have stayed on the art side of tumblr but where else do I find other lesbians??? I wish I could go back to when I didn’t know “bi lesbians” existed it was easier back then. Apparently the only thing to make intrusive thoughts subside is to be like “so what if I’m not a lesbian, who cares” but I cant do that. I wanna go back to when I didn’t know there were people who deliberately fake being gay because that’s also one of my fears,, even though when I realized I was a lesbian it felt like I REALIZED it rather than chose it

(this is gonna be long but it's very important to talk about so just a heads up on that)

i am so so sorry to hear this, and im infuriated that these fucking creeps in the "community" have caused not only so much blatant lesbophobia to spread but also have caused so much harm to lesbians.

i am right with you because ive been through, and still go through sometimes, what you're experiencing. its terrifying that all this bullshit can snowball and make any doubts we lesbians already have from living in this heterosexual patriarchal society double and multiply even more viciously.

my internalised lesbophobia has worsened also. i doubt myself alot and more often thanks to all this bs. its... i dont even have words to express how damaging lesbophobia, especially from within the "community", is.

it causes harm and trauma and pain and suffering for lesbians, but all these stupid juvenile shits just think it doesnt matter because "uwu theyre so kweer and cool now"

it sucks... but i need you to know it is not your fault that you feel this way.

no matter what anyone inside or outside the community says, and no matter what your spiralling thoughts might make you believe as a result of lesbophobia inside and outside the community, you are not straight, you are not a "bi lesbian", you are not bisexual. you are a lesbian.

i know it is so so hard to just say but i promise you, nothing they say will ever ever change the reality of your lesbianism. i promise you.

it hurts, and its beyond infuriating to have to share space with these disrespectful bastards who coopt our lived experience for a moment of attempted self-actualisation, and that pain deserves to be acknowledged and soothed, not pushed away.

i wish i could give you a hug rn honestly because this shit just fucking sucks. i too wish i could go back to the time when these idiots werent even a concept in my mind or memory, but if there is any advice i can give you to help ease the torment of this constant barrage, it is this:

❤️🧡🤍🩷💖

1) know, for a fact, that nothing anyone, and i mean ANYONE says and no matter how loud they say it, will ever change the lived and exact reality of your innate sexuality.

nothing will ever magic away your lesbianism. it is wired into you, it IS you, a very central part of your personhood. that is not something that any words, especially words shat out of the asshole of a dickhead child on the internet, can ever change.

im not disregarding the hurt, im just reminding you that who you are, who you truly are, cannot change because of the words that hurt. especially because you know deep down that those words are not true.

because being a lesbian is who you are. it is not a quota to reach, or what you do, it is who we are. innately. you know where your natural attactions lie, what genders draw your attraction exclusively and without effort. you know that deep down. we are literally born this way. words cannot change that.

❤️🧡🤍🩷💖

2) the best thing to do whenever you accidentally glimpse said bullshit is to block them and focus on uplifting the actual lesbian community.

lesbians community is such an integral lifeline, i cannot emphasise the sheer importance of enough.

these idiots are, after all, idiots and do not deserve your energy, your time or your pain. they will never matter, and the truth is, they only exist on the internet among weirdos who have no sense of self so seek it by stealing bits and pieces from other peoples personal experience and identity.

they are and always will be inauthentic, unlike you.

❤️🧡🤍🩷💖

3) find and focus on the joy of your lesbianism individually and in lesbian community with other lesbians.

We lesbians are blessed to experience the best kind of human life possible: lesbianism.

our sexuality is bold and strong and proud and beautiful and brilliant and effervescent. it is perfect and brave and worthy of honor and praise and celebration and respect.

our community of lesbians is just as exquisite as we are individually. we are diverse and divine. every butch, femme, stud, stone, masc and feminine lesbian; every trans woman, transmasc, transfem and nonbinary lesbian; every black and brown and lesbian of color; every aromantic, asexual, aroace, non-partnering and polyamourous lesbian; every lesbian of every age and race is so overflown with wisdom and joy and love and brilliance. there is nothing more empowering as a lesbian and nothing that strengthens lesbian pride more than being in a community of lesbians and finding joy in ourselves through each other.

and im not just saying this to be mushy. i mean it. lesbians are divine, and thus, you are also divine.

you are perfect as a lesbian because you ARE a lesbian. you are incredible and intelligent and brilliant and brave.

nothing will change the brilliance of who you are, and in everything you are as a lesbian, you have a universe of lesbians who have been, who are and who will be, all of whom have not only been through the same and similar demeaning bs from the same kind of lesbophobic idiots, but they fought it back and survived and lived and thrived as lesbians.

you are just as strong as every lesbian who has been and is. and you are not alone. i promise you.

i am slowly rebuilding the community of lesbians on this blog that i had on my old one, but i promise you, on my blog you are safe. i swear, i will always always put lesbians first here, and that includes you. i will always defend and support and celebrate lesbians first here, and here you will find many other lesbians who will do the same.

❤️🧡🤍🩷💖

i know this was long, im sorry about that but i just need you to know that i see and feel your pain with you, and i need you to know that you arent going through it alone, and you are not alone.

we lesbians have always stuck together to defend and fight for one another, we have always survived, we have always been here, and we always will be.

i hope this reassures you in some way, and know you're always welcome and safe here ❤️🧡🤍🩷💖

[sholmeser]

yasuo and ahri are not ship bait they are not fanservice they are LITERALLY!!!!! FUCKING MEANT FOR EACH OTHER. they are the only people who can understand each other’s pain. who can help the other get better. the only sides of this argument ive seen are “they’re only in ruined king and together because they’re popular, conventionally attractive characters” and “they like each other because they’re nice to each other” and, while both of these statements are fact, they do not in any way fully encompass their relationship.

first, we have to understand that yasuo and ahri’s relationship is about recovery. even putting the fact that ahri’s character serves as an allegory for addiction aside, we know that they are both deeply, deeply traumatized and mentally ill people. first of all, at several different points across league canons we can see that they suffer from severe post-traumatic nightmares.

second, they share very negative, unhealthy mentalities: they’re plagued by guilt, loneliness, utter hopelessness about their future, and self-deprecation because they believe their pasts to be entirely their fault, despite them being, largely, simply accidents or bad luck.

so they are both suffering people. this on its own is not really significant: virtually every league champion is traumatized in some way or another. but the thing that really drives the importance of their relationship home is the fact that their stories are just…fundamentally so similar.

yasuo and ahri are both people who have been ostracized from society their entire lives. yasuo was always seen as fundamentally “different” from other children, never fit in right, and was too wild for the people of his temple (which has a lot of implications. but that’s an entire other can of worms)—and when he was older, he was shunned as a criminal, and then, even after his name was cleared, as untrustworthy. and though she belonged at the beginning of her life, leaving her tribe meant leaving the safety and stability of vastayan civilization for the oppression and ridicule of the human one.

but even despite all this, the two of them always had someone who would be there for them: yone and ahri’s lover, of course. these were the only two people who understood them. who reassured when it came to their faults, who were always there for them. their family. and, of course, the two of them died by yasuo and ahri’s own respective hands. and so ahri and yasuo are all alone in a world that wants them dead, where they belong nowhere and have no one, where they blame themselves so deeply for everything that has happened to them that they cannot live with themselves. yasuo turns to alcoholism for comfort. ahri isolates herself so she will never harm anybody again. at least yasuo has taliyah for a short while, but it is inevitable when she leaves, too, reminding him that she will always have a family to protect, to come home to, and he never will again. they are so lonely and, in their minds, so deeply irredeemable, that they cannot form real connections with anyone.

and so their chance meeting is so fucking incredible for the two of them because they KNOW the feelings that the other is going through. they understand. and the thing is that their initial opinions of each other are not built off of the reductionist boxes that society has built both of them into: ahri does not know that yasuo is the unforgiven murderer because she does not spend time with humans. yasuo does not know that ahri is a vastaya because she is deliberately concealing her appearance. these are the two things that have MADE them so alone all of these years, and yet they get to know each other and learn to care for each other without these barriers in the way. and when they DO find out it means nothing, because they know what it’s like to be so isolated, and they will not martyr the other—even if they do it to themselves.

ahri goes to bilgewater to find out more about her family. yasuo leaves ionia because he is no longer shackled by his brother’s ghost now that he knows yone has returned to the living realm, NOT because he no longer feels guilt. ahri hires a bodyguard to keep her in check so she will not hurt humans upon her reintroduction to society. their meeting is purely coincidental.

and. of course. at the heart of the matter. they do “like each other because they are nice to each other.” because they have not felt kindness like that in so, so fucking long. they are the only people who show each other that gentleness. yasuo had taliyah but she was just a kid, a girl who was lost and lonely who he had to take care of. yasuo and ahri can take care of each OTHER. when ahri gets overwhelmed he is not afraid to touch her, ground her, ask her what’s wrong. when she brings up her loneliness he is the first to say you are not alone because we are here with you—i am here with you. when he fights his brothers ghost she knows what is happening right away. she knows he will be fine. she trusts him to make it out.

and i think that ahri saying that he reminds her of her dead lover is not superficial or clichéd—it shows how deeply they understand each other. yasuo is bitter and sad and lonely, sarcastic and oftentimes sardonic, but we know he wasn’t always like this. as a child he was overexcited, confident, young and free and loved his brother. he still is that person, in a way: deep down he is gentle. he treats his elders with respect and care. he finds a lost taliyah and his first instinct is to take care of her, to make up for failing his brother by saving her. he does not hate riven even after he finds out the truth, because he, too, knows the power misfortune can have. and ahri REALIZES all of this. BECAUSE THEY LOVE EACH OTHER. HE REMINDS HER OF HER DEAD LOVER, WHO WAS OUTWARDLY KIND AND GENTLE, BECAUSE SHE KNOWS WHO HE IS ON THE INSIDE. THE PERSON HE HAD TO BOTTLE UP TO COUNTERACT A DECADE’S WORTH OF LONELINESS. AND HE FINDS OUT WHAT SHE’S DONE AND HE ISNT AFRAID. BECAUSE HE KNOWS WHO SHE REALLY IS, TOO. HE KNOWS WHAT HER HEART IS MADE OF. HOW LOVING IT REALLY IS.

and, yes, it IS a little bit stupid that they’re in ruined king. i don’t necessarily think that their character growths relied on traveling to bilgewater; they easily could’ve been handled differently. and, yes, maybe they were initially paired up because they’re popular, attractive characters. but this is so small. so insignificant. when you consider what makes their relationship special. they are just what the other needed. they are what they need to heal. to look to the future with hope. and that means so much

[stxleslyds]

ive also stopped reading nightwing issues bc of all the same reasons uve posted lol.

u know those recommendation lists like "if you read book X, you might like Y" ? do u have any similar recommendations for fans of nightwing who are just tired of his recent runs? can be fanfic, old issues/ runs, other fandoms!

Hey there! How have you been doing?

It sucks that you have also stopped reading Nightwing, I think that the fact that many people have stopped investing their time in that run is very telling of both Tom Taylor’s writing and DC’s approach to Dick and Barbara as individual characters.

I hope better times (and comics) come our way!

As for recommendations, I have some in mind right now, I will list them down below!

Other Dick Grayson/Nightwing books I enjoy:

Future State: Nightwing

This book was pure bliss, two issues of competent Dick Grayson, leader of the resistance and the great comeback of his mechanic tendencies!

Outsiders vol.3

Dick is flawed, he is a shell of the person he used to be and is going through an immense rough time. This book shows us just how much the nickname “golden boy” doesn’t work for him at times. Dick is deep down still Dick but he also acts like a dick. Judd Winick makes him bearable thanks to the team by his side but most importantly thanks to Roy Harper who makes the perfect companion for Dick.

Nightwing vol.3 (New 52)

Alright, I know, New 52 was shit for the most part but I truly believe that Kyle Higgins did an amazing job with what he was given. His Dick/Nightwing was very sad and lonely but he was a beast, he was competent, an excellent fighter and extremely resilient when confronted with terrible upon terrible situations. To me this is a wonderful run if you pull it away from the whole New 52 narrative.

Batman: Gates of Gotham

They really popped off when DC gave us this beauty with Dick!Bats. The art and story are really worth anyone’s time. It is story heavy but it really gives us a look on what Dick was able to do as Batman even without his Robin. Detective heavy stuff.

Batman: Prelude to the Wedding: Nightwing vs. Hush

Now, this issue might have the advantage of Travis Moore’s ridiculously gorgeous art but the story is quite good too. We get a look at just how important Dick is, was and will be to Bruce and we also get some “unreliable narrator” vibes from Dick. If it was intended or not, I don’t know, but I can still appreciate it.

Nightwing: Old Friends, New Enemies.

Well, this one is on the list because it has the recompilation of “Cheshire’s Contact”. Those amazing issues in which Roy Harper trusts Dick only with getting his daughter back. Very enjoyable and a story that I would love to see made canon again.

Batman: Prodigal.

That’s a solid book, it is a good book to read if you want to see a bit of how Dick did in his first time as Batman and that time with Tim by his side. Not only are we offered Dick!Bats but we also get to see a more “domestic” side of him. Alfred left the Manor with Bruce so all the chores have to be done by Dick and it is always a good reminder for people who are convinced that Dick is a “human disaster” and cannot attend his own needs.

Nightwing vol.2 (#140 to #153)

Tomasi’s turn on that roller-coaster of a book was a good way to end it. He pushed Dick/Nightwing’s status up in every single way. Dick was a protector, leader, detective and so much more. His skillset and will to be (and become) better were always there. If you are looking for some BAMF Dick Grayson this is the place.

Other books that don’t have Dick Grayson:

Yeah, I can offer you some marvel… don’t know if that’s your cup of tea but check then out if you feel like it.

Guardians of the Galaxy (2020) #6

You could read the entire run (it is complete), it is honestly amazing. It is a team book so you won’t find many of the issues to be related to a single character. However, #6 offers an in depth look at Richard Rider (Nova). Richard is a leader, a team player and an excellent hero, but just like Dick he tends to put a lot over his shoulders and take the blame for things that maybe he shouldn’t. This issue is all about him and how he deals (or not) with his demons and everything else in his life.

Black Widow (2020)

This (ongoing) book is a masterpiece, Kelly Thompson is someone that sometimes misses me with her takes but ever since she took a hold of Nat, she has only made her more badass and interesting. This is an assassin heavy book, yes. But the villains and storytelling would really please some Nightwing readers. Dick and Nat don’t have much in common but I am sure that this book will be someone’s favourite either way.

Spider-Gwen/Ghost-Spider/Gwenom

This is me pushing Gwen Stacy as much as I can when I am given the chance. This book might not seem like it will match your average Nightwing connoisseur but there three separate books of Gwen’s life kinda give us the perspective of someone who might be like you and me and got powers. Gwen grows into the hero life and herself. The Spider-Gwen runs might be a bit too teenage heavy but it takes a turn once Ghost-Spider comes into place. Gwen is faced with more responsibilities, moving away from home (a whole ass different dimension) and then… Knull, 2021’s biggest Marvel Comics baddie. She is extremely fun and a bit too forward at times, it can certainly be a hit or miss but I would say that she is worth the try!

Dick Grayson Fics: I have to be sneaky; I will link here two asks in which I was asked about Jason Todd fics and I ended up recommending Dick fics that have Jason in them or “Dick and Jason are/were friends” because those fics make me weak and I just can’t help myself.

I will link the first one here! and the last one that I made here!

I hope you enjoy some (or all) these recommendations. I tried my best to remember some of my favourite Nightwing books, I got my notes back at home so I might be missing some. Maybe @hood-ex can help you out and rec amazing Dick/Nightwing books, she is my favourite Dick Grayson connoisseur!

Thank you for the ask, hope you have a lovely week!

[amuelia]

How do you think Roose will meet his demise? Or will he survive? What's your best Roose end game predictions?

Thank you for the question! This will be a long post under the readmore, going into my thoughts on the show ending and exploring what the books may have set up in regards to themes and characterization, as well as a bit of general analysis of Roose' story arc in a Dance with Dragons (and some speculation about Ramsay as well).

If you click on the readmore i will have divided the post into sections with bolded Headers, if you want to only read my specific endgame ideas you can skip ahead to the "His Endgame?" section.

In The Show

The show had him get killed by Ramsay in s6, which informs a lot of the fandom speculation about this storyline.

I am not a fan of the show's scenario as it was both similar to tywin and tyrion as well as a mirror of robb's death; it would also be offscreen in the books since neither of the characters are PoVs and Ramsay would need to do the act in secret. This would ultimately undercut Roose' role and impact, being a death scene that is not very unique and also isn't shown to the reader directly. Since no PoV is even in Winterfell currently, we would just hear of it from afar and not witness the consequences.

The show also has a different dynamic in the Bolton storyline, emphasizing Ramsay as the "main character" of this arc, and elevating him to the main villain for s5-6 to fill Joffrey's shoes as an evil character played by a very charismatic actor. Ramsay's show writing is informed by the needs of a TV setting that wants shocking moments and capitalizes on "fan favourite" actors; his rising importance in the show thus is not necessarily an indicator of his book importance. The show was also missing many central characters like the northern lords and the Frey men in Winterfell.

The show had a tendency to kill off characters early when they wanted to cull storylines or had no plans to adapt more of the character's story (like Stannis, Barristan, possibly the Tyrells...); In Mance Rayder we have the most obvious example, where they killed him off for real in a scene that in the book was a misdirection. We also have characters like Jorah where it appears the showrunners had their own choice of how they want his storyline to end, even if Grrm has his own ending in mind.

"For a long time we wanted Ser Jorah to be there at The Wall in the end," writer Dave Hill says. "The three coming out of the tunnel would be Jon and Jorah and Tormund. But [...] Jorah should have the noble death he craves defending the woman he loves." - Dave Hill for Entertainment Weekly

So a death in the show does not need to be an indicator that the books will feature an equivalent scene, even if it gives a hint as to what may happen. By s5 the show has become its own beast, and the butterfly effects from radical changes they made as well as the different characterizations results in the show having to cater to its own needs in many cases when it gets to resolving a plotline.

"We reconceived the role to make it worthy of the actor's talents." - Benioff and Weiss for the s5 DVD commentary, on Indira Varma's casting as Ellaria

In The Books

(Since this post was getting out of hand in length a lot of these arguments are a little shortened/not as in-depth as i'd like! Feel free to inquire more via ask if something is unclear or you disagree)

In the books i find it hard to make a concrete guess as to how it will end. Occam's razor would be to assume the show sort of got it right and that it will vaguely end the same, which could very well happen and i will not discount the possibility; Ramsay is cruel, desires the Dreadfort rule, and is a suspected kinslayer and has no qualms to commit immoral violence.

"Ramsay killed [his brother]. A sickness of the bowels, Maester Uthor says, but I say poison." - Reek III, aDwD

Reek saw the way Ramsay's mouth twisted, the spittle glistening between his lips. He feared he might leap the table with his dagger in his hand [to attack his father]. - Reek III, aDwD

Arguments against this or for a different endgame come down to interpretations of the themes in the story arc and opinions on dramatic structure/grrm's writing, and are thus very subjective.

The way the story currently is going, Ramsay killing Roose treats Roose almost as a plot device; his death brings no change or development to Ramsay's character as we already know his motivations and cruelty align with such an act, and we can assume that he would feel no remorse about it either. The results of such a scene would be firmly on a story level, as it brings political changes and moves the plot along into a specific direction. Roose himself cannot have any relevant character development about it as he does not have a PoV and we would not be able to witness his reaction from the outside.

“The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself.” - William Faulkner, often quoted by Grrm

Further, killing his father is very difficult to pull off in secret (Roose is frequently described as very cautious, and employs many guardsmen). And even if Ramsay pulls it off (people often interpret Ramsay as Roose' blind spot, assuming he might be caught by surprise, not expecting Ramsay would bite the hand that feeds him), Roose is the one that holds his entire alliance together; The Freys would be alienated by Ramsay who would antagonize Walda and her son as his rivals, The Ryswell bloc appears to dislike Ramsay (especially Barbrey), and the other northmen are implied to not even like Roose himself. Killing Roose would quickly combust the entire northern faction, and hinder Ramsay's further plans (another reason why I am not convinced of a book version of the "Battle of Bastards"). Though this might of course, if we look at it from the other side, be grrm's plan to quickly dissolve this plot and move the northern story forwards.

"Ramsay will kill [Walda's children], of course. [...] [She] will grieve to see them die, though." - Reek III, aDwD

"How many of our grudging friends do you imagine we'd retain if the truth were known? Only Lady Barbrey, whom you would turn into a pair of boots … inferior boots." - Reek III, aDwD

"Fear is what keeps a man alive in this world of treachery and deceit. Even here in Barrowton the crows are circling, waiting to feast upon our flesh. The Cerwyns and the Tallharts are not to be relied on, my fat friend Lord Wyman plots betrayal, and Whoresbane … the Umbers may seem simple, but they are not without a certain low cunning. Ramsay should fear them all, as I do." - Reek III, aDwD

Roose' death at Ramsay's hand also removes him thematically from the Red Wedding, as we can assume such a death might have happened regardless of his participation in the event (seeing as Ramsay is getting provoked by Roose constantly in normal dialogue, and has a general violent disposition). Roose already took Ramsay in before aGoT started, and married Walda very early in the war, which is already most of the buildup that the show's scenario had. It also has little to do with the The North Remembers plot except set dressing, since the northmen are presumably neither collaborating with/egging on Ramsay nor would they appreciate the development.

Themes: Ned Stark and the rule over the North

Roose is treated as a foil to Eddard; They are often contrasted in morals and ruling styles, while also having many superficial similarities that further connect them (they are seen as cold by people, grey eyed, patriarchs of rivalling northern houses, etc...).

Pale as morning mist, his eyes concealed more than they told. Jaime misliked those eyes. They reminded him of the day at King's Landing when Ned Stark had found him seated on the Iron Throne. - Jaime IV, aSoS

They both have a "bastard son" that they handle very differently; Roose treating Ramsay in the way that is seen as common in their society. Ramsay and Jon as a comparison are meant to show that Catelyn had a reason to see a bastard as a threat (since Domeric was antagonized by his bastard brother), but also shows that her suggested plan for Jon would not have stopped any danger either (as Ramsay being raised away from the castle didn't help).

And if his seed quickened, she expected he would see to the child's needs. He did more than that. The Starks were not like other men. Ned brought his bastard home with him, and called him "son" for all the north to see. - Catelyn II, aGoT

"Each year I sent the woman some piglets and chickens and a bag of stars, on the understanding that she was never to tell the boy who had fathered him. A peaceful land, a quiet people, that has always been my rule." - Reek III, aDwD

It appears to me that Roose' story functions in some ways as an inversion to Ned. He makes an attempt to grab a power he was not destined to (becoming warden of the north), where Ned did not want the responsiblity thrust upon him ("It was all meant for Brandon. [...] I never asked for this cup to pass to me." - Cat II, aGoT). Where Ned rules successfully and his northmen honor his legacy ("What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl." - The Turncloak, aDwD), the Boltons are largely hated and there are several plots conspiring against them ("Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die." - The King's Prize, aDwD).

It seems possible to me that in terms of their family and legacy, Roose might also live through an inverted version of Ned's story; where Ned died first, leaving his family behind, Roose already lived to see the death of his wives and trueborn heir, and might thus also live to see Ramsay's death. Ned leaves behind well raised children and a North who still respects his name, and even though he dies it will presumably all be "in good hands" in the end (in broad strokes, obviously this is all much more morally complex). Roose however built up a bad and toxic legacy, and also built his way of life around evading consequences; it makes sense to me that he would be forced by the story to finally endure all the consequences of his actions and witness the fall of his house firsthand. After all we already have Tywin who fulfils the purpose of dying before his children while his legacy falls to ruins, and a Feast for Crows explores this aspect thoroughly.

Roose' arc in A Dance With Dragons

The story repeatedly builds up the situation unravelling around Roose, and him slowly losing a grip on it and becoming more stressed and anxious.

Reek wondered if Roose Bolton ever cried. If so, do the tears feel cold upon his cheeks? - Reek II, aDwD

Roose Bolton said nothing at all. But Theon Greyjoy saw a look in his pale eyes that he had never seen before—an uneasiness, even a hint of fear. [...] That night the new stable collapsed beneath the weight of the snow that had buried it. - a Ghost in Winterfell, aDwD

Lady Walda gave a shriek and clutched at her lord husband's arm. "Stop," Roose Bolton shouted. "Stop this madness." His own men rushed forward as the Manderlys vaulted over the benches to get at the Freys. - Theon I, aDwD

It also directly presents him as a parallel to Theon's rule in aCoK, who similarly experienced a very unpopular rule and his subjects slowly turning against him. Presumably, the point of this comparison will not just be "Ramsay comes in at the end and unexpectedly whacks them on the head". Both Theon and Roose invited Ramsay into their lives, giving him more power than he deserves, and causing Ramsay to make choices that increasingly alienate others from them (the death of the miller's boys for example has repercussions for both Theon and Roose). Grrm is likely steering this towards a difference in how they will deal with this situation.

It all seemed so familiar, like a mummer show that he had seen before. Only the mummers had changed. Roose Bolton was playing the part that Theon had played the last time round, and the dead men were playing the parts of Aggar, Gynir Rednose, and Gelmarr the Grim. Reek was there too, he remembered, but he was a different Reek, a Reek with bloody hands and lies dripping from his lips, sweet as honey. - a Ghost in Winterfell, aDwD

"Stark's little wolflings are dead," said Ramsay, sloshing some more ale into his cup, "and they'll stay dead. Let them show their ugly faces, and my girls will rip those wolves of theirs to pieces. The sooner they turn up, the sooner I kill them again." - The elder Bolton sighed. "Again? Surely you misspeak. You never slew Lord Eddard's sons, those two sweet boys we loved so well. That was Theon Turncloak's work, remember? How many of our grudging friends do you imagine we'd retain if the truth were known?" - Reek III, aDwD

Roose' arc is deeply connected to the relations he shares to the other northern lords, which has been heavily impacted by the Red Wedding. It stands to reason that they are going to be an important part of his downfall, and we see many hints of them plotting to betray him.

The north remembers, Lord Davos. The north remembers, and the mummer's farce is almost done. My son is home." - Davos IV, aDwD

Themes: Stannis and kinslaying

The books set up Roose and Stannis as foils as well; Both lack charisma and have trouble winnning the people's support, Stannis and Roose both parallel and contrast Ned, Stannis appears as a "lesser Robert" where Roose is a "lesser Ned", Stannis represents the fire where Roose represents the ice, both struggle over dominion in a land that doesnt particularly want either of them, etc... What i find interesting is how they are contrasted over kinslaying:

"Only Renly could vex me so with a piece of fruit. He brought his doom on himself with his treason, but I did love him, Davos. I know that now. I swear, I will go to my grave thinking of my brother's peach." - Davos II, aCoK

"I should've had the mother whipped and thrown her child down a well … but the babe did have my eyes." [...] "Now [Domeric's] bones lie beneath the Dreadfort with the bones of his brothers, who died still in the cradle, and I am left with Ramsay. Tell me, my lord … if the kinslayer is accursed, what is a father to do when one son slays another?" - Reek III, aCoK

Stannis is set up as someone who is very thorough and strict in following his own code and his "duty", even if he does not like what it forces him to do.

Stannis ground his teeth again. "I never asked for this crown. Gold is cold and heavy on the head, but so long as I am the king, I have a duty . . . If I must sacrifice one child to the flames to save a million from the dark . . . Sacrifice . . . is never easy, Davos. Or it is no true sacrifice. Tell him, my lady." - Davos IV, aSoS

The armorer considered that a moment. "Robert was the true steel. Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, yes, but brittle, the way iron gets. He'll break before he bends." - Jon I, aCoK

Roose however is frequently characterized as someone who tries to get as much as he can while avoiding negative consequences, and who does not have a consistent moral code and instead bends rules to his benefit to be the most comfortable to him.

It is often theorized that Stannis will end up burning his daughter Shireen; the Ramsay issue might then serve to contrast the two men. If Grrm intends it to be compared by the reader, I can see it going two ways: Either Roose will be forced to finally act in a drastic way after avoiding his responsibility in regards to Ramsay and he will be forced to get rid of his son, making him break the only moral hurdle he has presented adhering to during the story (though analyzing his character, the kinslaying taboo is probably less a sign of moral fortitude and more him using the guise of morals to explain a selfish motivation). Or he might not act against Ramsay and suffer the consequences, presenting an interesting moral situation where some readers might consider his action "better" or more relatable than Stannis', breaking up the otherwise very black and white moral comparison between the two men. It serves as an interesting conflict of the morality of kinslaying compared to what readers might see as a moral obligation of getting rid of a monster such as Ramsay; contrasting Shireen whose death would not be seen as worth it by most. Ramsay as a bastard (who was almost killed at birth if he hadnt been able to prove his paternity) also makes for an interesting verbal parallel with the bastard Edric Storm, and might be used for a look at the utilitarian principle of killing a child (baby ramsay/edric) to save countless people from suffering that underpinned Edric's story.

"As Faulkner says, all of us have the capacity in us for great good and for great evil, for love but also for hate. I wanted to write those kinds of complex character in a fantasy, and not just have all the good people get together to fight the bad guy." - Grrm

"Robert, I ask you, what did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children?" - Eddard VIII, aGoT

"If Joffrey should die . . . what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?" - "Everything," said Davos, softly. - Davos V, aSoS

However Grrm decides to present these conflicts or which actions the characters will take in the end, it will result in interesting discussion and analysis for the readers.

His Endgame?

Looking at the trends of the past books, it is probably going to be hard to predict any specific outcome; every book introduces new characters and plot elements that were impossible to predict from the last book even if their thematic importance or setup was aptly foreshadowed.

Roose has a lot of plot importance and characterization that has, in my opinion, not yet been properly resolved in a way that would be unique and poignant to the specific purpose his character appears to fulfil. However I also have a bias in that i did not like the show's writing of that scene which makes me averse to see a version of it in the books, and i really like Roose as a character and want to see him have more scenes in the next book(s). This leads me to discount plot speculation that cuts his character arc short offscreen early. Roose is only a side character; however, i have trust in grrm's writing abilities and that he would give him a proper sendoff that feels satisfying to a fan of the character.

"…even the [characters] who are complete bastards, nasty, twisted, deeply flawed human beings with serious psychological problems… When I get inside their skin and look out through their eyes, I have to feel a certain — if not sympathy, certainly empathy for them. I have to try to perceive the world as they do, and that creates a certain amount of affection." — George Martin

Considering my earlier analyis, there is a case to be made for Roose killing Ramsay; however it appears grrm might have a different endgame in mind for Ramsay, foreshadowed in Chett's prologue:

There'd be no lord's life for the leechman's son, no keep to call his own, no wives nor crowns. Only a wildling's sword in his belly, and then an unmarked grave. The snow's taken it all from me . . . the bloody snow . . . - Chett, aSoS

I tend to think something might happen to Roose/the Bolton bloc later in the book that would cause Ramsay to attempt to flee the scene again like he did back in aCoK fleeing Rodrik's justice; perhaps Ramsay is sent out to battle but then flees it like a coward, or he sees his cause as lost. This time, the fleeing and potentially disguised Ramsay would not make it out to safety though, and get killed without being recognized as Ramsay, dying forgotten. This would serve as dramatic irony since Ramsay so strongly desired to be recognized and respected as a Lord of Bolton, without being too on the nose.

As for Roose, i could see him getting captured and somehow brought to justice (either when someone takes Winterfell or in some sort of battle). I see it unlikely that he will be backstabbed like Robb was, because it seems very "eye for an eye" and ultimately doesn't teach much of a lesson except "he had it coming"; But the various people conspiring against him could lead to his capture by betraying him (giving a payoff to the northern conspiracies and the red wedding). I would find a scene of him standing trial interesting since i believe we didn't have one of these for a true non-pov villain yet, and it would be an interesting confrontation that he cannot escape from (he also loves to talk so it would be a good read to see him make a case for himself).

I assume Roose will be out of the picture when the Other plot finally properly kicks into gear (whether dead or "in prison"). With Stannis as a false Azor Ahai and Roose as a false Other (with his pale, cold features), their struggle in the north seems to be a representation of the false "Game of Thrones" that distracts people from the "real threat" of the Others.

As always this is just my opinion, and it could all go very differently in the books! There could always be something that completely uproots my analysis and goes into a direction i did not expect from the material we had; But i have fate that Grrm as a writer will deliver and give me something i can be satisfied with.

[hirikka]

space that’s in between every page

Geralt has learned many things about Jaskier over the years: He is loud and annoying, loyal and stubborn; he has a knack for getting into trouble and for talking his way out of it; he has never been afraid of Geralt (even when he probably should have been), and he is married to a viscount. That last piece of information ends up being the most troublesome.

Or, five times that Geralt thought that Jaskier was married to Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, and the time he (finally) realized they were the same person.

(read on AO3)

i

Geralt is not sure when he first heard the name Julian Alfred Pankratz. Jaskier talks about so many people that it is difficult to keep track. And that is putting aside the fact that for the first few months (or perhaps years) of knowing the bard, he tuned out most of what the man said. It hardly seemed important at the time, when he was sure that Jaskier would lose interest and flit away at any moment.

By the time he realizes that Jaskier is not planning to leave any time soon, he’s also missed any window where it is reasonable to ask who the people he mentions are. Most of them are fairly easy to figure out, once Geralt is paying attention. Classmates from Oxenfurt are frequently mentioned, and he almost never talks about any family members.

It’s Julian, though, who comes up the most. Not that often really, in the grand scheme of things, but he’s usually mentioned at least once a season. His relationship to Jaskier is the least obvious; at first, Geralt assumes that he is some sort of patron for Jaskier’s music, but that doesn’t quite seem right. It takes almost two years for him to figure it out; after all, Jaskier doesn’t act like a married man. But Geralt is sure that is what is happening, the only explanation that makes sense: Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, is Jaskier’s husband.

 ii

“No taste for the arts,” Jaskier grumbles under his breath. “Completely absurd.”

“We can leave,” Geralt murmurs. He can get the information later, stop by to speak to the lord at some point when there isn’t a party happening. He would prefer that, to be honest, even if it would slow them down. He hates fancy parties like this, and Jaskier’s tendency to sulk for several hours when nobles don’t appreciate his music is a good excuse to leave and come back later.

Jaskier looks at Geralt and huffs. “No, you need the information. I can put my ego aside.”

“Hm.” Geralt isn’t sure where that leaves them.

The guard shifts, placing a hand on his sword as a reminder that Jaskier is not invited.

“Look for Julian Alfred Pankratz—” Jaskier says, turning his attention back to the guard “—Viscount de Lettenhove.”

The guard looks dubious for a moment, but he does check the list of invited guests, and after a moment, he gives a nod and steps out of their way.

Geralt follows Jaskier, trying to focus on the information he needs to get and not the unpleasant emotions that tend to well up every time Julian is mentioned.

 iii

Geralt plants his feet, stalling the guards who are trying to move him away from the gathered crowd, and turns his attention to the man who had hired him—he had seemed at least somewhat sympathetic. “Please, get word to Jaskier. The bard. Let him know that—”

One of the guards shoves him forward, and he stumbles against the ropes tying him again.

“Wait.” The command is clear in the man's tone. The guards come to a stop as a tall man with dark hair steps through the crowd.

“Sir?” One of the guards holding Geralt asks.

“What’s going on here?” the man asks. He looks like a noble, wearing fine clothes and with the air of someone used to getting their way.

“The witcher was found sneaking into the city. Armed.”

“I was hired for a job,” Geralt growls. “How am I supposed to hunt without swords?”

The man looks at Geralt now. “Are you Geralt of Rivia?”

Geralt nods.

“Let him go,” the man instructs. The guards hesitate for a moment, but at a glare, they hastily release Geralt and reluctantly leave, fading into the crowd.

“Thank you,” Geralt says, rubbing at his wrists.

“Not to worry. I heard you mention Jaskier, and I knew I had to step in.”

“You know Jaskier?”

“I’m Ferrant de Lettenhove. Julian’s my cousin,” Ferrant says.

Geralt manages to keep his face impassive. He sincerely hopes that word of this doesn’t make it back to Julian—he can’t imagine the man being happy to have his spouse traveling with a witcher; no need for it to become worse by mentioning that he was almost arrested.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Ferrant asks. “So that you can conclude your job in the city?”

“It’s alright,” Geralt grunts. “Don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“Not to worry.” Ferrant offers a small smile. “I’m the royal instigator; there are very few people with the authority to cause me trouble.”

Geralt hates the idea of being indebted to Julian, but he does need to finish this job, and he’s not particularly interested in getting into more legal trouble for being armed in the city.

 iv

Geralt is used to Jaskier wearing jewelry; the bard is like a magpie, constantly picking up new shiny trinkets to wear. This ring seems different, though. It is larger and more ornate, and a symbol on it indicates that it is a sigil ring. He’s fairly certain that Jaskier didn’t have it the year before, and now he seems to wear it every day.

“Where’d you get that ring?” Geralt asks.

“Hm?” Jaskier looks up from his lute, meeting Geralt’s gaze.

“The ring.” Geralt waves his hand towards the ring glittering in the firelight.

“It’s a Lettenhove family heirloom,” Jaskier says.

“Oh.” Geralt feels his heart sink. He’s never known Jaskier to wear a wedding band or anything else connecting him to his husband. He wonders what this means, if it suggests that they have gotten closer over the previous winter. “That’s nice.”

“Why the sudden interest?” Jaskier asks.

Geralt shrugs, making a noncommittal noise. Jaskier, used to him, just smiles and returns to practicing his lute.

**

Whatever the ring suggests, it isn’t that Jaskier is going to be more committed. More loyal to his husband. He still flirts just as much, still beds whatever pretty stranger catches his fancy.

Geralt cannot stop thinking about it and finds his gaze drawn to the ring at inopportune moments. This obvious reminder that Jaskier is bound to another, that no matter how far he might be willing to wander with Geralt, he is always going to return to someone else.

**

Geralt feels pleasantly light from the wine he’s drunk; it had been flowing freely at the festival they are attending, and the townsfolk were in a good enough mood between the holiday and Geralt’s successful hunt that they had been welcoming to Geralt. He’s found a spot on the outskirts of the town square and is leaning against a wall, watching Jaskier dance through the crowd of locals. He is bright and joyful, and Geralt feels warm and pleased.

“Geralt,” Jaskier says. He’s standing in front of Geralt now, still catching his breath and smiling so very wide. “Come and dance with him.”

“I don’t dance,” Geralt says without any of his usual heat.

“I’ll lead,” Jaskier says, taking his hand, and Geralt allows it, letting Jaskier pull him close and start leading him through the steps of the dance. Geralt thinks that he would allow Jaskier anything, and the thought does not scare him the way it once did.

“See? It’s not that hard,” Jaskier murmurs.

He is so very close, one hand clasping Geralt’s and the other resting on his shoulder. Geralt can feel the steady beat of Jaskier’s heart from where they are pressed together, and his senses are overwhelmed by Jaskier’s lavender and mint scent.

Jaskier sways in, somehow impossibly moving closer, and his eyes dart down to Geralt’s lips before returning to meet the witcher’s gaze. For a moment, Geralt thinks that he ought to finally give in, to let himself want and have. Then, Jaskier’s hand in his shifts and Geralt feels the touch of metal, and all at once, he remembers why he has never allowed himself to respond to Jaskier’s flirting. He steps back hastily, wrenching his hand away.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s face is clouded in confusion, but Geralt’s eyes are drawn down to the signet ring on Jaskier’s hand. He turns and flees back to the inn, ignoring Jaskier’s confused call behind him.

He cannot acknowledge this want, no matter how much his heart aches. Jaskier would only ever be able to see Geralt as a dalliance, a flight of fancy; he cannot truly be Geralt’s, not in the way Geralt wishes him to be. Not when he is married. And Geralt knows himself, knows he is not strong enough to take that step, knowing that it would not mean the same thing to Jaskier that it would to him. It is better to keep Jaskier’s friendship and companionship. It has to be.

  v

Geralt turns to Jaskier. It’s not the time for jokes, not when he feels like he’s been stabbed, but he understands what Jaskier is trying to do. He turns, intending to tell Jaskier to let him be, but then the light catches on Jaskier’s ring. On the ring that Julian gave to him, and suddenly Geralt’s own hurt is boiling over.

Julian knows that Jaskier will return to him, that no matter how far the bard wanders, he will come home, and Geralt is hit with a wave of jealousy. He craves that assurance—the certainty that someone will always come back. He thought he had that with Yennefer, but he lost her through his own actions. He doesn’t know why he thought it would end any differently; witchers are not made to have connections. Yennefer wants nothing to do with him, and Jaskier has a husband to return to, and Geralt has nothing but his swords and his horse and his anger.

He has spent so long suppressing his emotions, pretending they didn’t exist. Now, he is overwhelmed with sorrow and longing that feels impossible to push aside or ignore. So he lets it out in the only way he knows how: as rage. He turns on Jaskier and unleashes his fury, takes out his hurt on the only person who has chosen to remain with him. [He spits] cruel cutting remarks designed to cause the most damage possible.

Geralt stares out over the mountains and tries to force himself not to regret what he has just done. Tries to convince himself that it is better this way—if Jaskier isn’t loyal to the man he married, then it is only a matter of time before he leaves Geralt as well; better to have it over and done with.

He fails.

**

Yen smirks at him over the top of her wine glass, and Geralt feels his heart sink—this conversation had been going surprisingly well. Yen had forgiven him for the djinn bond, and, although she was no longer interested in a relationship with him, she does seem excited to help with Ciri; he thinks they can become friends. He’s content with that—he can see now that their relationship did neither of them any good. This smirk, though, means trouble, and he’s not sure he’s prepared for that.

“I saw Julian the other day,” Yen says.

Geralt glares at her.

“He’s in good health, seems to be doing well.”

“Hm.”

“Would you like to know where he is?” Yen prompts.

“Why would I want to know that?” Geralt growls.

For a moment Yennefer’s smug mask of indifference falls away, but she recovers quickly. “Just thought I’d make the offer.” She drains the wine glass and stands. “See you around, Geralt.” For a moment, she almost looks concerned about something, but then she has swept out of the room.

The scent of lilac and gooseberry lingers in the air as Geralt looks down at the table and wonders why Yen would have mentioned seeing Julian but not Jaskier. Had the bard mentioned their fight to her? Had he asked Yen not to tell Geralt where he was? Or, worse, had Jaskier not been at home with his husband? Geralt had managed to ease his worry for the bard by convincing himself that Jaskier was safe at his home, not wandering the countryside getting into trouble, but perhaps he was wrong to think that. Geralt grits his teeth and pushes the thoughts aside. He can’t let himself give in to panic now—not when he has Ciri to care for.

 +1

“You saved my life!” the knight gasps up at him. Geralt has a sinking feeling.

“Hm.”

“I—” the knight starts.

“It’s fine,” Geralt cuts him off. He’s not interested in claiming any kind of reward—he has enough trouble with one child surprise.

The knight blinks at him for a moment, assessing. “I understand. There’s a contract out for this monster; let me at least show you back to the estate so that you can collect the reward.”

“Hm.” Geralt is still worried that the man might press, insist on offering something in exchange for a perceived debt, but he and Ciri do need the coin; he hasn’t wanted to take jobs when it means leaving her alone. It had only been chance that had brought him to this man and the kikimora attacking him. “Fine.”

“Good.” The man smiles at Geralt without a hint of fear, and Geralt feels off-kilter for a moment. “Will you also accept my hospitality and stay for the night? I can give you food and a bed.”

Geralt hesitates. “I’m not… traveling alone.”

“Oh? Well your companion is welcome as well,” the man says. “My name is Kaz.”

He takes the extended hand. “Geralt.”

He catches the smallest hint of shock in the Kaz’ scent, but the man doesn’t say anything, so Geralt doesn’t worry about it. He leads the way back to the road where Ciri is waiting with Roach.

The man rubs his hand across the back of his head. “My horse spooked; she’s probably smart enough to make it home on her own, but we’ll have to walk.”

Geralt nods but doesn’t say anything until they reach the road. “Fiona, this is Kaz. We’re going to stay with him for the night.”

Ciri brightens considerably at the prospect of a warm bed.

“We’re close to the Lettenhove estate,” Kaz says. “We should be there in time for dinner.”

Geralt freezes, considers throwing himself onto Roach and riding as far away as he can before they lose the light. The last thing he wants is to finally be confronted with Julian. The possibility of seeing Jaskier again is something he has longed for and dreaded, but seeing him with his husband is unthinkable.

He has Ciri to think of, though, so he doesn’t give in to his own fear. He just follows Kaz and feels his stomach sink with every step.

**

Kaz is greeted warmly as they approach the estate, and Geralt revises his assessment; this man clearly holds a higher rank than his clothing suggests. Geralt and Ciri keep their hoods up as they move towards the castle, but he still sees curious gazes following them.

Once they are inside, Kaz summons a servant. “We’ll set you up in a guest room. Dinner is in half an hour, so you should have time for a bath before that, if you wish to warm up.” Kaz looks down at his own muddy clothes. “I know I do. Someone will be sent to get you for dinner.”

Geralt nods and lets the servant lead him and Ciri down a different hall, presumably to the guest wing. Part of him still wants to protest, but it is overpowered by how badly he wants to see Jaskier again. He knows it will likely hurt, but it is better to know that he is safe.

**

The dining hall that Geralt and Ciri are led to is small and intimate, although it is still richly decorated. Kaz is already at the table, along with a woman who bears a striking resemblance to Jaskier.

“Good sir witcher!” Kaz smiles as he stands. “And Fiona. This is my wife Estera.”

“Thank you for saving my idiot husband,” Estera says.

Geralt shifts, uncomfortable with the warm reception; it’s so different from what he is used to. He wonders what Jaskier could have possibly told these people to make them so open towards him.

A servant opens the door, and Geralt is briefly grateful for the distraction before the man announces: “The Viscount de Lettenhove.” Then his heart sinks, and he tries to brace himself to see the man Jaskier married.

The servant steps aside, and Jaskier steps into the room. His clothes are suited for the cold, but still show his flair for color—bright and vibrant against the more muted colors most people wear in winter. He is alone, and the door closes behind him. So where is the viscount? Although, Geralt supposes that Jaskier would technically share the title with his husband, so perhaps Julian won’t be joining them. He isn’t sure if he should be relieved or even more concerned.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice is strangled, shocked. His scent tinges with something bitter.

Kaz glances between them, looking pleased. “I thought this was your witcher, Julek.”

“Kaz. What did you do?” Jaskier’s voice is cold, and he isn’t looking at Geralt any longer.

“He saved me from an arachas. I insisted he come collect the reward and stay for dinner. It’s nothing nefarious.”

Jaskier sighs. “I'll take my meal in my room.”

He turns and leaves. Geralt isn’t sure what is happening.

“Why is he leaving?” Kaz asks.

“You are a fool,” Estera says although she sounds fond. She leans past Kaz to look at Geralt. “You can still fix this.”

“Fix what?”

Estera snorts. “Honestly. Men. The fact that you broke his heart, witcher.”

“What?”

“If you don’t care for him, you can stay for the night and leave tomorrow and never see him again—“ she catches Geralt’s wince “—but since that isn’t what you want, you should probably go after him”

Geralt stands. “I'll be back,” he says to Ciri. He doesn’t ask about Julian, doesn’t ask about the comment about Jaskier’s broken heart. It feels vital to speak to Jaskier now, before any more time has passed.

He leaves the hall and follows Jaskier’s scent, trying not to think about why it seems to have soured or about the fact that, if Jaskier has gone to his rooms, there’s every chance that Geralt will be arriving to find Julian.

The room is easy enough to find, although it is not in the kind of grand hallway that Geralt would have expected for the viscount. He can hear Jaskier plucking at his lute—not in any tune, and Geralt is familiar enough with his habits to know he’s anxious. The room doesn't smell like anyone but Jaskier, so perhaps he and Julian don’t share chambers. At least that means he might be able to talk to Jaskier alone.

He hesitates a moment longer before he knocks on the door. He hears Jaskier sigh and the movement of fabric.

“Come in, Geralt.”

Geralt pushes the door open and steps into the room, suddenly feeling unsure of what he should do.

“I’m sorry that Kaz made you go to the formal dinner,” Jaskier says when it becomes clear that Geralt isn’t going to say anything. “If I had known, I would have stayed away.”

“Why?” Geralt asks. He doesn’t understand why Jaskier is hiding in his own home.

“Because you don’t want to see me?” Jaskier says slowly. “Your life’s one blessing and all that?”

Geralt grits his teeth. “I didn’t mean that.”

“No?” Jaskier’s voice is cold. “Then why say it?”

“Because of Julian!” Geralt snaps. It’s not the whole truth, but it is as much as he can admit to.

“What?” Jaskier asks. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”

Geralt forces himself to take a deep breath, trying to figure out a way to explain without revealing his own feelings for Jaskier in the process. “After Yennefer, it made me think of the way Julian might feel about—”

“Geralt,” Jaskier interrupts, “who do you think Julian is?”

Geralt frowns at him. “Your husband.”

Jaskier is completely frozen for a moment, and then he flops back into the bed and starts giggling. “How—” he tries to get himself under control “—how long have we known each other?”

“Hm.” Geralt knows that he’s missing something, but he doesn’t know what.

Jaskier sits up after a minute, managing to get his laughter under control. “Oh my dear witcher.” Jaskier sighs, but his scent has lost the sour notes. “I suppose I never formally introduced myself, did I?”

“Hm.”

“Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove—” he sweeps into a formal bow “—at your service.”

“I… hm.” Geralt’s mind is racing, reassessing everything with this new piece of information.

Jaskier giggles again. “I can’t believe you thought I was married.”

Geralt frowns at him. It is possibly an expression that Jaskier would describe as pouting.

“I’m still not happy about what you said on the mountain,” Jaskier says, growing more serious.

“I am sorry,” Geralt says. “I shouldn’t have said it. No matter what I thought. It, hm. It wasn’t fair to you.”

Jaskier beams. “Apology accepted.” He pats Geralt on the shoulder. “See, that wasn’t so hard.” He moves to open the door.

“What are you doing?” Geralt asks.

“You look like you could use food, and I would like to meet your child surprise properly.”

Geralt steps closer before he can think better of it and catches Jaskier’s arm, pulling him away from the door.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asks.

Geralt pulls Jaskier closer and leans down to kiss him. Jaskier makes a pleased noise, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s waist and deepening the kiss—it feels like coming home.

After a moment, Jaskier pulls back slightly and narrows his eyes. “Did you ignore my flirting for twenty years because you thought I was married?”

“Hm,” Geralt says, meaning yes.

“Gods, you are such an idiot,” Jaskier says fondly.

[justalitlecreacher]

Anakin Skywalker Deserved Better

Ive made this post before but it was really rough and i meant to edit it later and its later now but its been so long that i don’t feel like finding the og post so here we are. If it’s not obvious i care more than a normal amount about Anakin Skywalker.

Tl;Dr: I firmly believe that there are so many points in the prequel series, the clone wars, and even the comics that some level of intervention could have steered Anakin away from falling in Revenge of the Sith.

The Phantom Menace 

This is our first encounter with Anakin, and it does a decent job at introducing us to him. This movie sets up his tragic backstory™️ and gives us a good look at his personality; Anakin appears selfless and eager to help complete strangers in return for nothin when he first brings Qui-Gon and crew to his home to give them shelter, and then risks his life in the podrace to help them afford the part they need to fix their ship. Aside from introducing and developing Anakin not much else happens until Qui-Gon brings Anakin before the Jedi Council where they decide he is too old and there is already too much anger in him to be trained as a Jedi. Qui-Gon disagress, but we move on to Naboo where 9-year old Anakin blows up a very large ship all; by himslef w/ autopilot ( they grow up so fast), Qui-Gon dies, and we get our first look at Palpatine being creepy in hindsight, “And you, young Skywalker, we will watch your career with great interest.” not all that weird out of context but uncomfy when you remember who Palpatine is.

Before we move on i actually want to flashback to Anakin’s first encounter with the Jedi Council. For a group of people who constantly take in and raise children, the Jedi seem to do a poor job interacting with them. A kind of infuriating thing about this scene is that the Jedi seem to shame Anakin for being afraid (no matter how much Anakin himself denies that fear). This scene does a really good job at setting up how the Jedi consistently fail to take into account that Anakin is fundamentally incapable of being a “normal” Jedi. Anakin has had a fundamentally different childhood than any other Jedi and absolutely needed more help and support than the average Padawan from the very beginning. Granted it is possible that the Jedi tried to get him the help and support he needed, but if they did we can infer they failed from Dooku’s line in Revenge of the Sith, “I sense great fear in you, Skywalker. You have hate, you have anger, but you don’t use them.”

Obi-Wan And Anakin Comic

The Obi-Wan and Anakin comics take place sometime between The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones. The story focuses on Anakin and Obi-Wan investigating a distress signal on a planet that has been destroyed by war. The comic also flashes back to reveal that Anakin is thinking of leaving the Jedi Order after Palpatine shows him the dark side of Coruscant, and tells him that neither the Jedi nor the Senate will be able to do anything about it. We get more creepy (not just in hindsight this time) moments out of Palpatine here. The first one is when he uses his position as Chancellor to gain access to Anakin under the guise of “helping” him.  “Why young Skywalker is a Jedi, is he not? The Jedi are under the Senate’s jurisdiction. And as I am the Chancellor of the Senate...”. Palpatine proceeds to take Anakin to a club of some kind where they see a corrupt senator gambling; Palpatine also mentions how “Lives are bought and sold here everyday” he then makes a show of apologizing for bringing it up considering Anakin’s past.Without context this would seem harmless enough, but with the context of Palpatine’s true identity it is more likely a ploy to subelty remind Anakin of how the Jedi and Senate are unable or unwilling to intervene on Tatooine or the rest of the Outer Rim. Palpatine reminding Anakin of the Senate and Jedi’s inability to help everyone seems to be a running theme in their meeting as the series continues. 

Aside from Palpatine being a creep; we see that Anakin is still just as willing and eager to help as he was in The Phantom Menace. His skills in mechanics result in him being briefly kidnapped so that he can fix weapons that will help one side to win the war that has destroyed the planet. Seriously Anakin is just so ernest in these comics that i shed tears because i know how his story ends. 

One character that Obi-Wan and Anakin team up with to reach the distress signal first mistakes Anakin for Obi-Wan’s son, and then tells Obi-Wan, “He [Anakin] doesn’t think so. Kid idolizes you. You can see it” when Obi-Wan admits that he’s not sure he is the best suited to teach Anakin, and fears he has failed him in some way. As the story progresses, it is revealed in a flashback that after Anakin told Obi-Wan he wanted to leave the Order, Yoda sent the two of them on the mission they are currently on to give Anakin a chance to reconsider his decision, and Obi-Wan tells Yoda that if Anakin returned from the mission still wanting to leave the Order, Obi-Wan would leave with him to continue his training and keep his promise to Qui-Gon. 

Attack of the Clones

Back to the movies. Attack of the Clones reunites Obi-Wan and Anakin with Padmé Amidala when they are assigned to protect her from an assassin. One of ( if not the) most important elements to this movie are Anakin’s dreams/visions of his mother. Towards the beginning of the movie Anakin doesn’t explicitly say what the dreams are about, but it can be assumed that the dreams are unpleasant as he says, “I don't sleep well anymore.” in response to Obi-Wan commenting on him looking tired; going on to claim that he cannot sleep because of his dreams. Anakin later admits to Padmé that he worries about his mother. This is one of the key moments in Anakin’s life that set him up to fall in Revenge of the Sith. There is no reason i can think of that Anakin should not have been allowed to check on his mother if he was having dreams about her that prevented him from sleeping properly and made him worry for her safety. As Anakin says, “Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is central to a Jedi's life, so you might say we're encouraged to love.”. If compassion truly is central to a Jedi’s life, then surely they could at the very least send one of their 10,000 Jedi to check on Anakin’s mother if he could not? Is it compassion to deny someone the help they need? I find it hard to believe that Anakin would not have told Obi-Wan that he was worried about his mother going off of how close they appear to be in the previous comic. Especially after Anakin responds to Obi-Wan joking about Anakin being the death of him one day with, “Don't say that Master... You're the closest thing I have to a father... I love you. I don't want to cause you pain.” 

Anakin and Padmé arrive too late to save Shmi, and she dies in Anakin’s arms. This is a crucial moment leading up to Anakin’s fall as it shows Anakin that his dreams have a very real potential of coming true and likely results in him blaming himself at least partially for not insisting on checking on his mother or getting there sooner or doing anything different that may have allowed her to survive; it’s also the first time we see Anakin really lose control. There have been instances of him lashing out in anger before (turning a pair of padawans’ lightsabers against them when he hears them making fun of him behind his back), but nothing like what happens in the wake of Shmi’s death. Anakin wipes out the entire village of Tusken Raiders; children included. And while Anakin does express genuine remorse for his actions, he never faces consequences for them. It’s not even clear if anyone but Padmé ever finds out; Yoda claims to feel Anakin’s pain in the wake of his mother’s death, but does not appear to see Anakin’s actions, and is not shown to discuss what happened on Tatooine with Anakin at all.

Some light googling on my part revealed that in the novelization of Attack of the Clone, while Anakin did tell Obi-Wan about his mother’s death it was Padmé who told Obi-Wan how she had died, but Obi-Wan is unaware of what happened afterwards. “Anakin had told him of Shmi’s death; that was why he and Padmé had gone to Tatooine, he said. Obi-Wan had talked to Padmé later, and she had explained that Shmi had been kidnapped and killed by Tusken Raiders. Neither of them had been willing to go into much detail, and from what Obi-Wan knew of the Tusken Raiders, he didn’t blame them. It was no wonder Anakin seemed shaken, if his mother had been tortured and killed. One day, perhaps, Anakin would be willing to tell him the whole story.” Obi-Wan appears to know that there is more to the story than he has been told, but it content to wait until Anakin is ready to talk about it. I wonder if they ever had that conversation.

Anakin’s inability to save his mother even after the warnings he receives in his dreams likely leads to his desperation to save Padmé form the danger he believes her to be in later in Revenge of the Sith. He has been shown once before that his dreams can easily come true, and he is desperate to prevent this dream from coming true no matter what the cost may be. 

The Clone Wars

This is gonna be a long one; it’s gonna have to cover the most relevant episodes of The Clone Wars and oh boy that’s not a small amount. Im gonna try to go chronologically but bear with me (if you actually read this far you know what you got yourself into)

Assassin s3ep7

In this episode Ahsoka begins having visions of Padmé being assassinated similarly to how Anakin dreamed of his mother’s and later Padmé’s deaths. The difference with Ahsoka is that she is able to prevent the visions from becoming reality.  What i want to focus on in this episode is the reaction Ahsoka gets when she tells Yoda about her dreams. Yoda explains to her that her dream may be telling her something and provides her with the means to act on her visions to prevent them from becoming true.

When Anakin approaches Yoda about his dreams in Revenge of the Sith, Yoda simply tells him that death is natural and he must train himself to let go of everything he fears to lose. We could chalk this up to just a writing inconsistency, but i dont think i will. I would instead like to wonder why Yoda treats Ahsoka’s visions like they are something that can be changed but then treats Anakin’s like they are set in stone. Anakin has already proven himself capable of having true visions, and is more force sensitive than any other living Jedi. It makes no sense to dismiss Anakin’s feelings like this. All this to say looking into and helping Anakin to examine his dreams instead of telling him to let go when he has proven over and over to be incapable of doing so would likely have been significantly more helpful in the long run.

The Mortis Arc S3 Ep15-17

Honestly i dont have a lot to say on this arc aside how much psychic damage it dealt to see Anakin briefly turn to the dark side because he was so desperate o avoid the future The Son had shown him ( really hope everyone had the common sense not to bring that up to Anakin after the fact though).

 The Deception Arc S4 Ep15+18

In this arc Obi-Wan fakes his death in order to go undercover as the bounty hunter Rako Hardeen and uncover a plot to kidnap the Chancellor. This wouldn’t be a problem if they had brought Anakin in on the plan; instead they use Anakin’s reaction to Obi-Wan’s “death” to better sell the illusion. Obi-Wan even says, “Keeping Anakin on the outside was critical. Everyone knows how close we are. It was his reaction that sold the sniper. I'm sure of it.” Obi-Wan and the Council are fully aware of how much Obi-Wan means to Anakin, yet they all decide to use those feelings to their own advantage with little regard for the consequences.

On top of betraying Anakin’s trust; this move leads Anakin to doubt the Jedi Council and wonder what else they may be keeping from him if they  were willing to let him believe that Obi-Wan was dead as long as it suited their interests. “How many other lies have I been told by the Council? And how do you know that you even have the whole truth?”. 

I just cannot imagine why they thought they even had to use Obi-Wan for this plan. In the Obi-Wan and Anakin comic, Obi-Wan claims that there are 10,000 Jedi; surely there is someone less connected or with less attention on them who would be more suited to go undercover without the element of faking their death. Or if faking their death was necessary, surely they could have picked a Jedi who was not closely attached to arguably the most emotionally unstable Jedi in the Order. Anyone else would have been better. I don’t doubt that Anakin was telling the truth when he said, “If it was up to me I would kill you right here! But lucky for you, the man you murdered would rather see you rot in jail.”.

The Deception Arc just really grinds my gears because it really is almost like the Council wants Anakin to fall. There really is no excuse for how they use his bond with Obi-Wan against him for their own gain. The Council and Obi-Wan know full well how much Anakin loves Obi-Wan (see Anakin referring to Obi-Wan as the closest thing he has to a father in Attack of the Clones), and chose to use this vulnerability against Anakin in the worst way possible. 

This arc really sets Anakin to later doubt Obi-Wan and the Council in Revenge of the Sith, and make it easier for Palpatine to convince Anakin that no Jedi would understand him and that they would likely kick him out of the order and not help him. ( heck he even has a recent memory of the Jedi expelling a 14 year old from the Order for the sake of not looking bad in the eyes of the Senate. “I understand your sentiment, Obi-Wan, but if the Council does as you suggest, it could be seen as an act of opposition to the Senate. I'm afraid we have little choice.” i might go more in depth on this one later but this doesn’t feel like the right place as this is a post about Anakin and i don’t want to make and Ahsoka centric arc all about him).  

That wraps up the Clone Wars! Finally!

Revenge of the Sith

Ok big finale. Revenge of the Sith; so close to being my favorite Star Wars movie, but it almost made me cry in the library so its my second favorite (Attack of the Clones is my favorite). 

I’ve already touched on the dreams Anakin has of Padmé’s death in the Clone Wars segment, but it bears repeating and i have more to touch on. Im not 100% if im misremembering or not but i cannot recall Anakin ever explicitly telling Palpatine about his dreams, but Palpatine knows that Anakin fears for Padmé’s life anyway. It’s possible that Anakin just told him off screen but a fic i read recently ( It’s called give me one more night by Spongyllama on AO3 and it is so worth the read) introduced me to the theory that it had been Palpatine sending Anakin the dreams to begin with.

This theory has a good amount of legs to stand on honestly. As mentioned previously, Anakin never tells Palpatine about his dreams, but Palpatine still knows exactly what to tell Anakin to best manipulate him. Furthermore; Anakin’s dreams very likely would never have come true if Anakin hadn’t fallen; Padmé reportedly dies of heartbreak, something that could not have happened had Anakin not fallen. All signs point to Palpatine being behind the dreams (and we know that Anakin and Palpatine are close by the time Attack of the Clones occurs so it’s not out of question that Anakin may have told Palpatine about the dreams about his mother, giving Palpatine the idea to use those dreams against him later)

Conclusion

Honestly the biggest thing i think the Jedi could have improved on was just trying to understand Anakin better. The average age for entering the order is 2 to 3 compared to Anakin’s 9. Anakin entered the order years after any other Jedi, and because of that was able to remember his mother and had formed attachments (or attachment but i digress) before he had even reached the order. It should have been obvious from the start that if Anakin were to ever become a successful Jedi he would need significantly more help than the usual padawan.

We frequently see Anakin scolded for forming attachments or being too emotional (see Clone Wars s1e6-7 where R2-D2 goes missing and Anakin suggests taking a squad out to look for him “Anakin, it's only a droid. You know attachment is not acceptable for a Jedi.”(Obi-Wan) “Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose.”(Yoda). etc etc)  But, to the best of my knowledge, we never really see anyone showing Anakin how to let go. Anakin lacks the tools he needs to properly deal with his emotions, so the best he can do is shove them down and pretend they don’t exist because to him that’s what a proper Jedi does. No one has ever told him otherwise. The explosion was inevitable.

Anakin Skywalker was a traumatized child who was most likely never taken to therapy or told how to deal with/ healthily show his emotions in any way other than to ignore them or push them aside on top of being manipulated by Sith Lord from a young age. With all these factors is it really a surprise that Palpatine was able to turn him?

ok im done; see yall next time ig

[og-danny-dorito]

{ Some SFW Tamaki Headcanons For Your Daily Dose Of Somft™}

OKAY hi hello, I know I've been gone for a while but I'm kinda back now since ive had a burst of inspiration lately for no reason in particular. This is partially cause I actually just finished watching BNHA and good lord, let me tell you bro- I have WAY too many thoughts about this dude for it to be a normal infatuation so here we go! -w-;

- FIRST of all, I'm like 90% sure this dude listens to like really soft cute music like Lofi remixes or those rlly cute anime openings that give off Soft Boy vibes???

- he's like a soft person in general already so its kindof a given. he really likes pastel colors a whole lot for that reason cause they're more muted and subtle and aren't completely overbearing

- he actually owns like, 40 oversized pastel sweaters with various prints and designs on them for that reason. that and oversized soft sweaters are year-round

- most of his clothes are kinda oversized though?? like if you've watched the anime and can see how his shirt fits him I'm like 90% sure it's like a size bigger than it should be (his natural size is a medium in men's, I'm assuming, since he's like canonically 5'9" and not really muscular). his hero costume is also a little bigger than it should be in some areas and it fits around him like a big blanket

- there are MULTIPLE reasons for this imo, but the main two are that he's A) self conscious and therefore less confident in things that fit him better, and B) likes feeling like things aren't constricting him like tight shirts do

- on the self-conscious point, he already has issues with about like 500 other things that concern himself, so why not physical???

- let me explain- his form is naturally slim, which means that he hasn't really ever been as physically muscular as the other heroes (mostly cause his quirk burns up most of his calories and he has a naturally fast metabolism), and is consistently reminded of it

- he doesn't want other people to think of him as less or weaker in the general public because he doesn't look as physically strong as the other heroes, so he wears clothes that aren't very form fitting to hide this fact and therefore avoid the possibility of criticism of is physical features

- also, you're on tumblr, the land of people who are or have been physically self conscious for whatever reason, so it's pretty safe to assume that you've worn/wear oversized clothing. do you know how comfy they are??? it's like being wrapped in a formless blanket that makes it feel as if you arent able to be subject to criticism from others. it's literally the BEST

- his closet really just consists of things that are bigger than him really, but he does have some skinny jeans and a few formal outfits that fit him properly. his figure is actually kind of cute in a way since he's more on the slim/muscular side but if you EVER tell him he looks handsome in something that's more fitting than he ususally wears he will have a slightly boosted self confidence but amplified anxiety, no exceptions

- but he doesnt really like receiving compliments to be honest, and there's a few reasons for that

- as a kid not many people talked to him so he would occasionally be subject to being outcast by others. as a child he knew that when the teachers were being too nice to him by complimenting his work or talking too him too much that it was out of pity. he felt like he was being patronized out of personal obligation to be inclusive and not in personal interest, so he still has some remnants of that mentality due to having grow up with that

- being given a serious and genuine compliment isn't something he's used to and quite frankly he might be a little uncomfortable if he doesn't know you very well

- if, however, he knows you well and trusts that your comments aren't out of spite or ill-intent, his face usually turns a bright shade of red as he either A) stutters out a nervous thank you or B) hides his face in his hands and refuses to say anything until it's subsided

- he'll usually try to compliment you back, even though its hard to hear over his incredibly soft voice. it's usually something about how nice you are or how he doesn't understand how someone like you can think that way about him, but he secretly really likes feeling like someone cares and appreciates him

- speaking of soft voices, I'm almost entirely convinced that he can sing. since he doesn't really go out with friends in his spare time since he basically only has two close ones, he usually either trains or, alternatively, sings

- its more of a subconscious thing to him to sing along when his favorite song is on, but he only does it when he's alone. the thing is that he thinks his voice is horrible since he hasn't had any extensive formal education in music and generally doesn't try that much to refine his skills manually but his singing voice is like, literally angelic

- seriously, if you get this man to sing 'Heather' by Conan Grey its like listening to some sort of ethereal being trying to lull you to sleep

- its not like he'd ever do this in public because of his anxiety and insecurities, but asking him nicely and swearing you won't tell anyone about it usually gets him to do it, albeit kinds shyly at first. it takes some working up to really, from him nervously singing gently to a song while his back is turned to you to just starting to hum along to songs by habit while you're around

- the only time he really does it to his own violation can be when you're sick (he cant say no to someone who's injured, it makes him feel terrible), when you're about to fall asleep, or even when he forgets that he's around other people and is doing some sort of chore or task around the house

- mentioning it to others makes him even more embarrassed than physically possible, and he usually covers his ears to mask the sounds of your praise about him. he hates drawing attention to himself and simply cannot Deal™ with the compliments he's receiving

- this is amplified if you're in a romantic relationship with him since, lets be completely honest here, he's literally never been in a relationship before

- I mean like, if that one girl who was with him for a week in 5th grade counts for anything, then I guess he's been in one before but other than that he has no experience

- how does he accept compliments? how do you genuinely love him?? should he dress better when around you???? oh god, do you secretly hate a bunch of things about him and only like him because he's a good hero????

- there's literal pages in his search history dedicated to is panicked questioning about what he should do if you haven't told him you love him in more than a week, what he should do if he accidentally calls you the wrong name while making out/having sex, when it's acceptable to talk about getting a plant together without seeming like he wants to get married in that instant, etc.

- for this it doesn't matter whether or not you're experienced since its good both ways! someone who isn't experienced could help ease his nerves a bit since hey, you might not really know what you're doing ether, so you're both gonna mess up. if you're a little more experienced then you can help show him the ropes and probably might help him improve in future relationships if you ever decide you don't want him anymore. both win-win situations basically

-  it also doesn't really matter if you're male, female, or anything else since he's demisexual panromantic. your personality is basically the most important aspect to him, even though he still thinks you have the face of a god/goddess

- the first few weeks of the relationship are basically him figuring out when its okay to touch you and/or ask for you to touch him since he doesn't want to scare you off with how affectionate he can be

- and when I say affectionate, I mean like a full out cuddle-bug

- Tamaki is straight up touch starved so like jot that down. like high key he really didn't have much physical affection as a child and even now can’t really figure out how to do it since he doesn't have any experience with it. he still craves physical affection though, and consistently

- a good way to tell that he wants affection is that he sticks a little bit closer to you during the day. not exactly under your feet, but still in your space when he knows its appropriate. usually just giving him a long hug or hdoling his hand in private helps to alleviate it a little bit, but his favorite way to get affection is to sit down and either sit in your lap or have you sit in his lap

- the reason I say private though is because PDA makes him nervous. it already kinda draws attention to the two of you since the act of PDA is basically outing a relationship on display and that alone makes him nervous, so he usually avoids it unless its in a barely populated park, a quiet cafe, etc.

- so in public he's probably gonna stick close but not outwardly hold your hand by himself, but behind closed doors he's basically hanging on you wherever and however he can

- can you really blame him for liking you as much as you do? I mean you're patient with him, you genuinely like him, and you're so sweet that he doesn't even know what to do with himself. that, and you're super fascinating to observe

- not,,,- he doesn't mean that in a creepy way I swear. he means it like- he means that he likes watching you work because the way you move around catches his interest. part of his training is observing others and he already does it a lot due to being more of that type of person by default, so he can tell a lot about you just by watching you do simple tasks such as cleaning the floor or doing some work you need to get done

- his observance makes him a great partner when it comes to remembering small things about you like your favorite color, how you do your hair in the mornings, what your favorite band(s) is/are, and more! expect him to bring you small gifts that reminded him of you because of something you said four months ago at a very specific time and a very specific date and a very specific location

- this applies to anyone that he really knows or pays special attention to really, but you're one of those people that he subconsciously has encyclopedic knowledge of because he thinks about you so much all the time

- anyway, we're getting to the end so lets get to my favorite part of the list- miscellaneous headcanons! :

he really likes Conan Grey and Lofi remixes of songs that he likes since they're more on the calming side and less intense and help his nerves go down if he's feeling anxious

when he does get severely anxious he curls into a ball and pulls at his ears and cries. he's unresponsive for this time but usually just letting him calm down after a little bit on his own or telling him softly to listen to you helps

he likes insectariums a while lot, specifically the butterfly rooms where you can walk through and let them fly around you. for some reason they tend to be more prone to lighting on him than anyone else, even though he only really wears dark colors and doesn't make an effort to get them around him

he has some purple fairy lights set up above his bed in his room that look like glowing butterflies cause he thought they were cute

he's incredibly good at cooking complex and simple dishes since he usually has to eat large amounts of certain things for his ability, and almost always cooks for the two of you if you're staying long enough to eat with him. he's arguably one of the best home-taught chefs at UA besides Bakugo even though they specialize i different areas of cooking basically

- well, it looks like thats the end for this list! Tamaki is such a sweet dude, really. being his friend or lover is like having a cheerleader, an endlessly loyal supporter, and an eternally loving partner (and more) all rolled into one. once you've been nice to him like once he's automatically favoring you over others. it may be hard to try to help him get more comfortable with the things he's anxious with, but he's a fast learner and if it makes you happy it makes him happy too

- Be careful with him, and you've got a friend for life!

[ ~Thank You For Reading, and if you think I missed anything please let me know in the notes or in my inbox. Any feedback is heavily appreciated!~ ]

[the-wolf-who-kissed-the-moon]

• Randvi x female reader 💋

a sapphire for your heart, part IV

Morning found you wide awake and restless. Your bedding was a mess on the floor and you were lying on the fresh straw which filled your bed. Nausea threatened to spill with every little movement you made; nausea from lack of sleep, and from overthinking. But with a bit of effort you managed to push yourself to sit and wash down the bile with a jug full of lemon water.

The day was promising. It seemed a lot of passers-by had stopped by the docks to bring news or tend to various local business, and many curious young men and women were flocking around Reda’s tend of exotic wonders. You made a careful selection of your own items and brought them outside for the visitors to see and admire, and eventually purchase. Saxon women were especially interested in your variety of colorful fabrics; bright teal, gold, and crimson shawls which powerfully contrasted their otherwise somber outfits. But it was your natural charms that convinced reluctant men to buy expensive gifts for their wives and daughters, and by noon you nearly sold out everything you’ve selected for that day.

All, but one.

It was an emerald green, pure silk scarf, beautifully ornate with golden threads and precious garnet beads. You were offered a hefty sum for it, but you declined with a smile and neatly packed it in your bag.

There were several locals and guests in the longhouse, chatting and enjoying the first course of their supper. Among them, you spotted a beautiful Viking with bright auburn hair and a jug of mead in her large hand. She was accompanied by several friends whom she chatted and laughed with; perhaps it was not the best of times to speak with her. But before you could take your leave, a dark-haired woman waved her arm and asked you to join them at their table. Randvi turned her head to look and when she saw you, she smiled the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen. Your heart raced like a hummingbird, sending little thrills of excitement through every cell of your being.

God… you were bewitched.

“You must be Sapphire! I’m Petra, it’s nice to meet you.”

The woman who beckoned you grinned as she made room for you to sit next to her, and right across from Randvi. You fiercely battled to keep your emotions hidden, to appear collected as you spoke with the people who would accompany you the next day in your treasure hunt. You’d be a group of five, with Petra helping you explore paths safe from dangerous wild predators, and the other three were warriors meant to protect you. A small, but capable group. You drank in their names, clashed jugs with them, and with Randvi, and promised a good journey tomorrow. However, there was a troubling feeling gnawing at your thoughts – the fact that she wouldn’t be there with you.

Soon, the longhouse was full of people dancing and singing, and enjoying the pleasant company of one another as they feasted. In the overwhelming loudness of cheering and music, you excused yourself and went outside to get a breath of fresh air. The night was crisp, sobering you up and lessening the ache at your temples.

“Were we too much for you?”

Your heart jumped at the sound of a beautiful familiar voice caressing your ears. When you looked back, Randvi was standing right behind you on the wooden porch. The light from within cast a glow upon her tall, godly silhouette, making her appear holy. You tightened the hold on your bag, momentarily deciding to postpone gifting her the shawl.

“Not at all. It was the smoke, it stung my eyes.” You answered with a smile.

She slowly closed the distance between you, and with a kind palm at the small of your back she encouraged you to walk with her further away from the longhouse. It was a simple, ghostly touch which lasted a moment, and yet it set your heart ablaze.

How cruel fate must’ve been to plant the seed of desire so deep into your core, only to watch you twist and struggle against the shackles of sapphic love. The way Randvi seemed to glow beneath the pallid moonlight was enthralling; the whole blanket of shimmering stars reflected in her deep cobalt eyes.

“How do you like Ravensthorpe so far?”

She asked.

You glanced at her briefly; beside the lingering smell of smoke in the longhouse and her anguished cries in the night, everything was perfect! But you wouldn’t dare say that out loud.

“It’s lovely. I’ve never been to a Viking settlement before. Your architecture and clothing designs are breathtaking.”

“Clothing designs?” She echoed, slightly amused; perhaps it was the mead.

“Yes. The fabrics you use, the intricate patterns and choice of color… the carvings in your shields and weapons. It’s beautiful.” You confessed with a smile. The way you spoke of her traditional wear made Randvi’s mirth dissolve into surprise.

There was a knot in your throat and your chest felt heavy, as if you were about to spill all the thoughts and feelings you’ve been silently enduring since the day you’ve been acquainted with her. The sound of the river reminded you of her pained, secret cries; you wanted to ask why. Yet all you could do was stand very still as you slowly lost yourself in the depth of her intense, beckoning gaze.

“What else do you like?” She inquired as she shifted from one foot to the other and crossed her large arms over her bosom. Her authoritative pose caught you off guard – heavens, she was a force you could not resist. Your gaze lingered on her dazzling eyes, and then slowly followed the trail of her sharp cheekbones and perfect jaw, all the way to her full lips.

“Your spirit.” You answered. “How your people fight – courageous, almost reckless, unified and strong. There’s something about you…”

Randvi’s interest slowly seemed to grow as she listened. You locked your eyes with hers again, and this time you couldn’t look away. It was beyond sinful to have certain thoughts about a married woman, and yet her allure was stripping you of all reason. If Sigurd was there, he’d probably raise a fist against you, and you’d be crazy enough to challenge him.

“I want you to join us tomorrow.”

Suddenly, you spoke.

“On the hunt you mean? I’m afraid I cannot. There is work I must tend to, here.” Randvi declined, albeit she was pleasantly surprised.

“Whatever work you have cannot be more important than such a great find – I want you to be there, to see the gold for yourself.” You felt as if you found a small grip on her will, and you weren’t about to let go. Something burned deep within you; a flame which would consume you whole if Randvi would refuse you again. Thankfully, she promised she’d consider it.

Delighted, you turned your head to hide a smile in the crook of your shoulder. All of a sudden, tomorrow seemed like decades away.

The graceful Viking walked you to each and every house of Ravensthorpe, introducing you to their current stores and notable landscapes to admire. The abundance of colorful flowers and their sweet smell was intoxicating, lulling you closer to Mother Nature’s chest. There was a soft bed of moss right beside the pool at the base of a waterfall, and that’s where you sat down to tell each other stories.

“Norway's mountains are quite treacherous. It snows heavily most of the year, and unless you’re an experienced tracker, you’d surely find your demise in those steep valleys.”

She spoke with a smile as she fondly remembered her homeland. You were intrigued, absorbing every word and watching her attentively as you learned about the Aurora Borealis and the myths of Odin and Freya, and ragnarok. How fiercely Asgard battled against Jotunheim, and how humans eventually outlived both gods and Jotuns. It was easy to picture these fables coming to life when Randvi told them in such refined detail and with so much confidence. There must’ve been a grain of truth to her words.

“Ymir's tear… I would die for that stone. I’ve heard stories of that gem scattered all over Asgard.” You sighed as you leaned back to stretch over that soft moss and gaze up at the night sky, in awe. You felt those precious blue eyes on you, yet you didn’t dare look, fearful that you’d lose yourself in them all over again.

“Sapphire is a very beautiful name.” She spoke, and you smiled.

“That’s not my birth name…” You confessed.

“Oh?...”

“When I was six years of age, I had this… feeling, as if I knew something was beneath my feet, pulsing, calling me.” You begun your tale and Randvi lowered herself on her side, watching you.

“I had this uncontrollable urge to dig, to see what lured me in and never let me sleep. I broke four of mother’s spoons trying to tear apart the dry, hard soil.” A brief laugh escaped you as you reminisced.

“At last, my older brother stole a shovel from the neighbor one night, and by morning we dug a hole thrice our size. The neighbor was furious, and mother was about to smack us when she saw what we did to our yard.

But then… beneath the damp, muddy floor of the cavern we dug, I felt it again. That urge, that call; I ripped the soil apart with my bare hands, and out I pulled a little satchel. Inside it were two sapphires. I can see them now… shimmering in the light of dawn… they felt sharp and cold, and fit perfectly into my hands, as if they were made for me.” You bit back a smile as you turned your head and saw Randvi, in all of her beauteous glory, propped on her elbow and watching you in awe. Her eyes were just like the sapphires you fell in love with.

“And then?...” She asked with vivid curiosity.

“Mother sold them to buy a farm. And when I was nine summers old, a cart with two travelers stopped by and took me. They promised mother silver, and that I’d be returned by fall with a bag full of precious stones. But… when we returned… We found the farm abandoned, burnt to the ground.”

Randvi’s gaze seemed to soften with sorrow, yet your grin never faltered as you shook your head.

“I kept on traveling, I saw the world. They called me Sapphire ever since, and I forgot my birth name as the years went by… The world, Randvi… it’s so beautiful…” You pushed yourself to sit, drawing closer as you whispered to her.

“Come with me in the morning, let us explore and travel together...”

Her auburn lashes fluttered, as if she was awoken from a trance. She took a moment to think, to find her words or collect herself; but when she turned to meet your gaze again, she answered with a nod.

“I will. I wish to see you dig for gemstones, to see your blessed hands pull treasures free from the earth.”

Your chest swelled with joy, and all at once you were buzzing with excitement.  

-          To be continued…

*part V.

[earthfluuke]

summary: individual ohmfong moments i couldn’t get out of my head.

everyone has been writing yearning fics (and i adore them so much), but i wanted to get some fluff out there. i hope you enjoy!

i.

it’s second nature for ohm to slide into any open seat at their group’s table. full plate in hand, he’s just about to dig in when he catches phuak’s questioning eye, and his fork freezes a breath from his food. the silent questioning raise of his eyebrow has phuak shaking his head and motioning a hand to the opposite side of the table.

“sit next to your boyfriend, dumb ass,” he says, followed by the mumble of, “no wonder none of your girlfriends stayed with you.”

eyes widening, he turns to fong who can only send him a forgiving smile. scrambling to move his things, he falls onto the bench beside him with a sigh. head hung, shoulder slumped, he works out quickly, “i’m sorry. it completely slipped my mind, and i–”

“it’s okay,” fong assures, understanding as ever. “it’s…different. but we’ll get there.” he slides a plastic cup across the table to him and knocks their shoulders together. “now stop sulking, and drink that.”

ohm rises a bit, reinflates. he’s only ever remembered fong coming to the table with a signature blue hawaii in hand. there is none in sight, only this. taking a sip, he can’t help but feel it tastes a bit sweeter than any other time he’s had it.

they’re not there yet; but they’re on their way.

ii.

“oh!” he hears ohm exclaim as they’re walking out of their classroom towards the football field. just as he turns to ask what’s wrong, he feels a hand grab onto his.

eyes shooting down to the space between them, fong takes notice of how ohm’s fingers fit between his and curl over more than half of his knuckles. he soaks in the warmth ohm’s palm presses into his own and the feel of his thumb stroking up to his nail and back down again. he’s never held someone’s hand before, save for his parents a long, much younger time ago, so he doesn’t have much to compare to. even so, he doesn’t think any other hand would feel as nice. this is the hand he wants to hold forever.

allowing his fingers to close and rest between the ridges of ohm’s knuckles, he tightens his hold when ohm gives their arms an experimental swing.

“we’re boyfriends now,” he explains. “that means we get to hold hands.”

 it’s so innocent, so simple, but knowing that doesn’t help in slowing fong’s heart.

iii.

fong knows he has a very handsome boyfriend. it’s difficult to ignore when they’re meant to be studying in the library. ohm has a hand in his hair, head rested against his palm as a finger taps in concentration. his lips move with each word he reads, tongue sticking between his teeth when he gets to an exceptionally difficult section.

it’s too much sometimes, to just sit there and stare. actions have never been his strong suit; observations are more his style, but it’s not enough. leaning past the edge of his chair, he smooths a hand under ohm’s chin and up the cheek farthest from him. he pulls him the small distance he needs to in order to press a gentle kiss to the cheek facing him.

he hides the laugh that’s building in his throat when he moves back to find ohm wide eyed and stunned. the hand in his hair has slid down to where fong’s lips just grazed, and fong has to turn away from him to hide his pink cheeks and silly smile.

“i’m going to get some snacks. do you want anything?” ohm is too dazed to respond, so fong pushes back his chair and scurries off to the vending machines. it’ll give him the chance to calm down.

(and if he comes back with a few choice snacks he knows to be ohm’s favorites, then that’s just a bonus).

iv.  

when fong is fast asleep, ohm can’t help but prop himself up on his arm and admire him. his bangs curl over his brow, and his cheek buries further into the pillow when there’s an especially cool breeze from the air conditioner. dark lashes fan over tan skin, full peach lips puffing out calm, even breaths. one hand clutches the blanket closer to him while the other lays on the sheets as though it’s looking for something.

he’s as gorgeous as he always is, but there’s something more special about a beauty that only ohm gets to see. there is a constant pull of wanting to grab onto that hand, remind him that what he’s reaching for is right beside him. but he cannot will himself to disturb him and instead resigns himself to only stare. he’s done enough to last him a lifetime, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of it; not if he’s staring at fong.

v.

“beautiful. sweetheart. babe. love!”

“um,” tine clears his throat, looking from ohm’s wide, hopeful grin to the top of fong’s head, the only part of him visible from behind the pages of the book he’s using to hide. “what are you doing?”

“trying to figure out which name i like the most,” fong mumbles from behind his book, clutching the binding a bit tighter when ohm throws an arm around his shoulders.

“the secret is that he likes all of them,” he says, continuing over fong’s protests, “i just need to find out which one he likes the best.”

it picks up again from there, in front of their friends no less. all fong can do is let him go on and on, each name more blush inducing than the last, and hope his novel does a good enough job masking how much he’s enjoying this.

vi.

“i’ll see you for dinner after my group meeting. okay, tilak?”

“yeah, sure – wait, what? hey! fong!”

vii.

fong is always a vision, but this. this. this is something completely different and so very far from even his wildest of dreams.

his sweater – a light beige with a v-neck that dips lower without the collar of the shirt he normally wears underneath it poking out – hangs loose around fong’s smaller frame. the shoulders pool upwards, the sleeves drape over his fingers, the hem hits far past the bottom of his torso. it doesn’t fit at all, and yet it does. there is something so right about coming out of the shower and finding fong lying on his bed, homework papers strewn out across the sheets and ohm’s sweater pooling up around his hips.

“i’m sorry,” fong is quick to say, fingers scrambling to tug it over his head. “it got cold, and it was the first thing i saw. i can give it back.”

“no.” he holds his hands out to steady fong more than himself. when the neck of the sweater stretches back down and he can see him, ohm sends him a smile. “it’s…it’s good. nice. it looks nice.”

“nice,” fong repeats. the very tips of his fingers, the only parts that peek out from beneath the sleeves, smooth over the fabric. his eyes soften, the tips of his mouth curving up. ohm can’t the tingling feeling that spreads through him.

viii.

that single strand of hair. it’s as lovely as it is distracting, for fong at the very least. he supposes ohm must have gotten used to it, takes notice of it the same way he does to the air around him. but it’s so out place and somehow so perfectly put that fong cannot help but admire it.

it’s a flame, stark black and contrast to his skin, that draws his hand towards it like a moth. ever so carefully, with just a graze of his fingers, he pushes it back into place. brushing over his ear, his hand buries beneath the hair parted against his scalp, dark locks blanketing over it.

only then does ohm look to him, realize that there had been something out of place he hadn’t seen. what he does see – feel, sense, know – is fong. and what a wonder that is, to be more noticeable, more important, more vital than the air. to be what ohm needs to breathe.

ix.

ever changing lights flicker across the concert venue. sarawat’s band is on stage, but they’re impossible to pay attention to when fong has all of his focus. he’s beautiful in every color he bathes in, but ohm can’t help but be partial to the mixture of yellow and orange.

fong has always been a bright light, a beacon, an ever-present warmth. the colors paint him as the sun he’s always been, the very center of ohm’s universe. head back, ears turned up to the music, his eyes reflect gold when he turns to ohm to tug him close and sway them along to the bass beneath their feet.

purple and blue remind him of late nights where they’d forgotten to close the blinds. green brings memories of lying in the grassy field in the back of their high school, when all ohm could rely on was stolen glances and accidental hand brushes he’d hold nearer and dearer to his heart than he should have. pink and red mix together, and all he can see is love coating over full cheeks and a fuller smile that he is lucky enough to have directed at him. and then it’s back to yellow, back to orange, back to warmth so hot ohm could burn.

it’s a heat like no other. all he can do to cool is curls a single arm around the small of fong’s back and pull him close enough for their foreheads to touch. his heart still roars with flames, engulfs him in a love hot enough to melt.

wrapping himself around him, fong comments, “you really like this song.”

and all ohm can do is hum, hold him tighter, and soak in his warmth. “i think it might be my favorite.”

x.

“how did you know?” fong asks. the two of them are staring up at the ceiling, peeling paint their replacement for stars. “that it was me, i mean.”

by all intents and purposes, it should be an easy enough question to answer. but it becomes difficult when it hits him that…it’s always been fong. there isn’t a moment where anyone else has taken refuge in his heart and made it their home.

“i don’t remember when it started. but i remember when i realized it couldn’t be anyone else.” the memory flashes behind his eyes in vivid detail, kept clean and clear from how many times he’s brought it back to the forefront of his mind. “new years eve of second year. after tine and phuak ditched us to find pretty girls to kiss at midnight.”

mouth agape when he looks to him, fong says in startled disbelief, “in your backyard when i almost burned my hand on that sparkler? that wasn’t as special as i was expecting. more embarrassing.”

“it wasn’t. and that’s why i knew. there didn’t need to be some big sign. i just knew that even in those simple moments, i wanted it to be you there with me. and,” ohm catches his eye, looks at him so he knows how much he means what he says, “it was the first time i got to see you smile. it wasn’t because of something stupid phuak did or something sweet tine said to you. it was just… because you were happy. i hadn’t seen anything that beautiful before.”

fong says nothing, only reaches down to grab his hand. but when he smiles – that smile – he tells ohm all he needs to know. it’s another one of those not so special moments; the two of them lying flat against the sheets, their hands twisted together between them. but that in and of itself makes it special.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

the story of us

this was requested by @fantasylover16. I genuinely had so much fun with this thank you! I hope you enjoy. Also I said nb jack frost rights and I meant it.

masterlist; my links

This is a story about two people.

One died three hundred years ago and has been alive since then. They have white hair, whiter than the stars, than burning light, than heaven itself. They have blue eyes that remind you of cracked ice in melting winter. They have ivory skin, some say like porcelain, it's more like liquid opal.

The other is twenty two years old. He has black hair, like jet fuel, and midnight. He has green eyes that hold oceans lost to time, that hold memories. He has brown skin that reminds you of cool forest floors and water glistened rock.

This is a story about who they are.

"Percy!" His roommate shouts from the kitchen. "Get your butt down here and tell me if the blue skirt goes better with these glasses!"

He laughs as he pulls a sweater over his heads and grabs his phone, slipping it into his back pocket. He feels the press of his pen as he pats himself down to make sure he has everything and when he is satisfied he bolts down the passage and stops short of the kitchen where Hazel Levesque is parading in front of their grand mirror on the opposing wall. She is decked out in black platform ankle boots, white fishnets that draw out the colour of her skin, slightly dark than his, a bright blue skater skirt and a soft pastel blue crew-neck not unlike his own.

"You Hazel Levesque," He grins bright and unrestrained, "Are a vision."

"Yes," She mutters still swopping between two pairs of clear-framed glasses and scrunching her nose, "But is it enough to bring my crush to their knees?"

"If Reyna doesn't bow down to you I think we can assume she's in desperate need of glasses."

"Well then maybe I should take both pairs and offer her one." She muses, pulling at her afro distractedly.

He snorts, turning to the counter and grabbing a bowl and whatever cereal he can reach first.

"Well," Hazel turns to him, he can see the smile she's trying so hard to hide, "Shall we be off then?"

He blinks at her, blinks again, points an unsure finger at his chest.

"Oh you don't expect me to brave Reyna on my own do you? Besides we're matching today it'd be quite ridiculous if we went out separately."

"But—" He looks to his bowl, as barren as the desert, "But my cereal?"

"I'll buy you breakfast on the way!" She waves the concern off, grabbing his hand and pulling them both out the door.

Despite their height difference, she makes it look far less like he's letting her pull him and far more like she has the strength to straight up carry him across the country.

"Hazel," He giggles, "Slow down."

"I can't Percy," She shakes her head vigorously, practically running through the park next to their building and into the bustling streets beyond. "If I don't do this now I'll lose all my courage and spend eternity in self-damned misery." Her brown eyes, turning honeyed as they catch the sun through the round glasses framing her face, flash bright and bold.

He stops them, pulling her in for a hug, unable to stop the laughter shaking his body." You have never been a coward Hazel Levesque. No matter the day, time or outfit you have always been brave enough to stand up and do what's needed. And telling Reyna you have a crush on her is just another battle you absolutely can win." He pulls them apart, setting a steady green gaze on her excited one. "Now let's get some coffee, and a mint tea for you because you're hyper enough as it is, and then we'll go find the love of your life and I can finally show you the google-doc I have for your wedding."

She strangles his ribs in another hug and then takes a deep breath as she steps away. "What would I do without you Percy Jackson?"

"Let's never find out," He smiles, slinging an arm over her shoulder and directing them towards the Chaos House.

As per its namesake, walking into the café is like being lost in a crowd of sleep-deprived, adhd kids all connected to caffeine IVs. In short: it's chaos. Its their favourite place on earth.

Being hit with a wall of noise after the quiet of awakening nature feels like being sucker punched directly in your ear canal. Percy cannot help but grin as he takes in the racing patrons and the sound of coffee beans being ground and the smell of cinnamon and honey and endless activity.

They immediately spot a group of their friends and bolt for the booth they're all squished into.

"Reyna isn't here." Hazels voice is pitched with panic, "Oh gods what if she's sick today? What if she fell in a ditch on her jog this morning?" She stops right in the middle of the café, brown eyes wide. "What if she knew I was trying to do this and decided to stay home today to avoid seeing me?"

He grabs her arms already shaking his head. "My darling, I need you to take a deep breath. You are spiraling."

Wildness is still tracing her expression but he feels her shoulders rise and fall as she gulps air.

"Okay," He says gently, "Now we're gonna go to our table, have a good time with our friends and if and when Reyna shows up you're going to tell her how you feel and I'll meet you back at home so you can let me know when the wedding is."

She smacks his shoulder gently, nervous giggles escaping her. "Alright fine. I hate when you get reasonable. It's very disconcerting."

"Good thing it's rare," His lips twitch, and they finally start towards their friends.

A loud chorus of hellos and how are you’s ring around his head as they get nearer and he feels right at home amongst it all.

"What's up losers?" He flops down next to Jason, pressing a shoulder into the blondes side in a hug.

Annabeth sits next to the blonde, squished between him and Piper, a leg over Jason's thigh and her hand intertwined with Piper's. Frank is on the opposite side, a casual arm slung over Leo's shoulder. Hazel squeezes in besides Leo and sighs dramatically.

"What's wrong Levesque?" Piper frowns, reaching over to clasp the girl's hand.

"She's feeling put out because she had something very important to do today and her plans are being delayed because a certain someone isn't here."

And just as their friends start reassuring and ribbing her in equal parts Percy's phone rings. With a frown he pulls it from his pocket, as he gets up and waves to say he'll be back in a minute.

"Hello, this is Percy Jackson."

He's not paying attention to his surroundings as he listens to the person on the line so when his shoulder slams into somebody he almost topples to the ground. When he turns around to say sorry there is nobody there; his frown only deepens but then the voice on the phone is pulling his attention and he makes his way outside.

This is story about they meet.

The conversation is a whirl of information about his upcoming course and what his supervisor needs from him. By the time he ends the call and tucks the phone back in his pocket his whole body feels like it's taken on the sky all over again. He has the urge to check if another grey streak has graced his hair. Instead he leans against the wall, ignoring the way his clothes catch against its roughness. He can feel the cold seeping through the cracks in the brick and into the threads of his sweatshirt.

He looks down, pulling his arms over his chest in an attempt to keep the warmth in but as he takes his arms away from the wall he sees the frost outline of his fingers. A clear, already melting handprint marking the brick like a graffiti tag. He steps back, away from the wall, to find his whole body outlined. It reminds him eerily of the chalk markings they do at murder investigations. He's not entirely sure this isn't prophetic.

The frost, little beads of ice skittered in shape, is melting at a rapid rate but the colour catches Percy's eye. It's not the usual dulled, muddy ice that coats his windows in the morning and sits atop the grass each night. It is blue, bright and pure, and looks... happy?

He's definitely going insane. The lack of coffee is getting to his brain and he has officially going mad. He should go inside and get warm and sit with his friends and have 3 espresso shots in a row.

But the phone call is still rattling his nerves and he can't bare to face the café without all his wits about him. So he studies the melted frost outline, curiosity moving him forward to trace it with his fingers. He doesn't expect to feel cold like winter mornings and snowball fights and sleigh rides coursing through his bloodstream. It's shocks him right into a new state of being. It reminds him of a poem his mother used to say at the beginning of each winter. The poem was long enough that he was always asleep by the end of the last verse but he recalls the first part clearly now

Jack Frost was in the garden;

I saw him there at dawn;

He was dancing round the bushes

And prancing on the lawn.

He had a cloak of silver,

A hat all shimm'ring white,

A wand of glittering star-dust,

And shoes of sunbeam light.

The thought is so ridiculous Percy has to laugh. It bursts out of him unexpectedly but once he starts he cannot stop. It feels like the world has turned on its side but he's still walking upright. Everything is slightly dizzying but strangely amusing from this angle. He laughs harder, ribs aching, cheeks stiff, and eyes bright. He's sure people are staring at him like he's mad but he cannot stop. Until he stumbles over the pavement and is falling to the inevitable crunch of his facial bones.

It happens almost in slow motion. He sees the ground coming towards him, bubbling up like it's going to swallow him whole. He stared it down, refusing to close his eyes, as if challenging it to hurt him, to take him as he goes. But then hands, freezing cold even through his layers of clothing, wrap around his waist and he is being hauled up in a rush of wind and dizzying speed. He bumps into a hard chest and feels as if he's stepped into a freezer.

"Hey," A voice low and playful crackles through him, "You okay?"

He turns around slowly, and is not at all prepared for the site he is greeted with. There is so much all at once, startling and glowing and fracturing. His eyes catch an warm icy gaze, blizzard white hair, pale skin, cold-kissed lips, hands running with blue veins and silver rings.

"You okay?" The stranger repeats, looking at him with concern.

He honestly doesn't know if he has the ability to talk. His mouth opens, his throat bobs, but words are lost cargo.

"Can you hear me?" The stranger asks, accompanying the question with sign language.

Percy responds automatically, raising a fist and moving it back and forth; his head accompanies the action but still no words come out.

They smile at him, and start signing another question. He doesn't bother to stop them, tell them they aren't deaf, he can hear, he just can't talk. He's speechless.

Are you okay? They sign.

He nods, and the words stuck in his throat finally tumble out. "Yes, yes," It is croaky with overwhelming emotion, "Thank you for catching me. I’m sorry I uh—" He doesn't have any respectable excuse for being mute for the entire first half of their interaction. He is just completely struck by everything the stranger is.

"Ah so you can hear me," The stranger laughs. He decides the sound is what makes stars. "Well I'm glad you're okay. I'm Jack."

Percy snorts. This cannot be real. Ice, him thinking about Jack Frost, and suddenly his saviour's name is jack? What has the universe been doing with its time to plan this?

“I'm Percy," He stares at them curiously studying the snowflakes that seem to cling to their floppy white hair despite the snow season being weeks away, and the blue eyes that hurtle him to the Abraham lake in Canada. A holiday his family had taken a mere year ago and one of the most beautiful places he's ever seen.

His demigod senses are peeking out their window, as curious as he is. The action puts him on high alert. His instincts are usually only alerted when he's in danger or............. in love.

"What are you?" He cannot stop the question. His mouth has a self-controlled function and no way to override it.

Jack raises their brow, "What are you, Percy?" His name sounds like luxury rolling off the stranger's tongue.

But the question throws him off guard and before he has time to drool over them again he is pulling his pen out and twirling it between his fingers anxiously. "Are you here to kill me?"

That barks a laugh from Jack, who looks so entirely amused he can't help but wonder if he can frame the moment to keep with him forever; a brow quirked, a slight dimple on their right cheek as their smile grows, and bunched freckles as their nose scrunches slightly.

"Get a lot of assassination attempts do you?"

“You have no idea," He feels his eyes roll in annoyance, an automatic reaction after all these years.

"No Percy," Jack says softly. It brushes across his skin like cool paint and snowy pine leaves. "I am here because the moon told me to be."

"The moon?" He sputters, "What do you mean the moon?"

"I mean exactly that. I talk to the moon and it answers."

He can feel his legs grow weak. "The moon— the moon— the....... moon," He mutters, staring at Jack.

They are silent as he attempts to compartmentalize his thoughts. "You know what?" He finally speaks, "That's not the weirdest thing I've ever heard. The children of Demeter talk to grain so this isn't that far out of reach."

Jack just looks at him with a patient, gentle smile on their face.

"So what are you? A child of Selene?"

"I am not a demigod." They shake their head. "I was chosen by the moon three hundred years ago. I am the spirit of winter."

The silence stretches between them like taffy. He isn't sure he's heard this right.

"You're—" He cannot even bring himself to say it.

"Yes, I'm Jack Frost."

Percy's legs give our from under him. Jack is not quick enough to catch him but he lands on a pillow of snow right before he bruises his knees. "You're Jack Frost?"

"Yes. And you are Percy Jackson."

"How—how do you know?"

"I've been alive for a very long time. I know a lot of people."

He just hums, trying to wrap his head sound another layer of myth and fable that makes up the fabric of the world.

"Why are you here?" He finally gutters out. "I mean I know the moon told you to come but why?"

"I uh have a theory but I need to ask something of you in order to know if I'm right."

He frowns, staring up at the stranger. No not stranger. Can you even call someone who's been around for centuries a stranger? What are they a stranger to? They have seen and heard and learnt and loved more than he ever has or ever will. It's more like he is the stranger. "What do you need me to do?"

"I just need you to summon water for me."

A thousand questions sit like caught snowflakes on his tongue but he let's them melt instead of spilling them into the world. Instead he gets up and concentrates on all the water sources surrounding them.

A reservoir one hundred miles away, fire hydrants near bursting with unused pressure, a small pond in a small park about five miles south, and of course the ocean in front of them, no more than fifty miles within reach.

"How much do you need?"

"Give me fifty liters."

He closes his eyes and imagines the pond, the water rippling within it. He imagines holding it in his palm as he would a basketball ball. When he feels a cool sensation wash over his skin he opens his eyes once more and sees a swirling blob of water surrounding his hand, dancing to the beat of his pulse.

"Is this enough?"

"Plenty," They smile and then their hands are reaching out and as if the water knows they're calling to it, it bounces over in little bubbles. As it touches their fingers a ray of light bursts from the contact and it turns to ice. Jack sucks in a breath, watching in amazement as the water freezes and hits the ground in a flurry of snow.

"What?" Percy cannot hold in his curiosity any longer. "What is it?"

"The moon was right." They look at him, eyes sparkling with something more than awe or curiosity.

"About?" He prompts.

"We're soulmates."

This is a story about their destinies.

"We're what?" Percy whispers. He has never gotten loud when he was surprised or angry or sad. He has always been soft.

"I usually need my staff to solidify water but if I use elements touched by my soulmate I can do it without aid."

"This is ridiculous!" He sputters. There is absolutely no way this is real. Seriously? Soulmates? He would laugh if he wasn't so outraged.

"You don't believe in soulmates?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe in!" He growls, "This whole ordeal is completely insane."

"What would it take to convince you Percy Jackson?" Jack just smiles, it is shining with happiness like it hadn't before.

"I have no idea because I have never heard of or encountered a soulmate." He hisses.

"Do you know why you can see me?"

He shakes his head, thoughts swirling faster than the hurricanes his further looses.

"Because you believe in me."

"I thought you had control over who sees you and who doesn't?" He raises a brow.

"Only with children. I can choose to show myself whether they believe or not. I have the ability since enough of them do believe." They say. "But adults are different. If they don't believe I cannot make myself appear to them. I am simply a ghost of their childhood past."

"I don't understand." Percy cannot wrap his mind around this. "How do you know you can only make ice out of whatever water I touch?"

Jack looks around for a brief moment before catching sight of something behind them. In a split second they are there and then they're back.

"Watch," He pours the water from the bottom he'd nabbed over his hand. It falls to the floor as liquid as it had started out.

"That doesn't prove anything, how do I know you're not just making sure you don't turn it to ice?"

"I cannot touch anything without freezing it, especially water." They worry at their bottom lip with their teeth, thoughts flying across their face. "It's like your friend Leo." They nod their head towards the café where Percy can still see his friends snuggled into the booth. "He doesn't necessarily turn everything he touches to ashes but he will always leave a warm imprint no matter how or what he has touched."

"How do you know that?" He gapes.

"Immortality gives you a lot of time to know the world." They shrug. "Now do you believe me?"

"I don't know." He answers truthfully. "I mean if we are soulmates..." He tries to form the question into some semblance of sense and order. "Does that mean I'm tied to you? That we have to like I don't know get married and spend eternity together?"

"No," Jack says gently, "No you can deny this bond if that is how you feel. It does not mean anything except that the universe put our souls in the same constellation. We are free to pick and choose who we love."

“And how will it work if we do decide to get together?” He frowns, “I will age but you will always stay the same.”

They look at him, head tilted, ice eyes bright. “But you know that’s not true.”

Everything in him barrels forward like a tidal wave. It cannot be. No-one knows. Not even his mother. “What isn’t true?” He will play this carefully, like the strings of a harp. He will not let his life crash through the ground.

“Why are you hiding it?”

“I’m not hiding anything.” He is adamant in his stance. He will not bow.

“You are denying the life you chose.” Jack considers him. “Why?”

“I’m not denying anything.” He huffs, “I’m just taking it slow.”

A snort bursts of them, arrogant and amused. “You are taking becoming a God slow?”

“I want to live with my friends before they figure it out!” He cries, all the fear and terror and worry burning through him.

Jack moves closer, presses a cold hand to his shoulder. “It is okay to be scared and angry and worried but do not forget that you are worthy of the title and you should wear it like a crown, not a burden.”

“There is always some burden in this much power.” He is bitter. He is right.

“Come,” Jack pulls them together, “Go meet your friends.” The hug is so cold but comforts him to the bone. “And when you are ready to make a decision, just whisper my name and i will answer, no matter where i am, or how far apart we are.”

He studies the person before him, beautiful and strange in an inviting sort of way, like no matter how much he learns about them he'll always want to know more. "Well you are very pretty."

They laugh, and the sound lights up the ocean inside him. "Thank you."

“Live Percy Jackson.” Jack Frost whispers.

And then Percy is standing outside a café, an icy wind dancing between his fingertips, and the impression of a freezing hug still clinging to his clothes. He realizes he feels happy. He feels safe.

This is a story about their love.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[image id: a poem by John P Smeeton titled "Jack Frost in the Garden" the poem reads:

Jack Frost was in the garden;// I saw him there at dawn;// He was dancing round the bushes// And prancing on the lawn.// He had a cloak of silver,// A hat all shimm'ring white,// A wand of glittering star-dust,// And shoes of sunbeam light.

Jack Frost was in the garden,// When I went out to play// He nipped my toes and fingers// And quickly ran away.// I chased him round the wood-shed,// But, oh! I'm sad to say// That though I chased him everywhere// He simply wouldn't stay.

Jack Frost was in the garden:// But now I'd like to know// Where I can find him hiding;// I've hunted high and low —// I've lost his cloak of silver,// His hat all shimm'ring white,// His wand of glittering star-dust,// His shoes of sunbeam light"

the background is a light blue and white marble. end id]

Tags: @fantasylover16 @queen-of-demons-and-hell @nishlicious-01​ @leyontheway @caffeinated-croissant

[the-moon-prince]

The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter V

AN: Hi my lovely fellows!

This chapter contains a mention of sexual abuse. I understand how hurtful this topic may be to a lot of people (me included). Likewise, I'll mark it at the start and the end, so you don't have to read it if you prefer. I made sure for people to be able to read the chapter without reading forcefully that part. I added this as a form of venting. I feel like it's an avoided topic, and it's my form to show support to other trauma survivors. This was made with the only intention to comfort. If something is bad written or harmful, please tell me. I also ask for your understanding if you plan on commenting, thank you very much!

I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new chapter of my story.  (Chapter I) (Chapter II) (Chapter III) (Chapter IV ) (Chapter VI coming soon!)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 888

TW: Mentions of sexual abuse / Mentions of abuse ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) appeared more comfortable around Kurapika. Occasionally letting their ears escape while staying in the privacy of their houses.

But there was still something mysterious about (Y/n). Some of what they didn't say. Kurapika was filled with doubts and fears because of that. He pondered scenarios, each one worse than the other. Are they lying to me? Maybe they're in some kind of danger or distress. Creating a vicious and unhealthy cycle in Kurapika's spirit. 

The two were patient in the relationship, neither comprehending fully how to give or receive affection. But despite the time they had been together, (Y/n) seemed resistant to accept fondness. Particularly physical. They had never tried to hold hands. When Kurapika attempted it, they recoiled in alarm more than once. In the few hugs they had given each other, (Y/n) shivered. Loud noises made them shake and jump, and they hand a list of tics as sudden shaking chills or protectively shrugging shoulders. Kurapika could understand that, he had tics as well. But his partner seemed triggered by his touch. They continued to be protective of their eyes. It was normal they didn't meet his eyes often, however, they tried to hide her eyes whenever they looked more cat-like.

~

Suspicions of his beloved being at risk grew bigger. He didn't want to, he couldn't permit himself to lose someone else. What kind of cruel mockery of life would be that, when finally there was someone like him-Someone who understood and supported him-was erased from this plane. The idea that these funny tail and ears weren't going to survive grieved Kurapika. The plausibility of not seeing those (curly/wavy/messy/straight) (hair/color) strands nevermore haunted him. Undoubtedly, it didn't end there. Fury consumed him when he conceived the idea of someone injuring more further a being so humane, kind hearted, and compassionate as (Y/n). Hadn't both of them grieved enough? But what they were suffering, adding would be disastrous.

Yet, (Y/n) didn't utter a single word regarding the matter.

~

Kurapika entered a state of fright. At that limit, he needed at the very least to know what was going on. He showed up that night at (Y/n)'s residence, knowing that they had no guard at the hospital and that they would be there. He had a spare key and wasn't abnormal to simply arrive at the other's place. Either of them had the habit of picking phone calls or answering messages.

Except for the scene he arrived at was abnormal.

He saw (Y/n) from behind sitting on the floor, a thing they never did, and if anything was remarkable about them, it was how strict they were with their customs. They had their elbows leaning on the coffee table, looking down at something. They did not react upon his arrival. (Y/n) never missed a noise, even less the one of a door opening. Yet, they remain immobile as if the lives of the universe depended on them staying frozen in place. Kurapika approached them. To see that there was a call in progress on their phone resting upon the table. (Y/n) did not dare to see the phone directly. Their hands held their head by the forehead, their gaze hidden behind their (curls/waves/strands). Just as Kurapika opened his mouth to speak, a female voice came from the phone's speaker-"So you won't answer me?"-silence again-" My baby... I know you think I broke you..."-the voice was sweet and honeyed, full of compassion"-Who could that woman possibly be? Why did she address (Y/n) like that, what did she mean by "break". Kurapika craved to question (Y/N) what, for love for his clan, was happening. He was relucted from doing so, he could perhaps extract information from the person on the other end of the line, taking advantage of the fact that she believed that (Y/n) was alone.-"But that's not true! I didn't do anything, my love. You were born broken, your demoniac eyes are the proo-" (Y/n) abruptly cut the call before the sentence finished. They didn't turn to see Kurapika, despite knowing he was beside them. 

Kurapika had his breakpoint. "What's happening (Y/n)?! Who was that?! You can't keep things as such from me?! Do you understand that?!"-he started to scold, raising his voice. His eyes would look scarlet if it weren't for the contacts he was wearing at the moment. Someone else knew about (Y/n) identity. Who can say such atrocities? On top, with such a sound and sweet voice, it was twisted. She was talking about their eyes. Did she want them? Was she behind (Y/n)'s eyes? All these questions flooded incessantly in Kurapika's mind. (Y/n) hid upthrusting their shoulders and covering their face with their hands, their whole figure was shaking. They drew their ears back and adhered the tail to their body, probably changed on instinctual reaction.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry"-(Y/n) started to lament, voice quivering. Their breaths were heavy as if it were inhumanly tough to keep breathing. Whoever the other person was, were bad enough to provoke a position of panic on (Y/n).   Kurapika knew that and seeing that getting angry only seemed to affect the feeble trembling figure in front of him, he decided to calm down. He was greatly concerned that someone he esteemed as highly as (Y/n) was in that position. It was not wise to let his humor aggravate things. 

He lowered himself to their level and sat down next to them. He raised his hand to stroke their hair. As soon as the tips of his fingers touched the (curls/waves/bangs/strands) he heard a heavy "Don't!" and backed up his hand.-"It's alright. I'm not touching you. Still, I require you to explain to me what happens. Who was that woman?" Besides offering physical contact, Kurapika had no distinct idea how he could comfort (Y/n). He felt frustrated and powerless.

"My mum."-they whimpered, (Y/n) was distressed although not crying. Not a single tear came out during all that night. Kurapika no longer understood.

"Weren't your parents deceased?"- He felt that they had lied to him, and it sure bothered him that he kept that from him. But this was not the time to discuss that part.

"No, my family is dead..."-(Y/n) began to breathe more calmly. They readjusted, moving their hands away from their faces to hold their arms. "They did not raise me. My grandparents did. When my grandad got ill and died I left to study. They always lived far away." -(Y/n) didn't look at Kurapika at any time. They kept their gaze at a standstill. Nevertheless, he could notice that their pupils were very dilated, reminding him of the stare of a scared soaked cat.

"What did she mean by break you?"-he continued trying to maintain a moderate voice. He was somehow scared to hear the answer. It would hurt to know that someone hurt (Y/n).

"I wasn't the legal age. Someone had to take my guard when my grandfather died."-Their face stayed still in a sober expression.

"Did they hurt you?"- He felt progressively more scared and worse.

"It's not important. I don't believe it's something you desire to know." -Even with everything happening, (Y/n) refused to speak. How could they be so obstinate?

"(Y/n), this cannot continue. I require to know. You are not delusional, you know you have to tell me."-Kurapika got a heavy sigh.

"They never loved me, you know? I was never certain why. I tried my best. Maybe they were expecting a human... Maybe they blamed me for their separation...Perhaps they were disappointed to learn that I have a disability."- Kurapika didn't know that (Y/n) could have a difficulty, they never mentioned any medical condition. He would ask about that a little further. They were finally discussing if he interrupted now, possibly the opportunity will not present again.-"I spent most of my time in the university's boarding. Only I wasn't allowed to stay on vacation, so I would go home. Sometimes they put a muzzle on me so I wouldn't bite - although I never bit anyone. They put an electric collar on me once. I guess they were scared of me. "It's for your good because we love you, and you have to behave. Good kitties don't scratch and don't bite." my mother told me. They believed it to be true. They did many things to me under that pretext..."-They stopped there. Still having something to say, but not wanting to.

(WARNING: MENTION OF SEXUAL ABUSE AHEAD)

"Did they... something else to you?"-Kurapika asked again. At that point, he was not surprised (Y/n) never mentioned their parents and did not consider them family. His anger was replaced by compassion. Expecting the worst.

"Yes."- there was the resistance again.

"What did they do?"-(Y/n) made a little movement with their head still hesitant.

"My mother did. She told me she had to check I was okay. Because I was not like other children..."-They lowered their gaze. Kurapika felt a chill. Neither of them was foolish, they knew what was to come. (Y/n) shrugged even more and started to play with their (color) hair -"It happened more than once, I don't remember precisely how many, but more than once for sure. She ordered me to... take off my clothes and... to lay down. It was unpleasant. For a long... for a very long time, I... I denied it. I told myself that she was an adult... that she knew better. If I doubted a bit more... If I weren't so naive... I would have done things differently, you know?"

(END OF THE MENTION OF SEXUAL ABUSE)

Kurapika felt horrible. It felt awful seeing someone he loved so much like this, someone innocent who didn't deserve anything of what happened. For the first time, he didn't know what to say. He had no idea how to act. It was something he did not understand.-"And the rest of your family? You couldn't ask other Uniliums for help?" he probed, wanting to understand their circumstances. 

"I tried. I ran away twice. They discovered me at the first try. Two adults facing a 9-year-old child. They clearly gave me the beating of my life.

The following was 4 years after, more prepared. When I returned to our community, I found out that they got butchered not long ago."-(Y/n) lamented. It was probably what ached most of all. That they got that tiny hope and comfort taken away. -"I'm convinced if they had known, they would have helped and appealed to my favor. I concentrated on my studies in the faith to forget. It was also my opening to escape. I like my career, you know? Although my father told me during the 10 years it lasted that it was disappointing and worthless."-they added with a trembling smile. Those were the two details that provided them any comfort.

"Why didn't you tell me any of that?"- Kurapika asked once more. 

(Y/n) raised their shoulders.-"I don't know. I was scared and ashamed. I was afraid that you would hate me. Perhaps I imagined you would be disappointed in me."-They were conscious that it was not a rational fear. But it was stronger than them.

"How could I hate you? It wasn't your fault."-He comforted. Full of regret for what happened-"It was not your responsibility at any time."

"I know... Though, still, sometimes I wonder if it was. Even acknowledging that it is a lie." (Y/n) sniffled without shedding any tears.

"They won't do a single thing to you, ever again. I'm present now, and I'll make sure they don't put a finger on you. You are safe. Okay?"-The blonde man secured.

"Thank you."-They smiled again. Many would have said it was the same smile. But for Kurapika it was different. This time it was a touch more melancholic than usual, but there was a side of profuse relief. They relaxed and their ears were forward, symbolizing more relaxed humor. 

"It's impressive you succeed the Hunter exam possessing a physical disability." It was Kurapika's crafty way of questioning the subject.

"It was quite difficult. I was born with a respiratory condition, so I cannot develop many physical abilities. I am not physically powerful and I have restricted time to run. I depend greatly on my ability Nen and my wits. However, I won't allow that to stop me. Nobody tells me what I am capable of or not."-(Y/n) bragged. They could be proud. Even with that disadvantage, they had come a long way. That night Kurapika was aware of how strong his companion was. It didn't seem like it, at no time did any of the people who saw (Y/n) imagine all this side of them. After so much, they stayed strong-minded and sweet. They were truly brave. They were both survivors after all. They had both succeeded to get so far despite all the grief. And they both held pride in that. For Kurapika, the fact that (Y/n) had a more sensitive and altruistic side did not make them weak. Of course, they were qualities disapproved among several Hunters.

However, no other hunter held him during his afflicted moments. He could be vulnerable with (Y/n), and he was safe with them.

"Can you remain with me tonight, please?"

Kurapika didn't expect that request.

It was the first time one of them stayed overnight in the other's place. They had stayed really late together, but they didn't stay until the next morning. Plus, knowing how reserved (Y/n) could sometimes be, he assumed they would favor time alone following such an intense experience. Nevertheless, there was something so personal and vulnerable about that request. Kurapika felt the immense desire to stay and protect them.

"Of course."-He couldn't help but use a soft tone.

During all that conversation (Y/n), although exhibited fear, did not manifest weakness at any time. They stayed dignified without losing control.

"Can we lay down, please? I feel a bit tired."-they called after a moment of silence. Their voice resonated dull and tired.

"We can do whatever you desire."- Kurapika smiled at them, his only preoccupation at that instant was to ensure the well-being of the person he treasured, and their head started to bob. (Y/n) slowly nodded and got up. They silently asked him to follow them and padded to their chamber. 

It was the first time that Kurapika entered their bedroom as well. It was fairly more adorned. It had a relatively big bed, with light cloths and a  fluffy (color) colored bedspread. Without neglecting its childish side, it was full of stuffed animals of all kinds, colors, and sizes. Several shelves were overflowing with books. Shelving with toys and cute figures, alongside a record player and a cloth case with music records was also in the room. Next to the bed was a stool with a lamp and a framed photo. The apartments had their private bathroom, on which (Y/n) entered. Kurapika sat on the bed- or in the space left without stuffed animals- and waited. No longer than 15 minutes should have passed before (Y/n) came out with slightly wet hair, and a matching (color) pajama shorts and shirt. Kurapika didn't identify the exact scent at the time, but they smelled good, familiar. (Y/n) took the stuffed animals and arranged them as best they could on an individual loveseat.

"I apologize for this disorder."-they pointed to the bathroom door.-"There is the other toilet, so you can use it whenever you desire. I have each item, please serve yourself."-They laid on the left side of the bed and rested their head on the puffy pillow.

Kurapika merely laid down next to them, not too close. He was uncertain if it was correct to hug them or stay near. (Y/n) arranged the beddings covering the two. They smelled identical at them.

"Kurapika..."-an reluctant voice called his name.

"Yes?"-It felt strange, being in that place that, until then, seemed confidential. But it wasn't unpleasant at all.

"May I hug you?"-The request was bashful and quiet.

He thought of just opening his arms but preferred to give a vocal response as well.-"Of course you may."

(Y/n) approached him steadily. They proceed to timidly embrace him, after their arms were wrapped around him, they snuggled their face on him.-"You're warm... I feel ... comfortable ... with you. Which is bizarre. I don't feel secure with anyone since I was 6 years old."

Kurapika held them protectively. He felt profoundly touched by that strangely honest statement. He attempted to affectionately stroke their (curls/waves/locks). They allowed it.-"I love you (Y/n)."-He couldn't think about anything else he wanted them to know.

"I adore you, Kurapika." 

(Y/n) ultimately permitted themselves to be vulnerable with Kurapika too. It felt good. It was good for them to have someone so strong to have their backs and accompany them.

They could hold each other.

[aperrywilliams]

I don’t know you anymore/Part III (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

Part I / Part II /Part III / Part IV  / Part V

———————

Summary: Reader has to do something before her relationship with Spencer get worse. Spencer has to rebuild his life without her. Could he do that?. Now Reader ends up involved in a case that is more complex than it seems.

Word Count: 4359.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences. Angst.

Warnings: References to murders, dead bodies, drug traffic, illicit activities, etc.

A/N: This is Part III of “I don’t know you anymore”. Thanks to everyone who read this and commented previous parts! I really appreciate your support!

——————–

I know I let you down Again and again I know I never really treated you right I've paid the price I'm still paying for it every day

The least I expected to see when I walked into my apartment after work was a piece of paper under the door with the  letterhead of Hawthorne Police Station and my name written on it. It was an urgent summons to present myself there. The reasons were not very specific, only it was important in order to collaborate in an ongoing investigation. I tried to imagine what this was all about. It didn't occur to me what it might be, but it seemed urgent, so after eating something I took my keys again and headed for the police station.

I felt something strange about this. And it’s true things in my life had been a bit strange lately. I had recently started a relationship with someone. Well, 'getting started' is perhaps a vague word in this case, given I had a relationship with Hunter before, when I had just arrived in DC, more than 5 years ago, even before met Spencer. We restarted contact the moment I asked for help to leave DC a little over a year ago. He helped me settle in Philadelphia and while I wasn't ready to have a relationship with anyone again, a few weeks ago I gave it a try and we started to get closer again. Hunter is a good man, loving and caring. Unfortunately we had seen little of each other in the past few days because he was out of town due to his job as an interstate realtor. It seems I have a fixation on men who have jobs involve travel. Anyway, at least in Hunter's case travels seemed to be more sporadic.

When I got to the station I walked over to the main counter and asked about Detective Gibson, who was the one who signed the paper I found at the entrance to my apartment. I handed the paper to the officer and he immediately made me walk down a hallway to the entrance of a room where there were three chairs around a metal table. He asked me to wait for the detective sitting in one of those chairs, he would come to talk to me soon.

****

"Reid?... Spencer?... Spencer!". In the distance I felt a voice repeating my name seeking some reaction from me. When I woke up, I was lying on the couch in the meeting room where we’re installed and felt the eyes of Prentiss and JJ fixed on me. I looked around and there was no one else in the room. I had a hard time putting my thoughts back on what had happened before I passed out. Within seconds I was sitting and everything had come to my memory again.

"(Y/N)..." I said, trying to get up from the couch. Prentiss stopped me and started talking, while J.J. handed me a sandwich to replenish my fatigue.

“Spencer. You cannot speak to (Y/N). As J.J. said, she is on the list. We had not made the connection when seeing her name since none of us knew her last name, but we did the checkup and yes, it's her…”. Prentiss explained.

"Where is she…?" I said, after taking a piece of the sandwich and beginning to eat it by inertia.

"In the debriefing room waiting for Detective Gibson. But before he interrogates her, we have to agree with him what our line of questions will be... and if it is necessary for any of us to be present" said J.J.

"How is that about ‘line of questions’?... It should be the same thing has been done with the rest of the women from the list..." I answered a little confused.

"It’s not so. We did a quick checkup with Garcia and (Y/N) could be more involved in this matter than we think… she know directly to Hunter Rosten, the 'owner' of the list” said Emily, studying every reaction on my face.

"What?... it's not possible, she wouldn't get involved in something illegal... no, (Y/N) is incapable of something like that...". I said, already getting up from the couch and starting to pace around the room.

"We are not saying she is involved in that way, strictly speaking we do not know if Hunter Rosten is too, we only know he is the owner of the list and he is missing. We need (Y/N) to get to Rosten first”. Emily finished, as I sat back down in one of the chairs around the conference table.

"I don't get it, if she is involved with the deaths why would she be here now... it doesn't make sense". My mind was trying to fit the pieces of what was happening.

“It's what we have to find out. But for that, I need you to stay out of this. The only thing you can help us with now is to obtain more information about (Y/N) that could give some clue, but you cannot conduct the interrogation, much less approach to her” said Emily. I just shook my head trying to shake off the confusion and discredit of what was going on.

"And who's going to question her, besides Gibson?" I asked without raising my head.

“That is the problem, she knows us all. Who do you think makes her feel less intimidated? It’s clear she’ll know you are in this, but if she doesn’t see you, she will be of help…” J.J. asked. I thought for a few minutes before answering.

"It should be Emily. Although she knows we are friends, being you unit chief she’ll tend to be more cooperative if you explain to her this is for a greater good and doesn't matter if I’m involved”. As I said it and I let out a sigh. I started to panic. What had happened in this year in the life of (Y/N) to ended up involved in something like this?

"Okay, I'll do it" said Emily, taking the folders from the table. Before leaving looked at me. She didn’t know what to tell me but she knew had to say something before walking out that door. “Spencer, we shouldn't jump to more conclusions without further evidence. Let's just do our job to clear this up. I know it's hard, it's about (Y/N), but please try to stay calm as much as you can. We need you on this too". I could only look at her with pleading eyes. Then she left the meeting room. With Prentiss out my eyes turned to J.J.

“I need to see her, even if it is through glass. J.J., please…”. She knew what I was asking was quite outside Emily had instructed, but that thin limit allowed her to take some pity on me. She nodded, peered into the hallway to make sure (Y/N), Gibson, and Prentiss were in the interview room, and then motioned for me to follow her.

****

The wait seemed endless. I didn't know how long I was waiting until two people entered the room where I was sitting. A man and a woman. The man in uniform I assumed was Detective Gibson, the woman meanwhile, I was sure I 'd seen her before. At that moment, with the nerves I didn’t know how to associate her face with my knowledge of who it was, until both of them introduced themselves.

“Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N), my name is Albert Gibson, homicide detective with the local Philadelphia police office, and she is FBI Special Supervisory Agent Emily Prentiss… we need to ask you some questions about Hunter Rosten”. Sure, of course I knew the woman. This is Emily from the FBI, Spencer's boss. At least she was in the time we were together. Emily realized I recognized her and nodded, giving me the answer I needed. She crossed her hands on the table between us and began to speak.

“(Y/N), my presence here is only intended to be able to ask you questions about a case that we’re working together with the Philadelphia police. That’s the reason for the citation in first place. We have a series of disappearances and… deaths related to people who knew Mr. Hunter Rosten, so any information you can provide about him is important…”. Emily's voice was calm, as if she was trying not to disturb me despite the information she was giving to me. These people are amazing, they make terrible things seem like normal things.

"Hunter? Why? What does he have to do with all this?". I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"We have no certainty at the moment. We are following leads and the only thing we know about Hunter is he is missing and he had a list of women... women who come from different parts of the country and settled here in Philadelphia. Unfortunately there are 3 women on that list who are dead now…”. At that moment I froze. A list? What was she talking about? Hunter missing? None of this made sense.

“Hunter is not missing… I mean, he's travelling. He called me three days ago... no... how?...”. My face must have denoted my stupor, because Emily offered me a glass of water. I accepted it with a shy nod. My hands were shaking and so as not to cry and avoid looking at the two people who had their eyes on me, I concentrated on the mirror at the end of the room. I tried to regulate my breathing. I knew there were things I would have to say and although I didn't like the idea of revealing certain things from my past and current life, there were women dying and that was upsetting me. I was more upset to know Hunter might have something to do with it. If it had to be an open book as long as this cleared up, I didn't care. Even knowing that behind the glass would be Spencer. Don't ask me how, but I could feel him.

****

It had been over a year since I saw (Y/N) last time and seeing her behind the glass in the interrogation room only reminded me to the last moment we shared together. When she said goodbye and gave me one last kiss. Now I could see her even more vulnerable than last time, and more scared too. Her body language denoted stupor, confusion, and huge fear. Every time Emily added some information, I could see how she tensed more in the chair and began to fidget her fingers, a typical gesture when she was nervous and overwhelmed by something. Her confusion and amazement looked genuine, I couldn't tell she was lying about it. It’s clear I was not the best judge at the moment, but I was sure J.J. and Rossi, who were in the room with me, could say the same as me.

"How long have you known Hunter Rosten?" Detective Gibson asked her. (Y/N) spent a few seconds thinking before answering.

"Maybe a little over 5 years. When I moved to DC I looked for a real estate agent to help me find an apartment near where I worked. A colleague from the office where I worked in Baltimore gave me Hunter's contact and I called him for that purpose…” (Y/N) replied.

"Did you keep in touch after that?" Gibson asked again.

"Yes. Finally he showed me several places that could be suitable according to I was looking for. I chose one I could pay with the money I had up to that moment…” said (Y/N).

"What was you working on at the time?" Gibson interrupted.

“Upon arrival in DC, I began working as a research assistant to a professor at Georgetown University. Given my computer skills, I was trained to work in databases and statistical analysis”.

Yes, that was how I met (Y/N). When I started teaching sporadic classes in Georgetown I had the opportunity to collaborate with Dr. Andrew Stevens, the boss of (Y/N) at the time. She started as his assistant, but eventually became his most prolific collaborator. Honestly speaking, Stevens was pretty much nil when it came to processing data, so he relied heavily on (Y/N) 's abilities.

"And after finding an apartment, did you keep in touch with Hunter?" Gibson continued.

"Yes. He helped me get a good move tips and helped me with the rent paperwork” said (Y/N).

"A gentleman, right?... Did you keep seeing each other after that?" I knew where Gibson wanted to go and was sure (Y/N) too, but his discourtesy in his words made her stand on the defensive.

"Yes, a while. Are you going to ask me if we dating? Yes, we were dating a while, if that's what you want to know” she replied with visible weariness. Surely uncomfortable saying all that in front of Emily.

"How long did the relationship last?" Gibson asked, not caring about (Y/N)'s discomfort.

"A few months, maybe 2 or 3. It wasn't very long" she stated.

"Why you broke up?" Gibson asked without flinching.

“Is all this really important…? Do I need to talk about my personal life...?. At that moment I saw the anger in the eyes of (Y/N). She never liked rodeos and clearly this interrogation seemed like exactly that to her.

"We just want to establish closeness between you. It’s not to know details of you relationship, but we need to understand some actions or decisions Hunter could have taken in this time…”. Prentiss said, trying to calm (Y/N). She held her head in both hands. She looked tired.

"Ok. Ok. I already said our relationship lasted no more than three months. We ended because... because I fell in love with someone else... and told him so". Saying that, she looked directly at the glass. She knew I was there. Or at least suspected it.

"How did Hunter take it?" Emily asked.

"Well, he wasn't too pleased with the idea. But he understood. After that, we only talked when I had some friends questions about properties, or if he wanted some publicity among my colleagues. Did we broke up in violent term? Absolutely not. Nor did he insist or try to make me change my mind. After that we didn't see each other anymore. Just a few calls or emails” (Y/N) said dryly.

"Did that last over time...? Emails and calls?” Prentiss asked.

“No… after a year we finally lost contact. I mean, I always had his number and he had mine, but we never spoke again”

"When did you resume contact and why?". Emily asked. I could see (Y/N) biting her lower lip and her eyes began to fill with tears.

“A little over a year ago I called him. I was in a difficult situation. I never had many friends in DC and ... I needed to get out of town. To start again somewhere else…” (Y/N) tried to explain.

"Were you involved in any misconduct and needed to escape...?" Gibson interrupted. Prentiss looked at Gibson reproachfully, for he was pushing harder.

"No! Of course not! ... I just had to leave the city... I had… I broke up with my 3 years boyfriend, with whom I lived and I needed to get away… from him”. She ended saying with a sob. Those words hit me like a truck and made me angry enough to punch the wall behind me. Rossi and J.J. looked at me with concern.

"Spence... maybe you better not keep watching the interrogation..." J.J. suggested. I just shook my head.

"I'm fine. I can stay here. Don't worry about me, just focus on her and what can be useful for the investigation”. I said without even looking at them.

"And how did Hunter help you?" Gibson asked.

"I asked him if he had contacts to look properties in Chicago..." said (Y/N).

"Why Chicago and not Philadelphia in first place?". Emily asked with a frown. (Y/N) sighed and then replied.

“My first choice was Chicago, I wanted to try luck at Chicago State University. I thought it might be a good option for me. But Hunter convinced me Philadelphia was better, being a slightly smaller city compared to Chicago and it could be more compatible with the quieter life I wanted to lead. Moreover, he gave me some contacts to speak at the University of Pennsylvania, where I'm working now..." said (Y/N).

"That's weird..." said Rossi. And yes, he was right. (Y/N)'s first choice was not Philadelphia but Chicago, and Hunter had convinced her to change her mind.

“It's the same thing he could have done with the rest of the women on the list. Maybe he convinced them to come to Philadelphia” added J.J.

"But... for what purpose?... What did he gain bring they to Philly?" Rossi asked. My brain also began to search for potential reasons to make sense of the facts. I tried to make connections and two things came to mind, one of which I didn't even want to verbalize at the time.

“This in part has to be related to properties. Moving to Philadelphia has to bring benefits to Hunter, beyond a good commission for every rent or sell he makes...". I said trying to explain part of my point.

"But that does not explain why there are dead women and, even more, with such a specific victimology" replied J.J.

"Maybe it’s a dual purpose: to attack Hunter's business and Hunter himself..." Rossi reflected. That said, he dialed Garcia's number. “Garcia, we need to know more about Hunter Rosten's business. He was presenting himself as a property agent. Is there something special about the properties he managed? Did he be associated with something other than the real estate business?". Penelope replied she would search and would call us immediately when she found something. J.J. texted Prentiss to ask (Y/N) if something strange had happened to her or Hunter these days. Meanwhile Prentiss and Gibson continued the interrogation.

"All right. After you settled in Philadelphia, did you keep in touch with Hunter?... ” Gibson continued.

"Yes. We keep in touch during these months. From time to time he called me to ask me how I was…” .

"And something else besides phone calls?" Prentiss asked.

"Well... two weeks ago we started dating again... and now we are in a relationship...". (Y/N) said quietly, as if trying I wasn't able to listen. But I don't know why when I heard it I felt angry. I had no right. In fact I was also in a 'relationship' with someone, but imagining another man touching her stuck a stake in my stomach. She had definitely got on with her life. Did I do the same?

"Do you live together?... do you know where is he now?" Gibson hurried asking.

"No... we don't live together. Five days ago he went on a work trip, he told me. Hunter called me three days ago to tell me he was fine and to ask me if I was fine. He looked worried, but he didn't want to tell me if something happened… although after knowing all this, I suppose something did happen…”

***

I didn’t know how much longer I could stand in this interrogation. I felt like I had been there for hours. And they kept asking me the same thing over and over again. It wasn't enough I had to talk about my relationship with Hunter, or to admit I had left DC because I had broken up with Spencer and start all over again. Also I had to try to think if I knew the three women who were murdered and who were related to a list of which I had no idea that I was part of.

I was astonished when they told me Hunter had “helped” many women settle in Philadelphia. I felt like I was part of some crime I completely ignored. I felt dirty and didn't know why. I felt guilty and nobody knew to explain me why.

Finally they finished questioning me and left the room, but not before telling me to wait a moment for a police officer to escort me to my house. The same officer who would later remain a fixed point outside the building 'for my protection'. I don't know how they expected me to take something like that, but at least I was more confused than when I got to the police station. I had more questions than answers. But I didn't want to fight anyone, I was tired and I just wanted to go home to sleep. I didn't mind knowing Spencer was on the other side of the mirror, surely judging me for everything I said in that room. I sat staring at the table that was now empty. From time to time I looked at the mirror, but I couldn't hold my gaze on it, both for me and for whoever I knew was on the other side.

***

After the interrogation, Rossi and J.J. were to the meeting room to join Prentiss. Seeing I wasn't following them, J.J. looked at me. "I'll go soon. I need a few minutes”. I said looking to (Y/N) through the glass. J.J. said nothing and left the room closing the door. I was unable to contain the tears that had been stagnant during the entire interrogation. I would have given everything to go hug her, to go comfort her, to tell her that everything would be fine, that she was not alone. But I couldn’t. And while I was sure she knew I was there, that gave me no right. Her eyes fixed on the table were a sign she didn’t want to look at me. For just an instant I felt her eyes on me. And I knew it. I had never stopped loving her. And no matter what I did, how long time passed or how far she had run from me, my feelings hadn't changed in the least. She is the love of my life. I had to do something to get her back, but first I had to do something to make sure she is safe. After taking a deep breath I took my eyes off her and left the room to join the rest of the team.

"Ok. Garcia, what did you find out?” Rossi said, as we were all around the meeting table.

"I don't know where to start. But I can assure you every fact I’ll will say it follows a worse one…”. My stomach started to clench again.

"Tell us..." Prentiss hurried.

"Yes. Ok. Hunter Rosten. It’s true he has a certificate as a real estate agent. But his profession of origin is chemistry. This isn’t in the official records, in fact I had to open sealed files..."

"Sealed by whom?" Luke asked.

"The same FBI. And this is where it gets all interesting. It turns out Hunter Rosten was a asset to Domestic Terrorism between 2008 and 2010. They then lost his track until 2013 when he appears in DC selling his first properties. The problem is that properties Hunter manages are 'dirty' properties…”

"Dirty? What does that mean? ..." J.J. asked

“They are properties are associated with drug dealers from different cities where he worked and were 'cleaned' by Hunter between 2013 and 2018. Many of them belonged to local cartels, others to small traffickers, and a few to interstate networks… even in some of them he had his own lab”.

"So the list has to do with 'cleaned properties'... and the women he installed there?" Tara asked.

Hunter didn’t work alone at that time. After he reappeared in 2013, he was linked to an associate, Gabriel Dickinson. In fact, Rosten's list also Dickinson had it. Records say Dickinson broke ‘business’ relationships with Rosten and he joined one of the Philadelphia cartels. Dickinson has reports of assault on women and was arrested multiple times for domestic violence…"

"But go from domestic violence to serial killer..." Matt interrupted.

"What if it's just to get revenge on Hunter?... that is, his partner softens over time, stops cooking drugs, decreases the amount of cleaned properties, he realizes he collaborated with the FBI... he must be very upset…” Rossi argued.

"Okay. And why now? And why kill women and not just Hunter?" I asked. That was what bothered me the most. I could understand the big picture, but it didn’t explain the women deaths.

"Jealousy" said Emily. "Think of it this way: Rossi is right, Hunter's life is going according to plan with his partner, but in addition to 'softening' he begins a relationship with (Y/N) 'two weeks ago'. The murders started a week ago. The similarities of the victims with (Y/N) are evident. They are a message to Hunter…” pointed Emily.

"Surrogates for (Y/N)?". I asked barely audibly. Now it was making all the sense to me, I just didn't like where this was going.

"And not herself... because it’s a message. If he had directly attacked (Y/N) he knew would lose Hunter completely” said Rossi.

"Guys... guys!" Penelope's voice rang out on the speaker. "I know where Dickinson is now. Traffic cameras place him on Allison Street with Master Av.… this is two blocks from (Y/N)’s apartment…”. Garcia was unable to finish speaking and I grabbed my blazer and ran from the police station. From a distance I heard Emily was trying to stop me while Rossi summoned the police officers from the station. This bastard was about to finish his job but a surrogate wasn't enough, now he was after (Y/N). I don't know how with my trembling legs I managed to get in the car and start driving with all the speed I could. I knew even with a fixed-point cop in the building, (Y/N) 's life was in danger. I had to hurry up. I couldn't allow something to happen to her. I had to stop this madness. While I was driving I just kept saying “(Y/N), please my love… don't leave me... don't leave me. I'm on my way, I'm on my way…”

——————–

[bizlawgal]

I wanted to share a prompt! Hope is ok ❤️: Emma is norman's bodyguard. And he's so cute 😳. But she has to focus because she's a professional ��. But he's so sweet and treats her like she was a princess! But he's also super important and she needs to give the 100% to protect him. But the way he calls her, it's just... Would be people surprised if she falls for him? What would people think if she tries to take him for her 🤭😏.

This took a while. 

Here’s Lyn’s first contribution to the N/E tag for 2021 on Tumblr.

I personally enjoyed writing this because it’s so angsty, but it’s a dessert with a cherry on top for an ending. 

I. There was no fitting person for the job other than her.

With a slender built, an agile reflex, and a taste for anything below the surface of safety, she was more than willing to accept the terms and conditions that came with the job.

"Oliver tells me you're experienced in this line of work," said Ray, the person-in-charge with most of the personal bodyguards assigned to the Minerva Family. "You do know that individuals who prefer this line of work are the ones who have —"

"— nothing left to lose, I know," she continued. This line was something she had memorized long ago. "No one will be looking for me if I do lose my life somewhere along the line. I have no more family to go back to."

Her father had died a couple of years back. Incarcerated for a murder she knew he did not commit, and died a sorrowful death behind bars because of an undetected disease.

Since then, she had taken a liking to the profession of looking after people; being a bodyguard gave her a purpose to live, and another way to make amends with her helplessness.

Ray's face echoed skepticism. "As long as you won't die before the person you're in charge of, then there won't be any problems. At least during this coming election period. Your service is of utmost importance."

Emma released a deep sigh upon learning that she had finally landed this job. "Who am I in-charge of protecting?"

"The heir of the Minerva Family," he answered as he flipped through her folder full of credentials one last time. "Consider this as your first day on the job. Here's the itinerary for today. He's a very busy person but make sure you leave a good impression."

He? She had never worked as a bodyguard for any man before, but being ever-so devoted to what she did for a living, she shoved the underlying curiosity in her mind.

Emma nodded submissively as she extended her hand to claim the supposed itinerary and immediately implanted the details inside her head. The idea to process everything in an instant was something she was good at.

"Memorized it?" Ray quipped, a challenging smirk making its way to his lips.

"Yes," she beamed, "I’ve memorized it by heart."

"Do you still have any inquiries about what your job will be? About the person you're in charge of?"

She shook her head in an absolute stance. "I think I'm well-informed."

"Good, because here comes the Minerva you're in-charge of."

She heard the simultaneous clicking of heels against the marbled floors, and when the door to the room opened, she swang her head to officially meet him with a smile.

Instead of a smile on her lips, she only registered an expression of awe; lips parted in wordless wonder and eyes widened with a different kind of expectation.

He was the first to move on, reflecting the same enchantment on his face, and spoke, "You must be —"

"Emma," she supplied. "I'm Emma Mikhaylov, and starting today, I'll be your personal bodyguard, Sir Minerva."

He smiled, and she was sure that it might've made her heart twitch a bit. "It's nice to meet you, Emma. Are you aware of our itinerary for today?"

She looked over at Ray, and back at the heir. Her breath hitched upon answering. "Yes, sir."

There was one thing that Ray failed to mention.

Norman Minerva, the heir to the family of politicians, was a damn well-proportioned, good-looking man.

II.

"How are you supposed to protect me if you're the one behind the wheels?"

It was another one of his comments that initially swayed her to think that he wasn't just one of those old money brats from a political dynasty.

It had been three months of being his bodyguard, and she couldn't deny that he was suspiciously treating her better than how he did with others.

Without taking her eyes off the road, she answered, "It's my job to chaperone you, too."

He subtly scratched his head. "Do I have to spell it out for you that I want you next to me? We could've asked Ray to chaperone us, could we not?"

"Ah, but Ray is out doing his own chaperoning for your sister."

He snorted. "There is no winning that. He fancies my sister, after all."

Emma chuckled lightly. "Miss Anna is really lovely. I doubt anyone would second-guess their attraction towards her, sir."

"Emma." There was a sternness to the way he said her name that made her slightly jolt in her seat. "I've told you a thousand times to simply call me by  my name."

"It's inappro—"

"It is not," Norman sighed heavily, thinking how many times they've had this conversation. "I already told you that I do not think of you merely as my bodyguard. I simply enjoy your company and I think you know by now that I fancy you. We should try to be more casual."

This brought out another laughter from her, yet it was laced with awe and disbelief. She hoped that he couldn't see how hard she was trying to gulp down her nerves.

"That isn't part of my job description, si— Norman. What you're suggesting is highly inappropriate."

Norman raised a skeptical brow from the rearview mirror, and she tensed in her seat when his eyes bore into hers. "But you find Anna and Ray's illicit affair romantic? What makes my attraction for you different from theirs?"

Emma took a deep breath and internally reminded herself that she was a professional. This was not something she should be entangled in, especially since her sole purpose was to keep him safe until the elections were over.

She was simply thankful that they had arrived at the first one on his itinerary. "Would you look at that? We're here! Wait for me to open your door, okay?"

"Emma, you don't have to —"

She whipped her head and raised a finger. "No buts. This is my job."

It was when she got out of the car and paused for a second did she let the facade fade from her face.

Just being in the same space with him was getting harder and harder each day.

III.

It was rare for her to curse, but given the scenario they were in, it was hard not to.

"Damn election period," Emma hissed at the side, aiming the gun towards the door.  

The Minerva Estate was breached and unidentified men were detected rummaging within the massive palazzo. Ruckus could be heard from the outside of the walls, and the more it came, the more fear resonated between her fingertips.

"Emma!" Norman cried out from within the confines of his walk-in closet, drenched in his own fear and misgivings. "Let me out this instant!"

It was rare of him to question his lack of strength or physical means to pry a door open; this was one of those rare occurrences.

"No can do, Norman," she vocalized it with depth, making it known to him that there was no way she was letting him out for the sake of his safety. "Stay right there. It's for your own good."

In a hysterical voice, he rebutted, "And what about you? Why can you not hide here with me?"

She found the whole thing utterly ridiculous. "Are you insane? I'm your bodyguard, remember? It's my job to keep you safe!"

"And what will I do if you die trying to protect me?" His words were more of a plea than a question, knotting within the hollows of his stomach.

"I cannot lose you, Emma."

She hissed at the words, and begrudgingly closed her eyes before snapping her view at the walk-in closet.

"And I cannot lose you!" She almost screeched it — everything that she had been bottling inside for the sake of her sanity, eating away every bit of suppressed emotions that she carefully placed at the back of her heart. "I will not allow anything or anyone to bring you harm. I can’t let another person I care for die! This is my job —"

"Who cares about this job —"

"— and this is what I feel for you! Do I have to make it more obvious?" She gritted her teeth and sucked in what was left of her confidence and her time.

He couldn't see her face, but as she spoke, he could imagine her smiling, the one that was ever-so bright in his eyes and never wavered.

"I'm keeping you safe not only because it's my job, but also because... I love you."

The sounds of constricted breathing inside the closet kept crushing her from the inside.

"Emma, I —!"

It left him no room to speak when he heard the door to his room opened, and the succession of gunshots took place.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours.

Silence consumed him, yet successions of calling out her name proved no merit.

She never answered.

IV. 

"You are an idiot! An idiot, I tell you!"

Emma winced, not only for the pain inflicted on her by the graze of a bullet but also for the commotion caused by the man that had just barged through the door.

One look at him was enough of sedation for her; he was unscathed and safe.

She was about to lift herself up, gradually moving to position herself to sit on the bed, when his pair of arms reached out and enclasped her in an embrace.

His smelt of honeydew mixed with smoke, and she could feel the debris of wherever he had gotten himself into while she was asleep, against her cheek. Hearing his raspy shivered breathing against her ear struck every nerve on her body and the amount of tension on the tips of his fingers indicated that he was beyond worried for her dear life instead of his.

If they weren't surrounded by a mountain of eyes that would dare scrutinize this shared moment between then, she would've tackled him to the ground herself.

"I'm glad you're ok—"

"You idiot! Don't ever do that again!" His voice was demanding — pleading even, and seething through her skin. "I thought... I thought I lost you!"

His arms remained tightened around her, and she could only eye Ray with green eyes full of hesitancy. He only shrugged, but the way he cradled the smirk on his lips wasn't enough to deceive her.

She was merely her bodyguard.

She had no rights to him.

"Earlier," he voiced out, trembling, "You told me what you felt. What was I supposed to do inside that closet you locked me in, Emma?!"

The way he held her instigated that he no longer held any plans of letting her go.

"I wanted to keep you safe, si—"

"Do not call me 'sir'. I am simply Norman to you, and you're simply Emma to me."

His eyes are stained with unshed tears; only remorse for moments that he thought he'd never have with her again. "Will you let me hear it again?"

Emma seemed lost. "Hear what?"

His face softened with the memory. "What you told me earlier. Let me hear it once again. Let me know that it wasn't just a hallucination on my end."

That unexpected confession of hers from earlier earned her a bright, rosy blush all over her face.

"I-I have feelings for you."

Norman gave a low chuckle. "I guess that's another way of saying it. But I'm in love with you, Emma. From now on, stop being my bodyguard and simply be with me instead. Please, consider it." His smile came off sheepish. "I can't handle your constant disregard for your own safety for the sake of mine."

"B-but who's going to guard you?"

"I'll take over," Ray interjected, arms crossed over his chest. "It’s not as if I haven’t noticed the way you two have been acting for the last couple of months. Also, it's high time you stop being so reckless, Emma! You shouldn't have handled that situation all on your own. You could've called for back-up in his room!”

Emma nearly winced at Ray's reprimanding; he was right on the dot. She placed her sights on Norman and said, "But I'd still like to look after you. I've... grown to like it."

"Emma," he said her name a soft and gentle as he always had, and she knew that what would come next after her name were words meant to last a lifetime.

"I might not be as strong as you are with a gun, or as fast as you are when you run, but I'll look after you all my life, just as you'll look after mine. I’ll be your family. We’ll be a family."

Emma tried to suppress the grin on her face, but it failed spectacularly, and now she was facing him with immense joy, intertwining her fingers within his. His touch his warm and inviting, and it allowed her to further lament why she never allowed the idea of ever becoming his and him ever becoming hers.

"And we'll be equals?"

She searched his sights and he responded with the same amount of affection in his eyes; in his hold, she’d always be home.

"We were always equals."

[tinysatansierra-blog]

Markiplier manor is toxic here’s why

So Markiplier manor (Markipliers official discord server) has gotten a surplus of new people in it, this happened a few weeks ago the manor itself though has been up for awhile. originally a members only server it was eventually opened up for everyone and yes there are alot of genuinely good people and the mods are alright but unfortunately its becoming a toxic environment. 

SO EDIT i have discussed with the mods that being said ... im keeping this up as a reminder of we can do better we can help people who are struggling through something instead of shutting them down we can listen to people who are being oppressed and bravely point out new media that only worsens that oppression and stigmatization and not just the mods who i was kind of harsh towards but who are human everyone as a community can do better and this is a large community think of the work we can do just doing the basics like boycotting problematic content and helping those who cry out for it who need it (and noticing and shutting down manipulative/toxic behaviors) ... i dont know if im going to go back to the manor yet tho im going to let this sit give it a week yall can agree or disagree but know that if you try to be an ass your going to get shut down and your feelings are going to get hurt 

lets start with the basics “triggering topics” triggering topics can be anything in particular but it generally means a topic that relates to another persons trauma. Now while it is important to acknowledge a persons trigger words and try to keep the conversation respectable ive also noticed people use it to shut down people who come on freaking out because their dealing with a stressful situation/something traumatic just happened. This has happened to me personally and to a friend with me it was about being pro choice and having to in short make that actual choice. i was discussing this in the bathroom because i (like anyone else who comes in with baggage) did not know about any pro choice discords at that moment and was afraid of being stigmatized or going onto a discord that says its a safe space only for it to be filled with trolls. Mark manor is labeled as a safe space and many people come on there looking for support with me no one told me that the topic was triggering to them (which apparently it was because a friend of theirs had to make the choice not her herself think what you will) they just went to a mod early on when i just found the server as a member a friend (who i wont name) had gotten.... assaulted majority of her werent online and as someone who has been there and yes when she told me it did trigger my own trauma she needed moral support... the mod shut her down and deleted her comments and didnt give her a pointer to any other discord where she could discuss the topic openly and get moral support and be pointed to resources (it actually took me ten minutes to find and confirm a lgbtq therapy chat earlier this year for another individual discussing mental health) this was before i had gotten on for that day but i noticed those messages and i contacted her when she told me what was up yea it triggered my memories and its not fun but I FUCKING HELPED HER i made sure she went to the police to atleast file a statement (while the police dont always help it is good to have it on file) i even made her a plush and shipped it out to her and i would do it again and again because its not good to basically tell another person to shut up because it triggers others not without atleast trying to help them find another fucking place and making sure their actually ok and in a physical safe place  next is them claiming the manor is a “safe space” a safe space is by definition  “ a place or environment in which a person or category of people can feel confident that they will not be exposed to discrimination, criticism, harassment, or any other emotional or physical harm.” you would also think that the manor would be a safe space in the fact that marginalized and oppressed groups of people would be able to point out problematic content and have an open and free discussion about it and how it makes them uncomfortable. especially people of lgbtq community which alot of people in that chat are. yesterday (and this was what caused me to officially turn away from the server) in the patio (which is the members only chat) a Transgender individual pointed out the problematic content that is huniepop and how it fetishizes trans people as well as other minorities now this game i hear tries to make itself out as a “parody” .... its not its a sexual dating sim what would make it a parody is if sex noises were replaced with donkey sounds and the lewd pictures were replaced with poorly drawn doodles of tits or what have you its a game for incels marks hilarious when he plays it because he doesnt take the game seriously my issue isnt with him its with the developer. and if you did not know (which apparently people dont) the character poli is described as “a girl with a dick” the individual pointed this out because they felt like it dehumanizes them and paints them as nothing more than a fetish... and also apparently you can “choose” is poli is trans which kind of gives off the message that people can ignore trans peoples identity if it makes them uncomfortable... or if they dont sexualize them. and the muslim community is more or less in the same boat i come from the bible belt in usa im not muslim i am not trans but i do have a reason for standing with both and i will get to that in a bit so i was raised in a christian household in a christian setting like muslim women were basically told we cannot have sex and any sexual thought is sinful and we will be punished blah blah blah your even more closeted if your gay or bi because then you can face ... violence that being said to make the woman from the middle east hyper sexual like they did is kind of shitty even for a incel pleasing sex game. the individual who thought it would be ok to discuss this in the server because its labeled as a safe space and is generally “lgbtq” friendly thus believing he would have people agree and discuss ... was unceremoniously shut down by their peers and a mod was notified this person was not hostile maybe a bit frustrated because he wanted to talk about it and thought he would have this genuinely helpful conversation and people would listen and spread the word because to have problematic content be popular can isolate the oppressed group even more so WHEN NO ONE WANTS TO LISTEN TO THEM. if a group of marginalized people notice something problematic with content and you claim to be an ally of said group then you need to acknowledge and support what they say. they told him to go to twitter where he could potentially be bullied and written off ... because again its an INCEL PLEASING SEX GAME.(which means incels if you ever dealt with them will go and say anything to justify the game even using slurs and bullying) and to put the icing on the cake to change the topic they brought up robin ... i actually dont know who robin is as i dont really focus much on youtube creators personal stuff (it feels off for me to not personally know an individual but know their personal stuff without having actually talking to them its weird i know its a thing i have in my head) but apparently they recently came out as female and good for them im super proud of him and the patio members were discussing how they were proud of him as well for beginning to wear makeup and making themselves more feminine which would be great if they werent trying so hard to shut down the trans male who was trying to spread awareness on problematic stuff .... something he pointed out ... and something they gaslighted and said he was being hostile. really its almost as if they only care about trans issues when its someone famous discussing them  so what can we possibly do about huniepop being transphobic and the answer is very easy BOYCOTT IT like... yall were up in arms and boycotted jk rowling with snap and a turn do we only cancel the old and ugly? do we only cancel those who we dont think is funny? mark is not at fault he probably doesnt realize it and any comments made on the issue are talked down upon or drowned amongst other comments im not saying to cancel him im saying to cancel the game HARD. ignore the posts bitch at the dev demand refunds for your game. like consumers have infinitely more power than corps want to admit.  so you basically have a community that claims to be a safe space but only if you want to talk about sunshine and rainbows and its highly hypocritical of them to claim safety.  another thing is emotionally abusive/manipulative people hide in the server and the mods dont ever seem to acknowledge it. i cannot tell you how many times ive gotten into arguments with people who seems nice then turn into assholes then claim to be the victim when i or others go off on them. if you recognize my name you know i dont stand down when it comes to having a snarky or rude comment thrown at me if your going to be an ass were fighting i dont care how nice you seemed beforehand and you dont get to call a mod just because i actually stood up for myself or others sorry not sorry dont be a bitch nuff said.  now why would i care so much about problematic content? why would i care and stand by the transgender and muslim people (aside from being ya know... an actual ally and not someone who claims it for sympathy and brownie points?) its because i am autistic i am also able to function well on my own but there is a movie created by the famous singer sia it is called music it is a movie frowned upon by the autisitic community because infantizes and dehumanizes non verbal autistic people i am fortunate and unfortunate in not having to deal with much stigma unfortunate because i wasnt diagnosed until i was 17 alot of answers about my behavior could have been answered if i had been diagnosed earlier but considering society loves the quiet timid female and i functioned “well” for neurotypicals i was ignored. so yea you bet your ass im standing with them and raising awareness about huniepop and their was this one person when i mentioned this point i cant remember there name nor to do i give a shit about them because when i mentioned how autistic people ... how i was in the same boat with music by sia (again i advise that no one target the actress who was under contract target sia and please boycott her so she knows she cant get brownie points or money for a movie that stigmatizes who she claims she wants to “help” (*cough* profit off of *cough cough*) and only serves as a feel good movie for neurotypicals and ignorant people)  they said “i heard people who hated the movie i heard people who found it alright people are ALLOWED to like problematic content” ... and like ... does anyone else see the problem here? its not hard at all to boycott celebrities for making content  and im going to repeat this point  IF A GROUP OF MARGINALIZED, STIGMITIZED AND OPPRESSED PEOPLE CALL OUT SOMETHING FOR BEING PROBLEMATIC AND YOU CLAIM TO BE AN ALLY YOU FUCKING LISTEN TO THEM AND DONT SHUT THEM DOWN I DONT GIVE A SHIT YOU DONT HAVE A FUCKING EXCUSE. if you cant bring yourself to boycott a piece of media and replace it with the infinitely more suitable forms that supports the group you claim to be for your not an ally your a fucking hypocrite  and that is why i left markiplier manor i am still a youtube special ... thingy member and i will continue to be a member to support mark i want people to overall listen to those who speak up against a creator and a piece of media and listen to us all no matter how “good” something seems. .. also there is a video called listen it was created by nonverbal autistic people  and communicationFIRST a group that sia apparently communicated with for her movie... and then ignored  https://youtu.be/H7dca7U7GI8

[bau-rookie]

a close examination of Hotch and Foyet

in which Hotch’s greatest strength becomes his fatal flaw.

(a/n: super long essay, because i don’t know how else to consume media apparently lol. i’ve been sitting on this since “100″ because it is really sad and I just wanted to make sure I get all my thoughts in order. It is, to my discovery, Aaron Hotchner’s birthday today, so what better way to celebrate than by explaining all the ways the Foyet arc reads like a Greek tragedy and how Hotch is an amazingly well-written character. Sorry the only way I can think about paying tribute is by making myself sad. Oh there’s GIFs too! I made them and that’s neat :D)

I. Ingredients for a Greek tragedy.

Greek tragedies stem from classical plays, usually about the nobility, and is centered around their struggle against the Gods/Fate. The noble character has a hamartia, or a fatal flaw, usually their own arrogance, that brings upon their own downfall.

Technically, Criminal Minds would fall under the category of modern tragedy which focuses more on common people and everyday problems. (Though you could argue that being a BAU profiler isn’t your typical career, which makes our characters noble not by blood, but in spirit.)

In modern tragedy, there is less of an emphasis on the involvement of a higher power or Fate. Every bad thing that happens is of mankind’s own making, and this is something that CM discusses often, that evil isn’t necessarily brought upon by a higher power. It’s brought upon by ordinary people choosing to do terrible things. 

And Foyet is no different. He chose to kill all these people because he wanted to, but his fascination with Hotch and how his plans for him play out, entrap Hotch in a tragedy more Greek in nature.

What Foyet ultimately does is take Hotch’s greatest strength—his stoic resolve to serve justice—and uses it to hold him personally responsible for the death of his ex-wife, all while bending the hand of Fate to his will.

II. Hotch as a noble character.

In “Omnivore” we are introduced to the Reaper and the many ways he tries to exert control and power over his victims. After killing so many times loses its appeal, the Reaper decides to toy with detective Tom Shaunessey by offering him a deal—if you stop hunting me, I will stop hunting them. 

While we sympathize with Shaunessey simply trying to save lives, he does so with the knowledge that he is deliberately letting a serial killer go free. The fear and the guilt eats away at him until his death.

Hotch, on the other hand, quickly establishes himself to be a resolute pursuer of justice. We don’t get to make those decisions. We don’t let them get away with it. He holds onto the idea that they have no right to decide who lives or dies and that the victims that unsubs like the Reaper takes, are not something he, or anyone in his line of work, should feel responsible for. Their sole responsibility is to stop them. 

This isn’t to say that Hotch is unaffected by the increasing number of bodies. When he turns down the deal and the Reaper attacks the bus full of people, he is visibly shaken by this, so much so that we see Hotch cry for the first time. It takes Rossi delivering some tough love to remind him of what’s important.

Look, if you want to end up like Shaunessy, like Gideon, blaming yourself for everything, you go ahead. But that voice in your head—it’s not your conscience. It’s your ego. This isn’t about us, Aaron. It’s about the bad guys. That why we profile them. It’s their fault. We’re just guys doing a job. And when we stop doing it someone else will.

Hotch and the team in general, are faced with constant reminders that they are only human. They are fallible and cannot control every outcome. 

Not everyone can handle the stresses of being a profiler. Despite the horrors, the chance of failing, Hotch’s greatest strength is his stoic resolve. He’s become our beloved Unit Chief, the person on the team who takes on the most pressure, takes it upon himself to, at times, shield the rest of the team from the greater burdens. Personally, he’s arguably also the one who sacrificed the most to have this job, having lost his marriage.

Yet despite the horrors, despite the toll, Hotch shows up for the job anyway. Because he can’t imagine letting the bad guys get away with it.

III. Foyet as a representation of Fate

“The Eye of Providence. A symbol adopted by the U.S. Government with the words: Annuit Coeptis. Latin for “Providence or fate has favored our undertakings.” The Reaper seems to see himself as the personification of Fate.”  — Dr. Spencer Reid, “Omnivore”

From the beginning Foyet is shown to have a flair for theatrics. He leaves markings of the Eye of Providence, writes Fate in blood, calls himself the The Reaper. He has delusions of grandeur and posits himself as a higher power, one who gets to decide the course of other people’s lives. Everyone who has the misfortune of coming into contact with the Reaper, becomes another chess piece in his twisted game of Fate.

In another life, Hotch would never cross paths with Foyet. But because he did, Foyet acts as Fate, bringing down divine intervention in the form of driving Hotch into a tragedy of his own making.

Foyet acting as Fate is, paradoxically, also an argument against the actual existence of Fate. Everything that happens is a result of Foyet’s choices. It is him, a man, and not Fate who is choosing to kill, maim and be cruel.

When it came to Shaunessy, Foyet also emphasized pinning the blame of the death of innocent lives on the failure of law enforcement. It isn’t Fate when there’s something you could do to stop it. Shaunessy took the deal because he felt personally responsible for the possible loss of lives, an outcome that Foyet pretty much predicted, but one that doesn’t really affect him. Shaunessy agrees, he gets off on controlling the police. If he doesn’t, well, he can just keep on killing.

Foyet repeats the deal with Hotch. Offers him the deal, which Hotch refuses then immediately murders 7 people on the bus, setting a chain of cause and effect that makes it seems like Hotch’s actions led to this gruesome outcome. Again, placing the blame personally, on Hotch. And Hotch does blame himself, if momentarily.

Later, once Foyet escapes and corners Hotch in his own apartment, he makes it clear, you should have made a deal. Foyet acts as a vessel for Fate, a vehicle through which the consequences of Hotch’s actions are served. 

Foyet takes it a step further, when he puts Haley and Jack in witness protection. Left all the usual clues, to simply say your wife and child are in danger because you never took the deal. I hold all the cards here, your fate will come for you eventually.

Then Foyet disappears, and waits. Leaving Hotch filled with guilt over endangering his ex-wife and child, at the mercy of Foyet’s arbitration of Fate.

IV. Dominoes and fatal flaws

By the time “100″ rolls around, you’re so captivated by the action happening on screen that it’s easy to overlook how we got there. When I first watched this season, I had assumed that Foyet would be put on the back burner until the end of the season. His quicker-than-expected return seems to be happenstance, the writers behind-the-scenes doing some plot magic, but if you reexamine the events that lead up to “100″ we see Foyet’s greater machinations at play.

On the surface, the preceding episode “Outfoxed” seems to be a straight forward throwback to an earlier case. Faced with a family annihilator, Hotch and Emily visit the original Fox in prison, believing the current unsub might be a copycat. The episode seems to be about the mental toll being a profiler brings, with Emily contending with a sense of disgust at having to get intimate with a serial killer (post-”Lauren” this reads very differently, but I digress). Until right at the end, when they reveal the admirer letters were actually from Foyet, and the one being outfoxed is Hotch.

When the events of “100″ go down, we hear Foyet repeatedly blame Hotch for what happens with Haley, calls out what we see as a noble resolve to instead be Hotch’s fatal flaw. It was the same thing that led Haley to leave him, a failing borne from Hotch’s own ego, the part of him that insists that it be him who catches the bad guys, that it be him who risks it all. And Foyet uses that to his advantage, uses Hotch’s resolve to trick him into thinking that maybe he did cause all of this tragedy to happen.

One small detail that caught my attention, and set me on this Greek tragedy path, is when they try to track down Foyet in “100″, Garcia notes that he had set an internet search alert for the name “Peter Rhea.”

At this point, Foyet was ready to go after Haley and Jack. He already had pictures and surveillance of the U.S. Marshall in charge of them. He could’ve gone and killed them anytime, but that’s not how Foyet operates. He needs Hotch to feel personally responsible for things ending badly. He set the bait with the letters and simply had to wait for Hotch and the team to get close enough, to find Peter Rhea. This is, of course, incredibly risky. The team could catch him before Foyet gets anywhere close to Haley and Jack, but Foyet is sure of himself and is an extensive planner. He made sure he was always two steps ahead.

The irony is that Foyet would never have gone after Haley and Jack if Hotch and the team didn’t get close to tracking him down. There’s an added layer of Spencer figuring out Foyet’s alias using his genius anagram deciphering brain and Garcia’s expert tech analyst skills. Foyet managed to hurt Hotch because this specific BAU team are just too damn good at their jobs.

Foyet set up dominoes that only Aaron Hotchner could tip to fall. He does it so well it almost feels like Fate.

V. The inevitability of fate

“Men heap together the mistakes of their lives and create a monster called destiny.”  — John Hobbes, “Omnivore” closing quote.

A key aspect of Greek tragedy, is that Fate is often the result of divine intervention. They cause certain events to happen in certain ways so as to result in the most tragic outcome, usually death. It’s designed so that the audience is aware of what’s to come, and can see no other way for the story to end. The tragedy is supposed to feel inevitable.

One could argue, that there is no such thing as Fate. Life is simply a sequence of random happenstance, but our need to prescribe meaning to the chaos cobbles up stories of predetermined destinies. Especially when the idea of owning up to our mistakes and their consequences is too much.

All of this was the result of one sick man, George Foyet, choosing to be so cruel. And Hotch was simply a victim of circumstance because if Foyet wasn’t going after Hotch, he’d be going after someone else.

But what are the odds that Hotch’s first case as lead profiler happens to be The Boston Reaper? It was from that moment that Hotch’s fate was really sealed, he and Foyet would be forever intertwined. 

Hotch, being who he is, had inadvertently, made the Reaper personal. Even when his BAU team was sent away, his resolve wouldn’t let the Reaper simply disappear. It led him to build his profile, alone and over many years. Any other person might’ve just let the case go, but not Hotch.

So when Shaunessy died and the Reaper resurfaced, the only person in the world who knows enough about the Reaper to track him down, is Hotch. It’s what leads him to George Foyet, a victim at first glance, and Hotch comes to him unaware that he is promising The Reaper a new, worthy adversary, one a decade in the making. And everything, from his prison escape, to his attack on Hotch in his apartment, plays out exactly as Foyet expects it to, because as much as Hotch can read him, Foyet can read his behavior too.

At the end of 5x03, “Reckoner”, Rossi talks about what could have been when it comes to his childhood sweetheart to Hotch. About how he was too obsessed with his job, with the hunt that he gave up his chance of having a family. Rossi warns Hotch, don’t make my mistakes, kid.

You have a family. When all this is over, what are you gonna do to make sure you’re not a lonely guy wondering why you let the purest thing in your life get away?

My initial reaction was that they were setting up for Hotch to leave the BAU for good. The man who hung on to the job so much that it cost him his marriage, for the first time, actually considers leaving it all behind him. Because what Rossi says to him, driven by the circumstances that Foyet has created, is too profound for him to ignore. Foyet is too big of a thing to just move on from once its over.

Of course, my hopes of Hotch riding off into sunset to live a quieter life and watch his son grow up were optimistic at best. It’s a fantasy that purposely ignores the reality of who Hotch is, simply because I want the alternative to be possible. By the time Haley is buried, and Strauss offers Hotch retirement, we already know what his answer is going to be. Because everything we know about this man can only lead us to one conclusion.

Aaron Hotchner is the man who goes after the bad guys, the man who doesn’t let them get away with it. No matter how much I yell at my screen about how Hotch should just retire and spend all his time with Jack, deep down I knew that was never going to happen. Him losing Haley and still going back to work, seems like the only logical outcome. It’s almost feels inevitable.

VI. Catharsis

The point of tragedy is, according to Aristotle, to achieve catharsis. The purging of emotion through the telling of another person’s suffering. And that’s what “100″ does (unless your heart is made of stone and you somehow did not tear up even once).

Others would say that tragedy is meant to teach us a lesson. Meant to teach us the limits of our mortal abilities, to warn against hubris and arrogance; to remind us that they are higher powers and unseen forces beyond our understanding or control.

Criminal Minds doesn’t try to give us that lesson. Like in so many previous cases, the premise of a crime procedural is really a way of examining human nature. Why do people do bad things? More often than not, though our profilers can figure out how an unsub goes from doing thing A to thing B, they don’t have a satisfying answer for why. 

In Foyet’s case, he does all of this to Hotch because he can, because he enjoys making him suffer. It is evil, unnecessarily cruel. There is no sense to be found in what happened.

But “100″ does not deliver pure tragedy. It ended in the death of Haley but it also provided hope in the survival of Jack. Hotch finally rids the world of Foyet, though the way it went down, you can’t help but wonder about the price of justice, if the cost is too much for this one man to pay. But then the show reminds the audience, that this one man isn’t bearing that cost alone.

Aaron Hotchner has his team, his family, and with their support, a chance to recover from the tragedy that Foyet wrought.

I used to think that, despite being dead, George Foyet still won. He set out to hurt Hotch, and that’s exactly what he did. We’ve only seen Hotch openly cry twice at this point, and they both were directly caused by Foyet. And I suppose that’s still partly true. It’s hard to really tell with our stone-faced unit chief, but it’s hard to see how Foyet wouldn’t linger.

But that victory isn’t absolute. Foyet is gone, and he loses every time Jack gets to spend another day happy and alive. Foyet loses, every time Hotch shows up for the job and doesn’t let another unsub like him get away with it.

And maybe that’s the lesson. That though good doesn’t always triumph over evil, there is a way to move past tragedy. And that path lies not in solitude, in carrying the burden alone, but in the solace of our friends and family who can bear witness to all that we must face.

For all all my waxing poetic about how Hotch is a noble hero, this entire ordeal just shows how human he is. Yet despite his flaws and the tragedy, the core unassailable truth of who he is, the values he represents, remain unchanged.

He is Aaron Hotchner. The guy who hunts down guys like Foyet. The guy who doesn’t let the bad guys get away with it. The guy who, despite everything, managed to save his son. The guy who will keep his promise to the woman he was once married to, to teach their son that love is the most important thing. The guy who makes sure that his son knows that good people do exist.

Aaron Hotchner is the guy who, despite all the hurt, the pain and the loss, chooses to be the hero. And that’s the farthest thing from tragic.