#husband and i even rewatched it together last year

[folkorae]

Husband and i are two episodes from finishing the atla live action and all i am going to say is: the series is been very good and it is a very good adaptation so far.

[confused-pyramid]

Coming Up For Air | s1

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, death of a spouse, slow slow slow burn, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 1x01, 1x06, 1x07, 1x08, 1x15, 1x16, and 1x22

a/n: I started rewatching Criminal Minds from the beginning, and this is what came out of it heh. This is the first part in a little series I'm starting that follows Hotch and his childhood best friend in the BAU, beginning with the pilot. If all goes well, this will continue through the rest of the show, with ~1 part per season :) Title is from Coming up for air by Signals in Smoke

series masterlist

You haven't used your oven in over a year. It's not that you don't like cooking - because you do - you just haven't had the time. If you could, you would blame it on the extra hours you have had to put in after starting at the BAU, but that wouldn't be fair. Your transfer to the unit was the only thing that got you through his death at all.

After your husband was shot and killed in action while tailing a kingpin of one of the New York mobs, you couldn't bear to be in this house at all. You had gone back home to stay with your father for a couple of months, but eventually you had to get back to your real life. With a month remaining on your bureau-mandated leave, you returned to the home you had shared, before one of the lower-level mob soldiers misfired -

You didn't let yourself think about it for almost a year, but time heals all wounds. The poets were right. At least you hope they are.

Even back at home, you still couldn't bear to be there alone, other than when you were sleeping. That's why your peloton was gathering dust and your kitchen went untouched, until just now.

So, of course, the call from the office comes when you're making dinner. It takes five minutes to change into slacks and a button-up, and two more to toss your half-cooked vegetables in the trash, before driving down to headquarters.

A fourth girl has been taken in Seattle, and the local PD only now decided to invite your team. You know the BAU isn't well-liked by the other departments, but that doesn't mean you aren't effective.

When you enter the building, you rush through the I.D. check and jog over to the lecture hall, where Morgan and Reid are standing outside of a neighboring office like children waiting for their father to come and get them.

Shooting them both a thin-lipped smile, you step inside just as they finish discussing the unsub's pattern.

"They want you back in the saddle," Hotch says to the man beside him after greeting you with a nod.

Your eyes are so immediately drawn to Hotch that it takes you a moment to realize that you recognize the man standing next to him. You haven't seen him since the day you were assigned to the BAU, mostly because you were technically transferred to this unit because of his extended leave.

What was supposed to be one month became six, before Hotch informed you that your temporary placement would be permanent, if you were willing to stay in Virginia.

It was a no-brainer.

You turn your gaze to Jason Gideon as everyone in the room stares at him expectantly. He looks self-assured, but you're sure the confidence is a front. "They sure they want me?"

"The order came from the director," Hotch says simply.

"Well," Gideon states, "we'd better get started, then."

Hotch glances over at you as everyone files out of the room and you raise your eyebrows momentarily, a quick check-in between the two of you. He nods imperceptibly and it's enough for now. He didn't tell you Gideon was coming back today, but now isn't the time to give him hell for that.

***

Hotch is the last to board the plane, and he takes his usual seat beside you, this time in the aisle, a few rows away from the rest of the team.

"I was going to tell you," he says as soon as you close the case file in your hands. "The section chief wants me to evaluate him to see if he's ready to return to the team."

"That's a lot of pressure." They have to know that Gideon will be able to smell him out within the day. "You sure it won't get in the way?"

Hotch makes that face you hate, the one that says he knows you're deflecting. "I was going to tell you."

It doesn't take much for you to forgive him. It helps that you trust him completely, especially after everything he has done for you.

"Still," you smile, bumping his shoulder with yours, "it would have been nice to know about the sudden change to my job security."

You're mostly joking, but his frown is genuine. "Don't be silly. You'll always have a place on this team."

He takes everything so seriously these days. You suppose it's only fair, given the files he has to sort through on a daily basis. Picking which case deserves the team's attention the most.

But he wasn't always like this. You're the newest member of the team, but you've known Hotch longer than any of them.

You still remember the first time you met him, at eight years old. He was your first real friend at school, and you became inseparable easily. Your shared love for The Beatles and Law and Order made you fast friends, and as you grew older, your interests shifted in tandem.

Sometimes when you look at him, you still see that little boy who knew too much, but still managed to always make you laugh.

***

The team disperses soon after you land in Seattle. You've never had to come up with a profile in one afternoon, but it's also been a long time since your ticking clock to find the victim was just over a day.

When Gideon and Morgan head to the latest crime scene, you join Hotch and Reid to interview the victim's brother. The moment the three of you step into his house, his dog, Sandy, starts barking up a storm.

"It's what we call the Reid effect," Hotch smiles, walking over to pet her. "Happens with children, too."

You can't help but smile as well, peering over at Spencer, who looks about as uncomfortable as he usually does.

It doesn't escape your notice that the brother looks looser now. Hotch has a way with people that traces back to his childhood self. He was always wiser than his years, something you chalk up to his need to grow up faster than he should have, but his paternal instinct comes from practically raising his brother, Sean, after his dad's untimely death.

The casual interview reveals enough about the victimology that when you head back to the station, Gideon calls the officers in to explain the profile.

You can feel Morgan's agitation wafting off of him as he watches Gideon state his assumptions with startling clarity and confidence. Hotch, on the other hand, looks contemplative, which reminds you that he's been tasked with the returning agent's evaluation.

He can see your furtive glances in his direction, even as you try to remain secretive about your interest in his demeanor. He presses his lips together to keep from smiling as he thinks about how lucky you are that you went into profiling and not covert operations.

You have never been especially good at keeping your own thoughts or intentions to yourself around him. While some would call that a weakness in this field, he sees it as your greatest strength, because it clearly shows how much he can trust you.

As a kid, you were outspoken about every idea you had, and you used your strength and willpower to look out for him when he needed it. It took him a long time to admit how much he used to need you (maybe too long), but you always knew.

***

Gideon's profile leads to the arrest of Richard Slessman and Tim Vogel, and Elle manages to save the last girl while she's still alive. You catch your breath for the first time in 36 hours as you stand with Hotch in the shipyard, watching the paramedics and local police clear the scene.

"What are you going to tell them?" you ask under your breath as his gaze turns to Gideon, who is getting patched up in the back of an ambulance.

He had goaded the unsub into shooting him instead of the girl, but your mind can't seem to focus on the silver lining.

Hotch sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, as though to hold his coat closed against the breeze. "They want to know if he's fit to be a field agent again."

Normally, you would give him shit for using that tactic. Avoiding a question by providing more information. This time, you know he's just thinking out loud.

"What would you say?" Hotch asks as Morgan walks over and sits on a barrel next to you.

"Gideon saved her life," Derek shrugs, his eyes flashing to you for a moment. "That's good enough for me."

Hotch seems to ponder this for a second. "Do you know what Gideon means in Hebrew?"

"Mighty warrior," Reid interjects, popping in to the conversation with the subtlety of a tiger.

You're confused at first, but then you remember the baby names book that was sitting in Hotch's living room the last time you visited him. "You cannot let Haley name your child Gideon."

Hotch laughs suddenly, and you can tell you surprised it out of him. Your chest warms comfortably as he smiles, his cheeks flushing softly in the chill air.

He looks over at Gideon again, deciding in real time that he's going to recommend him to come back to the team. He would never admit it to you or anyone, but he knows that if your position on the team was in jeopardy from Gideon's return, he wouldn't have been able to complete his evaluation fairly.

It was Hotch who recommended you for the open position after he was promoted into Gideon's role as unit chief. You deserved the spot, of course, but Jeff's death had still been fresh and he knew better than most how much the job can take one's mind off of the other aspects of their life.

While Hotch watches Gideon, you watch him. You can tell from the look on his face that it's a done deal. Jason's coming back to the team. It will be a change of pace for everyone, but that doesn't mean it won't be good.

Having joined the team right after the bombing, you saw exactly how Gideon changed after getting the profile wrong, but so did everyone else. What people didn't talk about was how Aaron changed too. Rising into the rank. Growing to fill the hole that Gideon left in the unit, but somehow also shrinking into himself at the same time, because that's what this job does to you...it takes and it takes and it takes until you have nothing left to give.

But sometimes that's what you need: to give something up so you know you aren't losing everything.

***

Gideon settles into the team faster than you anticipated, and soon it's almost like he never left. Even though you can see the vein on Morgan's neck pulsate every time he hijacks a profile, you can't help but appreciate the support he gives to Spencer and Elle, both of whom are becoming incredible profilers before your very eyes.

That's also why you find yourself a little worried when Hotch tells you that Reid failed his weapons recertification.

"I thought you said you were helping him practice," you say as the two of you walk past security and toward the bullpen.

"I was," he emphasizes, before correcting himself, "I did. I'm sure he was just nervous."

You nod, pushing open the doors and spotting Reid sitting quietly at his desk. "He can test again in two weeks. He'll be fine."

When Morgan hands him a whistle with a quippy joke, you sigh into your coffee tumbler, but don't bother stepping in. He's being childish, but if you try to intervene, it'll just embarrass Spencer more.

"Okay," JJ starts, "Franklin Park, Des Plaines. Yesterday afternoon."

She dives into the case, but you have already read the file (and you know Reid has too) so you scoot your chair over to his desk and lean forward so only he can hear you. "I failed my first weapons certification at the bureau too."

Spencer looks up immediately, his face colored with surprise. "Really? You're one of the best shots I know."

You smile with a shrug. "The tests aren't real life. When it comes down to it, I get the job done. Just like you will."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, but then his lips curve up into a small smile. You both turn your attention back to the front just as JJ finishes explaining the case details.

"Wheels up in 30."

The flight to Illinois is filled with heated discussions about the bureau's fruitless history of trying to profile long distance serial killers.

"L. D. S. K.s are so rare, we haven't been able to build a standard profile," Hotch explains as the jet reaches cruising altitude.

Gideon chimes in immediately. "Here's what we do know: they're always male, and they frequently have law enforcement or military experience, and they always contact the police or the media."

Elle looks confused and you echo her sentiment as you lean your hip against her armrest. "To take credit or relive the experience?"

"Both," he says simply. "All serial killers attempt to relive the ecstasy they get from their killings. Some use souvenirs taken from the victims, and others return to the dump site to interact with the body. Both modes require contact with the victim, contact which, by definition, long distance serial killers don't have."

"Our unsub hasn't contacted anybody," you point out. "What do we do until then?"

"Sometimes it's not what the unsub does that reveals the profile. Sometimes it is what they do not do."

Reid glances up from the file in his lap, and you notice that he looks at Gideon first. "He doesn't kill his victims."

"Underkill's a unique signature," Hotch ponders, standing up and walking along the cabin. He only paces when he's deep in thought. "The question is, does he shoot them in the stomach intentionally just to wound them, or is he just aiming at the biggest part of the target?"

The team is silent as you take in this new analysis. You're not surprised when Gideon is the first to speak up. "Specifically, does the unsub lack the skill to make the head shot, or simply the will to take it?"

When the plane lands, you check out the last crime scene before spending the day talking to the local police and the victims' surgeons at the nearby hospital.

That night, when you check into your hotel room, the click of the door lock closing behind you is a welcome relief from the tension of the day. Many of the Des Plaines police officers were unhappy with the team's initial assessment, because it heavily implied that the unsub may have been a law enforcement official himself.

You wash your face and change into a tee shirt and a comfortable pair of sweatpants, before climbing into bed and opening the case file back up again. The rest of the team has also gone to their own rooms, but you can't help but wish you had another set of eyes looking at this with you.

As though reading your mind, a knock thuds on your door and you stand up quickly, in case it's an emergency. When you check the peephole, you see Hotch standing way too close to the door.

Unlocking it slowly so you don't startle him, you open the door to find him in still in a full suit.

"Is there a problem?" you ask immediately. "Do I need to get dressed?"

He shakes his head, glancing around the hallway so quickly that you almost miss it. "I was just looking over the profile and I wanted your opinion on some thoughts I had."

The corner of your mouth twitches and you open the door further to let him in. He doesn't miss a beat as he takes a seat on the armchair in front of your bed and flips open his notepad.

"I was thinking about the bullet we recovered on the scene," he says slowly, like he's thinking through every word he's saying.

You nod, sitting on top of the bed covers and crossing your legs under you. "Garcia called after you left the station. The bullet was a .223 fired from the M-4 variant of the M-16."

"That means he's military," Hotch says, reaching his hand out without taking his eyes off his notepad. You close the case file you had laid out and hand it to him. "M-4 is a shorter barrel than the M-16, so it's less accurate and a lot harder to fire, especially at these distances."

"This level of skill indicates specialized training. That means..."

"It means the underkill was on purpose," Hotch says, finishing your thought. "What is he trying to prove?"

You purse your lips as he sits up in the chair to give himself room to remove his jacket. His pinstriped button-down is slightly crinkled under his arms, but you can tell it was freshly ironed this morning.

"Maybe he's in a fast-paced occupation," you suggest, "which would fit with the profile that he has a big ego."

"Then we're back to law enforcement."

You lean forward, your eyes following his hands as they fidget with his cuffs and undo the buttons, one at a time. You've always been attune to every one of his movements, but maybe it's just because you've spent so much time around him.

"Hotch," you whisper-yell, snagging his attention from your case file, which he tosses back to you.

He hums and you take that as an invitation to continue speaking. "Be careful tomorrow, when you're giving the profile."

One of his eyebrows lifts and you can tell he's holding back a smile. "It's just in front of the Des Planes PD. You'll be there too."

"It's not that," you sigh, shaking your head. "Everything about this profile points to the shooter being either current or former law enforcement. I'd be surprised if they didn't take it personally."

His eyes flit up to yours, his brow furrowing. "I can handle myself."

"I'm sure you can, Hotch," you say with a breathy laugh. "Doesn't mean I don't still look out for you."

He pauses and it's like his whole body takes a beat. "I know."

***

You're talking to Dr. Landman with Derek, Elle, and Jason the next day when a gunshot rings out through the hospital. Last you checked, Hotch and Reid were in the E.R., but you haven't heard from them since you arrived.

"It's Phillip Dowd," a nurse informs you when you meet with local police outside the closed E.R. door.

After a quick call to Penelope, the profile becomes clear.

"He joined the army at 18," Gideon recites, pacing around the room in a vaguely reminiscent manner, "went to ranger school, did 6 years before being dishonorably discharged in '95 for conduct unbecoming. Obviously lied about it, joined the Arlington P. D."

"You were right," the police captain sighs. "He was a cop."

His hopeless tone is disheartening, and you find yourself upset for not the first time that your team was correct in their assessment.

After the initial commotion, the E.R. is silent except for a few muffled voices. You can't hear what's being said, but the lack of gunshots or loud noises is all that's keeping you from falling apart.

"It'll be okay," you hear whispered from next to you. You turn to see Derek, who presses his shoulder to yours briefly. "Hotch will know what to do."

You know there's nothing you can do from out here, especially with how precarious the situation inside is, but doing nothing has never been your strong suit.

"I know," you tell him, echoing your thoughts. "I just wish we could help."

Derek cocks his head at the S.W.A.T. team readying themselves to break the door down. "We can help. We need to give Hotch and the kid time to wear Dowd down."

His tone is light and you feel yourself laugh, ignoring the thickness that swells in your throat. "That shouldn't take long."

Derek bumps your arm again in a silent extension of comfort, and you mouth a silent thank you.

You can feel Gideon losing patience as he reasons with the captain, but he eventually buys them three minutes to do what they can. When the final five second countdown starts, you unconsciously hold your breath, only to be released when Hotch's voice calls through the door.

"Hold your fire!"

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you squeeze Derek's arm before rushing forward. Hotch stumbles past you with a murmur that sounds obscurely like "help Reid", so you push your way through the throng of civilians moving to escape until you see him.

"Spencer," you gasp, crouching down to help him into a standing position. You would never admit it to him, but ever since he joined the team, he's been something of a little brother to you. "What happened in here? Are you okay?"

"You were right," he says with a surprising steadiness to his voice. "I got the job done."

You don't ask what he means, knowing that Hotch will fill you in when the time is right. Instead, you decide not to fight the vaguely maternal urge rising within you and you pull him into a tight hug. It's more of a quick squeeze, because you don't want to push past his physical boundaries, but he doesn't complain, instead looking over at you with a small smile that's more than enough for now.

***

You find Hotch where the departed ambulance that patched Reid up was parked. All of the hustle and bustle of the paramedics and local police officers and bureau agents comes to a standstill as you walk over to where he's sitting on the edge of the curb.

"I heard what happened," you say as a way to announce your presence. "Can I sit?"

He nods without looking up, and you crouch down next to him, settling on the curb with your shoulder pressed to his. You can feel the tension in his muscles as he grips the sidewalk, his palms digging into the concrete like he could break through if he pressed hard enough. "Reid.."

"..is fine," you whisper, nudging him so he looks up to where Spencer and Jason are chattering excitedly. "He's more proud than anything."

He doesn't say anything, so you bump your knee against his. "I guess all of the physical training classes you made him take at the academy paid off."

He knows you know exactly what is running through his mind, so he doesn't bother trying to articulate it. Instead, he lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, and looks over at you. "Do you remember that self-defense class we took before law school?"

You're not expecting this question, and you almost laugh. "You mean the singular self-defense class you dragged me to before dawn in the summer before we started at Georgetown?"

He levels you with a look that you would think is serious if you didn't know him so well. "You don't regret it, though."

"No," you smile, your eyes blurring with emotion. That's where you met Jeff. "I don't."

He was your instructor that day. He only taught that class twice a week, between lectures at Georgetown Law, and it doesn't escape your mind that you so easily could've missed him. One day earlier or later and you never would've met him, never would've been his girlfriend, or his wife, or his widow.

Hotch remembers meeting him that day too. He had to literally come to your apartment and drag you out of bed to make the seven AM class that he had signed you both up for, and you had been grumpy the whole drive over.

There wasn't much, other than coffee, that could get you alert before eight in the morning, but the moment you walked into that gym, it was like you were wide awake. He spent the rest of the class trying not to look as the man he would later come to know as Agent Adler kept coming over to give you extra pointers, and he pretended that the coil of ice slithering up his spine was there just because he was watching out for you.

When he found out the two of you had started dating, he continued to pretend the nausea rising in his stomach was from the day-old sandwich he had had for lunch, because it wasn't fair. Especially since he was with Haley, and he was happier than he had ever been, even if the new law school course load was making it harder to see her as often as he wanted to.

But eventually, your happiness with him overpowered every protective urge he felt, and he realized that even if there was a feeling in his gut that he didn't recognize when he saw you two together, Jeff was perfectly suited for you.

***

"He's so gorgeous!" JJ coos, her hands twitching at her sides like she's trying not to reach forward and take the baby out of Haley's hands.

She brought Jack, their newborn son, in to work today to show the team, and Hotch looks prouder than you've ever seen him. "Thank you."

"If you find baldness and wrinkles attractive."

"Reid!" you chastise, swatting at him. He dodges your hands without even looking.

"Look at his widdy biddy nose," Garcia squeals, before turning to Morgan with an inquisitive look. "Don't you want one of these?"

He just laughs as he rests his chin on her shoulder. "Mm, I'll stick to practicing."

"Congratulations," Elle chimes in before returning to Gideon's side to continue discussing the new case that came in. She's always on top of things, and it's something you respect greatly about her.

"Thanks," Hotch smiles, his gaze returning to Jack after looking away for only a moment. Jack is like a siren, the way each of his little sounds or movements holds Hotch's attention so steadily. He's the most focused of all of you, but you've still never seen him this enamored. "She's amazing. I'm a little terrified."

"You're glowing," you tell Haley as the rest of the team heads to the briefing room. "How is it that you had a baby just a few weeks ago?"

"You're sweet," she smiles, before tilting her head forward. "Do you want to hold him? You're practically his aunt."

You gasp quietly, so as not to wake little Jack. "That is a title I will carry proudly. And yes, I would love to hold him."

Haley hands him to you slowly, and you make sure to support his head carefully as you cup your arms around him. He looks so much like Haley that you almost make a joke about Hotch's genes not even putting up a fight, but that nose...that nose has Hotch written all over it.

When you glance back to where the team left from, you see him turn back at the same moment and offer you an encouraging smile.

"How are you holding up?" you ask Haley, barely able to focus on your surroundings with a newborn in your arms. Maybe there is something to the siren thing.

"Jack's been incredible. He barely cries, it's kind of a godsend...but I do wish Aaron could take time off with me."

You give her what you hope is your most comforting smile. "We've been super swamped with cases here, but in all my years working with him, I have never seen him so eager to leave every night."

She laughs, a pretty sound you remember from your youth. "I know. I feel so unfair when I complain about these things, but I appreciate you humoring me."

"Not at all," you assure her, glancing back down at Jack, who is mid-yawn. "I understand completely. If I had one of these little guys, I wouldn't be able to think about anything else."

You hear her breath catch and you open your mouth to reassure her that it's fine, but she is already reaching forward to squeeze your arm. "You and Jeff would have made amazing parents."

When you both joined the bureau, you were so busy with work that kids weren't on your mind at all. It wasn't until you got settled at the BAU, and Jeff found his place with organized crime, that you even started talking about it.

You want kids, don't you?

Only a few. Maybe four or five. Yeah, five's a good number.

"I should get back to the team," you say softly, blinking away the memories.

Haley sees your face and she smiles sadly as she takes Jack back from your arms. "I'll see you soon. Tell him I'm heading home, will you?"

You nod and watch the elevator doors close in front of her, before joining the team.

***

"I can't believe you went bar hopping without me," Derek shakes his head, feigning offense as he leans so far back in his chair you're afraid it may tip over.

"I think hopping is kind of a strong word," you say, glancing over at Elle, who is perched on the edge of your desk. "We only had one bar in mind, but it closed earlier than we thought, so we went somewhere else after."

"This was a much needed girl's night," Elle grins, patting Morgan on the shoulder as he continues to pout. "We'll invite you next time."

"How was your weekend, Dr. Reid?" you ask, turning around to face him.

Spencer doesn't look up from his crossword.

You say his name again, recalling the attention of Derek and Elle, who had started talking about some trip they've been planning for what feels like months.

When he still doesn't look up, you pick up one of the BAU-provided pens on your desk and chuck it at him, just hard enough to bridge the gap between your desks, but not so hard that it hurts on impact.

"Ow!" Spencer yelps anyway, glancing up with a look that's somewhere between confusion and indignation. He picks the pen up off the ground and turns it over to see the tiny insignia on the cap. "This is FBI property."

"How was your weekend, Spencer?" you ask again, ignoring him. "Didn't you say you had some fun stuff planned?"

"I did," he lights up, instantly forgetting about the pen incident. "My local movie theater was showing reruns of the first season of the original Star Trek, so I got to experience it on the big screen."

Derek laughs and walks back over to his desk next to yours. "We have very different definitions of fun weekend plans, kid."

You're about to tell Derek that no one wants to hear what his idea of fun is when the office door upstairs flies open and Hotch and Gideon walk out.

Reid hands you back your pen, and Derek sits up in his chair so fast it's almost comical.

"We have another case," Hotch announces before coming to a stop.

Gideon takes it away. "Our unsub is male, intelligent, organized and methodical. He has the confidence of a man who's been killing for a long time."

"Only victim removed from the scene is Freddy Condore indicating some tie to him."

Hotch turns to you. "You, Elle, and Reid stay on Condore's background with Garcia. The rest of us will head to the crime scene."

You nod before standing up. "Let's go, kids."

Penelope's lair is just as eccentric as you remember it.

"Take a seat," she instructs before logging into her computer and opening up her criminal history database. "Just don't get too comfortable."

Your lips quirk up as Elle flashes her eyes at you, and you nod your head at the empty chair on Garcia's opposite side. Reid is already sitting on a desk chair by the back, spinning in aimless circles as he rattles off a list of markers to search for.

After a minute, Penelope stops typing. "Credit card receipts show Freddy loved crab cakes, preferred light beer and used to spend his Thursday nights with a woman in Fells Point."

You pick up a stress toy shaped like a tomato from one of her shelves and bounce it in your palm, just for something to occupy your hands.

"What about his associates?" Elle asks, grabbing a pen with a pom-pom on the end and poking it at Spencer's knee.

"Most of them have criminal records."

Elle glances up. "That much I guessed."

Penelope frowns, and looks pointedly at the pen in her hand.

"She's holding the tomato!" Elle complains, throwing a finger at you.

You lift up your hands in surrender, dropping the stress toy. "Thanks a lot, Greenaway."

"Anyway," Reid interrupts, to everyone's surprise, "One of these guys is particularly interesting. Pull up James Baker's rap sheet."

Penelope turns back to her computer as Spencer reads over her shoulder. "He spent time in juvenile detention for attempted murder, was released at age 21, and then subsequently arrested for, and this is in order, armed robbery, petty theft, burglary, narcotics sales, and rapе."

"What's so interesting about that?"

"When it comes to psychological behavior, anything is possible but this criminal history? It just isn't probable."

Elle nods in agreement. "I mean, as a minor, he began with attempted murder and then devolved into pettier crimes?"

"It's the criminal history of a fractured schizophrenic with multiple personality disorder," you sigh. "It just does not make sense."

***

Hotch calls you into his office when he and Morgan return from Baker's address. You can tell something is off before you even step through the door, so you shut it behind you and take a seat in front of his desk.

"What's going on?" you ask, your eyes glancing over his face to see if his micro-expressions can give you a hint. "What's wrong?"

He looks up with a sigh, his hands clasped on his desk. "Baker's place was an artificial dwelling, and the weapon we recovered on the scene was standard law enforcement issue."

It takes you a few seconds to comprehend what he's trying to say - a few seconds longer than usual - and your breath stutters in your throat. "He was undercover?"

"That's what it looks like," Hotch agrees. "I wanted to inform you before telling the rest of the team."

You nod, pressing your eyes closed for a beat.

He missed his pick-up, Mrs. Adler.

We'll call you as soon as we know more.

The memories start to flood back in and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter before opening them. Hotch looks blurry for a moment until your eyes adjust to the light again.

"Does organized crime know where he is?" you ask, desperately needing to fill the silence.

He looks down at the case file. "We assume so, but it's not like they would tell us. They weren't too happy that we were taking on this case at all, and now we know why."

"Maybe they'll talk to me," you suggest, even though the idea of talking to Josh Cramer makes you taste bile. You haven't seen him since a month after the funeral. It's not for his lack of trying, you just couldn't stomach looking at any of them after what happened. One missed call turned to ten and eventually they stopped trying.

There's a piercing pain behind your eyes and you squeeze them shut for a momentary relief. "It was only supposed to be three months."

Hotch's brow furrows and you don't look up at him just yet. You can already picture his expression, the anguish you know he feels for you whenever you bring up Jeff.

"It was a three month operation," you continue, knowing you won't be able to discuss it later if you stop talking now. "That's all we signed up for. Three months away from me and then he was on leave for the rest of the year, so that we could focus on us again. Maybe even start a family."

Your voice cracks on the last word and you tilt your head down to hide your face. He hates it when you cry, but that's not fair. He knows how important it is to get your emotions out, so they don't pile up inside of you, but if he had his way, you would never have had a reason to cry in the first place.

"I hadn't seen him in over a month when he was..."

He can hear the tightness in your voice and he resists the overwhelming urge to reach his hand out and take yours. You're sitting a foot back from the desk, and it's not he could reach you from here anyway, but his fingers still ache.

"I don't want to blame them, Aaron," you sigh. Your words sound watery, and he pulls a handkerchief out of his inside jacket pocket and hands it to you. He's almost surprised when you accept the gesture, pressing the cloth square under your eyes to catch the tears leaking out. You were so self-reliant as a kid, never wanting or needing anyone else's help. "I don't want to blame them, but I do. I can't help it, I just do."

Someone else would have consoled you. They would have assured you that feeling this way was natural, and that no one could blame you for feeling what you do, but that isn't who you two are. "Jeff wouldn't."

His name is like a dagger to your heart. You practically wince as Hotch digs further. "That team was his family, just like we are yours. He wouldn't blame them, not for this. Not for something he chose."

Something he chose. This is why you don't let yourself remember that day. This is why you kept that day - the day you got that horrible call - locked up inside your brain, where not even you could reach it. Because if you let yourself think about it and remember, then you will remember that it wasn't really Cramer or his unit or the bureau that you blamed. It was him.

For choosing to miss his pick-up. For choosing to go undercover. For choosing to join organized crime.

You take a deep breath and re-adjust yourself in the uncomfortable chair Hotch refuses to replace, even though it's literally splitting at the seams. Something about your tax dollars hard at work. "What are you going to do about Baker?"

He lets you change the subject. "We have to contact Agent Cramer before-

"What the hell is wrong with you people?"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Sorry?" Hotch frowns, both of you standing up immediately.

Cramer doesn't take his eyes off Hotch as he seethes with anger. "I told you, this is my case! You ran my agent through IBIS?"

"Because I wanted to know who he worked for and now that I do, I'd like to talk to him."

"You don't have him?"

You can hear your heartbeat in your skull.

Hotch looks at you then, and finally Cramer notices your presence. "Y/N...it's been a while."

Your lips press into a thin line. "Almost two years." The anger you've been trying to avoid seeps into your voice against your will and you sigh, returning to the investigation. "How long has Baker been missing?"

"About 12 hours."

"You think he ran?" you ask, watching Cramer closely as his jaw ticks.

"No, Jimmy's too experienced to run without contact."

He realizes his misstep immediately and his shoulders fall. To his credit, he doesn't break eye contact, even as his expression softens. "That's not what I meant. All I'm saying is that I think someone's keeping Jimmy from calling in."

You can feel Aaron looking at you, but you avoid his line of sight. If you're going to have to interact with organized crime, you might as well make yourself useful. "We all want the same thing, Cramer: to get Baker back to his family."

You wait outside as he explains the situation in more detail to Hotch and Gideon, and you're surprised when he's the first to leave. "Can we talk?"

Hotch comes out behind him and raises his eyebrow for a fraction of a second, a check-in. Swallowing thickly, you nod your head and follow him down the hall to the top of the stairs.

"I'm sorry I haven't reached out recently," he says as soon as you're out of earshot of the others. "You know Jeff was one of our top guys."

Your eyes shut at his name, as though someone clapped their hands too close to your face. It's almost laughable how sure you were that you were past your grief. You passed the bureau's psych evaluation after your six month leave with flying colors (because your team practically wrote the answers yourselves), and as each new day passed and you weren't so debilitated by just the thought of him, you thought it meant you were fine. Because time heals all wounds. At least it's supposed to.

"I know," you whisper scratchily, before clearing your throat. "I know that. And it's okay. We've all been busy." You look down at the bustling bullpen where his agents are interacting with your team. "Clearly."

Then you remember you're job here in the first place. "We really are just trying to help. It wouldn't hurt to keep us involved."

Cramer sighs and you know he won't refuse. "We'll loop you in."

***

James Baker is found and Vincent Perotta gets taken into custody, but you can still hear the end of the interrogation ringing in your ears.

"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent.

When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers.

And some people grow up to catch them."

You can't pinpoint exactly what you're feeling, but if you had to guess, it would be sorrow. Sorrow for that little boy who got dealt the worst hand you can imagine, and still turned into the best version of who he could've been.

Hotch can't get the interrogation out of his mind either. He had grabbed his briefcase and headed out to the elevators as soon as Perotta was taken away, in the hopes of avoiding everybody. He's about to let out his breath when a hand reaches between the doors and sends them flying open again.

Normally your appearance is a welcome sight, but tonight, he's had enough talking. Perotta took everything he had to give, and then some, and he doesn't know if he has the strength to go through the proceedings again with you.

"I just want to get home," he says as you stand next to him without a word and face the doors. To my family.

You don't say anything as the little fluorescent floor number ticks down - has it always been this slow - and he feels his nerves tighten with agitation. You're never silent, especially not about something like this.

Just before the elevator reaches the second floor, you reach forward and pull the emergency stop button. He whispers your name, half irritated half relieved, and you step in front of him, focusing your eyes on his. It's a classic profiler technique, both to mentally establish trust and to physically block him from the keypad.

"You're a great father, Aaron."

His mind flashes back 25 years, but he squeezes the hand in his pocket into a fist to keep himself from succumbing to the memories. "I'm trying."

He knows what you're doing, and he would normally be open to a healthy exchange between two adults, but tonight he just can't. It's too fresh.

You seem to understand at least a fraction of what he's trying to convey. Your next words are gentle. "That already makes you a thousand times better than him."

That almost makes him smile. "You can say his name, you know."

You shrug, looking at him with a glint in your eye. "Honestly, I don't think I can. I'm afraid I'll turn into a pile of ash, with the fury your father instills in me."

That's what gets him. He coughs out a laugh that echoes around the elevator, and you return to his side, giving him a moment to breathe on his own.

This time, when his mind spirals back to his childhood, he's not as equipped to block it. The memories come in flashes, a blackening bruise on his abdomen, a split lip explained away through roughhousing in the backyard, the thin scars on his hands and elbows as he finally started to fight back. He would've taken it all forever if he had to, if it meant that he could keep the horrors away from the people he loved. "I really should go."

"Yeah." You push the emergency stop back into place and the elevator hits the ground floor in no time. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hotch."

He steps out, half expecting you to follow him. Instead, the doors close and he's by himself again, and he suddenly can't remember why he wanted to be alone in the first place.

***

When the Keystone Killer is finally caught after 18 years of inactivity, he finds himself expecting for there to be some sort of celebration, either in the form of a commendation, or a much-needed break. Instead, what he gets is a mountain of paperwork.

He usually doesn't mind the paperwork that comes after a long case. It's a helpful way for him to sort through his thoughts on what went down, and to learn from mistakes that were made along the way, whether in the profile or in the capture of the unsub.

Lately, paperwork has felt like an added torture to the long hours he already spends at work. It's not that he wasn't excited about going home before, but ever since Jack was born, he hasn't been able to get out of the office fast enough. But being the unit chief of the BAU has its responsibilities, and this is one of them.

He's drowning in consultation files and case reports when you knock on his door, two coffees in hand.

"Thought that was you," he says, finishing the sentence he was writing.

You frown, setting one steaming cup down on his desk. He hasn't even looked up yet. "How'd you know? Or do you just say that to everyone who walks in here?"

His lip twitches and he puts his pen down. "I could smell the coffee. It always smells the same when you make it."

"Oh?" You weren't aware you had a method. "And how's that?"

"Burnt."

You take the lid off your cup and chuck it at him with surprising accuracy. It would have thwacked him in the forehead if he hadn't swatted it aside with his stupid catlike reflexes.

"What are you working on?" you ask after taking a scalding sip of perfectly brewed coffee.

He looks up for a beat before diving back into the file he was skimming. "Paperwork for the Keystone Killer case."

"But we just finished that," you point out before reaching forward and taking the file out from under his nose.

He huffs. "I was...looking at that."

"This is a report on what happened a couple of hours ago," you say, ignoring his remark. "You can easily do this tomorrow, or later this week."

"It's fresh in my mind now. I don't want to forget any details."

You shrug in a motion that says 'fair enough'. "Or, you could actually go home before midnight for once."

You slide another file off the top of his pile and flip it open, reading over the notes Hotch has scribbled in the margins. He's so meticulous about his job that you almost forget he was promoted just a little over a year ago. He became unit chief at the same time that you joined the team, so you didn't get to see him in his early days, but looking at him now, you almost can't imagine it. It's like he's built for this, for taking responsibility and leading people with kindness and respect.

"Elle said something on the plane today," he says suddenly, jerking you from your thoughts.

You close the file and look up as he runs a hand over his head, pushing his thick hair back just for it to bounce forward again. "She said that she's scared she's going to look up and see that her life has passed her by while she was chasing monsters."

Something cold runs through your veins and you sit up straighter in your chair. "And what did you say?"

"I told her the truth."

You smile in an effort to keep your eyes from shining. "What, that we're all doomed?"

He looks at you candidly. "That this job will eat you up if you let it." Your smile falls and he continues. "You just can't let it."

"I'm sure Elle loved hearing that."

He shrugs. "She was surprisingly receptive."

That gets a laugh out of you, even if the good humor doesn't last long. "I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?"

"This job, while also being a husband, and a father." You sigh, and you can almost feel the weight of the air as it leaves your body. "When I go home, I don't have to be anything to anyone. Most of the time it feels awful, but sometimes, after an especially bad case, I'm almost relieved when I can go home and just check out."

You aren't talking about him anymore, and he can tell. He doesn't mind, if this is what it will take for you to work through your emotions.

"We were gonna start trying for a baby."

That surprises him. Not that you wanted to be a mother - he knows that - but that he didn't know you were already thinking about it, especially because of how you grew up. You don't talk about it often, but after losing your mother to a drunk driver when you were ten, you almost transformed into her, becoming the emotional support for your family when there was no one else to fill that role.

You press your lips into a thin line and take a deep breath, your coffee cold and forgotten on the desk in front of you. "We had been talking about it for years, but with the paths our careers were taking, there just wasn't enough time before then." Your eyes look far away, and you don't seem to notice that your lips have unconsciously curved up into a reminiscent smile. "Jeff wanted five kids. Five. God, can you imagine?"

He can, but he doesn't say anything, because he knows you aren't looking for a response. Just for someone to listen.

"I'm an only child," you say with a laugh. "I don't even know what it's like to have one sibling, let alone four." But Jeff had come from a huge family, and he had wanted you to experience that. He loved how full his home always felt growing up, never without someone to talk to. Now you won't ever get to experience that. "I guess I just wish sometimes that we had tried earlier."

"You'll have it someday," Hotch says simply, practically reading your mind. "If that's what you want, you'll have it."

"I waited so long," you whisper, closing your eyes for a long moment. "I was just so afraid that I wouldn't do it right, because I didn't have my mother anymore to help me."

"You would've been a great mother," he assures you, his voice confident. "One day, you will be."

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you clear your throat to keep the tears at bay. "How do you know?"

"I just know."

***

When you push through the doors to the bullpen the next morning, you are greeted by a familiar head of blonde hair.

"Sean?"

He turns around slowly, clearly recognizing your voice, and pulls his lips up into a smile that you return. "Hey, Y/N, how's it going?"

You weren't close to him as a kid, mostly because of the age gap between him and Hotch. You had tried to make more of an effort after graduating college, but Sean was fierce in his convictions, and there were a lot of things he didn't understand about his childhood that you certainly weren't going to explain to him now.

"Good, good," you say, leading him away from the throng of staring women. You shoot them a look that makes them disperse. "You here for your brother? He's upstairs."

He nods, glancing up at the closed office door. You start to lead him to the stairwell when he stops in his tracks and turns to you. "What mood's he in?"

"Why?" you ask, your brow furrowing. "You got bad news? Nothing I need to worry about, I hope."

Sean shakes his head, glancing up at the closed door again. "Nothing like that. I'll just go up."

You let him walk up on his own, knowing he doesn't want you getting involved in whatever he's thinking about. Before you have a moment to catch your breath, the three women return to your side.

"That's Hotch's brother?" Penelope asks, standing so close you can feel her breath on your ear.

"Maybe Hotch is adopted."

"What do you mean?" you ask, unconsciously glancing up the stairs. "They're honestly pretty similar." You're only half joking. They don't look anything alike, but that Hotchner brand of righteousness runs deep.

JJ frowns. "I don't see it."

"Yeah, he looks...like that," Penelope murmurs, before looking at you. "Did you know him when you were younger? Was he hot then too?"

You choke on your own spit. "He was nine years old when I left for college, so...no."

Her eyes widen and she lifts her hands in surrender.

"Ooh, here he comes."

You look up to see Sean storming down the stairs, Hotch hot on his heels.

"Sean, listen to me."

He turns so fast, you're afraid they're going to crash into each other. "Don't profile me, Aaron."

Sean stomps out of the bullpen while Hotch watches him leave, and you can't get the striking feeling of deja vu out of your head. Two boys, 15 years younger than they are now, standing in the same positions, with the same looks on their faces.

You imagine that you and Hotch probably act the same way around each other as when you first met, at eight years old.

The memory comes easily, even with more than two decades of time standing in the way. The little boy with dark hair who had sat next to you on the school bus, just because there were no other empty seats available that day.

You hadn't said anything for the first few stops, just watched him out of the corner of your eye as he nodded his head unconsciously to the music coming out of his large headphones. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you tapped on his shoulder. "What are you listening to?"

He had taken his headphones off quickly, as though caught in the act. "What?"

You repeated your question before leveling him with a pointed stare that meant 'there is a correct answer'. You were a feisty kid, and you weren't always the best at making first impressions, so his steady response impressed you. "Beatles. Revolver album."

"I love that one!" you had gushed, leaning in closer without a warning to press your ear to one of the speakers on his headphones. "Is this Yellow Submarine?"

He had nodded, the confusion in his eyes slowly transforming into delight. "You know their stuff?"

"Of course. My favorite's Eleanor Rigby."

He had frowned then. "That one's too sad."

You weren't surprised by his opinion. You had yet to find a boy your age who could appreciate serious music, but liking The Beatles was a start, at least.

"I'm Y/N," you had said, extending your hand like you were starting a business meeting.

He shook your hand furtively. "Aaron."

"Maybe I'll see you around."

The school bus had stopped at your street then, and you had gotten up without another word to this boy, who would one day become your best friend in the world.

Luckily, the next day, Aaron chose to sit next to you again, this time with a second pair of headphones to attach to his compact cassette deck. Two days turned to three, and before long, you had a new friend.

***

"I can't imagine what two weeks away from this place is gonna feel like," you sigh, packing some essentials into your bag and snapping it shut. "I might actually miss you guys."

"Not me," Morgan grins, before pressing a kiss to your cheek as he zips around you. "Two weeks of pure heaven with nothing but young, beautiful adults looking to make vacation memories."

"Your friend's resort better be as nice as you say it is," Elle says sternly as she wiggles her finger at Derek, who is busy inviting Reid to join their vacation.

"Thanks, but I'm going home," he says quickly, without looking at any of you. "Have a good one, guys."

"I'll head out too," you announce, grabbing your things and following him to the elevators. "Wait up, Spence."

He doesn't seem to hear you, but you slip through the doors just before they close. "You okay?"

"Huh?" he says, finally looking up. "Oh, yeah. I'm just not looking forward to the Nevada heat."

You can tell he's lying, but you don't want to press him right before the long break. "You can always call me if you need anything. Seriously."

"Yeah," he nods. "I know."

You wave goodbye to him in the parking lot, and you're back in the silence of your home by the end of the hour.

The rest of your day is spent lazing around the house, and you're asleep when you hear a knock at your door. After Jeff's death, you started keeping your gun in your nightstand, more out of a general sense of security than any specific acute fear, but its proximity during late night calls has given you the peace of mind you needed to finally sleep through the night.

Lifting it from the drawer, you hold it behind your back as you tiptoe to your front door and look through the peephole. When you don't see anyone, you carefully pull the door open, only to find a small packet sitting on your welcome mat with your name scrawled on the top.

After bringing it inside the house and locking the door again, you pry open the seal and extract a large piece of paper covered in a series of numbers and dots.

That's when the phone rings.

***

"How's it going?" you ask Reid and Morgan as you enter the conference room where all of the Fisher King's clues have been laid out. Neither of them have taken their eyes off the paper you brought in since you tacked it up on the board.

As expected, Reid doesn't look up. "The answer to what book we need has to be in here."

"Yeah," Derek sighs, glancing over at you, "but we sure as hell can't see it."

"Yet."

You look at the numbers again, hoping that your short walk to the coffee station and back would have been enough to unlock something new in your brain. Nothing. "The answer has to be based on specific details of each person's clue." A small sound turns your attention to the couch, where Elle is lying on her side. "Is Elle asleep?"

"I'm awake!" she starts, sitting up lethargically.

At the outburst, Hotch walks into the room and points at her bags. "I'm sending you home. You need to get some rest."

"No-"

"We won't do anything without you, I promise."

"Elle, seriously, we're not any closer than we were."

She nods, her lack of sleep seeming to dawn on her as she yawns again.

"Anderson," Hotch calls out, before you stop him. "What is it?"

"I can take her home," you suggest, looking over your shoulder as she lugs her bags down the hall with bleary eyes. He looks like he wants to protest, so you speak up before he has the chance. "She barely knows Anderson. I'll make sure she's settled, and then you can send him to watch her house, so I can come back here."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he sighs, his eyes still trained on Elle's silhouette lingering by the elevator. "We may need you here."

You cock your head at Reid and Morgan, who have been sitting in the same positions for so long, you're surprised their necks haven't locked. "It's like they said. We haven't made any progress in over an hour. I'm not helping here."

He still looks unsure, but you know it's just worry. He'll always worry about you. "Okay, go. Call me in an hour to check-in."

You dip your head in a nod and jog through the bullpen to catch Elle as she's heading out.

"So you're my bodyguard, huh?"

You laugh, pressing the button for the ground floor. "Something like that."

"Good," Elle says, trying and failing to stifle a yawn, "you're much more fun than Anderson."

"Prettier, too."

The car ride to her house starts off silent, but eventually you break your internal promise to let her come to you. "How are you feeling after last night?"

She just shrugs. "It was more annoying than anything. I'm just glad I got to enjoy at least some of my vacation."

"I heard there was blood all over your room," you point out lightly, trying to broach the subject in a delicate manner. "That can't have been fun to wake up to."

"It was all on the outside. That's part of why they weren't able to hold me. That, and Hotch's lawyer chops."

You raise an eyebrow, glancing over at her as you pull over to the sidewalk. "His lawyer chops?" You know he used to be a prosecutor before joining the bureau, but you never got to see his skills in action.

"Yeah," Elle gushes, her face brightening considerably, "you should have seen the way he walked in there. Those beat cops had no idea what hit 'em. He was in full prosecutor mode, went all rainmaker on them until they released me."

You can imagine it. If any of you were in trouble, he wouldn't let anything get between him and your safety. "I wish I could've seen that."

When you put the car in park, you help Elle with her bags and walk her up to her door, where she insists that she'll be fine on her own.

"I promised I would wait with you until another agent could come and relieve me," you emphasize, instinctively scanning the vicinity around her home as she walks inside and drops her things on the floor.

"In about thirty seconds, I'll be passed out on this couch right here," she points at the window seat behind her, "so you'll just be watching me sleep for an hour."

You open your mouth to argue but she cuts you off. "Y/N, I'll be fine."

If there's one word to describe Elle, it's stubborn, so you let her shut the door behind her and you walk back to your car. Even if she won't let you sit with her inside, you still can't bring yourself to start the ignition, so you lean your seat back halfway and close your eyes, just for a few moments.

You haven't gotten much sleep either, and you're about to doze off when you hear a loud thud from outside the car. Jerking up, you undo the clasp of your holster and push open the car door. The world is silent, except for the rustling of leaves in the wind, but you start making your way up the drive, just to be sure. There's another thud, quieter this time, and you reach for your sidearm as you ascend her porch steps. Then comes a gunshot.

You start running.

[olive-enthusiast]

Defending Aziraphale cause I KNOW y’all are gonna come for him:

1. a lot of people say that him deciding to go back to heaven is a character regression and doesn’t make sense- but it does! aziraphale has 6000+ years of repressed trauma from doing what heaven tells him! and even if he does seem to be taking steps forward (shades of gray), he never fully takes that big leap away from heaven (very LIGHT shades of gray). you can’t just recover from it!

2. also, we never actually see him get over the demons bad angels good thing. crowley is the only exception to this rule, in his eyes. he still views the Fall as a bad thing, which is why he wants them to be angels together!

3. people are also saying that it’s crazy ineffable bureaucracy got together so fast without too much internal conflict, unlike the (now divorced) husbands. but it makes sense because GABRIEL AND BEELZEBUB RAN THE SYSTEM. AND CROWLEY WAS CLEARLY A HIGH RANKING ANGEL WHO FELL VERY EARLY ON, MAKING HIM VERY DISILLUSIONED WITH THE SYSTEM. aziraphale mever got that chance- he was a lower ranking angel that was beaten down by this system, and as such doesn’t see that it’s the system that’s corrupt, not just the angels within. he still believes that heaven is a GOOD place filled with BAD angels, because he has literally never had the chance to learn otherwise.

and this is why it narratively makes perfect sense for him to become the supreme archangel- he’ll finally be able to see that the idea of heaven is corrupt because he’ll be in charge of it!

4. aziracrow have also been shown to be a direct parallel to nina and maggie. in the last episode, nina says that they’re not ready for a relationship because she just left her incredibly toxic and abusive partner. aziraphale and nina are in very similar situations! he literally just left heaven, which was incredibly toxic and abusive, and might not be ready for a relationship with crowley yet! however, unlike nina, he doesn’t fully believe that his previous situation was toxic, so he goes back- because he hasn’t seen enough to understand!

5. he clearly wants to FIX the system, not just be a part of it, because he is intrinsically such a selfless being. he still hasn’t learned to put what he actually wants before what he thinks everybody needs yet, because, again, he doesn’t understand how heaven works!

in conclusion i love aziraphale and i haven’t slept because i’ve been thinking about the finale so lmk if this doesn’t make sense but i will not be changing my thoughts about aziraphale

ALSO KEEP REWATCHING GOOD OMENS WE NEED SEASON 3

[affixjoy]

I did it folks, I watched the one with the whales!

What a delightful movie, I had so much fun watching it. I don’t think it’s as high quality as Wrath of Khan, but its still so well done. There’s so much humor and hijinks! And WHALES!

Some things I loved:

💫 Spock trying to swear to fit in. Hilarious, and they used it the exact perfect amount. Any more would have been too much.

💫 Bones in the hospital. Perfectly grumpy, perfectly smart.

💫 Scotty was just great the whole movie. He’s always fun, but I like that he had a little more to do and got to be so funny. I bet it was a blast to film.

💫 The entire scene where Chekov is asking for the nuclear vessels had my husband and I dying of laugher. Possibly the hardest I’ve ever laughed at TOS stuff.

💫 Old married Spirk touring San Francisco together and visiting the whales. It wasn’t quitttttte the amount of love and heartbreak I wanted, but we did get some of it with Spock not calling him Jim.

💫 And of course, gotta include some Spones/McSpirk feelings! Bones translating Jim to Spock felt very THEM and very funny.

💫 I love that we got a sweet father/son moment with Sarek and Spock. After everything, it’s just so nice that Sarek could finally be proud of Spock. I wish Amanda had been there to see it, I’m always fascinated by her and her relationship with her family.

💫 I just love this crew, and I continue to be so pleased to see them all together having adventures and growing older. The more I watch the more I realize how rare and precious it is that we get to see them age. We get to watch them get older and dealing with it, growing in their careers and friendships. We get to watch how their bodies naturally change. And like, maybe that’s a weird thing to fixate on, but for the last few years I’ve been thinking a lot about how everyone on tv has to be young and beautiful. Even as they get older, they try to look as young as possible. But I feel like here I’m getting to see their wrinkles and their gray hair and their weight gain. They look like people instead of an idealized version of people. And I’m not saying they AREN’T beautiful, just that they look real and interesting and like they’ve lived. I’m sure smarter people than I have written articles and books about this. It’s just so nice to see and makes me happy!

Overall, extremely fun movie. Seems like it will be a great rewatch. If I have to rank them so far it goes:

Wrath of Khan

Voyage Home

Search For Spock (very close to Voyage home but not quite as good!)

And way down at the bottom is TMP.

[shebeafancyflapjack]

Right! Here we go. Ghosts Finale Positivity Post as I rewatch.

- Robin being an excited little kid for Christmas is the cutest thing, even if it's Halloween.

- Alison's face when she's showing the ghosts Mia before she has to put the mask on. Also the fact one of her first priorities after giving birth was for Mike to call them and reassure her they're OK.

- "Since Alison come, it been my favorite time of year." I love you Robin, I love you, I love you.

- Nana Fanny is surprisingly sweet? I never imagined her being that maternal before, she never spoke of her children.

- "Robin want more." 🥺 HE IS SO BABY.

- "Think of the child, Alison!" Thomas just kills it with that line. 😂

- Julian caring about putting Robin in the Christmas mood. Chess Husbands are the Joey and Chandler of this show for me.

- Mike was fully about to reveal the truth to Betty but his wife said Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss. It's just so on point for them.

- "She doesn't want to see Fanny on camera." Has someone compiled all these jokes yet?

- Alison's little thumbs up to Julian, they are just chaos buddies.

- Mike being a terrible liar is hilarious.

- Mike warning the ghosts to leave! Like he has no real connection to these guys except through Alison but doesn't want any of them in danger. 🥺

- "Betty's bought the pastor!" "Pasta? That not very Christmassy." Robin I swear to god.

- That close in shot of Julian is the funniest scene in the episode. Also Robin "I think we should go-" chess husbands stick together.

- Kitty remembering Humphrey! She's always seemed to be the one who is most concerned for him. <3

- This. Just this.

- Thomas, normally the most self-obsessed git, being the one to jump into the line of fire to rescue Humphrey is also <3 <3

- This expression on Alison broke my heart and had me going "babygirl oh babygirl!" at my TV.

- But then.... 😁🥰😁

- CHESS HUSBANDS SHOULDER TOUCH

- As chaotic as the scene is, Kitty wanting to sing Mia a lullaby is cute and shows she's trying to move past her jealousy...I think.

- Fanny calling Alison her daughter. I'm not OK.

- This had me howling. 😂

- Mike saying "thanks guys." There's as many Mike / ghosts moments as Alison ones here.

- Julian being so happy Robin feels Christmassy!

- This could be an oil painting. My girl. 😭

- Best use of a song and lyrics timed with what's happening.

- THE PORTRAITS! Such a tiny detail but tells you Alison had her input into how the hotel was set up. She made it for her and Mike but she left it for THEM!

- The last we hear from Alison is her laughter. All these years. All these years and they are loving and LAUGHING together.

- Plague Ghosts always had to be the ones to bow us out. Again, while she wasn't super close to them, I like to think Alison suggested the pit as a good place for the spa, for them. 🥰

.....Okay that was a little better on second viewing ngl.

(For anyone wondering why I don't mention any of the PatCap moments, sorry I'm just not a big fan of baby scenes and babytalk etc.)

[philtstone]

24. Showing up injured at their friend/mentor’s house: for shawn? :)

[emerges from writing this fic bloody and beaten and on the verge of collapse] ill explore karen vicks character in an overly complicated post-episode missing scene fic or die trying! set immediately post "right turn or left for dead". i genuinely dont know if im happy with this but i also cant figure out how to fix it. actually, it would have probably been easier to write if i was willing to rewatch the episodes its based on. which i am not, because i am a sensitive little soul. so i winged it. i think there are like 10 different ideas that crop up and theyre all equally fascinating as character threads but i have no idea if i tied them together in an even remotely coherent way. also, WOULD she say that??? i had to call my brother twice to ask. this is what yall get for sending me actually interesting prompts, huh

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Henry’s voice said on the phone. “I’ll send Shawn over with them on his way out. He's going in your direction, anyway.”

In her short tenure as the junior detective to Henry Spencer’s lieutenant, Karen Vick observed two things:

First, that he was a far more clever strategist than most people gave him credit for. Despite the ongoing wreckage of his impending divorce and a kid who was slipping through his fingers as everyone looked on, Karen didn’t agree with the other junior detectives’ impression of him as a smash-the-door-down old school hard ass with thinning hair and a worst attitude. The man played four dimensional chess right out of a bonafide Star Trek episode. When he really wanted something done, Henry Spencer could bullshit and bluff and battle plan with the pros, and half the time you’d get too caught up in the blustering misdirect to realize his game was intricately thought out three steps in advance.

It was how they caught the Shorttown Killer, and also how they got that idiot Trembley at the mayor’s office to finally replace their coffee maker. Karen went home to her then-boyfriend, now-husband, and, right before bed, pulled out an old school workbook and took notes.

The second thing was that Henry Spencer loved his son. 

Not a lot has changed since then, Karen thinks, staring down the weirdness that she now faces through her open front door.

“… Oh — Mr. Spencer,” Karen says, because it’s rude not to greet your employees when they show up at your home outside of work hours, and are also your old friend-slash-colleague’s kid. “Hello. Thanks for — bringing these over.”

“Dad said it was urgent,” Shawn says.

Urgent isn’t quite how Karen would describe it, but hearing through the grapevine that your department might be facing an audit sometime in the next quarter does light a fire under the proverbial ass. Karen would rather bend a few rules and make sure the last year’s i’s and t’s are dotted and crossed right than leave her detectives vulnerable to the whims of a mayoral stooge. 

In general, Karen prides herself on caring about the people under her command just enough that it inspires genuine friendship and loyalty. The just is important. Care needs tempering – it’s important to pull back, press pause, keep certain lines uncrossed. It’s especially important if you want to be successful as a woman in an authority position where lives are often on the line. 

What she’s saying is that she tries to make it none of her business what her employees get up to in their spare time. She really genuinely does. She’s shut O’Hara down gently midway through the twelfth sweetly-frazzled attempt to overshare about her dating life (or her efforts to befriend her next-door neighbor, or the endearing personality quirks of her last cat – rest in peace, Triscuit, you will be missed –) enough times to be well-versed in the art of I Won’t Ask, You Won’t Tell, But You’ll Probably Know I Care Anyway.

An invaluable rapport to maintain. In any situation, Karen thinks, but especially when you’re a person who regularly hires and works alongside Shawn Spencer.

She’s not sure whether what she’s looking at right now makes her want to second guess or double down on her usual policy. 

“Special delivery,” Shawn adds, like everything is super normal.

Karen narrows her eyes. She glances behind them into the quiet residential street.

“Shawn,” she says.

“Yes, Chief?”

“You didn’t drive here, did you?”

“Ha,” he says, half rolling his eyes to accompany a weird aborted grin. “No. Even I don’t think riding a motorcycle with a concussion is a good idea. What if someone who wasn’t me got hurt? That’s — that would be no good, then you’d have to arrest me. Wouldn’t that be a huge bummer for the whole team, Chief? Gus would cry. And my dad wouldn’t let me take his truck.”

Karen stares at him. Shawn stares at the ground.

“I got a cab,” he says.

“And you are … taking another cab – home?”

Shawn looks quite suddenly like he’s going to be sick.

“Sure,” he says. 

Shawn looks terrible. Bruised face, bags under his eyes, and a weird frenetic energy twitching in his limbs that doesn’t pair well with his general air of exhaustion. He’s holding his shoulders stiffly and can barely meet her eye. His t-shirt and sweatpants are rumpled, like he slept in them, even though it’s too early in the evening for Henry to have woken him up to send him here, and when he thrusts the promised files out into the air toward her, abrupt and, admittedly, Shawn-like, he only just hides the awkward wince that immediately overtakes his left side.

The last couple days have been a bit of a whirlwind, so Karen can’t say she necessarily blames herself for not looking more closely. 

Even so.

Slowly, Karen reaches forward and divests him of the case files. They slip a little bit, because Karen can’t seem to stop peering shrewdly at Shawn’s face while she does it, and on instinct he reaches forward to stop the stack from toppling. 

It does help, but the autopilot he moves on makes it harder to mask what is to Karen’s eyes a very obvious flinch. 

“Alright,” is all he says. “Well, good to see you. Time to head back to the old hay stack.”

Like a needle in a haystack and time to hit the hay, Karen supplies needlessly in her own head. Aloud, she says, in many ways against her better judgment, 

“Mr. Spencer, are you okay?”

Shawn sways on the spot for a second, one fist clenched, mouth half open. For a strange moment, Karen gets the impression that he’s trying really hard not to say the wrong thing.

“... As rain,” he finally manages, then nods to himself like he achieved some great feat. “Okay. Well –”

“Did something happen to your shoulder?” 

“What? No!” Shawn’s eyes flutter closed and he shakes his head, “I’m – fine, Chief. It’s not – I mean, I’m – normal, fine. Fine in a normal way.”

“That’s not something an individual who’s fine in a normal way would say,” Karen says. 

“Uh, is it not! It is. I would know, because I am that individual. It’s – I was – there’s just mild – pfft … stab wound – or something, who would even …”

Is Shawn broken? is the unhelpful thought that pops into Karen’s head. She’s never heard an attempt to bullshit collapse so quickly into pathetic nothingness before – certainly not from Shawn.

Perhaps even more than his father, the kid’s a pro.

And then the rest of the sentence catches up with her.

“A mild stab wound?”

Oh boy. She watches Shawn’s eyes widen with the panic that proceeds an unquestionable blunder.

“Chief –” 

“In.”

“Chief, I really, really don’t think –”

“Inside my house. Now.”

He’s certainly uncoordinated enough that he doesn’t put up much of a fight. Karen herds him  through the door as firmly as possible and leads them in a beeline past Richard’s office toward the bathroom, ignoring the reedy stream of consciousness that spills out of Shawn’s mouth as they go.

“Oh, hey, woah, it’s been like forever since I was in here. Did you redecorate? I swear that lamp wasn’t there the last time we visited. It could be the tacos I had earlier, but I’m sensing a distinct neo-modern Chinese aesthetic going on here, Chief, which calls to mind the merits of cultural appreciation in suburban home decor – hey, is that your husband’s office? Can I meet him? Is he home? That man is a true enigma to us, Chief, and it’s leading me to believe that he must possess all the facial and personality qualities of the pop superstar Mr. Pitbull Worldwide –”

Richard is home, actually, and Karen needs to alert him to the fact that they have an unexpected house guest, so, ignoring Shawn completely, she calls out,

“Honey? Shawn Spencer’s here for a couple minutes about a work thing! I’ll go up to put Iris to bed in a second!” in the finely-honed There Are Many Layers Of Complicated To This secret married tone that Richard should probably be able to catch through the closed office door. 

“Alright,” floats out her husband’s pleasant voice. “Tell him hi from me.”

Perfect. There’s about a ninety-three percent chance he understood.

They make it to the bathroom, only stumbling slightly. Shawn says,

“-- or The Rock. Does your husband look like Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson? I really think that would make so many things about the Chief Vick family make sense –”

Karen closes the bathroom door with a snap and crosses her arms.

“Sit,” she says, in a voice that even he knows brooks no argument.

Shawn does. He looks – well, beyond uncomfortable, and more than a little bit miserable, and probably closer to completely dissociating than either of them are prepared for. Karen wonders belatedly if he's gotten any sleep at all in the last forty-eight hours.

“I’m assuming you have not been to the hospital.”

He gives her a baleful look, like he really expected better of her. She only just stops herself from rolling her eyes in response. And there’s that huge goose egg on his forehead, too. What, exactly, he got up to in between Carlton’s wedding reception and oh-eight-hundred hours this morning Karen has no idea, but he looks like someone’s run him through the world’s most aggressive industrial tumble dry cycle and spat him mercilessly back out. 

Or maybe over with a truck.

Sending a silent prayer to the universe that Iris never hit puberty and remains a sweet-tempered six-year-old forever, Karen gets to business.

“Well, I had to at least ask. Shawn. Does it need stitches?” He mumbles the answer the first time, and then looks beyond startled when she grabs him under the chin so he’ll look her in the eye. “Listen. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. But you’re going to tell me the truth. Got it?”

Shawn grimaces so hard at her words it’s almost a flinch. 

“No,” he says finally, clearly enough that she hears him. Karen raises an eyebrow. “No, I don’t think it needs stitches,” he articulates, but doesn’t meet her eye.

“Hm. Alright. I have gauze and tape in the medicine cabinet. Can I … is it alright if I pull up the sleeve of your t-shirt?”

Released from her hold, he groans and presses his face into one palm. “Chief –”

“I don’t really know what you expected, coming here! It’s not like I’m any less of a hardass than your father.”

“Yeah, but I can bitch back at my dad,” Shawn says, sounding like he’s finally realizing the magnitude of his mistake. Karen smiles grimly.

“Tough. Now pull your shirt up while I get the first aid kit.”

While Shawn proceeds to wrestle awkwardly with his t-shirt in a muted shuffle against the toilet seat, Karen rummages efficiently through the cabinet and eyes him through the bathroom mirror. He seems oddly reluctant to expose himself. In fact, in a stark contrast to his usual insistence on making his presence and contributions as obtrusively obvious as possible, Shawn seems intent on shrinking into the aforementioned Asian-flavored floral wallpaper (which does need an update, unfortunately) with all the equanimity of an anxious chameleon. Karen feels her eyebrows crease. Taking the first aid kit in hand, she brings it over and deposits it into his arms, ignoring his small startle.

“How about you hold that,” Karen says. Shawn does, against his chest, like a pillow. She walks around him and surveys the damage, antiseptic gauze in hand.

He wasn’t lying about the severity, at least. It’s a shallow thing, already mostly congealed, and has only stained his shirt in a small smattering spot of crusty brown blood.

Karen swabs at it with the alcohol using light careful fingers.

“Ow, ow ow ah –”

“Don’t be such a baby. It’s hardly a life-threatening injury.”

“Super insightful, Chief,” Shawn snaps, as genuinely sarcastic as he’s probably ever been with her, “never thought of that myself. Totally the reason why I just had to go to the hospital.”

He doesn’t pull away, but she can feel the tension radiating through his back. She blinks, one eyebrow crawling up her forehead. 

Alright then. So that’s how it’s going to be. 

“I’m assuming your father doesn’t know about this,” she says.

Shawn grunts, noncommittal. Huh. Maybe he does know, then, and has just been disallowed from doing anything about it right now.

She tosses the first used antiseptic wipe into the trash.

Goddamn four dimensional chess.

She supposes she’s never been bad at the game. She may as well work her way backwards through the moves: Guster, the most obvious node in Shawn’s turn-to-in-a-crisis-system, would never voluntarily abandon his friend in a time of need, so Karen assumes that whatever this is has either already included his support or not been made known to Gus at all yet. Henry’s likely exhausted his own usefulness in the situation, and Detective O’Hara is …

Karen has to work very hard for her hands not to pause in a way that gives away her hard-earned mental sleuthing. A bad feeling wholly unrelated to her ill-advised hangover of the day before begins to bloom at the back of her gut.

“You have really small hands, Chief.”

Shawn’s voice is notably more subdued than before.

“Do I?” 

“They’re like … little kangaroo hands. Like the mom kangaroo from Whinnie the Pooh.”

“Didn’t you know?” Karen says, not unkindly. “They’re given out at the hospital when all first-time moms leave with their baby.”

He lets out a tired little laugh, more boyish than he probably means it to be, and in spite of herself Karen feels her heart clench. She isn’t blind. In all her last seven years as the leader of their chaotic little precinct, she has never seen Juliet O’Hara look as ill as she did yesterday morning. The usually sweet-faced young woman had all the pallor of a Victorian ghost, and stood so far away from Shawn in any given room that to an unassuming observer he might have had the plague.

There are only a handful of things, Karen thinks, that could have invited that particular evolution in their dynamic. She rips the surgical tape from its canister a little bit more harshly than is strictly necessary and fights the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

“So,” she says conversationally, laying the tape down in neat, gentle little strips, trying not to pinch the wound too tightly. “Any fun plans for the evening?”

Shawn sniffs. She can see him gripping his hands together over his knee from where she stands above him.

“Um, yeah, uh –” he clears his throat, “you know me, Chief. We’re working our way through a Robert Guillame marathon, which means some good old fashioned Benson, running commentary on the quality of that child acting, naturally.”

“Naturally.” 

“Then Gus and I were gonna hit up the new, the new chili cheese joint up by Hermosa, you know – they’re doing sliders –”

“Chili cheese sliders?” Karen hums, contemplative.

“Buy ‘em by the pound,” Shawn agrees. “Then I was thinking of getting a tattoo, maybe a belly button piercing, I’ve been really – really needing a change – would you let Iris get one, if she asked?”

“A tattoo?” Karen clarifies, cutting off the next piece of tape. The skin around the cut is warm to her touch but Shawn’s arms have goosepimpled. The hair at the back of his head sticks up unstyled, like he slept weirdly and couldn’t be bothered to fix it come morning.

“Of a marmoset. That’s what I’m thinking. With distinctly effeminate vibes.”

“Well, Dick hates marmosets. So I’d probably encourage her toward something else. Perhaps a sea lion.”

“Like Shabby.” The nervous note has bled into his legs again, and his earlier subdued tone has gone back to sounding strained. “Yeah, that’ll – that could be it.”

“All in one night, huh?” Karen says.

“I –” Shawn doesn’t even hiss when she presses down with a cotton gauze to cover the last of the thickened blood. His legs are properly jittering again. “I was – yeah, y-you know me, Chief, total night owl.”

“Shawn?”

“Yeah?”

“What about going home?”

Silence. Shawn doesn’t answer for a moment long and pregnant enough that Karen wonders if her question will be ignored entirely. 

Then,

“Chief,” he says finally, in an awful, tiny little voice, “I really, really fucked up.”

Finally, her hands do falter in their ministrations; as emotionally exuberant as Shawn often is, she doesn’t think she’s ever actually heard him close to tears. For a horrible moment she wonders if Shawn Spencer will suddenly start crying atop her toilet seat for reasons neither of them are capable of discussing honestly. Then she wonders if her horror makes her a terrible boss.

Boss – mother – person.

Oh, dear.

She sets down the surgical tape and lays a ginger palm over the newly-bandaged gouge in his shoulder. It’ll probably scar, but not at all badly. She doesn’t like to think about the far more obvious one just below, puckering in a violent yet unassuming divot. Another narrow miss for Henry’s boy. 

At this point there are so many of them to count, Karen has to question the statistical likelihood of the whole thing. Becoming a mathematical anomaly is, Karen can attest with confidence, not exactly the future the Lieutenant Spencer she knew dreamed of for his increasingly unmanageable teenager. 

Doing what he loved, on the other hand – absolutely. Being with a person he loved, even more so. Karen grits her teeth at the irritating web she’s spent the last six years constructing around herself and wonders if this evening right here is some kind of cosmic karma for leaving Iris in the care of nannies for the first three years of her life.

That sounds like the kind of thing those horrible parenting magazines and Karen’s mother-in-law would claim, anyway.

“Shawn,” she says slowly, because she has to at least knock this possibility off the list before risking her career in an attempt to mediate her detectives’ love lives, “did you … you weren’t – unfaithful, were you?”

“What?!” 

Shawn yanks his shoulder away and whirls around to face her with such a look of horrified betrayal on his face that it’s almost comical. 

“No!” 

Thank fucking God, Karen thinks. Aloud, she says,

“Well, I’m sorry, I had to at least ask!”

“No! No! What the hell, Chief!”

“Oh would you be quiet! I’m gathering my evidence here!”

“How could I – I would never – you’d even think that I could –”

“I know! Shawn, for God’s sake –” He’s scrambled to his feet in the cramped bathroom space, glaring, and has probably messed up all that surgical tape in the process. The half open first aid kit and his crumpled shirt press lopsided against his front and her garbage can is now full of oxidizing bits of cotton. Karen officially gives in to the urge to press her palms against her forehead. “I had to ask!” she repeats finally. “You and I both know you’re not gonna give me much else to work with, and you sounded so – so sad!” 

Shawn barks out a hysterical little laugh. Karen almost growls in frustration. 

“I am not going to risk all the very hard-earned rules I have in place without knowing for sure that my instincts aren’t wrong. Is that so hard to appreciate?”

Does it count as sound police work when the framework for your investigation is an unacknowledged lie? Karen doesn’t really know. Probably there’s another math metaphor to be made in there (you screwed your proof from the very beginning, maybe, Richard the professor would definitely have thoughts), or just a straight up joke. How to solve a case that’s cold before it ever has the chance to go live; a cover-up if she ever saw one. Unlikely that O’Hara will peep a word, and things will be a true mess for a few weeks, if she can’t make an educated guess about it. And no one will be explaining anything to Carlton, either …

Right before their goddamn audit, Karen thinks, aggrieved. She wonders if Henry considered this in his calculus. Send Shawn over, have her deal with him. Offer a huge unspoken you’re gonna be walking into a shitstorm tomorrow canary for her perennially chaotic mess of a coal mine. 

She can’t help but feel begrudgingly grateful, but that doesn’t mean she and he won’t be having words about this later.   

“Jesus, Karen,” Shawn mutters, pressing his face back into his free hand. Karen shakes her head and squares her shoulders.

“Well then! Back to the issue. You fucked up.”

“You know what? I can’t talk about this with you.”

“Oh, Mr. Spencer, I assure you I am more than well aware.”

Shawn blinks at her between his fingers, looking genuinely confused for the first time since he showed up at her door. 

Karen does not bother to clear up his confusion; it’s better this way, anyhow.

“Will you be sleeping at Gus’s place or your father’s?” she asks, crossing her arms.

“I’m – I don’t –” Shawn doesn’t meet her eye. The earlier thread of anxiety is back. “I wasn’t …”

So, neither. 

“Put your shirt back on,” she says. “We’re relocating to the living room.”

“Chief –”

“That was an order, Mr. Spencer.”

The living room is as quiet and mundane as it was an hour ago. It’s past Iris’s bedtime – she’ll have to go up, and soon at that. Karen seats her guest, retrieves a mug and a bag of chamomile from the kitchen, and removes the fluffy throw blanket from the basket behind the couch on her way back in. He’s deflated completely by the time the tea and blanket are set in front of him. Small and exhausted. Caught. It’s a horrible way to think about it. But she can’t avoid the hundred yard stare – Karen has seen it one too many times in people only just realizing they’re about to go away for life.

“Shawn,” she says, firm as she can make it. “Drink the tea. You’re dehydrated.”

“I’m … what?”

“Your lips are dry. You shouldn’t be dehydrated with a concussion.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Karen suddenly wonders if he’s going to get up and leave. She has experience with these things – she knows a runner when she sees one.

“I might as well have,” Shawn finally whispers.

She doesn’t catch it the first time. “What?”

“I – I might as well ha – Chief, I …” Deep shuddering breaths. He’s finally shutting down, she realizes. She can’t send him back out like this; Henry would give her the stink eye for a month.

Goddamn Spencers and their goddamn irritating overcomplicated lives.

Karen pushes the tea directly into his hands and tilts her chin so she can meet Shawn’s eye. He’s still lucid enough that she doesn’t think he’ll start hyperventilating, but now that the outrage and adrenaline has worn off, the symptoms of shock are pretty hard to miss. “Shawn,” she says again, and wills for him to understand.

“What if she – what if I never –” He can’t get the full sentence out. He looks at her, eyes wide and terrified.

Life sentence, Karen thinks again. The messy stack of files Shawn brought over sits almost unimportantly on the coffee table between them and a memory comes to her, unbidden, of words penned carefully in the corner of a modified police report that she pulled the minute the door closed on the McCallum case seven years ago. 

Date: May 4th, 1995. Reporting Officer, Spencer, Lt. H. Perpetrator a caucasian male, brown hair, five foot nine, insists on wearing those stupid earrings just to spite me. What the hell do you want me to write here, Chief? Spent two hours in the fucking principal’s office convincing them not to expel him one month off from graduation. All that effort, and I still booked the kid. It’s gonna follow him for life, and it’s gonna be me that did it to him. For life. You think he’ll ever forgive me? He’s the greatest thing in my pathetic little world and he keeps breaking my heart, and I can’t even properly accept that it’s my fault. 

How’s that for a fucking crime.

She needs to go put her daughter to bed. It’s the thought that keeps running through her head, oddly enough, like a strange antidote to the impotent anger and heartbreak and frustration she’s feeling for the people under her care.

With all the notes she took in that little workbook, she still let herself become complicit in the painstaking, convoluted resolution of Henry’s mistakes without accounting for all the variables.  

Richard’s footsteps sound muffled in the next room; he’s made his way upstairs in Karen’s absence. She needs to go. She wants to hear the soft and sleepy love you Mama that with her unpredictable hours and regular long nights isn’t nearly routine enough.

“Shawn,” she says evenly. “Do you love her?”

It’s hard to reconcile the smarmy kid who tried to barter with her for twelve hundred a day with the devastated young man sitting on the couch in front of her.

“Chief …” he starts, barely above a whisper.

“Good. Then she’ll see that. Detective O’Hara is a smart and observant woman. What she chooses to do next is her decision, but … you might be – well, comforted by the fact that she’ll know that – truth.”

Shawn stares at her. The tea steams in front of him, cooling in increments. She takes a deep breath and gets to her feet, patting his uninjured shoulder brusquely. 

“I have to go check on Iris. When I come back down, I can drive you to the Psych office.”

Iris is fast asleep when she gets there. A library book lays open face down over her stomach, and her soft brown hair fans out against the pillow, silhouetted by the soft glow of the unicorn nightlight in the wall above her. Karen turns off the bedside lamp, tucks her daughter in, and kisses her forehead. Just before she leaves, she hears it: murmured, half-awake.

“Love you, Mama.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Karen goes back to her living room, car keys in hand. She’s planned her next move in the driver’s seat enough times throughout her career that it shouldn’t be too hard. 

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

so, i started writing this fic, and i think i'm going to continue it, but i would love to get some reactions to the idea i had so much fun adapting a romcom to the marauders in my 10 things i hate about you fic, then i was rewatching life as we know it for the first time in years and was surprisingly still into it and thought it could be a fun one cos of some of the parallels, so here is the set up:

in an au where voldy is destroyed, sirius never sent to azkaban, and reader and sirius have to raise harry together after james and lily die even though they hate each other... initially ofc

pairing: Sirius Black x reader word count: 1.9k

You’re surprised to hear a knock at your door this late. Exhausted after another Order mission, you resent whoever is on the other side of it. When you open it, lowering your ready wand just behind the door with an exasperated sigh, the feeling heightens. 

“What the hell do you want?” you ask a smirking Sirius Black leaning on your doorframe. 

“What kind of a greeting is that, love?” he retorts seemingly unfazed.

You say nothing, glare harder. 

He rolls his eyes and begins, “Dumbledore wants you to tell me about your mission. He has something he wants me to do soon — won’t tell me what exactly yet, you know how he is — and he thinks whatever intel your mission provided will be relevant.” 

“Can’t it wait till tomorrow? I’m exhausted, Black.” 

“He told me to come tonight,” he says firmly, shrugging. “Look, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to be here, but there are more important things right now than resting” — he gestures to you — “or keeping good company,” he finishes, gesturing at himself.

“Oh I’m bad company? Have you met yourself? And you’re one to talk about important things, Black. All you ever do is joke around. And —” you go to continue, but he cuts you off, gently pushing his way past you and into your flat.

“Choose a line of attack, L/N. You’re rambling.”

You groan but follow him into your living room. He’s making himself comfortable, putting his boots up on your coffee table to settle in. 

“Fucking hell, Black,” you whine as you kick his legs off. “I know there’s a war going on, but I’d prefer for my home not to become a pig sty, thank you.” 

“Leave it to you to worry about shit like this now,” he sighs, rolling his eyes at you for the second time in mere minutes.

His critical comments are nothing new. The two of you had gotten into it over nothing since your school days, your best friends eventually getting together doing nothing to make you hate each other less. Lily had been your best friend since first year, James his. 

With your current exhaustion, even this little comment had you practically seething. Knowing him, though, you knew anything you said back would just give him more ammunition to mock you somehow. So, you just stood and stared angrily at him. 

“Well?” he looks at you infuriatingly nonchalantly. “The faster we do this, the faster I’m out of here.” 

“Fine.” You sit next to him begrudgingly and relate the events of the last few days to him, falling into “official” mode the only thing that made dealing with Sirius Black any easier.

~

This message wasn’t right. There was no possible way it was right. It had to be wrong. A mistake. A trap. A cruel joke. Anything but the truth.

You’re standing there, staring at the spot where a fellow Order member’s Patronus has just vanished after delivering its message to you. Your jaw is slack, your eyes wide and quickly brimming with tears. Tears at the mere idea that your best friend and her husband were dead, not the reality. It couldn’t be reality. 

After what might have been several minutes, though your mind is stuck, your body moves to action and heads immediately to Order headquarters. 

When you get there, you’re surprised at how many people are here. Such gatherings are usually reserved for the most important of meetings only; it’s too dangerous to have so many members together in any one place, lest the enemy find out and root out what little resistance remains. 

Oddly enough, it’s in crowds like this that you most notice the absent. You miss them when you are alone, too, of course, but there is something about looking around and not seeing Marlene’s beautiful — even if haunted toward the end — face amongst the others. Not feeling Dorcas’s head coming to rest on your shoulder. Not hearing Alice’s sweet giggle at something Frank has just whispered to her, bringing joy even in the darkest of times. Their voices are devoid of joy now, shut away at St. Mungo’s. 

Lily can’t be gone too. Please not Lily too. 

You’re not sure how to gauge the expressions of your friends and comrades around you. There is such a strange intermingling of emotions lingering on their faces. James and Lily couldn’t be dead if there was a look of such relief on Emmeline’s face, if Elphias was busy chattering away to a few other members. 

But then you see him. You see Sirius Black, and you know.

He’s sitting in a corner. He isn’t crying. He doesn’t look sad. He looks hollow. There aren’t tears in his eyes because his eyes are dead. 

You gravitate toward him without thinking, and when you’re close, his empty eyes meet yours. Sirius stands. You look at each other for a long moment, understanding crossing between you, and without a word from either of you, you embrace.

A few long, shaky breaths later, with Sirius Black’s warm, firm arms around you, you break down. You can’t see his face from where you have yours burrowed into his chest, but his arms tighten around you as your sobs shake your whole body. He holds you through the entire episode, until your body has drained itself of all the tears it could possibly produce in this moment. Only when you’ve been still for a minute does he loosen his grip, stepping back slightly.

You already know the answer, but you ask anyway, “Both of them?” He just nods. You immediately follow with, “Where’s Harry?” Fear shoots through you at the thought, but before you lose yourself in it, Sirius grabs your shoulders and says, “Harry’s fine.” Another bout of fear oozes through your body, but this one is slower, eerier. It takes you a moment to discern its cause: it’s Sirius’s voice. It’s never sounded like this before, and you hear in its dullness a pain you’d think unimaginable if you weren’t feeling it too. 

You nod slowly and ask where your godson is. Sirius tells you he’s with Remus. 

“What’s going to happen to him?” you whisper. 

“I don’t know,” he responds. “Dumbledore said he’d talk to us once we were both here.” 

~ 

It’s much later in the night, almost morning you reckon, when you find yourself and Sirius sitting across from Dumbledore, finally alone. He’d had to handle a million and one things already, the scope of the night’s events incomprehensible to your grief-stricken mind. 

Dumbledore doesn’t wait at all before saying, “I am truly sorry for the loss you both have experienced tonight and will continue to experience for the rest of your lives. The loss of someone so close is a loss from which one never truly recovers.” 

You both nod, saying nothing, and he continues. 

“I’m certain both of your main concern at this point is Harry. Firstly, let me provide you the comfort of informing you Harry is perfectly safe. How exactly, none of us know, and perhaps will never know. But young Harry survived Voldemort’s attack tonight, and somehow destroyed him in the process. Harry is currently with Mr. Lupin, but you can sort for yourselves how you wish to go about the transition in the following days. I have not spoken to either of you about it personally, but I imagine, given the arrangement, that you will be moving into the Potter’s home in Godric’s Hollow?”

You’re sure your face betrays your utter confusion, and on instinct, you look to Sirius for some sort of clarification. The look on his face tells you he’s as lost as you are. 

“Arrangement, sir?” you finally manage after some awkward silence.

“Yes. It was Lily and James’s wish that in the event of their deaths, Harry should be raised by his godparents.” He looks between you and Sirius. “You, of course.” 

A pregnant beat. 

“I’m sorry, what? ���You’ as in who? ‘You’ as in me? Or him? Not ‘you’ as in us?” you ramble. 

“‘You’ as in both of you, yes. You and Mr. Black.” You give a mirthless chuckle. 

“There must be some kind of misunderstanding, sir. We,” you gesture unnecessarily aggressively between you and the man sitting next to you, “are not together. We’re not a couple; we’re not even friends; how are we supposed to raise Harry together?” 

“There is no misunderstanding. And I do feel the need to add that this is in fact one consideration in bestowing — and accepting — the role of a godparent, I’m sure you know.”

You turn toward Sirius, who is just sitting there completely dumbstruck. You smack his chest and urge, “Say something, for Godric’s sake.” 

“Ummm… I… Well… I… She…She…,” he looks to you briefly, “I and… and she… I and she… she and I —” He can’t string even a phrase together, and Dumbledore gently raising a hand mercifully puts an immediate stop to his ridiculous attempt.

“It is unfortunate that your friends did not discuss this decision with you before its effect was rendered necessary. I imagine they dreaded such a conversation and suspect they never found it the ‘right’ time. However, I am certain it was what they wanted. After all, it was at my behest that they made a decision at all. Few of us ever want to think about our own deaths, but when I realized what danger the Potters were in, I knew it was a necessary consideration. I am devastated to have been proven correct.” Dumbledore was always calm and collected, but you know him well enough to know he meant those words.

“If you choose to reject this arrangement, we can see about other options. Though, as I have said, it would be going against his parents’ wishes. There is of course his aunt and uncle, the Dursleys I believe they are called. Alternatively, there are orphanages for such occasions, but they are dreadful places, and I would wish that fate upon no child, especially if he could be raised with family.” 

“The Dursleys aren’t his family,” you say immediately, a strength to your voice that had not been there in the entire conversation thus far. Dumbledore looks at you. “They’re not, sir. I’ve met them. They’re horrid people. They hate wizards and witches, were terribly cruel to Lily. I can’t imagine how they’d treat her wizard son.” You grimace at the thought. “They’re not his family… We are.” This sits heavily in the room for a moment, and it is Sirius who speaks first. 

“We’ll take care of Harry,” he whispers. His voice is quiet but certain. “We’ll figure it out.” He looks to you inquisitively, and you nod. 

“I’m gladdened to hear it,” Dumbledore says. “You don’t have to stay there long term, but I imagine it will be good for Harry to be in a familiar place as he adjusts to such change, so I will have him brought to his house in a few hours. Can you collect yourselves and meet him there?” 

You both nod; he adds a curt, “Good,” and before you know what’s even happened, you’re left sitting in a room with Sirius Black, a man you’d always hated, a man who is suddenly your co-parent to Harry. 

[tragically-jane-doe]

It's just easier if I compile all my screaming for this episode in one post so I don't flood the tag I'm srry

Rewatching it now cause a lot of my squealing and overwhelmedness made me miss some stuff

Love how she just camped out next to him all night

Oh fuck my wife is 406 fuck to

At least he knows she's kinda being threatened by the og 406

He's not okay I repeat he's not okay this is not a drill

Baby girl(sa-eon) is having a lil tiny bit of a nervous breakdown

OH NO HEE-JOO BEING HOT AND AND CONFIDENT

Even angry this man doesn't know how to stop being obsessed with her

"I forgive you for your wrong doings" my boy is this you saying it to her or asking her for her forgiveness cause lemme say I think you have a touch more wrong doings that her she's only harassed you a bit on the phone

THE PSYCHOPATH BOY IS THE OG SAEON ISNT HE oh no dead fishies

Is it impossible to change innate temperament? Oh girl oh sweet mama there's so much trauma there

In-a I can't tell if your gonna be a villain or someone is hee-joo corner?? Like I hope she's not a villain cause it'd be nice for hee-joo to have another person who cares about her but by God if she isn't a villain she's clumsy ASF in regards to hee-joo?

God how it pains me that still no one learnt sign language for her not her mother not her sister who was fucking deaf even not her husband (until recently but really he had so long to do so) idk much about her step dad? He's only rlly been shown talking like 4ish times he's gonna have his moment soon I'm sure from what I've seen he doesn't suck totally? Idk I'm going crazy here

Anyways GO OFF HEE-JOO

In-a dress fucking rocks thou it's so pretty

Mr snoopy over her holding garters "hee-joo is into this kinda thing"

oh my prolonged eye contact

Sa-eon knows zero chill ever

Sa-eon over here playing 4D chess

Oh so he's just been obsessed for like 20 years and started his stalking profession early

Hee-joo just casually outing herself "you didn't care whether I lived or died or whether I was by your side, until now" girly pop I love you but God are you clumsy

AND HE JUST IGNORES HER SLIP? Sa-eon just continues on with the 406 name dear god

Kay I know hee-joo mom is off but is the step dad? Is he I can't tell and it's driving me nutters

She really went actions are louder than words and he fucking acted

He's keeping her fed under the guise of buying the office lunch

No one is safe from this mans jealousy

I Love his death stares

Fuck his coffee take this cute juice with a heart on it babe

OH yeah there's a b plot I love this duo so much they're so cute together they're personalities compliment each other's so well!

Oh sang-woo you absolute fucking babe

Sa-eon is that you as a child dear do you have a twin brother is that what's happening rn is your twin brother trying to ruin you honey?

Oh nooo whatever shall I do my pretty wife has fallen asleep and she now rest her head upon me oh woo is me

Jesus Christ his hands

"is this how I get caught?" GIRL AT THE START YOU FUCKING SAID I LAST PHONE CALL HE KNOWS THAT ITS YOU, YOU OUTED YOUR SELF GODDAMN

Mr.Kang I love you so much your my favorite

His wiggle song I love it

HE LOVES HIS WIFE SO MUCH SA-EON IS OVER HERE TAKING NOTES

Mr.Kang is all of us my man youve been married three years and you show no affection

Nothing bad can ever happen to Mr.Kang l

NO ONE IS SAFE FROM THIS MANS JEALOUSY

Mr I can totally jump rope (falls on his face) and Mrs follow me and copy (proceeds to be the best ever) I love him psyching himself up the lil jumps

Mr Let me prove myself to you by showing you how good I am at this jump rope thi- hey are you even listening to me I'm trying to profess my love rn

Only a k drama could get me kicking my feet giggling over two ppl jump roping

No but this photo is every thing

Mr.Kang defending his mans HES A MARRIED MAN HE HAS HONOR DAMNIT

Okay wait is? I can't remember his name but sa-eon like right hand man all dressed in black? Did he? Did he push hee-joo? Cause the lil flash back showed someone wearing black pushing her and he was pretty close to where she was standing? is he gonna be a red herring or possibly in cahoots with the baddie?

why in the hell did she bring 406 on her lil retreat?

"Hong hee-joo I mean 406" love how he's playing the game

"you said to call when there's a corpse, come take her" my man sa-eon looks fucking wrecked by that

HE PACKED HER BAG FOR HER!

Only truths he's abiding by what she saiddddd

HES SO IN LOVE WITH HER

He just wants to take care of her fuck

THE FLARE HOLY SHIT SIR HE LOOKS SO RELIEVED

The previews my dudes! No wait him still doing the phone calls just to talk to her cause jts easier for her to speak like that 🥺

Why you gotta do this to me

"I like you" sa-eon you mispronounced I'm obsessed with you

[devilfic]

Prob, wayyyy too damn specific but I saw posts of Matt and I just rewatched The Batman (2022) and like I had this prompt of:

Reader is pushed away by Matt and decides to not fall with more vigilantes but runs in with Bruce and marries him? Maybe and it becomes some love triangle plot or idk

Idk what you could do with this, pls feel free to ignore it or modify. It’s just a weird ass crossovers of my two husbands.

at first I meant to humor you a bit with my thoughts on bruce and matt as very similar lovers but then it just turned into a throuple. walk with me:

it’s funny because matt and bruce have very similar self-destructive behaviors when it comes to relationships, but I think bruce is a bit more indulgent (whether he’d admit to that or not is another story entirely).

where matt is clearly insecure about if he can protect you—certainly he will fight until his last dying breath to do so but would rather you never be in danger to begin with—bruce is (and I'm especially thinking of an older, more experienced bruce), I think, unwilling to let you know that he’s just as insecure. mainly because failure cannot be an option. bruce also has much more at his disposal to protect you (cough cough money cough) and has backup plans for days. at this point in time, bruce would be more willing to let others in and have a healthier (?) way of maintaining relationships.

matt is, to the best of his ability, an ordinary man who strikes suddenly, sometimes recklessly, and thinks better within the throes of action. matt strikes me as someone who carries too many burdens to ever think a relationship with a civillian would work. he is a martyr like bruce, but I think where matt is in daredevil and where bruce is in my mind (years later, a little less cynical) are different enough to make them stand out.

that being said, I think matt would be hella suspicious of bruce because let’s be honest…. everything about him is a red flag LMAO. I can imagine matt playing mind games with bruce if they ever met, perhaps matt is representing a client who is suing wayne enterprises and oh, look, there’s you and bruce all cuddled up in the courtroom. matt listens for bruce’s heartbeat whenever he asks a particularly pointed question about his life but bruce has trained his heartbeat to be steady, his reactions natural. he gets one past matt.

and you think this man has some NERVE interrogating your new boyfriend when he’s the one who put you out. you almost let him have a piece of your mind but think better of it.

matt wonders if you like being bruce wayne’s. are you even able to still be you? the you that he truly knows?

needless to say, if they cross each other in cowls, matt will know it’s him instantly. I think it would sting matt to know that not only had you moved on to a man of much higher class, you’d also moved onto another nocturnal vigilante. one who, apparently, had no hangups about having you.

bruce also isn’t stupid. he’d done his research into the masked vigilante running around the neighboring borough of hell’s kitchen. it wasn’t apparent to him when he’d first met matt, but a little stalking research down the line and he’d put it together. they don’t reveal this to each other at first.

but later that night, bruce is holding you and wondering… is that your type? if it was by the simple hilarity of the universe that you ended up falling for him, right after leaving a man not too different from himself.

anon, I have a feeling that when you said love triangle, you really meant a love v as in bruce likes reader, matt likes reader, and reader likes both. but if I may talk my shit, I think these two might have a lot to like about each other. two vigilantes who operate by night and shadow, who have similar dedications to justice (matt’s being the idea of righteous and fair law, bruce’s being protecting the weak and innocent and rehabilitating or stopping the corrupt), two men leading double lives, two men as equally charming, and two men in love with you. bruce and matt find it hard not to see what you like in the other.

bruce befriends him. it’s kind of an accident the way he finds a kindred spirit in him, and at first it’s purely to keep an eye on this guy, perhaps to put together a contingency plan just in case. he starts sending nelson, murdock, and page cases in gotham that could use their legal advice, sending business partners and citizens alike to their door for referrals. matt isn’t sure what to do when they start getting a wave of new clients, all suspiciously right up their alley, but foggy and karen don’t mind the extra cash flow and matt struggles to find a way to not be okay with helping those in need.

matt returns the favor and starts training bruce on how to hone his other senses in combat. the two of them will spar for hours, only stopping if alfred were to come yank them apart or, god forbid, you come home early to find your boyfriend pinning your ex to the mat.

and you’re both horrified and fascinated to find that they get along really well. but you can’t just let matt back into your life after he’d all but slammed the door in your face. he’d given up on you. now he was weaseling his way back into your life with bruce—a happy life, might I add, although no less stressful—hanging around you like a dark shadow.

bruce isn’t sure how to feel about it either. he knows how much you loved matt, how much you still love matt, and he can tell matt is not over you no matter how much he waxes poetic about the greater good and why you two couldn’t really work out. bruce gets it, worries that maybe he should get it more and cut you loose too before something happens to you. it had always been their worry: that while they were off protecting the city, there’d be no one there to watch over you. and there was no one there to watch over you. once upon a time.

there is no organized discussion about it. bruce is less hung up about it than matt. it does feel odd, imagining him around you and it being… normal. inviting matt over for dinner with your permission, and sharing wine and heavy goodbyes as bruce pays a taxi to see him home safe. he considers the way you squirm at the table, trying to keep it friendly between you and matt but there is that ache in your chest that remembers this man differently. it feels disrespectful and rude to be friends with him now, having him around gotham. eventually bruce asks you as you wind down for the night, his rings clattering onto the dresser tray as you pull back the sheets, “you love him still.” well, he doesn’t ask.

you freeze, halfway into the sheets, unsure if you’d even heard him right, “I’m sorry?”

“matthew,” he casts a glance over his shoulder, “it didn’t really end between you. not on your end.”

“if you’re trying to accuse me of something-“

“I’m not. I can see it on you.” but bruce’s voice isn’t angry or mocking or blaming. it’s… oddly resolute. thoughtful, even. “I like him.”

“I… what are you saying, bruce?”

he crawls under the sheets, nonchalant, but he finds himself just a little (just a little) unsure. “I’m saying that… maybe the reason why he pushed you away isn’t a problem anymore,” he stares ahead, focused on the fireplace that burns low, “if you wanted him still. I wouldn’t mind it. I wouldn’t mind him.”

you almost can’t believe your ears. “and you like him.”

bruce takes a minute to shrug, as if he needed to roll it around in his mind one more time.

“do you… want us to be together? all of us?” you watch the reflection of the fire in his eyes, waiting with bated breath.

he turns his head to you, “if we can get the usher boy to agree.”

you have to have a long, long talk with matt. there’s tears and a little anger and a whole lot of uncertainty as you talk out your tumultuous parting but then, as matt’s guilt starts slipping in and he says he’ll stay out of gotham so that he doesn’t cause you more pain, you blurt it out. matt isn’t sure he’s heard you right. you have to repeat yourself, a bit more eloquently, “I said… do you want to be with me and bruce?”

he doesn’t immediately say yes. in fact, he takes a day or two to himself to think about it. he’s staunchly sure in the beginning that he will turn you down but the words do not form, the hesitance keeps him from calling. when he gets advice from foggy (who is twice as bewildered but all too excited by the prospect) about how to say he’s not interested, he writes it down and it just. doesn’t feel right. he finds himself rearranging the words in his mind to be softer, more… flexible. less “hard and fast no” and more “I just don’t know”. the more he thinks about it the less inclined he is to even SAY the word no. is it because it’d really, finally cut you out of his life? would he only be saying yes to have you again?

bruce would be there too, that’s the key thing. maybe it could start out as just him being with you and bruce being with you at the same time, but maybe that was too weird for him to think about. sharing you with someone else. he wouldn’t want to. but what would the alternative be?

he calls bruce to meet in hell’s kitchen where he feels safer. bruce is calm, not imposing in the least. he lets matt rant it all out and get his feelings in check. when he’s blown off all the steam, bruce just says, “if it comes down to it, there’ll be no hard feelings if it ends.”

“this is crazy.”

“you can say no.”

“yeah. I know.”

some time passes. bruce comes to stand beside matt sitting on the ledge of the rooftop, keeping his heavy gaze fixed on him. “they still love you.”

“I know.”

the two of them say nothing for a while. matt tries to focus on the city, as loud as it always is, but keeps zeroing in on the steady earnest thumping of the man’s heart right next to him. he is being honest with what remains unsaid, what you’d told matt days ago that he still struggled to believe. he tilts his head so, and bruce has known him long enough now to know that he’s thinking hard about what to say next, “I suppose you’ll have to take me on a date first. just so we’re all even.”

“is pinning you to the mat not courting enough for you?”

[boringkate]

I watched Lena Dunham's Sharp Stick (2022) with a babe last month. Which I absolutely loved!!!

It's never explicitly acknowledged, but the main character is clearly supposed to be (despite the producers claiming otherwise) in some way neurodivergent. Or something. She's meek and impossibly sexually naive (to the point where me and the girl I watched it with had initially assumed the character was intended to be a child). Apparently they had approached an autism sexuality advocate to work as a consultant for the film before backpeddling.

Trans girls tend to be autistic.

The main character also had a hysterectomy (as did Lena Dunham).

Trans girls tend to be infertile.

She's shown taking estrogen.

Trans girls tend to take estrogen.

She becomes obsessed with porn and begins having one night stands with random men from the internet in hopes of finding validation by proving her sexual desirability.

Trans girls tend to do that shit.

It ends with her realizing and leaning into her impregnation fetish (while getting fucked by the one black guy she knows who had just brought over some 40s and called them homies and also while her black step sister's hands unexpectedly drift in from off screen to hold her because even when she managed to push it off to the last second Lena Dunham is incapable of being chill and normal about race).

Trans girls can't go ten seconds without making the same joke about how if you don't think you can get a trans girl pregnant then you just aren't trying hard enough (and the frequent fetishization of black men in trans and especially neighboring sissy communities can't really be denied).

Also the bartender is played by Tommy Dorfman (a trans woman) with it being her first time playing a character with a girl name.

But I'm not trying to suggest it's intentionally a movie about the tgirl excperience. That would be silly. Really the takeaway should be that (no matter how varied women's lives may be) we (trans women and cis women etc) can still always find common ground and shared excperiences. We're all in this together.

But anyways I was looking at Lena Dunham's Instagram yesterday (I've been off and on again rewatching Girls, so she's stayed on my mind).

One post features the music video she directed starring famed trans girl Hari Nef.

Another post shows that she recently read trans boy Elliot Paige's memoir Paige Boy.

Another post shows a conversation she had with Jon Bernthal (on his podcast) where she explains the word cis to him and talks about having also explained it to her husband (this is the only clip from her appearance on the podcast that she chose to post).

BTW did you know that she was an executive producer for the 2021 show Genera+ion (which I recall featuring a trans boy actor playing a cis boy character who gets a girl pregnant).

Fascinating!

Meanwhile. Ten years earlier. In 2013 (a year into my transition and a year before Time declared that we've reached the trans tipping point) an episode of Girls features a doorman telling one of the titular Girls that "a tranny walked in last time and he was just walking around the floors, but it was nothing." (lmao)

UPDATE: s05e02 features a "did you just assume my pronouns" bit. (in a way that felt reactionary and gross because the theyfab saying it was an absurd hipster barista that the audience isn't intended to sympathize with)

UPDATE UPDATE: s06e02 features the leader of a group for women entrepreneurs saying "For those of you asking on our Facebook if the group is open to trans women: The answer is: We don't know. Okay?" (which I thought was fun)

UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE: s06e03 (the literal next episode) "I even went to a couple of hookers and one of them had a dick."

[xoxoemynn]

omg you watched kevin can f**k himself! I was obsessed with that show when it was airing, definitely due for a rewatch. what did you think? the breaking of the sitcom with allison and kevin in the last episode has stuck with me since I saw it almost 2 years ago

YEAH IT WAS SO FUCKING GOOD. I've wanted to watch it for years but was too lazy to figure out how to and now it's on Netflix so there's that issue sorted!

I wanted to take my time watching and ended up binging it because I could.not.stop. so I know I missed things and I want to go back and rewatch, but I also want to let it simmer a minute.

Going to put some incoherent ramblings behind a cut just to be safe for spoilers (and yes I know it's been years but I know a lot of people are just hearing about it for the first time now that it's on Netflix).

The last 15 mins of the show HAUNT me. I had a feeling that was coming but actually SEEING it was terrifying. We all KNEW this was Kevin, we all KNEW the sitcom filter was obscuring how abusive his behavior was, but when we actually see him the way he REALLY is and how everything about him changes, it's just HORRIFYING. And it puts everything we just watched into a new perspective because the way he corners her, his tone when he asks her what she said to Molly, when he starts listing off things that happened in the show that even knowing all along that he was a narcissistic, abusive asshole you still might be tempted to think "oh, maybe he's just clueless to the fact he's being awful" and you realize no, he was AWARE and he knew exACTLY what he was doing to control Allison and keep her down...literally I cannot get that scene out of my head.

And then looking back on the series as a whole...

Just how JARRING the contrast was between the sitcom world and the real world? And how it faded away so slowly you almost don't even notice it at first until you get closer to the end of the series and you're mostly in the real world? How the sitcom filter obscures the bandages Allison wears. How dingy the house looks when it fades. How the women's appearances change, looking cute and put together in the sitcom world but in the real world we see Allison's roots are showing and her clothing is in worse condition and Patty's hair looks less TV ready despite being a stylist. How we start to see all the characters differently once Kevin begins to lose his grip on them. How we never actually see Pete in the real world?!

One thing the show does really well, and a reason why I'm so eager to rewatch it, is not outright revealing everything that's happening. Allison wears long sleeves for most of the show; when we see her in a hospital gown there are bruises on her arm that are never commented on. We'd never had any reason to suspect Kevin's abuse was physical, but especially after seeing the finale, I think it's fair to believe that. And then you look back on all the other times Kevin "accidentally" hurt Allison, like the time he slams the door into her face and we see her simply cover it up with makeup... yeah.

Just all the LAYERS to the show. Analyzing it from the lens of how sitcoms treat women, the wives in particular, who are shown as humorless, nagging shrews who are just expected to put up with their husbands who act like children and are engaging in all kinds of antics to the delight of a laugh track that would be horrifying in real life. (And the fact they brought in the actress whose character was killed off in between seasons of Kevin Can Wait and then barely spoken of again was a BRILLIANT bit of meta commentary.)

But then also what it's like to be in an abusive relationship with a narcissistic, charismatic alcoholic, and how isolating and desperate it can feel when nobody sees what you see, nobody understands what you're experiencing, because everyone else is content to live in this world where he's the goofy life of the party. And at the beginning you may be going "okay, girl, just LEAVE," but then as you learn more and more about just how controlling Kevin is, and what he's capable of, and also Allison's own childhood, you start to see why she was SO desperate she'd go so far as to fake her own death because she thinks it's the only way she can ever escape him.

It's just so. good. And intense. I wish they had gotten one more season because while the ending was brilliant, I felt like some parts in S2 were a bit rushed, particularly with Neil, but it was just SUCH compelling TV and I cannot get it out of my head.

[rattkween86]

Thank you sm for the tag @midnightestsun 🥰

-`♡´- last song: Memorial - Remastered by Explosions in the Sky https://open.spotify.com/track/3iRyCBbgaj6e30YmbW2liD?si=dd96220b1c614613

-`♡´- currently watching: Rewatching The Magicians with my friend and personally watching Game of Thrones occasionally and Stranger Things on repeat (again).

-`♡´- three ships:

.Ineffable Husbands - Listen, I have never seen a more real and natural depiction of falling in love with your best "not" friend in my entire life, and it makes me so emotional.

.Billy Hargrove x JJ Feron - I don't really care if it's cheating since she's my OC. I love them so much together, and there were no rules.

.Gator Tillman x Win Lewis - This might be cheating part two because it's my friend's OC, but again...there were no rules, and I literally melt every time I read about them, so they're on the list lol.

-`♡´- favorite color: gray 🩶

-`♡´- currently consuming: a ginger snap latte ☕

-`♡´- first ship: Hilson. Before I even knew what a ship was, 12 year old me saw them on TV and said "oh yeah, they're in love."

-`♡´- relationship status: Delusionally taken by a fictional man who wouldn't even spit in my direction if he were real 💗

-`♡´- film: Besides documentaries, the last film I watched was The Broken Hearts Gallery. Yes, I cried.

-`♡´- currently working on: Getting through school and finishing my holiday mini series ✨

no pressure tags: @jozstankovich @watermeezer @hippiegoth97 @chatteringfox

[ladyluscinia]

BLACKHANDS GIRLIES WE ARE REALLY IN IT NOW!!!

(aka Lady's OFMD 2x01 - 2x03 BlackHands rambling)

Link to the general non-BlackHands thoughts.

Screaming. Whooping. Cheering. *Singsong voice* My fucked up pirate husbands had mutual love confessions while the main fucked up pirate husbands are "on a break" after admitting they made each other happy! AAAAHHHHHH!!! Can't murder-suicide the other half of yourself! I am winning!!!

ADJSKLDFSKJFKDL

Ok. Deep breaths. This will be rambling but coherently (<- lying)

---

Breakup Boat - Izzy's Version

Fuck, I said in my general thoughts post that the extremities of Edward's cruelty & Edward's suicidal pursuit were working well, and nowhere is that more noticeable than in what Edward and Izzy have going on.

So in the timeskip between S1 and S2 we find out Edward has been raiding ships at a breakneck pace, uncaringly trauma bonding his crew (R.I.P. Ivan), going hard on murder & booze & drugs, and tormenting Izzy to the point my guy is literally having a breakdown in front of the crew. He lost the 1st toe for threatening to resign and accidentally setting off a Stede-hurt timebomb, and Edward goes to take a 4th because Izzy doesn't convince his whole crew to happily dump their pay in the ocean. "Threaten me again" has become "Give me any excuse" it seems, and Izzy has been complying. 😬 Edward (casually): "Take your boot off." 😬 Earlier Edward offers him rhino horn, too, and Izzy just says "No, not right now" leading Edward to call him a "lightweight", so I'm thinking Edward hasn't had exclusive rights to substance abuse as a means of coping, either. (Note: the rhino horn itself does nothing, so the substance abuse is booze and any actual drugs he's gotten his hands on.)

Oh, and they didn't include the shot where Edward throws a knife at Izzy? Did it just get cut, or are we getting flashbacks with more conversation later?

Going to rewatch the end of 1x10, Izzy's "smile" at declaring Blackbeard was back lasts a fraction of a second and looks just like his "everything is totally fine I swear" grimace-smiles from the beginning of the episode, so I think it's pretty safe to say Izzy did not ask for this and hasn't thought everything was fine for a single second since.

The Breakup Boat atmosphere is definitely fucked.

Now, personally, I'm still of the opinion we're not supposed to read this as a version of a domestic abuse arc (even with the intervention talk). (EDIT: clarifying thoughts and phrasing.) Because they still inject too much of it with humor and I can't imagine Edward comfortably coming out the other side at a happy ending if we frame it that way. Like there's black comedy and then there's "Wait, we're really just laughing this off?" I think horrific domestic abuse of your ex-situationship in a romance counts as the latter. But I do think it's revealed to be functioning as something adjacent - namely Edward's depression and suicidal tendencies have massively spiked post-Stede and he's actively seeking to a) confirm his own belief that he's unlovable, and b) get killed so everything stops hurting.

And Izzy? Izzy loves him and wants him alive. Worst thing Edward could hear right now.

Like oh my GOD IZZY LOVES HIM. As soon as Izzy hits his breaking point and realizes the crew have his back, he's emboldened to go stand up for them and himself to Edward. (He has been defending them already - the pre-intervention conversation open with him quietly alluding that they need a break - but this is more.) He ignores the boot order, ignores the threat, and finally asks the damn question:

"Who am I to you?"

This is where my linear coherency falls apart btw 🥴

---

Who KNOWS You?

"We've worked together for years. You know me better than anyone has ever known me, and I daresay the same is true for me about you. I have... love for you, Edward."

Oh fuck backstory implications oh FUCK.

Ok, I've already seen the posts doubling down on Izzy realizing he doesn't know Edward at all and I'm drawing my line in the sand. That's bullshit. That line there? That's straight truth.

To quote my own posts:

People will act like you are making bold and unsubstantiated claims if you say Izzy likes Edward as a person not just as Blackbeard, but I find the notion that “Blackbeard” as a human guy you live down the hall from is somehow substantially different / distant enough from the real Edward 24/7 that only liking Blackbeard is plausible to be a very bold claim.

(That conclusion comes from this post, but Izzy knowing Edward vs Stede knowing Edward was also a major point in my original overarching Edward Meta from Season 1.)

Of course Izzy knows Edward. He knows his talents and his weaknesses. He knows the shifts in his mood, his favorite foods to find in a hold, what tasks he used to pass off as often as possible. He talks about work with him because they live on a ship. Their state of dysfunction when we meet them doesn't negate that knowing.

Knowing each other so well actually made their dysfunction worse. Let them escalate more than two people less intimate could have managed, while also exacerbating their misjudgements into ruinous disasters. Izzy didn't know - probably in part didn't want to know - Edward was falling hard for Stede so fast. Edward didn't know or want to know that Izzy was reaching a breaking point for their relationship.

But still, crucially, Izzy did know Edward well enough to clock that something was fundamentally wrong in 1x10, and he knows what's wrong now. He knows Edward is hurting him and hurting the crew because Edward himself is hurting, and the whole point of this "I'm worried about you" talk is to try and fix it.

Unfortunately, Izzy has Stede so unspoken at the front of his mind that he accidentally quotes the man, and that sets Edward off on his interrogation / further terrorizing the crew Izzy is trying to stand up for. Which is why Izzy finally makes his choice to stop talking around the issue...

"The atmosphere on this ship is fucked. Everyone knows why." -> "Your feelings for Stede fucking Bonnet."

...and then Edward shoots his leg out. Not even looking at him.

Jump ahead. Edward says to Frenchie, "The new First Mate always kills the old First Mate. It's always been like that." - Has it though? Because that has some wild implications for Izzy murdering someone to secure his spot in Edward's circle of trust (...hot). And some interesting gaps for Edward if he was ever a first mate under Hornigold or anyone else. Or is this just him fucking with Frenchie because he knows "Trust is king. And queen. Trust is everything" is bullshit? Go, repression boy, go. Who am I talking about? Both. Both is good.

And then of course we get:

"Did you think I wouldn't know the smell of my rotting former First Mate?"

Knows him by the smell of blood and infection. By the avoidant look in his crew's eye. By the fact he doesn't know Izzy is dead. Their relationship is rot and ruin by his own hand but he would NEVER assume Izzy's dead until he knows.

"He was your friend," Jim spits in Edward's face.

Edward wakes up Izzy and even delirious, literal seconds after realizing he's down a leg, Izzy knows what Edward wants the moment he flips the gun. And he wants nothing to do with it.

He knows he can't. Won't. No matter how much Edward openly wants him to pull the trigger. (Edward knows him well enough to doubt, too. It's real convenient that his final staging has Izzy looking at the back of his head. No chance of his face giving anything away.)

Izzy's absolutely brutal in his assessment, trying to give some hurt back, but he's not wrong:

"Ohhhh. Oh, are you scared, Eddie? Too scared to do it yourself, eh? Go on, clean up your own fucking mess. I'm not doing it, I've been doing it all my fucking life. Fuck off."

All his fucking life.

I have to wonder... is this a conversation they've had before? Echoes of one? Izzy has a tactic here - dismissal. Refuse to play along with Edward's melodrama. Treat "I dreamt that you killed me" as though he's throwing a snit like a toddler. "Good for you" could have sounded like a question egging him on, but it comes out flat. A sarcastic sneer. Edward has always thought he'd go out with more of a bang. Loves a good fuckery. In his Purgatory he desperately wants Hornigold to recognize how unique and over the top his mutiny was. Not like those ordinary mutinies. Even his imagined death is being pitched over the highest bluff tied to a rock???

Izzy knows Edward is serious or he wouldn't be so fraught and sobbing as he laughs, but his words don't treat him as serious. Maybe a bit of derision has been effective at ruining the fantasy before? Suicide of a great leader is just so banal, you know? Quit daydreaming and pull off an impossible fix.

(Maybe "Fuck off" normally doesn't end the conversation, but starts the real one?)

Also "Eddie". First off of Izzy's lips at his cruelest, then Hornigold's. We heard it in S1 right before Edward committed to becoming the Kraken. At the time I thought he was bristling at the disrespect - "Eddie" is not "just Edward" - but maybe Frenchie stepped on a bigger landmine than we thought. Edward is so particular about names, and Izzy knows all the rules best, doesn't he?

Either way... This time the conversation ends with Edward leaving. "Farewell, old chum," he says without turning around. And when he hears the gunshot, he's not surprised.

Edward knows Izzy, too. Knows that the farewell may count as "closure" but Izzy is only going to take the ending one way. Izzy lifting the gun to his temple was the inevitable result of leaving that room. It takes seconds. Edward is still rising out of the stairwell when it happens.

We can't talk about knowing without touching on Purgatory, where Edward goes to know himself.

Lots of interesting stuff about Edward modeling his toxic spiral off of Hornigold as the fucked up example from his past. Probably where he picked up a lot of his piracy philosophy too. But the really juicy bit related to Izzy is the spectre of Hornigold confronting him about killing his dad and Edward's instinctive:

"I've never told anyone about that."

Hornigold calls him out for telling Stede, but it seems pretty likely that Stede is the only one he's ever had the conversation with.

However.

I still think Izzy knows. Hornigold even tells us how:

"A grown man covered in tattoos? Eh? With daddy issues?"

Edward didn't tell Izzy, and Izzy didn't ask for confirmation. But Edward will tell a whole crew of strangers about "the Kraken" killing his dad to win best ghost story. And that his dad was a dick. Izzy, who Edward loves and trusts and "outsources the big job" to, would not have much trouble connecting the dots between any version of that story / troubled childhood anecdotes / Edward's issues with killing / Edward's daddy issues.

I sincerely doubt "killed your abusive old man" is even an uncommon pirate backstory.

Izzy does know Edward - at his best and worst and everything in between. Knows him better than anyone. Suspects with certainty his darkest secret.

Izzy knows Edward, and Edward knows Izzy, and that's why everything fundamentally quakes for Edward in this self-destructive rampage when Izzy breaks their unspoken rule and tells him that he loves him.

---

Who LOVES You?

Jumping back to the (first!) literal, actual love confession we got, let's talk phrasing. Because yeah there's love there, but at the moment there's also a lot of other stuff.

"I have... love for you, Edward."

This is such a passive way of confessing, and there's the long pause as Izzy forces it out. People have attributed it to repression, or feeling ashamed of his love for Edward, or just not wanting to push it on him. I think "love" isn't a word they use out loud, so saying it is hard, but I also think Izzy's being passive because at the moment it does just feel like he "has" love. He doesn't want to actively feel it or offer it up right now, not with the complicated knot of anger and hurt and, tbh, probably some of his own depression. He "has" love because, despite everything, he still loves Edward.

And he does, is the thing! The whole goddamn reason Izzy is here, still trying to be a support for Edward is because he loves him. Literally anybody else would have left by now, or killed Edward, considering he's actively trying to push Izzy to the breaking point. And even at said point, when Izzy's finally standing up for himself, he offers Edward another chance to realize he's loved.

Edward starts dismissing him the moment he says the l-word, but Izzy continues:

"I'm worried about you - we all are. The atmosphere on this ship is completely poisoned. But if we could all just, maybe... talk it through?"

Izzy knows what's wrong and while he didn't originally think Stede was that important to Edward, he's put it together by now. And he's a huge fan of trying to talk through their problems, tries it multiple times even in the peak communication failure / stress powderkeg of S1, so of course he tries one last time to get Edward to accept he's not alone.

Instead, he accidentally invokes the ghost of Stede Bonnet and reminds Edward why he's doing all of this in the first place. Reminds him that he is unlovable while having the audacity to confess to loving him.

So Edward makes a big show of going out on deck, shoots Izzy in the leg, and tells Frenchie to get rid of him.

Frenchie doesn't, naturally.

And when Edward finds the crew saving the man who he just shot for daring to love him - because of course they are, he's their dick now - well... "He was your friend," Jim spits in his face, having just been thinking about their best friend (who they are more than a little bit in love with 👀).

How long do we think Edward stands there, looking at what he's wrought? How long does he sit at Izzy's bedside, looking at him "rather still" while he weighs if the missing leg proves his point where the toes didn't?

And you know Izzy's love is so bone deep and rooted in that it's unconditional by this point, because Edward did NOT prove his fucking point. Nothing he's done so far is enough to get the man who loves him to pull the fucking trigger. Down 3 toes and then a leg, asking first thing whether Edward was there for the other one, and STILL. STILL IZZY IS HEARTBROKEN AT THE REALIZATION THAT EDWARD IS READY TO END IT FOR REAL.

Still he won't pull the trigger himself. Not on Edward, at least.

And only after Izzy is gone can Edward return the words.

"I loved you. Best I could."

*screaming crying tearing at the walls*

He loved him.

HE LOVED HIM.

Edward's perspective of his relationships is fundamentally warped. Alongside his self-image. Probably has been for most of his life, going back to the self-hatred he ties to killing his dad. Stede leaving hurt him immensely (and predictably, Stede) in ways Stede will have to own up to, but it was Edward's own unaddressed issues - independent of Stede AND Izzy - that determined the appropriate response to that hurt was "realize that vulnerability and hope are lies and every dark voice in the back of your mind ever was telling the truth, actually."

Edward's conviction that nobody loves him and that he's not capable of successfully loving someone back is literally his depression talking. It is not rationally based in the reality of his life or relationships, Stede or otherwise. He may even have successfully beat back the sentiment for most of his life, with that getting harder and harder as time went on.

(He's expressed this kind of depressive-episode-driven warped view before, btw, and they explicitly parallel it in Purgatory just for me! The flashbacks of the bathtub scene while he attacks the spectre of Hornigold are my huge W in that episode. "It all boils down to this - you're afraid you're unlovable", said by the actual manifestation of Edward's suicidal self-hatred in Purgatory, is the new "That's why I don't have any friends." I think it's fair to question if he was a reliable narrator of his experiences back then, too. Jim and the crew certainly think he had at least one friend.)

Basically, "Best I could" now can mean a lot of things before. Young Izzy and Edward could have been much healthier than they are at present. Probably were, to be honest. It wasn't enough to save them from going sour, but it could explain why they've stuck together so long even as it has.

Izzy loves Edward. Edward loves Izzy.

LOVE LOSES. BUT LOVE WINS 😭😭😭

---

Kraken Era = Murder-Suicide, but Edward Wants to be the Murdered One

So, uh... *scrambling for notes* Where am I going with this? Fuck, I'm not even writing it linearly... OK!

Izzy KNOWS Edward - knows him going back ages, has seen his darkest and weakest moments - and even after 3 toes and a stress breakdown he still LOVES him enough to say it out loud (which I doubt these guys do, uh, ever). Which really throws a wrench in Edward's "Stede realized I'm inherently toxic and unlovable" theory, and prompts him to redouble his "prove to Izzy he doesn't love me" efforts by casually shooting him.

Afterward, he finally makes his passive suicidal intents explicit when talking (practically sobbing, in truth) to Frenchie:

"Never going back to land. We're gonna sail, rob, raise hell forever and ever, without end."

He's set on it, now. Izzy's potential last act was to finally rip down the illusion, give name to the hurt Edward had been running from since he first put on his Kraken makeup. So he pushes his little wedding toppers out the window, cleans himself up, and goes out to wave every single red flag imaginable for poor Frenchie's locked box.

Except it wasn't Izzy's last act, now was it?

But that's fine for Edward. That actually works better. He wants the hopeless situation to end, but he doesn't want to pull the trigger himself or he would have done it by now. After everything, surely Izzy should be ready to murder-suicide him??? He can't still love him, not after Edward so effectively proved he's exactly as toxic as his self-loathing depressive episodes say he is. It's poetic.

Edward underestimates Izzy. Knows him with his head, but the depression makes him underestimate his heart.

Edward doesn't get a bullet through the head, be hears the gun go off and - well - that's one way to spin "not even Izzy loves me any more" into a true statement.

Edward wants to live slightly more than he wants everything to end. It's the only reason he's alive. Before Izzy said Stede's name he was floating high on denial like that bird who never lands, keeping his depression and his destruction as a blast radius more than a dagger. He was lurching in the direction of dying by combat or by crew mutiny or by simple self-destructive behaviors, but he avoided thinking about anything long enough to have intent.

After Izzy's desperate attempt to intervene, Edward can't hide from his own reasoning anymore. Or his hurt. Or his self-enforced hopelessness. And with that comes aims. He has his rough night and then starts the massive red flag upswing. Cleans up. Gets ready for the big finale. He pushes Izzy with the "closure" conversation, trying to find a pressure point that will get him killed to close off the narrative with a artful bow.

Murder-suicide sounds like a fix to his problems, but he still wants to live slightly more. He still can't turn the gun on himself. He aims to be the murdered one.

After Izzy is gone, though, by Edward's own actions? That's the last straw he needs to commit in full. Thanking Frenchie? Just another final goodbye to get his affairs in order. "Take the day off, brother. Go live." The moment Izzy dies they all become dead men walking.

Thank FUCK that Edward a) still would prefer it if they snapped and murdered him / something out of his control killed him (he still wants to live), and b) still wants to die dramatically. A different man would have walked right back to his cabin and not missed.

Sidebar to appreciate the breakup boat crew some more because I love them:

Fang: "So... do we think he's better?" Jim: "Fuck no!"

Edward is ready to be the murderer with his cannon pointed at the mast, but he stalls on damning the whole crew to a watery grave (r.i.p. half of them), gives Izzy time to wake up and drag himself out to protect said crew, and then finally gets what he's been after.

Edward's motivations are already perfectly clear, but just to really hammer it in - he thinks he just drove a man he loved to suicide, and then he demands the couple he found kissing fight to the death with the reasoning:

"All love dies, I'm just hastening the process."

Jim literally just learned last season that was bullshit, my guy. It makes sense they are the one who finally puts a stop to him.

(Except the cannonball doesn't hit. There's no head wound. And Edward is alive when they take him back to the secret room, laying him out respectfully instead of letting the waves take him too. They don't even know if they'll survive. They certainly don't have anywhere to take the body, or a working ship to get there. Maybe they didn't notice because they didn't want to notice.)

(AND EDWARD STILL WANTS TO LIVE)

Both Izzy and Edward try to die. Both of them do - maybe, in the bottom of their hearts - want to live just a tiny bit more. They shoot each other. They say OUT LOUD they love each other (though Edward I swear to fuck you better say that to Izzy's face ohmygod). They are on this journey together.

BOTH OF THEM LIVE. AND NOW THEY HAVE TO DEAL WITH THAT.

(I feel like I wanted to add stuff about Stede & Izzy meeting again but like. I don't even know. Izzy doesn't even know. Is he protecting the crew? Deflecting? Edward's dignity (-ish)? Stede's good opinion of Edward? Dealing with his own massively fucked headspace? Ask me again on Friday. Fuck.)

My fucked up guys are in toxic fucked up LOVE!!!

[kingcunny]

I think it's very possible Viserys was considering suicide in Ep 3. I think part of his impatience to have Rhaenyra married was he felt if she were "settled," he could go. ("I will not live forever. I wish to see you contented.") Heirs of her own would better secure her claim, she would have a husband and children to distract her, and she might even forgive him...for everything.

He's done his duty but providing a spare (soon to be two) to strengthen the line. Getting his heir married and her own succession settled is the last thing to tick off the list. And I think part of his anguish at the hunt is the slow realization that that's not enough. His lords are openly discussing her being replaced as heir, and he is her only champion. Her only protection--which both thrills and terrifies him. He can't rest yet. But if Aegon were heir, maybe he could? Rhaenyra might trade her crown for her freedom and happiness? She might eventually forgive him? Even remember him fondly?

And then she marries Laenor, and Viserys rapidly deteriorates. I think he was beginning to give up. But then Rhaenyra starts birthing brunettes, and that means his watch is not yet ended. So he hangs on for another 16 years or so. And it's when he sees Rhaenyra happy with her family with her position unambiguously affirmed, he can finally let go.

--EIHF Anon

oooh my GOD. this completely recontextualizes that entire episode. i had to go and rewatch it with this framing in mind.

hes done his duty to his grandfather. hes given the throne an heir. he has at least one spare thats safely out of SIDS territory (not that hed know that term, but the idea of it yknow). and another spare on the way Just in Case. hes tired. he wants to hang it up. he wants to see aemma and balerion and his parents again.

viserys cares a lot about his reputation, his legacy. he wants to be remembered fondly. he asks rhaenyra to join him on the hunt so he could give her one last good memory together, so they could be a family again, before hes gone. but she wont play along with his plans.

vis tries to match rhaenyra up with jason lannister to give her back what he took from her- a family. if he can find her a husband she likes, someone who can give her children and secure her own lineage and make her happy. maybe she can forgive him. if not in life then maybe once hes gone. once he knows shes taken care of. that she wont be so alone and angry anymore. but even jason is working under the assumption that aegon will be his heir, not rhaenyra. so there goes that plan too. he cant marry rhaenyra off to someone that isnt going to defend her like he would. he cant leave her alone and defenseless.

(also suicidal!vis makes me rethink his frustration with the stepstones being brought up. being reminded that hes leaving problems for rhaenyra? a sort of tongue-in-cheek, that wasnt his problem to begin with and it certainly wont be his to end?)

yknow that thing about how depressed people suddenly becoming very happy for no discernible reason is a warning sign theyve planned their suicide? how viserys seems in a better mood (at least in the beginning of the ep) than weve seen him in the last few episodes? and the reverse of that must also be true. viserys getting Very drunk because he realizes that he cant go yet. that he has to cancel his suicide. he has to stick around keep dealing with all this shit. (maybe a bit of a crisis of faith as well…)

and thats an interesting bit at the end. that maybe, like balerion, viserys ended up living longer than he shouldve. he continued to hold on past the point he shouldve died because he needed to stick around for rhaenyra. and once he feels like his family has made up, that rhaenyras position is secure, shes happy and safe. then he can finally let go.

[bunnakit]

last twilight e3 thoughts feelings etc

so in the past ive watched the episodes and digested them and come back and rewatched to put together my thoughts but im kinda crunched for time today and have a mountain of work to do sooo i'm just gonna do this in one sitting and i'm so sorry if it's not as good or as coherent as what i usually deliver aaa. it's also going to be a bit longer than normal probably but i'll try to cut down on stuff that seems unnecessary or maybe just too obvious to comment on.

OH ITS STILL REALLY LONG EVEN WITH EDITING I'M SO SORRY.

oh them being playful with each other is everything to me. oh my god and Mhok learned, he listened to Porjai and he learned to organize and clean and do things with Day as an active participant so he knows where everything is and is taking control of his own life. oh we're only 3 minutes in and i'm emotional, okay.

i do love that we get to see the way Day has isolated himself and that while his family haven't helped there's also a large part of it that is his doing. ive said it before but when you're newly disabled it can be so so easy to isolate yourself. hell, i've been diagnosed for almost 10 years and i still do it from time to time as my condition worsens because it's hard. there are so many questions you have to answer, there's the anxiety of not knowing if people are going to be accommodating to your needs, and sometimes it takes twice or even three times the energy it used to take before because every action is a little harder now. it can be terrifying to put yourself out there again and you will lose friends in the process. there will be people that don't understand, that find you to be an inconvenience, that won't make accommodations for you, and it will hurt every time but saying goodbye to those people is always ultimately for the better - but it doesn't make it hurt less. as much as i'd love the realism of it, i hope we don't have to see Day go through that.

Day's story about his friend is interesting, too. he says he doesn't want to be pitied by his friends but the thing is. they just did that, they accommodated their friend, and from the sound of it they did it without judgement. so why couldn't it be the same for him? it just shows more of his anxiety and his fear.

"i felt like my life was worthless. all i saw in people's eyes was insult."

screaming. crying. throwing up. i don't need to say anything about this but i thought you all should know it made me ill.

"once i'm ready you'll be the first to get my invitation card." Porjai and Mhok's friendship means so so fucking much to me.

here's the thing, my best friend and i dated in high school, we were 16 and fucking stupid and toxic and our home lives were shit and we took it out on each other and we made each other fucking miserable by the end of things. we didn't talk again for over five years. it took time to come back together, to heal and accept our own faults in what went wrong. we stumbled here and there as we came back together but now? almost 10 years later i don't know what i'd do without him. that's my platonic soulmate, that's the one person besides my husband i can share anything with. fuck, he knows more about my life than my husband does because he was there to see me at my worst, at the scariest point in my life where i almost wasn't around anymore to see tomorrow. that kind of friendship is so fucking special, i cannot even properly put it into words, and for Mhok to keep that? to have that with Porjai? i'm so fucking glad he has that. i'm so glad he got to keep his platonic soulmate.

small aside, i love that Mhok consistently announces himself to Day. it's a little action but it's so considerate. he's honestly doing such an incredible job.

Day puts his sunglasses on like armor; like they can shield him from the judging stares or looks of pity he can't see. maybe someday he won't need them, not because his heart has hardened to take the blows, but maybe because he knows Mhok is by his side. because remember - it's the way they look at us.

"i heard you wanted to take time off and focus on badminton" Night i'm going to drown you in your own toilet. this is just furthering my thoughts from episode 2 that Night is ashamed of his brother and his condition, or perhaps that the family is trying to hide his condition for some fucking stupid reason.

the bravery it took Day to come here and admit whats happening to his is huge, but i'm also in love with the admissions admin saying sure, you can have time off, but you're not allowed to quit. you're not allowed to give up on yourself.

"we must live with hope, Day" and that's it. you have to. you just have to. every day is going to be so hard and so much, you'll have good and bad days, but at least in all those days you'll have hope. and maybe someday that hope won't be for new eyes. maybe that hope will turn into acceptance, into determination, into pride at what you've accomplished in spite of it all. in my opinion, hope is an amazing fuel but it's not sustainable, it's just a vehicle to get you to where you need to be.

Mhok asking a blind man for a tour, oh fuck fuck fuckfuckufkcufk-- Mhok essentially saying show me your world exactly as you remember it, let me in. see how things have changed and how they've remained the same and do it with me by your side.

THE WAY MHOK SHIELDS HIM AT THE LIBRARY. DAY DOESN'T NEED TO WEAR HIS SUNGLASSES LIKE ARMOR BECAUSE MHOK IS BY HIS SIDE AS HIS SHIELD. chewing my own arm off brb.

"and you also have me. nothing to be afraid of" because i will always shield you, i will always protect you, i will stand by your side AAAA--

on part 3/4 now, i promise i'll shut the fuck up soon. if you've read this far pls take this as a smooch checkpoint, i'm giving you a little forehead smooch. have you had any water today? taken your meds? relax your shoulders, unclench your jaw.

ok back to it - Mhok continuously having Day make his own selections in these various machines. Day's fate is in his hands, he can do these things himself, but Mhok will be there with him the whole way.

"my eyes don't work well but my legs do just fine." this is such a massive leap from the man that wouldn't even leave his bedroom, from the man that was suffocating in his environment. Day is no longer a dying man, a shambling corpse. he is an active participant in his own life again.

"stay close to me, that's all i need" bitch i'm gonna throw up, you can't just hit me with that after that's all i've been saying this whole time what the fuck.

OH FUCK ME. okay. alright. hang on. so when they enter the shop Mhok describes it to Day, explains where the jeans are, where the shirts are, asks him what to do and what he wants to take a look at. this is a direct antithesis of Night in episode 1 asking where Day was going to wait for him, where he could leave him so he could get his shit done. Day isn't being asked to wait, to just sit idle while life passes him by, he's being asked what he wants to do, where he wants to go, what he wants to see. FUUUUUCK. and knowing Mhok is doing this because Day expressed that he liked dressing nicely? how the fuck am i supposed to just go to my job like a normal person after this episode.

wow the shirt buttoning scene just made me so mentally ill. right now, Mhok is doing his job. he's helping Day get dressed. but someday? someday this could be Mhok dressing Day not because he needs him to help but simply because Mhok likes doing to for Day. there's the sensuality of caring for your partner, of running your hands over the planes of their shoulders, of skimming your fingers down their chest to pluck every button. it's an exploration and a declaration of love. if we get this again in a future scene and it's something like that please remember me fondly because i will perish.

at the bookstore Mhok recognizing Day doesn't want to wait, but Day has become so accustomed to the other people in his life telling him what to do that he falls back into that behavior - but Mhok doesn't let him. he prioritizes Day's needs and desires, even if it's something as little as finding a book, without being asked.

THE LAST PAGE IS MISSING.

(because one can't see his future and the other can't see in the future, but also because they'll make their own ending, they'll face that when they get there, but they'll do it together -- what if i lost my shit completely of it?)

when Mhok leaves Day to get him a drink the camera is focused on Day and the clear warring emotions on his face but if you look in the background Mhok hesitates, he stops and turns a few times to look at day. he's reluctant to leave him and worried. Mhok worries so much but it's always so understated or in the background, covered by the emotions of others he values above himself. (or overlooked because of 'what type of person he is')

while its anxiety inducing i do enjoy this regression of behavior because adapting to a new life is hard. you will regress, you will stumble, you will fall into old habits or sometimes old fears will return. its what you do after that that is important. the one thing i hope doesn't happen is i hope this doesn't cause a rift with Porjai. i think Mhok needs her right now, maybe not forever, but definitely right now.

HE PUT ON THE FUCKING SHIRT. THE FUCKING SHIRT DAY COULD SEE FROM MARS. OH MY GOD. i know this doesn't need to be commented on, i know it's obvious, but FUUUUCK.

Day's mom trying to weaponize Mhok's past and Mhok taking the ammunition from her hands and telling Day himself. the acceptance of the past and the determination to move on and grow from it. Day's refusal to let the past repeat itself with a new caretaker. whoo boy.

and again Day wants to see Mhok, because even bruised and battered Mhok is worth seeing.

if the last episode ends with "sweet dreams/good night" i will be burying myself alive, thanks.

THE PINK SHIRT RUINING HIS BAD BOY IMAGE BECAUSE IT IS BEING RUINED. HE'S MOVING ON, HE'S GROWING, HE'S BECOMING A NEW PERSON. FUCK OFF.

i'm so so sorry this was so long, every episode makes me feel more and more things and makes me analyze shit more and more.

tagging @benkaaoi and @callipigio as requested (if you want to be added to my last twilight meta tag list just let me know!)

[trangkhanhi]

Motherly love - Uzumaki Kushina

Don't know if anyone who has read this article has become a mother? I'm not a mother, I haven't had children yet so I don't know what motherhood is like for children. Every time I read or watched Naruto's birth, I cried because I felt sad for this family for not being able to live happily together. That fateful day Kushina went from a woman to a mother, a beautiful and sacred vocation

However, Kushina must not have expected that on the day she expected her son to be born, it was also the day that she and her husband died.

And what made me feel even more sad was to read the manga again when I saw Kushina's messages to Naruto before she left this world

As I read and watched this passage tears kept coming to my eyes, an indescribable sadness, how sad. I'm not a mother, I can't know the pain Kushina endured when she had to leave her baby and turn Naruto into a jinchuriki but I knew it definitely hurt.

But all I understood was sadness until I saw 2 videos on social media at which point I understood Kushina's feelings even though I am not a mother.

There was a girl who was pregnant but then she found out she had cancer, her family and husband were both very panicked but the girl was especially calm and only asked the doctor one question "I have cancer so is my baby affected?" and the doctor answered no. The girl replied calmly, it was okay.

Because of the cancer, she started treatment so she could prolong her life so she could deliver the baby. During her pregnancy, her treatment was painful, but she managed to overcome it for her little one, and she also prepared birthday presents for him year by year and filmed videos saying messages to her son, when her child grew up, Child could rewatch the footage.

As she neared her due date, the pain from the treatment made her unbearable, causing her to burst into sobs and tell her husband, "I don't want to die, I want to see my baby grow up healthy, I'm not comfortable leaving my baby in someone else's care," which is not what Kushina did before she died. with Naruto? That's why when Minato neutralized Edo Tensei, Naruto responded to Kushina's earlier instructions and told him not to worry about him

And the last line "Try to find someone like your mother" when I read this far, I just thought it was simply to find a strong girl like Kushina, but actually behind that sentence is very meaningful

In another story, there is an exchange program between musicians and students on the topic of songs composed by that musician. And there was a boy who asked the musician this one question Boy: I want to ask if the whole song is about a mother's love for her son, but one sentence that I really wonder about is, "There will be someone who loves you more than I love you", I want to understand what you meant when you wrote that sentence?

Musician: Haha, You think I wrote it wrong, right? Boy: I don't know who will love me more than my mother? Musician: Let me tell you, your mother is always the person who loves you the most, your mother will still love you the most in the future, your mother will always love you the most, that's what I'm sure of. But for your mother, in your mother's thoughts and in my thoughts for my son, your mother always hopes that someone will love her child more than she does. That sentence is only true in your mother's mind because your mother loves you too much and your mother knows one thing: your mother will not be able to go with you when you grow up. I also cannot go with my child when he grows up because I will get old and when I am no longer in this world, who will take care of my child?

With the two stories I told above, both of them are parents and those are the similar feelings of parents in those situations.

I finally understood that Kushina's statement was find someone like your mother, which means find someone who loves you like I love you, even loves you more than me. Kushina has become an instinctive mother who loves and protects Naruto unconditionally. Kushina knew she couldn't see Naruto grow up and become an adult, and at the same time placed the burden of becoming a jinchuriki on Naruto. Kushina understood the pain that Naruto was about to go through because she was also a Jinchuriki, she knew how lonely and sad that pain was until she met Minato and Kushina was very happy and grateful for that. So she also hopes that Naruto will also meet someone who loves him, someone who cares for him, someone who is willing to protect Naruto the way she is willing to protect her son from the Nine-Tails.

However, the person Naruto likes is not a girl but a boy. I read a sentence on a tumblr blog that I don't remember from someone who said "Except for Naruto's parents, no one in this world loves Naruto more than Sasuke." The biggest thing Kushina and Sasuke have in common is that they love Naruto unconditionally. Sasuke took care of Naruto, feeding him bentos at the cost of his ninja career. Worried about Naruto when he trained alone all night and didn't come home, and most importantly, he was willing to sacrifice his life for Naruto's smile without any regrets.Naruto and Sasuke are so happy because they found each other and shared their pain together

Sasuke is not a girl, but if she knew there was someone who loved Naruto unconditionally like that, Kushina would definitely be happy and reassured.

I read somewhere that Kishimoto had no intention of letting Naruto meet his parents again until he had a child. He knew he owed Naruto an apology and he decided to create two very emotional moments. allowing Naruto the opportunity to see his two most important relatives again.

A mother’s love will never end. It is there from beginning to end.

Hope everyone will also find the other half of your life, "soulmate" or "true love", someone who loves you unconditionally like Sasuke loves Naruto and Naruto loves Sasuke and even if you can't find that person, please always love yourself.