#i am very normal about the grim reaper arc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

winterscaptain · 5 years ago

Text

no deal.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: and thus begins the 100 arc! i am so excited to share this with all of you. these are going to include more canon episode moments than my other episode-attached fics because everything builds on itself and the details are key. i promise we’ll still get a lot of added scenes and little changes!

words: 8.4k warnings: canon-typical violence and discussion of violence, language

summary: a case comes back to haunt Aaron in more ways than you can imagine. you’re there to be his shadow, to catch him when he falls.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

“Hotch?” You poke your head around the door, and you find him at his desk, in a surprising ensemble of khakis and an earthy quarter zip.

Almost whimsical, for him.

He looks up, his eyes softening for a moment before his brows pull in confusion. “You’re still here?”

You gesture to his desk lamp, the only light on in the entire office. “You are, so I figured…” You shrug. “I dunno. Is everything okay?” He looks exhausted, but it’s bone-deep - nothing sleep can fix.

He shakes his head and sighs.

That’s his tell.

But he says, “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

You don’t believe him.

“Are you sure?” You cross the room and lean on his side of the desk, quickly scanning over the documents you find there. He doesn’t mind your nosiness. He's mostly accustomed to it by now.

Most of it is pretty normal - after-action reports, performance evaluations (it looks like you’re doing well), and task force meeting agendas - but there’s one file that sticks out.

Your brow furrows. “The Boston Reaper?”

He shakes his head again. “I’m just reviewing it for an academy lecture about dormant or otherwise inactive serial killers.”

“Ah, I see.” You know he’s still lying. “Anything I can help with?”

A little half-smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “No, thank you.” He looks up at you and you offer him a small smile. There are many things at work behind his brown eyes.

He never keeps things from you without reason, so the lying doesn’t bother you so much as the unease radiating off him in waves.

For now, you decide to let it go and pat his shoulder as you stand. “Alright. Walk me out?” It’s a pointed question - you know he won’t leave if left to his own devices.

He’s about to throw you a denial, but the look on your face leaves no room for it. “Yeah. I’ll just be a minute.” He starts packing up, sorting the files into neat little stacks that will be there waiting for him when he gets back tomorrow. The Reaper case, you notice, goes into his briefcase, decisively snapped shut and taken into his hand before you can process much else.

The walk down to the garage is a quiet one. You take the stairs, happy for the excuse to stretch your legs.

You snag the sleeve of his (very soft) quarter zip before he turns toward his car. “Aaron?”

His eyes snap to yours at the use of his first name.

“Just…” you aren’t sure where you’re going with this, but he’s probably used to that by now, too. “Just, erm...Drive safe, please? Get some sleep when you get home?”

He takes a little breath and nods, his gaze softening. He’s quiet as you release his arm, quiet on the walk to his car, quiet (you imagine) as he drives out of the garage.

You watch him until the echo of his tail lights fall out of your sight.

+++

The next morning, JJ trots up the stairs to Hotch’s office and exchanges a few words with him before he flies out of his office and down the stairs.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the official request? We haven’t been invited.” JJ does her best to keep up with him, trotting down the stairs behind him with a file in her hand.

“We will be.”

You look at her with questions in your eyes and she shrugs. Derek, too, looks at her with confusion. Hotch continues toward the doors.

Is he already headed toward the plane?

She throws her hands up. “Well, it looks like we’re going to Boston.”

+++

When all your things are packed and ready, you settle in beside Aaron in your usual place, on the arm of the couch across from the table.

He walks you all through his work from a decade ago as you all review the files in your hands. "The Reaper is driven by a need to dominate, control, and manipulate."

Emily’s the first to speak up. “So then why would he offer a deal that would stop him from doing that?”

“Well, killing gave him power, but after so many, the payoff began to diminish. So he decided to switch tactics. Offering the deal gave him the ultimate power, better even than killing. He manipulated the police into voluntarily surrendering.”

“He even got it in writing,” Reid adds. He’s looking closely at the letter, likely starting the structure of what would become a linguistic profile.

JJ looks up, a little confused. ”He won. Why start killing again?”

“Because the only person who knew he'd won, the person he made the deal with, just died.” Morgan says, closing the file and tossing it on the table in front of him.

That’s an easy train of thought to jump on. “Narcissistic killers need other people to recognize their power.” With a little smile, you remind her, “That's why they contact the media.”

Emily’s next. “So how did he stop for 10 years?

“In Night of the Reaper, the author suggests he had been arrested for an unrelated crime or died.” Reid pulls the book in question from his bag, placing it on the table. “Perhaps he's trying to correct that misconception.”

“Like BTK,” you offer.

You can see Aaron's eyebrows rise for just a moment in your peripheral vision. Good one.

You purposefully bump his shoulder on your way to steal one of Morgan’s snacks. Thanks.

JJ takes the book, thumbing through. “What has he been doing all this time?

“Well,” you say, “I would imagine he was planning what he would do if he started killing again.” You look at Aaron, who nods with his mouth in a thin, grim line.

Morgan opens the file again, running his finger down the metrics as he speaks. “So, from '95 to '98, he shoots, stabs, and bludgeons twenty-one victims - men, women, all ages, all types, no specific victimology or MO.” He looks up at Hotch. “How did you build a profile from that?”

“We didn't. Shaunessy sent us home before we had a chance.” Aaron takes a breath before his next thought. “BTK, the Zodiac, and the Reaper all have similarities. They're all highly intelligent, disciplined, sadistic killers who name themselves in the press.”

“Highly intelligent may be a bit of an understatement,” Reid says. “The Reaper and The Zodiac Killer have never been arrested. And the BTK killer was only caught after twenty-five years because he went to the press to counter a book that said he'd died, moved away, or been locked up, just like this one.”

“Speaking of the media,” JJ notes, “when this gets out, it's going to be a frenzy. If they get wind of this, they're going to be all over the Boston Police.”

Aaron agrees with a brisk nod. “The longer we can float the copycat story, the better chance we'll have of catching him.”

You sit up straighter. “Meaning, if we keep pushing at his ego, he might take another risk?”

“Exactly,” he says. “Rossi, Prentiss, and Morgan, go to the field office, set up shop, go through everything there.” He assigns himself, you, JJ, and Reid to the crime scene.

You’re happy for the chance to keep an eye on him. There’s still something off about this whole thing, and the fingers on his left hand worrying his pen is only the most obvious clue. You reach out for his sleeve across the aisle when the team breaks, tugging a little, just like you did last night.

He looks over at you, almost startled. “Yeah?”

You don’t say anything. Tell me what you need.

“I’m fine. Just want to get on the ground and get to work.”

Bullshit. Your squint says it all.

He sighs and you release his arm. He’ll talk to you when he’s ready.

He always does.

+++

You and JJ stand off Aaron's shoulder as he introduces the three of you to the local police authorities. Hotch is already on edge.

An odd exchange between Hotch and one of the veteran cops leaves you with the entire department at your disposal. How he manages to do that every time is beyond you.

Reid, the case file in his hand, walks you all through the preliminary findings. “Nina Hale, ninteen, and Evan Harvey, twenty-three. Nina's throat was slashed, she was stabbed forty-six times. Evan was bludgeoned and then shot. No shell casings were found.”

“A revolver, maybe?” You ask, in-step with Aaron, whose gears are turning as he examines the inside and outside of the car.

“He preferred revolvers, .44 magnum.” If he weren’t so focused, you were sure he’d be impressed by your observation. “The younger the female victim, the more time he spends with them, usually with a knife.”

You point at one of the photos of the female victim. “Tan line on her wrist. Probably wearing a watch of some sort.”

Aaron’s on the other side of the car now, leaning close to the driver’s side window, looking at a photo of the male victim. “Do we have his wallet?” At your questioning glance, he adds, “The Reaper took items from each victim and placed them on the next, so as to make sure we knew it was him.”

“That’s quite the signature,” you muse, straightening.

One of the crime scene techs hands him the wallet in question. After a quick examination: “No corrective lens requirement.”

Your brow furrows and you look over at him. “The glasses aren't his?”

“He only took glasses from one victim--the ninth.” He looks increasingly agitated as he speaks and the crease in your brow deepens to match his. “We should have found them on the tenth, and we didn't. They were never found.”

How does he know which victim was the ninth? How does he remember?

“What was so special about the ninth victim?”

Aaron levels you with a look that sends cold wriggling up your spine. “He survived.”

Oh.

+++

JJ and Dave take the second car back, intending to make a few stops on their way back to the precinct. You sit shotgun, staring out the window, while Aaron drives. His fingers tap arrythmically on the steering wheel.

He’s restless. Fidgety. It’s weird.

“What are you thinking about over there?” You ask.

He shakes his head, just a little. “It’s not a copycat.”

Your brow furrows. “We knew that, though.”

“Right.”

Oh.

It must be surreal to have a case come back to life like this. “Wasn’t this one of your first cases? You joined the BAU in ‘98, right?”

When I was a sophomore in high school…

Oh, shut up.

You snap back to the audible conversation as he nods. “It was my first case as lead profiler, so I’d been on the team a couple of months. Gideon thought, well...I don’t know what he thought. He gave me point on this one for some reason or another.”

“Look at you, hotshot.” You reach out and shove lightly against his shoulder and you’re rewarded with a huff. “Only on the team a few months and you get assigned your very own case.”

He rolls his eyes. “I did it with you.”

It’s true - he did. Spencer may have saved the day in the end, but you polished, delivered, and implemented the profile throughout the investigation. As scared as you were for the professional leap (and the personal one, given the nature of your teams’ closeness), it paid off.

“That doesn’t count.”

He glances at you before returning his eyes to the road. “Why not?”

You shrug. “We’re kind of…” You clam up, for some reason, a little embarrassed.

Don’t be stupid.

“...I don’t know? Friends?”

You get a real smile from him this time and you match it. “Well, ‘kind-of-I-don’t-know friends’ seems like a stretch, don’t you think?” He looks over at you and holds your gaze a little longer than he should, considering he’s driving a little more than eighty miles per hour.

You’re an idiot, your eyes say, an amused chuff leaving your nose.

His eyebrows bounce before he looks out at the road again. And?

+++

“George Foyet, 28, was the ninth victim and the only one to survive The Reaper.” Aaron passes you files as he speaks, clearly not needing any notes or other aids to regurgitate the details of the case, verbatim.

Dave snorts. “Not for lack of trying.”

Hotch walks you all through the Foyet attack, outlining the oddities and patterns that collectively create The Reaper’s signature. His good mood from the car has either entirely evaporated or been smothered by his focus on the case, leaving him with his normal operational stoicism. “The Reaper always uses some sort of ruse to get close to and spend time with his victims.”

“So, how did Foyet survive?” You ask.

It’s weird he’s not summarizing it for you all, but then again, this case is odd in its obvious, meticulous execution. It’s probably best to let it speak for itself.

Hotch wordlessly starts the recording.

“911. What's your emergency?”

“I just murdered two more.” The voice is distorted, ominous.

“Excuse me, sir, did you say you murdered someone?”

“Victims eight and nine, by a silver Toyota on Riverton past the Tyson Quarry.”

Reid fills you in. “That call was made from a payphone about a mile from the crime scene. EMTs arrived fifteen minutes later. Bertrand was DOA, Foyet barely breathing.”

“So,” you ask, looking over the case. “The Reaper made one of these calls after each of his killings telling the police where to find the bodies?”

Aaron nods. “Until this one, the ninth. If he hadn't made this call, Foyet wouldn't have been found in time. The call saved him.”

You look up from the file. “Can I guess that the Reaper didn't make any 911 calls after this one?”

Aaron’s brows raise for a moment. Exactly.

“There's a reason he left Foyet's glasses at the last crime scene.” Aaron looks grim as he presents the glasses again.

Morgan pulls his phone out of his pocket, likely for access to Penelope. “Foyet could be in danger.”

“Uh, Hotch,” JJ pops her head into the room, looking more than a little confused. “There's a reporter outside insisting on speaking with you.” At Aaron's questioning look, she adds, “Roy Colson. He says he knows you.”

You watch him leave and exchange words with the reporter, your lower lip planted firmly between your teeth. JJ hangs at your side while Derek comes up behind you, putting his hands on your shoulders.

“Is Hotch okay?” He asks. Spencer, Dave, Emily, and JJ also look to you for an answer.

You shake your head the barest amount and when you speak, it’s almost a whisper. “I don’t know.” You clear your throat and try again. “I don’t know.”

+++

Dave peers into the car. “Another couple. Much older this time. One shot and one stabbed.”

“No reason to stop out here.” You’re just off Aaron's shoulder, following the line of his flashlight.

Dave sounds resigned, tired. “His license and registration are out of his wallet.”

You squint. “Looks like he used a cop ruse."

“Good spot, isolated, few drivers.”

Hotch sighs, coming in close to something with his flashlight. “He left Nina Hale's watch."

"Okay," Dave says. "So what'd he take?"

“His wedding ring.” You note the tan line on the man’s fourth finger - a dead giveaway.

Pardon the pun...

A local officer is quick to give you the victim information, approaching Aaron with a file. “Arthur and Diane Lanessa. Weymouth. Married 32 years. They were coming home from the Elks, where they played bingo twice a week.” He looks over at the press, rapidly arriving at the perimeter. “I gotta go make notification.”

You refocus on the crime scene, anticipating Aaron's wandering eyes and shining the light where he needs it most.

“Looks like he went through her purse,” he says.

You hover over his shoulder again. “Any idea what he was looking for?”

Hotch shakes his head, moving on.

A photo falls out of the drop-down mirror during Hotch’s cursory check. It depicts the victims and who you assume are members of their family. In blood, FATE? is scrawled across the front of the photo. Aaron straightens, leaving the car and crossing to Dave. You, of course, follow.

When you both reach Dave, you finally have an opportunity to take a look at the photo. “The question mark is new.”

“It's for us.” Aaron doesn’t need further examination for his assessment. “He's saying it's not fate. He's saying we had ten years to save them and that these latest ones are on us.”

“You got all that from one question mark. That's impressive.” Dave’s compliment is only a little undercut by his sarcasm. You can’t help but agree with the implication.

Aaron sighs, copping to it. “I may know him better than I've let on.”

“What does that mean?” You step closer to him, your brow furrowed.

He levels you with a somewhat guilty look. “It means that there is a profile on The Reaper.”

Dave frowns. “I thought we were called off before we had one.”

“We were. I had just started the profile, and then he stopped killing, so officially we were done. But this case…”

“It stuck with you,” you finish for him. Your brows drop lower over your eyes, finally understanding the stakes at play.

“I kept coming back to it over the years, and I worked on it alone.”

The exhaustion in his voice, gravelly and low, worries you more than you’d like to let on. “So you never shared it with anyone.”

“I know I'm always preaching that profiling is a collaborative effort, but this one wasn't. I don't know, maybe if -” he sighs. “If I was wrong, I was gonna head us in the wrong direction.” The doubt in Aaron's voice breaks your heart a little.

“Now you think you're right.” Dave, of course, has the brief words to coax the thought out of Aaron. You’re thankful he’s here. Between the two of you, you’ll get more out of your unit chief in twenty minutes than anyone else would get in three days.

“The more I see, the more accurate I think it may be.”

“Okay,” you say, “then we need to hear it.”

+++

It’s decided that Aaron will deliver the profile solo, with only a little input from Dave. It’s odd to see him up there all by himself while the rest of you stand off to the side. You’re students just as much as the local police, this time.

You tune into Aaron, whose eyes are bouncing all over the room, from person to person, holding and keeping their attention. His eyes meet yours and you hope the respect and pride overflowing in your chest is visible on your face.

“The Reaper fits a profile we refer to as an omnivore. Unlike most serial killers, an omnivore doesn't target a specific victim type. Although he tends to focus on his younger female victims with his knife, he essentially is a predator who will kill anyone.”

One of the local cops has a decent question (for once). “Why is he so democratic?”

“Because his kills aren't just about his victims. He needs recognition. He needs us to know.”

Dave chimes in. “The symbols, the placement of prior victims' possessions on subsequent victims--it's all for us.”

“Why?”

“Power,” Aaron answers simply. “The Shaunessy letter is the clearest example of this. He manipulated Tom Shaunessy into literally surrendering to him.”

It reminds you of the first time you saw him - alone, in front of a room of people focused only on him. It was one of your first lectures at the academy, your favorite, and the one that inspired you to ask for a placement with the BAU when Jenny told you to take a running leap.

How far you’ve come.

Without permission, your mind wanders to a few things that haven’t changed in the last year and a half. Aaron is still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen - capable, worthy of deep admiration and respect. His voice is the same - demanding respect and carrying the weight of the world in it.

Anything that won’t condemn you to a life of unrealistic expectations of men?

No. Maybe you’re a better shot?

Great. That’s useful.

“Like BTK killer Dennis Rader,” Aaron continues, “The Reaper is extremely disciplined. In his everyday life, this will very likely make him so inflexible, he can't keep close relationships or work closely with others.

“I believe our killer has another interest that may give us the best opportunity to catch him.” You’re glad Dave is there to help, his seasoned expertise coming in handy once again. “The Reaper's last victim was an older woman. He killed her quickly, with a single shot. The prior, younger victim, he spent more time with and stabbed forty-six times.”

Yet another “Why?” from one of the local officers.

Curious group, it seems.

Aaron answers. “He pays special attention to his younger female victims, and his weapon of choice with them is the knife, a substitute instrument for bodily penetration.”

Dave, again, has something else for you all. “The younger the victim, the more time and effort he spends. I think our guy is a hebephile.”

“Hebephile?” Naturally, that particular proclivity is not a familiar one to the layman.

Reid lends an assist. “A hebephile is someone who's attracted to adolescent post-pubescent children. Teenagers.”

“Look for men with access and authority -” Aaron assumes command again, “- high school teachers, counselors, coaches--and anyone who's been charged with sex crimes against teenage girls in the last ten years.” He checks in with you, and you nod. “That's all for now. Thank you.”

+++

You look up as Aaron walks into the room, Derek ready with bad news. “Garcia can’t find George Foyet.” You stand and resume your post as his shadow, beside Emily.

Morgan holds the phone toward Hotch. “I’ve got nothing, sir,” comes Garcia’s voice from the speaker.

“What do you mean?

“I mean, he’s gone. He’s completely off the grid. He’s gone.”

“How is that possible?” You tap Aaron's shoulder with the back of your hand as his tone grows sharper with Penelope.

Be nice.

He shakes you off and you clench your jaw, looking over at Derek as Aaron tries to wiggle more information out of Penelope. It doesn’t work. “Garcia, we don’t have much time.”

“I know, sir.”

You huff. “I mean, how would you even drop off the grid like that? There has to be someone he talked to.”

Aaron wordlessly dials a number, shooting you a somewhat grateful, if not a little rueful, look. “Roy, Aaron Hotchner. I need a favor.”

+++

“That’s him.”

Aaron shuts the back door of the car behind you and out of habit, you take quick stock of him while he does the same for you.

You spot the man you’re looking for skittering across the street and toward the apartment. “George Foyet?” He’s visibly skeptical, and Aaron pulls his credentials. “It’s okay. We're FBI.” He introduces you and Rossi while you flash your credentials for good measure. “I'm Agent Hotchner. We met once before. Do you remember?”

"Yeah, I remember.” He’s agitated, his eyes jumping to every moving person on the near-empty street. “Would you mind if we get off the street, please?

You follow Dave and Aaron into the cramped apartment, noting the clutter and general feeling of paranoia permeating the space. Everything looks rushed - half-lived in and half-finished.

When you reach the kitchen, Foyet collapses into a coughing fit and Dave immediately supplies him with a glass of water.

“Thank you.” He takes another decent gulp. “How'd you guys find me?”

“Roy Colson,” Aaron says. He’s focused on Foyet, but you can tell he’s keyed into the peripherals, just in case.

“Oh.” He seems disappointed, though in what you’re not sure. “Well, is this gonna take long? 'Cause I really can't be late for work.”

“What do you do?” You ask.

“I'm a freelance computer specialist with the city.”

Dave steps forward. “We're sorry to bother you. We'll make it as quick as possible.”

Aaron pulls the evidence bag containing the glasses out of his breast pocket. “This yours?”

“I knew it wasn't a copycat.”

You pull a chair for Foyet as he coughs again, feeling only a little odd about taking care of this man in his own house.

“Thank you.” He takes another sip of water. “I'm sorry.” He pauses, remembering. “I was gonna propose to her that night...At the restaurant, but I got cold feet. The ring was still in my pocket when he approached us. He said he was lost. He had one of those sightseeing booklets. I was looking at it when he stabbed me. Yeah...Perfect timi-”

You interrupt him, attempting to stem his agitation. “Mr. Foyet, you don't need to go through this again.” Nevertheless, he continues, increasingly distraught.

“I couldn't move. I just sat there, bleeding. I watched him kill Mandy. He stabbed her sixty-seven times. Do you know how long it takes to stab somebody sixty-seven times? ...I never found the ring.”

For some reason, your mind drifts to the man beside you, the horrifying thought of seeing him stabbed, the life leaving his body. You shake it off with a little shudder.

Why, brain? Why? That’s a fucking awful thought.

And yet the image sticks with you, forcing you to manually lock it away. Aaron looks at you, almost like he can read your mind.

That’s nightmare fodder.

The smallest flex of his brow asks, Are you okay?

Fine. You offer him a tight twitch of your lips. It’s not a smile, but you’d be thankful for at least a mockery of one right now.

With a little bit of a squint, Aaron turns back to Foyet. “He should have left your glasses on his next victim, but he didn't. He held on to them all this time.”

“What, you think he's got some special interest in me?” He almost laughs. “I've been living with that possibility for the past eleven years.”

“Have you received any strange letters or calls? Hang-ups?” Dave asks.

“I keep residences under different names. I move between them randomly. He likes to get you in the car, so I take the bus. Believe me, I've gone through great lengths to make sure that none of the things you've just mentioned ever happened.”

What a terrifying, sad existence.

Dave offers George his notebook and a pen. “We'll need your other names and residences so we can reach you.”

“We can take you someplace safe until this is over.” Aaron’s brow is knit in concern - it’s a look you’ve seen many times, but it never fails to inspire a little flicker of warmth in your chest.

Quit, would you?

“No. Boston is my home. It's the one thing I promised I would never let him take from me.”

Aaron insists, pushing. “Then we'll protect you here.”

“You can't protect me. Nobody can.” He frantically writes in the notebook for a moment before handing it back to Dave. “Please be careful with this. Please.”

Dave assures him, “It's safe with us.”

“He's just a man, nothing more.” You hope it’s the right thing to say. You feel Aaron take a breath, and you almost feel bad. It’s a line he’s said before, one you borrow when necessary.

Don’t mean to steal his thunder.

Instead of looking at you, he looks at Aaron. “Then why can't you catch him?”

“We will.”

+++

You’re both sitting in Aaron's hotel room, the photos from each of the crime scenes spread out all around you. It’s far later than you’d like, but the time spent is worth it if it gets you one step closer to this sick, scary bastard.

“What was it like? The original case?”

Aaron sighs, pulling a hand down his face. “Frustrating. Exhausting. Like this.” He shakes his head. “Every day was another dead end, and then another pair of bodies every few weeks. Then…they just stopped.” He holds up the note. “Now I know why.”

You tip your head to the side, studying him. “What would you do?”

“What, you mean about the deal?”

“Yeah. What if -”

The phone rings, cutting you off, and you rise to answer. You’re stopped by a hand on your wrist as Aaron passes you and picks it up. “Hotchner.”

You plant yourself back on the bed, legs folded underneath you. It’s probably one of the team, given the hour and -

“Who is this?” His voice is low, almost angry.

You scramble to the edge of the bed, giving Aaron space while remaining completely keyed into him.

“...You think I’d take that?...I’ve misjudged you. I thought you were smarter than this...Then you’ve misjudged me...I don’t make deals.”

Oh my god. It’s The Reaper.

No. It can't be.

You pull out your cell and fire off a text as quickly as you can to Penelope.

3:42am trace call to ah’s room stat

She doesn’t disappoint.

3:42am on it.

“I’m the guy who hunts guys like you..." Aaron laughs, dark and humorless. "You all think that...I’ll see you soon.” He slams the phone down and starts to pace, his hand over his mouth.

“What’s going on?” You stand, stopping him with a hand on his arm. “Hotch. Who was that?”

He stares down the phone like it’s a living thing, but doesn’t breathe a word. After a moment, he jumps back into action, sitting heavily on the bed and going over everything with a renewed, almost frantic, focus.

You watch him for a moment before you pull out your phone. A text message from six hours ago blinks up at you.

Haley Brooks-Hotchner

9:13pm when you get a chance, can you have aaron give me a call? no rush. just school paperwork for j. he’s not picking up his phone. thanks xx

You answer her, praying she didn’t leave her ringer on. The hour alone will reveal the extent of the team’s attention on this case and you can only hope she understands.

3:48am can do. this one’s bad. might be a minute.

Aaron looks up at you, a question in his eyes.

You shake your head with a little smile. It’s nothing.

+++

“Six bodies, not including the driver. He put 'em down with the gun--or more likely guns--and finished them off with his knife.” Dave looks around while Aaron stands stock still near the driver, slumped over the wheel.

The scene inside the bus is macabre - bodies and blood everywhere. The numbers on the window send shivers up your spine.

“There;s Arthur Lanessa's wedding ring.” You peer over Aaron's shoulder. “What'd he take?”

He scoffs. “Does it matter?”

He straightens quickly, shoving past you and getting off the bus. You get out of his way, letting him go with a frown. Dave meets your eyes and tips his head. You follow him out as he goes after Aaron, giving them just a little bit of distance

Dave catches up to him. “Hey. What's goin' on with you?”

Aaron stops in the alley a little ways away from the bus. “He called me tonight and offered me the deal.”

So that’s what happened.

You thought as much, but the thought alone was too much to consider. It’s never been less satisfying to be right.

“What did you say?”

“I hung up on him, and then he does this.” Aaron gestures to the crime scene, NO DEAL staring you all in the face, along with all those numbers.

The idea of The Reaper torturing Aaron like this is horrifying. Plenty of unsubs have made your skin crawl in the past, but this is a new kind of awful. You’ve never seen him like this.

“So, you think this is your fault?”

“It is,” he insists. You’re shocked to see tears in his eyes when he looks back up at Dave. There’s a part of you that wants to reach out, but something keeps you back.

Dave pulls his gun and releases the safety, turning the grip toward Aaron.

What the fuck?

“Well, here, use mine. You convinced me.”

Aaron waves him off with one hand while he pinches the bridge of his nose with the other.

Of all the things you would have thought of at this moment, pulling a gun on SSA Aaron Hotchner wouldn’t have made the list. You watch, ready to jump between them at a moment’s notice. They’ve never gone after each other before, but you’ve seen more worrisome behavior from Aaron in the last forty-eight hours than in the preceding eighteen months.

Even at the height of the divorce proceedings, he was steadier than this.

“No, no, you hung up on him.” Dave pushes the gun at him, trying to wrangle it into Aaron's hand. “You practically killed them yourself. Go ahead, get it over with. Don't worry about us.” He gestures to you and Aaron's eyes flicker to yours. You have no idea what you look like right now. “We'll get this guy without you.”

Dave is a genius.

He blinks, tears wetting his cheeks. It’s certainly one of the more alarming things you’ve ever seen. He’s audibly frustrated, his hand flexing at his side as he talks. “Dave, I had 10 years to do something about it.”

That’s not fair.

When has Aaron ever been fair, or even kind, to himself?

Well, shit.

That’s why you’re here. Do your job.

You step forward, keeping your voice down. Approaching him like a cornered animal seemed the best tactic at the moment. “Shaunessy made the deal. The killing stopped, as promised. He closed the case and sent you away, Hotch.” Your eyes beg for his as you continue. “You moved on. You worked on other cases, active cases. You saved lives in that time. It wasn’t wasted.”

Aaron huffs, clearly frustrated. “But I kept coming back to this one. I kept coming back to this profile.” There’s something desperate in his voice and you know he’s trying to get you to understand something he can’t articulate.

Dave takes over again. “Hey. I was retired. Should I blame myself for every victim who got killed while I was on my book tour? Look, if you want to end up like Shaunessy, like Gideon, blaming yourself for everything, you go ahead.”

Damn. Good point.

Aaron’s eyes meet yours for just a moment before looking away again. You keep your face soft, neutral.

Safe.

“But that voice in your head,” Dave says, “it's not your conscience. It's your ego. This isn't about us, Aaron. It's about the bad guys. That's why we profile them. It's their fault. We're just guys doing a job. And when we stop doing it, someone else will. Trust me. I know.”

Aaron checks in with you for a moment and you nod. It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay.

He wipes at his eyes before leveling Dave with something that looks almost like his classic glare, gesturing to the offered gun at his chest. “You can put that away.”

With a cheeky smile, Dave says, “You sure?”

“It's a little dramatic, don't you think?” You ask, stepping up and clapping Dave on the shoulder.

“My wife always said I had a flair for the dramatic.” Dave’s deeply chuffed pleased that he was able to bring Aaron back to his senses. He holsters his weapon, throwing the safety back on.

“Which one?” Aaron asks. You’re relieved to hear a little bit of humor in his voice.

“All of 'em.”

The three of you share a little smile before you walk back to the crime scene.

Aaron’s thanks is so quiet you’re almost certain you made it up.

You’re only sure it happened at all when Dave replies, “Anytime.”

+++

“He knows where Foyet lives. We’ll split up and cover each address. Go.”

You rise and somehow end up with Derek. Though not your intention, it’s probably for the best. For good measure, you take Jameson, a seasoned SWAT agent. The three of you had the biggest of Foyet’s properties on lock.

Derek speeds to the house, flooring it with sirens blaring.

“I’ll take front,” Derek says, nearly shouting over the siren.

You’re locked and loaded, ready to go in your vest as soon as the car stops. “I’ll take the back.” You twist in your seat to look in the back. “Jameson, you good on my six?”

“I’ve gotcha.”

You’re clearing the house, kicking in the back door. There’s a thump behind you and you turn. Before you can do anything, something makes contact with the back of your head, sending you straight to the ground. You hit something else on your way down, and you’re done.

Fuck.

You’re knocked out cold, but come to only a few minutes later. You stumble to your feet as lights and sirens round the corner. Bringing a hand to your head, you feel the blood on your forehead. There’s probably a decent cut near your hairline and when you look down, you find an alarming amount of blood on your vest.

Head wounds bleed. You’re fine.

Oh.

Oh no.

Derek.

You brace yourself on the wall as you rise, checking your service weapon. It’s not in your holster, but you find it nearby on the floor.

Why didn’t he take it?

Kicking it under the table, you draw your secondary weapon. The thought of leaning down to reach for the gun on the floor is too much and your only aim is to get to Derek, then Jameson.

Blinking blood out of your eyes, you do your best to clear the rest of the house before finding the mess in the living room and front yard. Without much of a thought, you haul yourself over the broken window sill, getting a nice slice in your arm for your trouble, and land hard at Derek's side. With a groan, you roll over onto your knees, crawling toward your prone teammate.

You look up as headlights hit you, shading your eyes with one of your hands. The other rests on Derek's chest. To your relief, you can feel his breath under his vest. He’s alive. He’s okay.

With the intensity of the lights shining on you, you can’t see Hotch as he lifts you to your feet by your upper arms. He shields you from the light with his body, his brows drawn and concerned. You’re dizzy in the extreme, your right eye almost unable to open with all the blood caked down the side of your face.

He takes you under his arm and brings you to one of the ambulances posted on the street. The paramedic takes your vitals, but Aaron keeps a hold on your other hand. You’re not sure he realizes he’s still got you, but you’re not about to let go.

“What happened?” He asks, quiet and tense.

You shake your head even though it only increases your dizziness. Blinking a couple of times, you answer, “I don’t know. He came out of nowhere. I had the side of the house, Jameson had the back, Morgan the front. We were clearing room by room and he just…” your eyes float to the front of the house, where Emily has Derek with a paramedic. “He appeared and I didn’t have time before he hit me with...Something. I was out before I could blink. I think I hit the table on the way down.”

Hotch sighs and to your dismay, you see the coroner approaching the back of the house with a gurney. Jameson’s dead.

Why aren’t you?

“He didn’t take my service weapon. It’s under the table in the kitchen now, but it was next to me when I came to. I don’t -” you swallow, still dazed. “I don’t know why he left us alive.”

You can see Aaron's teeth grinding as he collects himself. “He’s trying to get in your head. Don’t let him.”

“What, like you?” You know your functioning isn’t at one hundred percent - you’d never make a jab at him like that, even weak as it was, at a moment like this if you were clear-headed.

He sighs as your eyes flutter shut, leaning on the inside of the ambulance. You hear the paramedic tell him you’re concussed and need to be kept awake for the next ten hours. Hotch gets the details on your other injuries before squeezing your hand once and leaving you.

After another few minutes, EMS releases you with a packet of concussion information (which you immediately crumple and shove into a passing crime scene tech’s jacket pocket). Far too quickly, you make your way across the yard and into the house, avoiding Jameson's body and the coroner’s staff.

You find Derek and Emily sitting together on the back of the couch as he, too, is patched up.

“You okay, kid?” He asks.

You nod. “Just concussed, a couple of lacerations. I’m fine. Are you okay?” There’s a compulsion to fuss over him, but you resist.

He nods, bringing a pristine .44 caliber bullet into your eye line. “He left this.”

A shiver runs down your spine. “Sadistic bastard.”

Emily raises her eyebrows and cants her head, agreeing with your brief assessment.

You look outside to where Hotch stands in the middle of the yard, with his arms crossed, looking over the damage to both the house and his team.

Eventually, he returns to the house with Spencer in tow. You follow them, moving slow.

Reid points to evidence as he talks. “Jameson was clearly killed outside. This is someone else. There are signs of a struggle and a lot of blood."

"But no body,” you note.

What the hell happened here?

Reid nods. "Just the drag marks. The human body holds 5 quarts of blood. I'd say there's a little more than half that here. Whoever the bleeder was, they lost too much to survive."

It begs the question, so you ask. "Foyet?”

“It was his worst fear, that the Reaper would come back and finish the job,” Dave says, appearing out of nowhere and leaning on the door jamb to the kitchen.

With a firm conviction, Aaron says, “We offered him protection. He refused. It was his choice.”

+++

JJ’s brow crumples as she looks over the files again. "Why is he so focused on Foyet? What's so special about him?"

Aaron, of course, answers her. "He was his only surviving victim, the only one he couldn't defeat."

“But he's not a threat. Defeating him would be no great accomplishment. There's something there that we're missing.” You thumb through the case again, certain the answers are there for you to find.

JJ’s persistent. “What about the girlfriend, Amanda Bertrand? Wh-what do we know about her?”

“Nineteen. A freshman. She came here from Michigan to go to school. Foyet was a teacher's assistant in one of Amanda's courses.”

“Michigan. Where The Reaper had Shaunessy post the personal ad.”

“That can't be a coincidence.”

“He told us she was the love of his life, that he was gonna propose. But she just got here from Michigan. They only met when the class started.”

“How long had she been in the class?” You ask

There’s an incredulous laugh in Emily’s voice. “Four weeks.”

“So it was either love at first sight or what?”

Derek picks up JJ’s thought. “Foyet was lying?”

“He's a 28-year-old teacher's assistant in freshman classes.” Hotch immediately starts dialing a number, and you’re sure you know which one. As you suspected, he gets Penelope on the phone.

“What are Foyet's aliases?” Quickly, you hand him Dave’s notebook, the rest of your body coiled for action. He bows his body over the phone, rattling off instructions. “I want you to look up in Boston city records Kevin Baskin, Miles Holden, and William Parker. Try the Department of Education.”

“Well played, sir.” You hear her keyboard in the background. “They all work for the Department of Education, they're all substitute teachers, and they all teach computer science.” She pauses. “Oops. Scratch that. They're not all working for the Department of Education.”

“They're not?” Aaron’s head tilts, listening.

“No. William Parker was fired for alleged inappropriate behavior with his female students.”

Something clicks. You watch the gears turn and turn and turn, Aaron’s eyes flickering over the photos, the file, back and forth as he puts pieces together.

“Hotch?” Your hand hovers over his shoulder, but he pays you no mind.

“Roy Colson went to see Foyet.” He begins to stand, his voice rising as he gets farther from the phone. “Garcia, I need you to trace Roy Colson's cell phone. George Foyet is The Reaper.”

Garcia gives you the address and the rest of you chase Aaron out to the car. The headache pushing behind your eyes is the least of your worries. “What? What do you mean George Foyet is the Reaper?” It’s almost comical, the efforts you take to keep pace with him down the stairs and to the car.

Aaron communicates all the details he put together in the conference room, taking you step-by-step through his process. “He stabbed Amanda Bertrand to death, he drove a mile, he called 911, he went back, and he inflicted those wounds on himself.”

You’ve already caught up, the pieces clicking in before he can repeat them. “He knew EMS would get there in time to save him.”

“And between the phone call and the severity of his wounds, we never considered him as a suspect.” There’s frustration in his tone, but you know it goes deeper than that. It’s his pride.

“Hotch, you couldn’t have -”

Derek cuts you off. “Why would he do it?”

“It put him at the core of the investigation. Everything we had came from him.”

Talk about inserting yourself...

Derek is right there with him. “He left his own glasses at the crime scene, he pointed us right back in his direction, and still, we didn't see it.”

Aaron nods, his jaw tighter than you’ve ever seen it.

Don’t blame yourself.

Hotch rolls up to the house, no lights or sirens, and you surround the house, on his six. You quietly breach the back door, clearing the kitchen and the hallway.

“It's over.” Aaron’s tone leaves no room for argument as he levels his gun at Foyet’s head.

There’s a strange smile on Foyet’s face as he speaks. “I'll kill him.”

“You need him to write your story.”

“I'm taking him with me. I'll let him go as soon as I'm safe.”

You step to the side, trying to get a better shot, but Aaron stops you with the smallest turn of his head as Foyet redirects his attention to you.

“I said I'll kill him.”

Aaron pulls his focus again. “You kill him, I kill you.”

“You think I'm afraid to die?”

“You're not afraid.” Aaron sneers. He’s aiming to hurt and it’s a good idea. “You're greedy and narcissistic. You want the recognition that's gonna come from the book that he's gonna write. You want the fame that's gonna come from the media. It's gonna be like Bundy.”

“I'm gonna be bigger than Bundy.”

“Well, you can't enjoy it if you're dead.”

You’ve got him there, Aaron.

“If you know me so well, how come some many had to die to bring you here?”

You can almost feel the lance of shame and guilt that shoots through Aaron. He almost flinches. Between you and Emily, if looks could kill, Foyet would be long dead.

You fucking asshole.

It takes everything in you not to leap on him and pummel him into the floorboards. You’d love nothing more than to wipe that smug grin off his face.

“That's your choice, not mine. You're the serial killer.” To your ears, it sounds like Aaron's convincing himself as much as telling Foyet.

“That's right.” He turns, smirking. "Hello, Derek.”

He drops his gun and Derek pounces on him, restraining him. "Where's my badge?” He jerks Foyet’s head back by the hair. “Where is it, you son of a bitch?”

He doesn’t answer Derek's question, but shifts his icy gaze to you. “How’s your head?” He gives you an imitation of a pout, and anger sears through your chest. “You took quite a spill last night, Agent. Probably had your unit chief very worried.”

You squint at him, but don’t respond. Aaron steps a little to the side and you’re not even sure he realizes it, but he’s made himself a barrier between you and Foyet.

The bastard notices, though, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “I'm gonna be more famous than you even realize.”

The look he gives Hotch makes you shudder.

+++

Only an hour or so after you land back at Quantico, JJ jogs from her office to Hotch’s. Your heart sinks.

That’s never good.

“Foyet escaped.”

You grab the remote and stand from your desk, turning the volume up on the TV.

She chases Hotch down the stairs as he joins the rest of you, surrounding Derek's desk. “Guards found him in his cell vomiting blood and convulsing. They rushed him to the prison hospital.”

“Get me the U.S. Marshals office.” He turns, but she stops him.

“I already called Don Reilly. I offered our assistance. He said they'd call us if they needed it.”

Aaron doesn’t stop moving until he’s at your side. Your search for his eyes and he meets your gaze after a moment.

What do we do?

His jaw clenches. I don’t know. Then, a huff. Fuck.

You shake your head a little. It makes you feel a little dizzy. Fuck, indeed.

“How’s your head?” He asks.

Of all the things to worry about…

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Just then, Emily returns, a file in her hand. “The Boston field office just identified documents from Foyet's house. They're schematics for the electrical, heating, and water ducts of the East Woburn Correctional Facility.”

You take it from her, looking it over before looking at Hotch. “He had the schematics. And not just for Woburn. For every jail, prison, and courthouse in Massachusetts.”

“And 10 years to plan,” Dave adds.

"They're gonna find him, right?" Penelope’s voice is small, and you can’t blame her for it. Derek’s at her side, staring at the news footage with a grim look on his face.

Aaron’s eyes are trained on the television when he answers. “No, they're not.”

Derek turns to you before looking at every member of the team individually. “He said he'd be more famous than we knew, and he was right.”

+++

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thefingerfuckingfemalefury · 4 months ago

Text

WHAT NO HOW

I AM READING THIS ARC RIGHT NOW AS WELL O_O

Who is going to spray them with spray that turns them into robots.

Archie Robotnik, eat your heart out.

Ultron has an announcement to make

CLINT BARTON IS A BITCH ASS MOTHERFUCKER

Who pissed on his wife!

Well he'll show him

HE'S PISSING ON THE MOON

WITH HIS SUPER LASER PISS!

Ultron has a lot to say about life and such. But his plan to turn mankind into robots is well on its way, with his robot farmers putting the roboticizing compound on wheat and his helicopter spraying it over residential areas at night.

Ah yes, the future we liberals want, according to fox news anyway

< NODS WISELY

Grim Reaper has a very laid back attitude here

"I guess maybe your about to wipe out humanity and cause me to decay into a shambling ghoul but probably I can just farm some free range people to be my healthy snack when I feel the yawning chasm of oblivion trying to claim me whatever"

GRIM REAPER IS A WEIRD GUY

And becoming a lurching corpse man has not made him better

And Grim Reaper is planning to start a human farm, so he'll always have a private stock and a breeding population.

What a story this is.

It certainly is a series of things that happened!

Grim Reaper's design and powers here do certainly make him a bit more menacing than when he's just Wonder Man's pissed off brother who has weird headgear and a scythe hand

Design wise, I can see why EMH drew inspiration for this look for him

I love when an Ultron plan is fuckin WEIRD

He's just such a fuckin nutbag

I hate how normal the MCU made him

"Oh I just want to kill all humans"

Boooooo

Have him do something unhinged or gtfo

Essential Avengers: Avengers West Coast #67: "CONVERGING TRAJECTORIES"

February, 1991

By Avengers BETRAYED!

Okay, so Hawkeye, Quicksilver, and Tigra have been turned into robots. Tigra still having normal hair is weirding me out. Because she's covered by fur and that turned into metal. Quicksilver's ridiculous hair is covered by the logo so I can't tell if its metal or not. But I just want some consistency.

Anyway. We continue the Reaper and the Robot arc. Which seems to be about Grim Reaper, now a life force guzzling zombie, and Ultron, a robot.

Last times, Wonder Man learned his brother was alive again and killing people to stay alive. He's got a bee in his bonnet about it, believing that every person the Reaper kills is his responsibility for not stopping him. When the Avengers had different priorities, he stormed off to look for Grim Reaper alone.

Meanwhile, the Avengers are investigating robot farmers and helicopters secretly spraying stuff at night that seems to be giving people a case of skin turning into metal.

Hawkeye got the idea to check an abandoned subway tunnel and went off without telling anyone. Quicksilver and Tigra tailed him (without telling anyone where they were going) and then they discovered and got captured by Ultron.

Who is going to spray them with spray that turns them into robots.

Archie Robotnik, eat your heart out.

Currently, he only has a few hundred people fully converted into robot puppets. But every day, that number multiplies.

Ultron has some of his robot puppets stage a street brawl to lure Iron Man into a fight, just to see how well they hold up in a fight with a superhero.

I love Tony thinking "they haven't managed to do me any real damage" a second before getting hit with an entire street light.

Anyway, once Tony starts actually trying, he knocks out the three roboticzied humans in fairly short order. And then he's at a loss of what to do with them since they're the victims here.

Ultron is pretty satisfied with how the fight went, even though his dudes lost. Because his mental control over his robot puppets, his andrones, is so complete, he experienced the fight as if he was there in person.

Meanwhile, Grim Reaper has been spying on Ultron's monologuing and was startled to hear that Ultron was going to turn humanity into robots, leaving him no one to feed on.

He's been sneaking up behind Ultron this whole time but Ultron knew he was there.

Ultron lunges at Grim Reaper, who lashes out defensively and manages to cut the adamantium of Ultron's arm.

Ultron finds that a bit fascinating. I'm guessing it's because magic. The scythe is magic now and sidesteps durability.

Having his arm cut doesn't really hinder Ultron because he has auto-repair. A healing factor if you will. Adamantium plus healing factor. Hmm...

He's a better Wolverine than Wolverine. And what he does isn't pretty.

Ultron realizes that Grim Reaper is dead now and decides that he may as well test out some theories he has about the Reaper and his scythe having developed a symbiotic relationship.

Using his laser eyes, which he has, why wouldn't he?, he fuses the scythe to Grim Reaper's arm so it can't be removed. Which the Grim Reaper actually likes.

Ultron: "You who are dead yet 'live' -- and I who am the ultimate synthetic embodiment of life -- we shall make quite a team, Reaper!" Grim Reaper: "Yes, Ultron. Quite a team."

Ah, I see. I said Ultron wouldn't like turning the world into robot puppets because he wants someone to monologue to. If Grim Reaper is joining him, then he'll always have someone around to talk at.

Grim Reaper explains that he needs to murder someone every 24 hours to keep 'alive' and Ultron says he would offer him one of the three Avengers but their transformation into robots is too far along.

Later and elsewhere, Dr Pym and Wanda have come to UCLA to borrow their new super-computer. Dr Falk, who I guess is in charge of it, isn't keen on letting superheroes get involved in an academic institution and doesn't even care how important the reason is. But someone over her head has authorized it so she just tells Hank he has five hours.

What Hank wants to do is to study the scrap of the robot farmers he and Janet encountered and the metal flakes that stuck to US Agent's gloves when he confronted that protester with the metal rash, and see if he can establish a connection.

You know, the usual superhero thing. I wonder why he needed the UCLA super-computer. Don't the Avengers have top-of-the-line lab equipment?

Anyway, Hank starts doing some science and Wanda starts feeling like a third wheel. Without her powers, there's not a lot she can offer the team and wonders whether she should even stay on the team.

But while she's musing on that for an hour, Hank makes a breakthrough! He's fairly certain he can cure the metallic rash, if the case isn't too advanced! With light, of all things!

Then the three roboticized Avengers burst in through the skylight and backhand Hank unconscious.

Wanda realizes that they're not in their right minds and yells at Quicksilver not to let someone turn him into a murder.

And then Dr Falk comes in yelling about the racket so robo-Quicksilver throws Wanda into Dr Falk, knocking both women out. The three roboticized Avengers then start trashing the lab.

This is why Dr Falk didn't want to let superheroes use the equipment!

But Iron Man, US Agent, and Wasp rush in for the rescue!

Iron Man called the other two and had them assemble on Hank's location after taking those random andrones to the hospital and having them checked out.

He warns the other Avengers not to let themselves be hit. With the andrones having a lot of their meat replaced with metal, getting hit by them is like getting run over by a tank.

Wasp wants to hear ideas for how to stop the androne Avengers without hurting them and Iron Man isn't sure they can be stopped.

And I see where he's coming from. The three formerly normal andrones he fought weren't really a match for him but they were tough. And if you combine superpowers with that... That's just scary.

But also, Iron Man doesn't want to hurt his friends. Especially since they're under someone else's influence.

Meanwhile, US Agent is okay with fighting an androne Hawkeye. He would have preferred to punch the flesh and blood version. Because US Agent has a chip on his shoulder the exact size and shape of the Grand Canyon.

And also he punches a metal man in the face and goes ow my bones.

Wonder Man shows up to help. And hopefully is ready to accept that this whole robot farmers thing was something that needed looking into.

Simon flies past, snagging Tigra off Iron Man's back by the hair and then flies her into Hawkeye.

Meanwhile, Iron Man tests out his new magnet function.

He just lifts Quicksilver off the ground so he can't go anywhere.

Kind of the logical weakness to a guy whose whole thing is running really fast.

I give it props for a fun device for Tony just to have already equipped in his armor.

Hank recovers from being backhanded and yells at Iron Man that light is probably the answer. So Iron Man configures his chest uni-beam to blast out different kinds of light radiation until he hits the right one.

Infrared light knocks the andrones the fuck out! It doesn't cure them but Hank thinks maybe the right frequency of infrared might do it.

He's kinda just guessing, though. He didn't even know infrared was the key until five seconds ago.

I assume that the uni-beam shoots out concentrated infrared but it's still a secret weakness for Ultron's big plan to turn humanity into robots. Isn't infrared everywhere?

Wanda asks Simon whether he's still looking for his brother. And Wonder Man says he is. But if his brother is looking for whoever is turning people into robots, then Simon can work the same case and probably run into Eric.

Dr Falk comes out to yell at the Avengers some more and the funniest thing is, they don't even react to her.

Just completely do not respond to her.

Because, it's not a productive line of accusation to humor, honestly.

Iron Man starts trying different frequencies of infrared to try to cure Tigra, Quicksilver, and Hawkeye. But he despairs that there are an infinite number of frequencies and it could take years to get the right one by random guessing.

And by trying over and over again, Iron Man is straining the uni-beam. If it burns out, it could take days to get equivalent equipment.

But talking about the odds makes Wanda wish that her powers could come back, even if for just a second. Just long enough to alter the probabilities of finding the right frequency to yes.

Wanda waves her hands around and scrunches her face in CONCENTRATION and maybe it works!

There could have been ambiguity if Dr Pym hadn't yelled 'ah ha, the Scarlet Witch must have altered probability to make it more likely that we'd succeed.'

Ffs Hank, you don't always have to be right about everything.

So, I guess Wanda's powers are back? Everyone is acting like that's the case.

Although, the infrared-ing was only mostly successful. Hawkeye is left with a metal hand. And he even grouses that he wishes that they left him a brainless robot puppet so he wouldn't have to be a freak with a metal hand.

Punch him in the future, Winter Bucky.

The three dingbats, Tigra, Hawkeye, and Quicksilver don't remember running into Ultron, finding his lair, all of that.

Hank wants to use the UCLA computer to figure out which infrared frequency worked to cure the metal-izing.

Does... Does Iron Man's armor not track that information? That's an odd choice.

Dr Falk yells that the Avengers can't use the super-computer again but Iron Man goes nuh uh, we have special Avengers priority so yes we can.

This again makes me think that the East Coast Avengers had their charter revoked but the West Coast Avengers didn't. What an odd decision.

Anyway, Dr Pym can't shake a worry that whoever (Ultron) is behind the metal rash will strike before they're ready and will change a large number of people into robot slaves.

BECAUSE HANK ALWAYS HAS TO BE RIGHT ABOUT THINGS. He is exactly right.

Ultron is planning to hit the Rose Parade.

And Grim Reaper is planning to start a human farm, so he'll always have a private stock and a breeding population.

What a story this is.

Next time, switching back over to the Avengers for their dealings with the Tetrarchs of Entropy and to see if the reserve squad does anything.

Next next time, more the Reaper and the Robot.

Follow @essential-avengers for more of this exact kind of thing. Like and reblog to show appreciation. Comment maybe? Follow your heart.

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theorynexus · 5 years ago

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Unrelated to the Epilogues

Apologies for not getting back to liveblogging, yet; however, that’s going to begin again with my next post. This one is simply to express some thoughts that have been kicking around in my head for a few days, which I did not get the chance to express because I was sleep deprived and then briefly sick. Namely: All weapons (or Strife Specibi, I should say) in Homestuck seem to be symbolically representative of the character who owns them to some extent. A few easy examples would be: * the Dualing Pistol (White Magnum/White Wand), which is elegant and precise, only needing to be fired once to provoke massive, impactful change, and doubly representative of Alt!Calliope’s subtle orchestration of events behind the scenes; * The Dudely [Fire]Arm[ament]s (Caliborn/Lord English’s canes/rifles), which the aforementioned doubled set is contrasted to: whilst they are equally intended to convey mastery of events (and particularly the people taking part in them), these are more brutish, and make their impact through repeated blows (a pool cue arranges things through a loud, meaningful break, and then many serious blows to follow--- and while these blows might in theory require precision in order to make the balls fall where they must, in practice, Caliborn’s talent is in ensuring that every hit eventually brings things to a favorable conclusion, rather than in the shortest route possible). Brute force methods are used to bring about the desired conclusion--- an inevitable death, generally ---and the overkill that Caliborn (the Lord of Death, in some ways) utilizes whenever his rifle’s sights fall upon a target (for it’s never a single bullet that hits) is representative of his general methodology and spirit. * Dave’s broken/mended sword, split over time, is obviously representative of his own Aspect, how it gradually affects him (time heals all wounds, as the saying goes, despite the fact that he seems to become quite incensed with it at some points, and struggles with it to the point of refusing to embrace it for a very long time), and especially how his personal history ties into his personal arc (Dave is more affected by his time with his Guardian than perhaps any other kid, despite the fact that Jade is fused with the replacement surrogate that might arguably be said to have usurped the position from her grandpa, and this is also a reflection on the Aspect of Time in his life, I should think). How Bro (Dirk) Broke his Heart, and how Dave struggled to mend it over the course of the series has been much better discussed elsewhere than I could attempt to express in the brief space I’m allotting to this discussion, here, though, and thus I shall cut this off right here, just as both brothers have a habit off symbolically cutting things off, themselves. ~~~ The train of thought that I am wanting to express herein started with a thought that caught me by surprise: I continue to have no idea what, precisely John’s Strife Specibus is supposed to represent, you see, so when I remembered that there was a method of inheritance called Gavelkind, it struck me that it could be related to this, as a pun. Unfortunately, this seems like a dead end, unless it is a very forward thinking joke about every member of his party taking up the main character mantle after he dies in the “more canon [more relevant in Dirk’s eyes]” Meat Epilogue (or, alternatively, Davesprite and Rose’s inherited self from the timeline having to clean up John’s mess after the idiot got himself obliterated in the deal he made with Typheus after Terezi tricked him). It could also be related to him forging the group through his Heir of Breath inspiration toward a path mechanic, but what are the chances of it being that simple an answer? Unfortunately, said inheritance business seemed more promising than it was, because I was initially confusing it with the Elective method of kingmaking that is to be found in German historical culture. That truly fits with who John is, and resonates with the “I’m not your leader, I’m your friend” humblepie that was served up to us (and everyone else in his party). ... This line of thinking was useful, however, because it led me to thinking about Karkat’s own weapon. Obviously, the “Heh, heh, Communism” line of thinking briefly occurred to me, but more relevantly, I thought of the reason why the sickle is used as a symbol of Communism. It is a classic symbol of the lower class--- farmers, in particular ---which hints at the very beginning to Karkat’s rather humble origins. While many people might like to think of his mutant blood as “potentially higher than fuschia,” or some such nonsense, more realistically, one has to realize that Karkat was placed in the lowest of low positions: not only was he the only member of his kind, but he would have been without a Lusus and immediately abandoned to death, if the worshipers of his Ancestor had not ensured that he had the dimmest possibility of a relatively normal life. At the same time, he wanted to defy this lowborn status and become a mighty general in )-(er Imperious Condescension’s army. While this initial spark of revolution was not much, it is representative of all that was to come-- you see, the sickle is to some extent also a symbol of revolt, and while peasant revolts would generally be brutally put down throughout history (just as the waves of opposition to the Condesce were in Alternian lore), this would not in fact be the case with Karkat, or the session that he (and Aradia) would lead. You see, Karkat’s own ideals and the weapon that represents them are but the tip of the iceberg. The Beta Trolls’ entire session was littered with themes of rebellion against the established social order, and the consequent turning of it upon its head. First and most obviously, it would be two Lowborn trolls that would come to lead the two “teams” which the session had to offer. Both of these figures acquired this position by usurping it from Bluebloods, who might traditionally have taken up this role in a circumstance where the empress-to-be didn’t show interest in leadership and the Purple Blood in the group appeared to be an incompetent, serially inebriated sack of garbage. This theme particularly shown through in [concupiscent] romance, where we saw pairings that, without exception (other than possibly the crush that Ms. Leijon bore for Karkat, which saw no fruition and arguably did not count for anything, just as Eridan’s flushed feelings for Feferi didn’t “matter” in the end, and Kanaya x Vriska, while being a borderline issue for this topic, doesn’t count either, also due to it just being a crush), all saw subversion of social hierarchy:

Equius x Aradia, Gamzee x Tavros, Feferi x Sollux {I just noticed that these relationships all have the same social distance from one another for some reason.}, Terezi x Karkat. Vriska x Tavros is one-sided, and thus debatable, but also fits this pattern, intriguingly enough. Equius was hit with this subversive force in their social lives particularly hard, possibly because he was the Heir of Void, and thus was more inundated with forces of subtext than the rest of the group [particularly since he was a failure in that role]. Not only could he not resist the drive to submit to those it was “perverse” for one of his “station” to bend the knee to, when the opportunity to truly embrace the anti-normative forces that he had been dipping into (despite his Classist upbringing) came, he was so confused and uncertain that he could not properly understand what he was being pushed to do, and the necessity of it--- and thus froze, allowing himself to be swept away by the Rage Gamzee filled him with. These themes play out in Operation Regisurp, both in name and its practical implementation. Furthermore, I have just, in the course of writing this post, come to the conclusion that this is why Gamzee had to be the final obstacle to the true end of the Beta Trolls’ session. He was a crystallized manifestation of the old regime, and its established order: Gamzee acted as a shadow of the Condesce’s will, the Hemospectrum’s implications, and the brutal reality that was Alternia. It was thus quite fitting that Karkat was the one to stop his rampage, for he was the Knight of Blood who cajoled everyone to work together as a single team, rejecting the classical restrictions that would have spelled DOOM for their party in favor of bonds beyond the literal nature of the blood that flowed through all of their veins. Furthermore, I think this is why that confrontation ended in the Shush Pap scene. Not only was it true that Karkat had literally zero percent chance of actually killing Gamzee in the fight (and a very small chance, indeed, to defeat him through violence), but this would to some extent additionally be an endorsement of the old Alternian way of life. Rather than through violence, Karkat used his bond with Gamzee to find a solution, and by this means, turned him away from his role as brutal Subjugglator--- though unfortunately this also meant that Gamzee would take a turn for the worse, becoming even more firmly cemented in his role as a servant to the Mirthful Messiah’s. ... Heading back to the meaning of Karkat’s weapon for a moment, I think that the sickle has another implication to explore: it is an implement of the harvest. Karkat initially wanted to be a sort of grim reaper, slaughtering Alternia’s foes and claiming glory for himself and for his empress. While he was correct in thinking that he just needed an opportunity to prove himself (and thus, he was embracing the symbolic “one must wait until the fruits of the harvest are ripe” implications of the sickle in his own life), the climax of this narrative arc would come when Karkat found himself at the head of Meenah’s united army of all the trolls in the afterlife and bravely charged to meet a foe he knew could destroy the soul with very breath--- and the very real equivalent of the Grim Reaper, himself ---wielding the closest thing he had to a weapon painted with the rainbow (Fuschia an Lime Green bound together betwixt bands of black and white, thus singled out amidst all the colors of the light spectrum). This was his ultimate rejection of the Alternia that was, as he challenged the hidden hand that had twisted it into the place of horror it had been; and upon the fulfillment of that destiny, Karkat would vanish.

Yet, by some miracle, this was not the end: in a place separated beyond barriers of space and time, he would awaken, and but a short time later, he would be granted the Ultimate Reward that had once been wrenched from his grasp. ....................................................................................................................... One last matter of note: It should be pretty obvious, considering the fact that universes are shaped to reflect the wills and designs of the Players involved, but I am pretty sure humans’ singularly colored blood is an explicit rejection of the hemospectrum, and the particular color that was “chosen” may very well be reflective of the important role Karkat in particular played in the session. What may not be so obvious is how fitting, symbolically, it is that it is a human that stands triumphant over the corpse of )-(er Imperious Condescension. Curse baggage aside (which still has been irksomely unexplored, to my knowledge), the fact that it is essentially the Beta Trolls’ rejection of her world order that does the empress in feels very right and, upon reflection, is quite beautiful. Obviously, there’s also a nice splash of revenge playing into that too, as visibly denoted by the weapon used and the handle wrapping, in particular. I am curious as to the implications of Roxy’s typing color being the same as the blood of said fishy tyrant, though. That, I can’t quite figure out.

#Homestuck Analysis #Homestuck Spoilers #Karkat Vantas #Symbolic Meaning #Thematic

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miamaroo · 6 years ago

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Northern Migration- Chapter 29 (Notes+Preview)

It's been forty long years since I last updated. Does anyone even write TAZ Balance fics anymore? Does anyone even remember that I'm a writer, or is my brand just that pair of unnecessary bara tiddies that all the kids around the block make fun of me for nowadays? Either way, I'm still in business. And what is a new chapter if not an opportunity to give a long list of notes?

Obviously, spoilers ahead.

Did you catch that quick little appearance of Brad Bradson? I very recently rewrote that entire opening scene in order to include a new character, which gave me the chance to reinsert Brad into the story instead of featuring a nameless OC.

See that quick mention of Bane's past? That's going to be expanded on very soon (or at least, soon by my standards).

And the new character I wanted to include is Antonia! Again, I originally had a throwaway OC in this role, but when I was writing the chapter after this, I realized the role I needed was too big to go to a throwaway OC. I didn't include the other guy (Rowan?? I think??) because I felt like it would be too much for me to properly handle. Plus, I don't think he and Antonia are a packaged deal. I'll do my best to find a place for him somewhere else in the story, but I also have had Hecuba on the backburner for way too long. She gets first dibs.

The threat Sterling gives Bane works a little better with the throwaway OC I had, who was a captain from a different city looking to take over Bane's position in Goldcliff. Essentially, the threat was Bane being replaced.

Oh, you assumed Angus was inoculated off-screen? You assumed incorrectly!

Magnus and Julia are just *chef's kiss*

I am in Team Lucretia Should Be Angus's Mom, but that only comes with the understanding that she's kinda bad at it. Which is mostly fine with Angus, as he's pretty bad at being a normal kid with normal needs.

Taako's meeting with Istus was vaguely alluded to during the flashback of how he and Ren saved Refuge (back during the Wonderland arc). He went there without Ren (the POV character), so the scene was never written.

Having Julia cross herself in front of a god is an overtly Christian gesture, and frankly, it does bug me that I had to utilize it here. I'm trying to avoid coding this fantasy world's religion with too much Christianity, but I needed a way to convey Julia trying to show respect quickly and without burdening the prose too much. So I felt a little trapped and ended up just using crossing anyways. I was raised Catholic, so there's probably a whole bunch of Little Christian Things that just pop up in my writing without me realizing so it's kinda a bummer that I couldn't find a way to work around something I know I'm doing.

Istus is just out here referring to the canonical story as an alternate reality

I try to make Davenport's comments discernable to the reader without needing a direct translation, but I feel as though I may have messed up this time around. When Istus warns that there is a terrible choice in their futures, Davenport essentially asks if this is the same terrible fate the Judges from the Stolen Century had condemned them for. So Istus's repone ("Indeed, but I don't see your deeds as ones that are mine to judge") is reassuring as it is a little cheeky.

If you want more of Julia challenging gods with reckless abandon, read my story.

Isn't it just lovely that the prophecy fits the naming scheme of all the chapters?

I knew I wanted to kill someone in the main cast off, but I spent a long time trying to decide if I could do it without betraying everything tazb stands for. Inevitably, I decided that it's my story, and I want to take the risk. I think that it will be worth it. I am not a big fan of character death being there just for the same of being there, and I hope that when the time comes and I bring the scene I have in mind to life, you guys will be okay with it. This is chapter sort of acts as an in-universe warning so that you can start preparing yourself mentally (though it's not going to happen during this upcoming relic arc for sure). The archive tags will change as we get closer to the deed being done.

I am also doubling down on my reassurance that Stevie will be okay with an in-story explanation for her plot armor.

All the way back in January, I had made a few posts about trying to decide between the fun anachronism of a scrunchie and the fantasy-esque poncho. As you can see, I did both.

There is no possible way anyone can triumph the soul-purifying beauty of "you're going to be amazing," but damnit. I did my best, even if I only changed it ever so slightly. They have already done a lot of amazing things. And you know what? So have you! You're already amazing!

Oh, John. This is probably the most ambiguously I've written him yet. One thing's for sure: something has changed for him, though only time will tell what that thing is.

I'm claiming "Landslide" as track #2 on a NM mixtape. Don't @ me.

Lucas used command undead on Barry in chapter 24, preventing him from taking the umbra staff when he had the chance.

Lup and Barry souls are pure magic, so I imagine Barry can recognize Lup's magic anywhere.

I've been writing Barry as very depressed and slightly off-kilter because I imagine his anchor to Lup is disturbed somewhat by her imprisonment.

Despite seeing vague visions of the Stolen Century, Ren can't piece any of it together because knowledge of all those realities could ruin her mind like it did Maureen.

I imagine Kravitz was leaning against a wall when he saw Stevie run by and just sort of shrugged to himself. He doesn't quite catch how much society has changed yet.

I am half asleep right now, so no more quips. Here's the preview for the next chapter:

While Taako is all color, the Grim Reaper is a void of black. Muted traces of reds and purples make themselves known on the trim of his blanket and beads in his braids, but he doesn’t seem to need any neon hues. He looks warm, like the relic of a hazy summer day. Yet, when Taako jabs an elbow at his stomach, he yelps in surprise and complains about the cold.

“Intriguing pair, right?”

Julia quirks a brow, looking askance to see Lucretia hiding her smile behind her map. “That’s a way of putting it,” she says. “No matter how you look at it, one of them is going to get you dead.”

Lucretia shakes her head. “Be fair.”

“Sure. It’s the Raven Queen’s fault.” A moment too late, Julia crosses herself. She’s never considered herself a religious person, but after meeting one goddess, she dares not risk angering another.

“Taako, too.” Lucretia folds up the map with intention. Her robe is like a slash of scarlet, but she carries the power of it with practiced ease. On Taako, the color looks like a costume—a role he’s only playing at being. A suggestion with no foundation. Even Kravitz, in his reaper regalia, seems made to fulfill a duty. Maybe that’s why Julia wears a peasant, mud-colored cloak that reaches her knees. Beyond a red scarf tied in her short hair, she doesn’t fake having an allegiance to something not her own. “Who knows? Perhaps this little adventure together will help you realize each other’s strengths.”

Julia snorts. “Yeah. Sure. Thank you Taako for using your transmutation magic to stop the transmutation problem you created.”

“Oh, stop. You’re making me blush.” Taako pushes between them, wry words cutting through the calm atmosphere. The woods around them is quiet in a disconcerting kind of way, as if the universe wants them to know that they are crazy for approaching what all others have fled. Taako saunters ahead, twirling his glaive, He spins around lazily. He looks ready to say something when a particular snowflake drifts down before him. It’s bigger than the rest, the size of a coin. Bright and white, they watch as it floats the last few inches until touching the snow.

The snow around it sloshes inwards, spilling like sand on a beach. Except, it’s no longer white. It’s makeup pink. Seeping outwards like a spider webs, the tendrils of magic make a larger and larger circle of pink in the snow.

Everyone scrambles away, knowing without words what they’re seeing.

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thequeerblr · 6 years ago

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by Brittany B. | 10/30/2019

The Queerblr is honored to present the cover art for Grimmer Intentions, the second installment of the Tales from the Grim series by Jodi Hutchins!

She screwed up. She broke protocol. She saved a life. Grim Reaper Margo Petrov may have resurrected a drowned surfer on the brink of death, but she isn’t earning any awards or receiving employee of the month from Corporate; she’s under more scrutiny from the Grim governing body than ever before. Since she has a massive secret that could spell disaster if revealed, she sure as hell doesn’t want to be in the spotlight, in any form.

Margo vows to keep her head down and stay out of trouble, reaping her quota of spirits lest she cause more problems for herself and the woman she saved with an illegal blood bond. She certainly shouldn’t be opening doors to the Fae lands or offering her neck to an Empusa woman suffering from bloodlust, but Margo’s laundry list of bad decisions keeps growing. With the threat of becoming decommissioned by Corporate looming in her periphery, Margo stumbles deeper into the politics of her people and soon realizes their intentions are far worse than she initially thought.

I MEAN LOOK AT IT!

I don’t normally talk about the cover art of a book in my reviews, but when I read The Grim Assistant in July, I remember really enjoying the cover art because it is vastly different than most of books in its genre. The wispy Grim Reaper on the horizon and the singular silhouette of a woman along the water is starkly different than often scantily clad, provocatively posed women of both the romance and paranormal genres. The cover is not only refreshing, but intriguing to new readers, too. The old saying goes “don’t judge a book by its cover,” but when the cover is refreshing to look at, chances are you’re going to be more inclined at least flip through the pages. And when you flips through the pages of this one (or read the excerpts available online), I promise you won’t be disappointed.

And when you place the cover art of both books side by side, it is abundantly clear that you’re reading the same series because we have the same wispy reaper and a woman silhouetted on the water’s edge and small details on both women that are crucial to their particular story arcs:

I’ve had the pleasure of reading Grimmer Intentions and, let me tell you, I thoroughly enjoyed it! The book takes place immediately after the ending of The Grim Assistant. Grimmer Intentions follows the perspectives of two characters that readers met in the first book who couldn’t be more opposite and they both have substantially different and dire circumstances they deal with throughout the book.

My two second review of Grimmer Intentions is that the tension is on point, the characters are unique and varied, the main two protagonists have distinct individual character arcs and organic chemistry that grows from frenemies to lovers with the help of some precarious situations. This book further develops the world the Hutchins established in The Grim Assistant and sets up the series for another installment and introduces a fun new cast of diverse queer characters. Grimmer Intentions isn’t even out yet and I’m already excited for the whatever book three holds for the Tales from the Grim series.

Without further ado, here is an exclusive excerpt from Grimmer Intentions:

A gentle breeze caressed her face, soft and rippling like the ocean that lay beyond the sandy beach. The sand nearly scorched the bare soles of her feet, and the sun poured warmth over her back. Glancing up, Jackie took in the otherworldly hues of the sky, visible brushstrokes lining the silver clouds.

A lucid dream, she realized. Months had passed since she’d experienced one, and the revelation along with the strange recent events of her life left her with a deep foreboding. Glossy water licked the shore, spilling over the sand before receding back. She’d been to this dream beach before, nestling herself under the ever-present warmth from the sun and enjoying the calm. Meditation brought her to the same place.

Serenity. Peace. Tranquility. These qualities kept bringing her back to the only place she could find her balance. She was free from the physical stressors of keeping her beast at bay, holding back the bloodlust associated with her being, and splitting her two lives apart. Nothing bad would come of her here in her safe place, and she didn’t have to veil herself in a disguise, depending upon who she was around.

A murder of crows flew overhead before dipping into the ocean. With each wave, they bobbed along with the oddly colored water. Streams of dark blue swirled with gray dappled with white brushstrokes. The painted landscape elicited a smile from Jackie, and she continued her walk down the beach. Puffy white clouds obscured the tangerine-tinged sun, causing thick rays to shimmer over the sand. Oh, how she wanted to paint the scene in front of her, to capture the elegance of the orange-glazed sand or the crows afloat on the water’s surface. Light flickered in her line of sight, and she yanked her gaze from the bobbing black birds to the assaulting ray.

Jackie squinted to see where the glint had originated from. None other than Margo the Grim lounged against an overturned lifeguard stand, shaving a piece of driftwood with a thick pocketknife. The sun reflected on the metal surface and shone into Jackie’s eyes again as she started toward the enigmatic woman.

The scenario was very similar to when the two women met for the first time in Brent’s home. Margo’s lip ring had caught a glimmer of light, shining directly in Jackie’s eyes. Shortly after that, Margo had accidentally called her a vampire, and upon Jackie correcting her, Margo’s response had been rude, leading Jackie to kick her in the leg. She assumed this is where her subconscious conjured the action from.

But this is different, Jackie thought. She’d dreamt of people before but couldn’t recall the last time she’d brought someone within her place of serenity. Of course, Margo was Jackie’s own doing, her own mental depiction of the Grim, dressed in red flannel pajamas, not that Jackie could ever imagine Margo wearing such an outfit to bed. Margo appeared so out of place but completely where she belonged.

“Hi,” Jackie said as she stopped next to the lifeguard stand.

Margo looked up and smiled wide. “Well, isn’t this fucking weird?” Her cerulean gaze was the strangest color Jackie had the pleasure to see. Margo’s eyes reminded her of a precious stone she found at the beach one day, the vibrant azure kyanite calling to her from beneath the tawny sand. She still had the rock, tucked away in the tiny tin box beside her pillow along with a few other gems. However, a fire shifted alight within the woman’s eyes, casting flames in the irises, something Jackie had never witnessed before meeting Margo. Whimsical. The last word Jackie would ever associate with the woman sitting on the ground had become the only descriptor relatively close to defining Margo in that moment.

“Sit with me,” Margo offered, scooting over.

Jackie settled beside Margo, who lifted her arm and wrapped it around Jackie. Surprisingly, she found the contact incredibly comforting, and she nestled into Margo’s side. This was definitely new.

“There’s something to be said about the beauty of a crow’s shadow,” Margo muttered, her voice far off.

Jackie smiled. “What does that mean?”

Turning to face her, Margo offered her a crooked smirk. “I don’t know but it sounded good, didn’t it? It makes about as much sense as me being here. I feel like I stepped into one of your paintings.”

The black bird hopped over, tilting its head to gaze up at Jackie. She held out her hand and the creature jumped onto the presented palm with a flutter of their wings. “I have to admit, I love crows. I think my background is to blame for that. Pretty sure all good Empusae have to love black cats and crows.”

Margo chuckled. “I think that’s a prerequisite, yeah?” The crow fluttered away.

Sighing, Jackie relaxed against Margo, placing her hand on Margo’s thigh, surprised when warmth spread through her from their contact. “Usually when I have these dreams, I’m the only cognitive individual. I mean, besides the occasional talking animal. Why are you here?” Jackie didn’t expect an answer because she didn’t know why Margo was here. Obviously, the woman beside her wasn’t really Margo, not in her dreams. The woman next to her was nothing but a figment of her own imagination, no matter how her subconscious rendered the real Margo.

“I don’t know.” Margo averted her gaze. “I wanted to be with you.”

“With me?”

Margo blinked, her lower lip disappearing between her teeth. “Yeah. I don’t know what any of this means. Fuck, maybe I’m having an existential crisis.” Margo laughed loudly to her own inside joke that Jackie didn’t get. “There’s just something about you, and I can’t figure out what it is. I don’t think it’s only because of the whole bitey thing, which is amazing, by the way.” She smirked, cupping her hand under Jackie’s jawline. “You’re incredible.”

Jackie flung her hair over a shoulder. “You’re just addicted to me.”

Sincerity passed Margo’s face. “Yeah, I think I am. I wanted to text you but thought that would’ve been too weird.” She smirked. “Not that this is any less weird,” she said, glancing around at the painted seascape in front of them.

Jackie also gazed out at the water lapping at the shoreline, noting the soft brushstrokes of white foam lingering on the water’s edge, the textured grains of sand at her feet. The calming rush of the ocean lolled Jackie into a comfort, one she sought when she came to this spot to be alone, to meditate. To share the intimate location with anyone besides the occasional talking animal was something she wasn’t accustomed to.

“Jackie.”

She turned to Margo again. “Yeah?”

“We can’t be a couple.”

A painful pang drenched Jackie’s brief serenity. “What are you talking about?”

Margo frowned, her expression uncomfortable. “I have to leave; well, I might have to leave the country.”

“Why?”

Leaning forward, Margo wrapped her arms around her knees, bunching up her pajama pants. Jackie never imagined witnessing fear on Margo’s features, but she couldn’t deny the dread marring her expression. “I can’t tell you, but I have to leave America. There’s so much going on with Corporate, and leaving might be my best option, for everyone’s sake.”

“You have to leave here?” Jackie whispered. No, she rationalized, this all stemmed from the talk she had with Ezra—the conversation about weird things happening with the Grim. Jackie shook her head, as if to shoo away the weird dream. It didn’t work.

Margo peered up at the textured sky as a cotton candy cloud drifted by, her face pensive. “Yeah, maybe. Probably.” She lowered her head and looked at Jackie. “If it comes down to it, I won’t have a choice, Jackie.”

“Yes, you do, there’s always a choice. Why can’t you just stay?”

“Seriously, you have no idea. That’s not your fault; it’s mine.” She paused, shaking her head, then parting her lips as if to speak again but glanced down at her hands instead. Firelight twinkled in her eyes before she vanished from Jackie’s dream completely, a vapor of mist left in her wake. A chill crept into Jackie’s being, and she wrapped her own arms around herself as the cloud where Margo sat dissipated.

“I have some sick sense of creativity,” she said to the crows meandering in the sand a few feet from her.

One of them bobbed its head at her and winked a black button eye. “I concur,” the crow rasped.

Jackie withdrew her flip-flop from her right foot and threw it at the crow, rolling her eyes as she forced herself to wake up.

Grimmer Intentions will be released on December 9th and is available for pre-sale on NineStar Press. If you choose to pre-purchase the book through NineStar Press, you’ll get access to the book three days in advance (December 6)!

The Grim Assistant has a second book for the Tales from the Grim series! Come on over to thequeerblr.com to see our book cover reveal and exclusive excerpt of Grimmer Intentions, by Jodi Hutchins! by Brittany B. | 10/30/2019 The Queerblr is honored to present the cover art for Grimmer Intentions…

#Book 2 #Book Cover Reveal #Book Preview #Grimmer Intentions #Jodi Hutchins #Lesbian Romance #LGBTQ+#sneak peak #wlw books #wlw romance

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thenightling · 8 years ago

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What is Neil Gaiman’s Sandman?

Explanation below.

Warning: Here there be Spoilers.

I fully admit that I, myself, am a late comer to the fandom of Neil Gaiman’s Sandman comics. Back in the 1990s many friends had recommended the series to me and or insisted that I would love “Death.” But no one gave me a proper explanation or summary of what I was to expect. I figured it had to have been an over-rated trend. I was too busy trying to get people to watch or listen to the Nightmare before Christmas soundtrack (which hadn’t yet become the cultural phenomena it became in the early 2000s).

The comics I read in those days mostly consisted of the likes of Morbius: The Living Vampire, The Midnight Sons, Legion of Monsters, Tomb of Dracula and the occasional Tales from the Crypt reprint when I could find it. I was lucky enough to have recurring access to a store called Dracula’s Comic Crypt on Long Island. But as a woman into all things Gothic (and most especially art in the style of Bernie Wrightson) I was recommended Sandman over and over again.

Part of what discouraged me was that I have always had poor eyesight. Today, of course, on a nice twenty inch computer monitor I can make the comic book images nice and big and keep physical copies mostly for collecting purposes. But mostly I just didn’t really know what Sandman was all about.

Well, fast forward over twenty years later... The TV show Lucifer has gained my attention and is both fascinating and fun for being different so I finally cave and decide to read the comics that he first came from... Sandman. I was particularly interested in the storyline where Lucifer quits Hell (Season of Mists) but I wisely decided to start from the beginning. I started at the beginning... It wasn’t long before I realized that I liked this thing... I really, really liked this thing. In fact I soon found I liked the protagonist, Morpheus, more than Lucifer.

My response was along the lines of “Why didn’t anyone tell me this was so good?” to which several friends practically shouted “WE DID!”

So for anyone who was or is in a similar situation to me, I’ll explain Sandman as best I can for you right now since no one properly explained it to me back when it was first recommended to me a almost a quarter of a century ago.

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DC comics has had three characters named Sandman. The first was a gas mask wearing Noir character named Wesley Dodds. The second was a golden age style superhero who later passed his mantel on to another, the replacement character called Hector Hall.

And now for the third, the most important of DC’s Sandman / Sandmen. The literal Sandman AKA Dream of the Endless, otherwise known as Morpheus. Ruler of The Dreaming realm. Master of both Dreams and Nightmares. First published by DC and later concluded by Vertigo (DC’s adult content label) Sandman was a very unique kind of story, set in the DC universe.

Morpheus (AKA Dream) sometimes changes his form but he’s fairly easy to recognize because he is always depicted with black talk bubbles with white text, originally intended to indicate a psychic form of communication more than actually vocal (but I think that idea was mostly dropped after the first issue and only hinted at again in the storyline called A Game of You).

During the very first storyline of Sandman comics Morpheus was captured by humans.

Later it is revealed in a stand alone comic that the universe (in an effort to balance itself out) granted Wesley Dodds certain dream based abilities. Dodds had something of a psychic link with Morpheus while Morpheus was in captivity.

Later two nightmares escape from The Dreaming realm and these two (Brute and Glob) manipulate the super hero “Sandman” and his successor, Hector Hall. They do this to create a dream dimension of their own since the one Morpheus ruled had fallen into chaos without him.

Morpheus / Dream is a member of The Endless and his full title (besides Sandman) is Dream of The Endless.

The Endless is a family of anthropamorphic personifications representing seven aspects or abstract concepts in relation to conscious life. It’s not as complicated as it seems.

The Endless are:

Destiny: Destiny is the eldest. He is depicted as a shrouded blind man whose wrist is chained to a book containing the past, present and future. Despite being apparently blind he can read his own book. His sigil (the symbol that represents him) is a book.

Destruction. Destruction grew weary of ...well, destruction when he saw humanity progressing toward increasing violence. Determining that each Endless actually represents a concept and it’s counter-part he quit his vocation and wandered off to try to reinvent himself as a creative force instead of destructive. His sigil is a sword.

Death. Death is Death incarnate, much like Death of Terry Pratchett’s Discworld but instead of resembling the traditional Grim Reaper Death takes the form of a pale Goth girl with an eye of horas tattoo under her right eye. You might think that she should be the most depressed or brooding of the group but no. She’s friendly and optimistic. She also loves films like Mary Poppins and The Little Mermaid (Disney version). She wears an ankh pendant, which also is her sigil.

Now we have Dream AKA Morpheus. He is The Sandman of folklore. Dream is the middle sibling and he is The Sandman. He rules the realm of The Dreaming. He has wild “Robert Smith style” hair, bone-white skin and black eyes with small star-like pupils. Morpheus is also very tall and skinny. Dream’s sigil is his “Helm” - a battle mask he made for himself using the bones of two Lovecraftian “Old Gods” that attacked The Dreaming a long time ago. (He almost never gets to wear this helm in actual battle as Morpheus is not really a warrior character by nature). The helm is made from a large skull and spine and so it resembles a bone version of Wesley Dodd’s gas mask.

Desire. Now come the twins, the first of which is Desire. Desire is a genderfluid being that can be male or female (or both or neither) at will. Desire is very fickle and can also be extremely cruel but also (on occasion) can be helpful and once even saved the universe (even though Desire doesn’t remember doing it). Desire is slender, androgynous and has golden eyes. Desire’s sigil is a heart.

Despair. Despair is the twin of Desire though you might never know it. They look nothing at all alike. Despair is a short, very full-figured woman who has jagged tusk-like teeth, and almost never wears clothes. Despair’s sigil is a ring with a sharp hook attached to it.

Delirium. Delirium is the youngest of the Endless and very child-like. She used to be Delight but someone or something hurt or abused her a long time ago and she became Delirium as a way to cope. It’s implied that someday she might return to being Delight but as it stands that might take a whole lot of therapy. Delirium can be very sweet but if you are mean to her or try to touch her without permission she will punish you by driving you to madness. Her sigil was once a flower. Now it’s a rainbow blob or smearing of color.

And there you have it. The Endless in a nutshell. Now on to the basic plot of Sandman...

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Sandman was first published in late 1988 and ran until 1996. It then had several spin-offs and one shots, a prequel novel set in Ancient Japan (Dream hunters), a collection of short story comics called Endless Nights (one for each Endless), and finally the gorgeous prequel comic Sandman: Overture (compiled as a graphic novel in 2016).

Since the first run of Sandman is over seventy five issues long I will only give a summary of the first story arc. Preludes and Nocturnes...

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Preludes and Nocturnes:

A group of late Victorian / Edwardian era occultists known as The Order of Ancient Mysteries (Modeled loosely after the Hermetic Order of The Golden Dawn) is lead by their Lord Magus, Roderick Burgess. They use a grimoire known as the Magdalene Grimoire (which will later get use in Green Arrow) to cast a ritual spell to summon Death incarnate but instead of summoning her they accidentally summon The Sandman.

They realize their mistake but decide to keep Dream as their prisoner anyway.

A “sickness” occurs where several people end up with severe sleeping disorders because of the way Morpheus was taken. One woman ends up with “Sleeping beauty syndrome” where she would wake for brief periods of time but usually slept. Another goes into a coma. One young man in Africa dreamt of a cloud castle, as was his usual dream, but the castle crumbled and he became catatonic. A soldier would suffer a form of “Shell shock” that made him severely insomniactic. But in general most people continued to sleep and dream normally.

However in The Dreaming realm Morpheus’ absence was noticed. And over time things started to deteriorate. The vast library in The Dreaming started to disappear. Some dream entities vanished. Some Nightmare creatures escaped into the human world.

And Morpheus’ castle began to fall into disrepair. This all happened over the span of many years, mind you.

For over seventy-two-years Morpheus is kept prisoner inside a clear crystal-glass cage, surrounded by a magical binding circle in Roderick’s cellar. They take his helm, his pouch of dream sand, and his ruby amulet as magical trophies. They also take his clothes and leave him naked and caged. They don’t even bother to feed him and though he won’t die of starvation he does suffer hunger. The binding circle holds back Morpheus’ magick and psychic powers while the glass cage holds his physical body.

During Morpheus’ captivity Roderick grew old and died and his son took his place as Morpheus’ main captor. And eventually old age started to creep up on the son, Alexander. One night Alexander visit’s his prisoner (who has refused to speak the entire time of his captivity) and Alex’s assistant (and lover) Paul, accidentally brushes Alex’s wheelchair slightly over the rim of the binding circle, breaching it and it’s hold over Morpheus’ psychic abilities. But they do not notice this slight breach. Morpheus, however, does notice the breach in the circle holding him prisoner. Morpheus waits for his opportunity. As one of his guards has a brief day dream about a vacation on a beach, Morpheus is able to psychically connect with this dream to steal a fistful of the sand there on the dream beach and use this sand as he would use his pouch of dream sand.

Morpheus pretends to collapse within his cage.

Appearing to be dead, the guards call for their employer, and open the glass cell. Morpheus uses the pilfered dream sand to make good his escape.

The first thing Morpheus does is he enters someone’s dream about wearing a clown costume to a party and no one else is in costume. Here Morpheus (still quite naked) raids the buffet, even eating frog legs from a fried chicken style bucket held by Colonel Sanders. He’s too hungry to think about anything other than eating.

Once that’s done he conjures clothes for himself and seeks revenge on his captor...

Morpheus enters the dream of Alexander Burgess where he confronts him on holding him prisoner and how he treated him. Morpheus used to be a very cruel and petty being and his cruelty lingers long enough for him to punish Alexander severely. He condemns him to a dream of eternal waking, an eternal nightmare which entails waking up from a nightmare only to find he’s in yet another nightmare, just to wake up again and be in yet another nightmare and on and on forever while his body remains comatose and or may actually, one day, die while his soul could be stuck in that nightmare within The Dreaming for eternity. (Dream does eventually release Alexander Burgess though and forgives him).

Exhausted by this act of vengeance, Morpheus tries to make his way to his castle at The Heart of The Dreaming but faints in “The shifting lands” where he’s found by Gregory The Gargoyle. Gregory is the pet of Cain.

Cain and Abel are old horror host comic book characters from the 1960 and 1970s in the style of the Crypt Keeper, with Cain compulsively murdering Abel roughly once a night (Abel recovers each time as he’s immortal). And yet Cain and Abel weirdly love each other.

These characters originally came from the comic book series The House of Mystery and The House of Secrets.

The House of Secrets are the comics that first introduced DC’s Swamp Thing.

At The House of Mystery (Cain’s home) Cain is presenting Abel with a new baby gargoyle egg (this gargoyle eventually gets named Goldie. Originally Abel called the baby gargoyle Irving but Cain insisted that gargoyles need G names) that’s when Gregory (the large green Gargoyle) carries the barely conscious Morpheus to Cain. This is one of the only times in the comics where you out right see Morpheus ask for help. He’s a very proud character.

Cain and Abel set about nursing their king back to health.

Morpheus gradually recovers in Cain’s House of Mystery (Abel’s home is The House of Secrets) before making his way to his castle (now in ruins) in the heart of The Dreaming. Morpheus’ loyal librarian, Lucien, had been trying to keep things running in Morpheus’ absence.

Lucien AKA Mr. Raven (not to be confused with Morpheus’ spy raven, Matthew, who comes later) is another horror host from older DC comics and the castle he resided in (known as the “Ghost Castle”) turns out to be Morpheus’ own castle, which has appeared in both The Waking World and The Dreaming, much like Cain’s House of Mystery and Abel’s House of Secrets.

Meanwhile Morpheus’ usual groundskeeper, Mervyn (A Jack-o-lantern headed scarecrow) had taken to driving a bus in The Dreaming and had to be brought back to The Castle to return to his original duties.

Morpheus realizes he needs to get his property back- The pouch of dream sand, his helm, and his ruby dreamstone amulet (which is a conduit and amplifier for his powers) that had been taken at the start of his captivity and had drifted to different owners over time. The Hecateae (The triple goddess AKA The Furies AKA The Fates AKA The Kindly Ones) tell Morpheus that John Constantine had his pouch of Dream Sand. And so Morpheus goes to meet Constantine.

John Constantine (who is a practicing occultist and private investigator) figures out that a former lover of his his own has the pouch of self-replenishing dream sand (he, himself, was unable to pull the draw strings of the pouch). The exlover has tragically been using the sand to get high and several Dream entities have been feeding on her imagination when she does this. Her body is shutting down. By the time Morpheus and Constantine find her there is little that can be done but Constantine demands Morpheus do something for her and so Morpheus gives her a pleasant final dream before she passes away. Morpheus repays Constantine’s assistance by helping him with his chronic nightmares.

Next Morpheus has to retrieve his helm, which was taken by a demon. Morpheus is forced to visit Hell to reclaim it. Here he is guided by Etrigan The Demon (a demon that exists Dr. Jekyll and Hyde style with a human immortal host, Jason Blood). Etrigan deliberately takes Morpheus past an imprisoned former lover of Morpheus’ own, Nada. She pleads for Morpheus to rescue her but he tells her that though he loves her he has not yet forgiven her. (later we learn Morpheus left her in Hell because she rejected him back when he was a much crueler character).

Morpheus has started to change since his captivity. He’s becoming softer, less cruel. And though he does not rescue her here, he will eventually go back for her after his older sister, Death makes him realize that he had wronged Nada.

The demon who has taken Morpheus’ helm challenges him to a contest where each one has to out do the creativity of the other, inventing personas that would best the previous one conceived by the opponent. Eventually Morpheus wins with the simple phrase “I am Hope.”

This is later (much later) very bitterly sweetly elaborated on in the prequel comic Sandman: Overture, where Hope is revealed to have been a little girl whose ghost helps Morpheus but all he can remember of her is her name.

Side note: Lucifer (the main ruler of this Hell) becomes bitter and slowly makes up his mind to quit ruling there. He does not get around to doing this until the storyline called Season of Mists, in which Lucifer leaves the key to Hell to Morpheus when Morpheus came back, looking to rescue Nada. Lucifer also asks Morpheus to help him by cutting off Lucifer’s large bat-like wings for him. (Lucifer gets those wings back in his own solo comics, back to their original white, feathery Angelic state).

Eventually Morpheus gives The Key to Hell to two Angels who turn Hell into a place of redemption, and Lucifer retires to Earth where he opens a piano bar in LA called Lux but that’s a whole other story.

Morpheus’ ruby dreamstone amulet had been taken by the villain Doctor Destiny AKA John (or Johnny) Dee. (Not to be confused with Morpheus’ elder brother, Destiny personified). Doctor Destiny AKA John Dee was being kept at Arkham Asylum. Doctor Destiny happens to escape around this time as Morpheus is trying to reclaim his lost amulet. The amulet was in a Justice League of America storage warehouse. The amulet had been so corrupted by Doctor Destiny that merely touching it saps Morpheus of a great deal of his strength and he collapses, fainting in the warehouse, where it was being stored.

By the time Morpheus regains consciousness, he finds that Doctor Destiny has taken the amulet and Doctor Destiny had used the ruby’s power on a diner full of people (whom he has toyed with, driven to madness, and then ultimately killed or made them kill each other and themselves in very gruesome ways). Doctor Destiny and Morpheus have a confrontation where Doctor Destiny says he will kill Morpheus.

Morpheus tricks Doctor Destiny into following him into The Dreaming where Doctor Destiny destroys the ruby, believing it will kill Morpheus if The Dreamstone is destoryed. Instead of killing Morpheus, the power that was in the ruby dreamstone reverts to him, making Morpheus more powerful than he had been in centuries. The ruby had contained a small fragment of Morpheus’ very soul. Morpheus (who has started to change, becoming a bit kinder) shows pity on Doctor Destiny and instead of cruelly punishing him, he escorts him back to Arkham Asylum where he gives all the inmates a night of deep sleep and pleasant dreams.

Once Morpheus has gotten back his lost artifacts he restores his castle and library.

Now Morpheus feels restless and uncertain as to what to do with himself. He’s lonely and feels like he’s lost his purpose. So he goes to a park to feed the pigeons in order to try to cheer himself up.

(He loves birds and feeding birds is a comfort for him). Here he meets up with his sister, Death, who makes pop culture references that fly right over his head (Since he’s been out of touch for nearly a century and wasn’t very good at slang to begin with).

Morpheus loves and respects his sister and doesn’t understand why so many people fear her.

He considers himself far more terrible than she could ever be. She manages to cheer him up by simply being there. She has him accompany her as she makes her rounds through the city, escorting souls to where they are meant to go.

There are several adventures for Morpheus after this but this is the first story of the Sandman comics. Most of his adventures deal with Morpheus righting the wrongs of his own dark past and coming to terms with very human things such as loneliness, friendship, guilt and grief.

Marvel fans might notice that Morpheus AKA Dream has certain similarities to Marvels’ Nightmare character. And there are definite similarities. The biggest difference is Dream is essentially what would happen if Nightmare went on a redemption arc.

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Other adventures of note:

At one point Morpheus is summoned to help Calliope, the muse. Calliope and Morpheus had been married thousands of years earlier. She has recently been held prisoner by cruel mortals who use her for inspiration and have physically abused her as well. Morpheus tries to ask for her release and when that doesn’t work he’s forced to torment her captor with maddening, intensely creative dreams until he releases her.

Another storyline deals with Morpheus going back to Hell to rescue his abandoned lover, Nada, only to find that Lucifer has quit and Lucifer asks Morpheus to help him cut off his large bat wings (which he gets back as pretty feathery wings later in his own solo comics.)

Lucifer goes to Earth and decides to learn how to play Piano, among other things. His lover, the demoness, Mazikeen, soon follows, while Morpheus’ older sister, Death, tries to sort out what to do with all the newly displaced wandering souls.

When Morpheus is left the key to Hell, various supernatural entities, beings of folklore, and religion come to The Dreaming to try to claim it from him. One demon that arrives (made of many mouths) has Nada imprisoned inside of his very being. Morpheus goes inside the demon and rescues Nada and while he’s there he also finds and rescues the very demon that had once had his helm and challenged him during the first Sandman storyline, Preludes and Nocturns. Morpheus’ sense of compassion has grown.

In his pride Morpheus gives a flimsy apology to Nada for leaving her in Hell and she slaps him hard across the face.

He apologizes more sincerely after momentarily getting angry and tells her that she has a choice to make. Nada chooses to be reincarnated.

When she’s reborn in Hong Kong, Morpheus sneaks into the nursery in the hospital maternity ward, where he cradles the baby, (The baby is male), telling the baby that he’ll never forget her and that she’ll always be welcome in The Dreaming.

The key to Hell is ultimately passed to two Angels who choose to try to make it a place of reformation and redemption but somehow devise tortures equally as cruel (if not crueler) than what was there when Lucifer ran the place. In Neil Gaiman’s lore souls only go to Hell if they believe that is what they deserve and then demons take advantage of that there in Hell. In Lucifer’s stand alone comics it’s revealed that he was not given Hell as a punishment but as a place where he wouldn’t have to live in his Father’s shadow. It became a place of darkness and misery because of Lucifer’s own dark mindset. Lucifer now seems content on Earth and never returns to ruling Hell.

(Note: The current Devil / Satan of the DC universe is “First of the Fallen” (a different entity from Lucifer as Lucifer is “retired” and is not actually categorized as evil anymore.)

In current DC / Vertigo lore, a different being, “First of The Fallen” has taken the title of Satan while Lucifer has happily become a neutral character, considered neither Good nor Evil (though leaning heavily toward Good in his TV show incarnation). Lucifer is retired and categorized as Neutral in his moral alignment while First of the Fallen is categorized as Evil. Lucifer may have been the first Angel to fall from grace but he was not the first entity to fall from grace (by that list Lucifer is actually the fourth to fall) and so Lucifer does not actually have the title First of the Fallen in the current comics.

One sweet storyline in Sandman is how Morpheus met a man who ‘refused to die” (an immortal) and the man (known as Hob and later Robert) agreed to meet with Morpheus every century to tell him what it was like to go from being mortal to being immortal, how his life has been for the last century, and to tell him if he wanted to continue to live). In the 1700s they run into John Constantine’s Great, great, grandmother, Johanna Constantine, who mistakes Morpheus and Robert (Hob) as “The Devil and the Wandering Jew” and tries to capture Hob / Robert and Morpheus.

In the 1800s Hob confronts Morpheus on the fact that there are actually other formerly-human immortals around the world and Hob believes Morpheus only meets with him once a century because they are friends and not because he is curious to know how Hob handles his immortality. Morpheus becomes indignant and prideful, insisting that he doesn’t need friends.

He storms off and Hob calls after him that if he shows up next century he’ll know it’s because they’re friends and no other reason.

A century later Morpheus arrives and Hob admits he had not thought he’d come and Morpheus tells him that he had been told that it is rude to keep one’s friends waiting. It’s sweet.

In the lore of Sandman Morpheus is the father of the mythological Orpheus, the musician who went into the Greek underworld to retrieve his dead wife. Orpheus’ mother is the muse, Calliope. Hades agreed to let Orpheus have his wife back if he did not look back at her until they left The Underworld, proving his trust in the Greek God of The Dead. Orpheus made the mistake of looking back at her at the last second and so lost her just before they could exit The Underworld. Orpheus was then later torn apart by zealots and since he was condemned to immortality he was stuck as a severed head. Shortly before going to The Underworld Orpheus had denounced his father, Morpheus, for refusing to help get his wife back from The Land of The Dead. Hurt and angry, Morpheus refused to help him other than to send some priests dreams about Orpheus so that they and their descendants would tend to him (as he’s just a severed head) for centuries to come.

In the early 1990s, when Morpheus’ youngest sister, Delirium wants to find their lost brother, Destruction, Morpheus is forced to go to Orpheus to find out where Destruction is. Orpheus bitterly greets his estranged father and tells him that he will give him the information he needs but only if he does him the one mercy he has been pleading for, for centuries. Morpheus does not want to do it but finally out of mercy he kills his own son, reuniting Orpheus with his wife in The Underworld. But Morpheus is left with a deep remorse over how he treated his son and for Orpheus’ death. Morpheus retreats to his private rooms in his castle where he weeps, alone.

Morpheus eventually gets mistaken as the kidnapper of baby Daniel ( a child who, while fetal, spent an unusually long time in The Dreaming realm. Daniel is the son of Hector Hall, the second superhero Sandman who passed away). Lyta, the baby’s Mother, is lead to believe her child is dead. She calls upon the Kindly Ones (representatives of the crone aspect of The Triple Goddess) to seek revenge. They tell her that they cannot seek revenge for her son but an Endless is not allowed to kill someone of their own blood, nor is Morpheus allowed to kill at all except to protect The Dreaming. As Morpheus has violated these ancient rules, they can seek revenge over the death of Orpheus.

The end of the Sandman comics has Morpheus “die” sacrificing himself to stop The Kindly Ones from Destroying The Dreaming. Morpheus’ loved ones grieve him but it’s a little ambiguous as to if he’s truly dead. Morpheus had become weary of his role as ruler of The Dreaming but he knew that he could not just abandon it the way Destruction had abandoned his role. And he could not quit the way Lucifer had, though he does quote Lucifer about being so very tired.

The Kindly ones seek Morpheus’ death or the destruction of The Dreaming. Morpheus gives up his life to save his realm, allowing his sister, Death, to take him. As Morpheus “dies” all of his memories and power pass on into baby Daniel, who transforms and now wears an emerald with a small amount of Dream’s soul within it. Everything that was mortal of Daniel is gone as he is transformed into the new incarnation of Dream.

When Lyta had mistakenly thought Morpheus had taken her baby, Daniel had actually been kidnapped by Puck and Loki but Daniel was ultimately rescued by a Nightmare being known as The Corinthian, and Morpheus’ Raven spy / messenger, Matthew (who had been a human soul who died in his sleep and was allowed to remain in The Dreaming after his death as Morpheus’ loyal servant. Matthew (in his human form) had originally been a character of the Swamp Thing comics.

Daniel- now simply calling himself Dream- (which was Morpheus’ alternate name) took an adult form that looks much like Morpheus except with white hair instead of black. This can be seen as similar to a Doctor Who style regeneration however there are other things that make Morpheus’ death fishy and or potentially a false ending.

Hob AKA Robert (Morpheus’ immortal friend) has a dream of Morpheus in which Morpheus is with a man he does not know (Destruction) and both walk off together.

This can imply two things. 1. Morpheus could have faked his death very elaborately and is telling Hob (as he has told Hob things via dreams before) or 2. Morpheus did die and Daniel resurrected him as a Dream (which actually is one of his powers, to resurrect anyone who dies in The Dreaming realm as a Dream entity, maintaining free will, personality, and soul).

And that’s about it.

Though there are serious and complex parts, some of Sandman is fun and light too, such as when Morpheus allows Delirium to drive... in the human world...

And there you go. A crash course in what the Hell Neil Gaiman’s Sandman actually is. Despite the spoilers of this post, I assure you that the actual comics are much more enjoyable to read.

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