#like I can’t relate until AT LEAST 2008

[grandtheftautumn]

It’s very funny going to alt/pop-punk shows w/ heavy millennial crowds because they’ll be saying shit on stage like “It’s 2006 in here tonight, baby!”/“You’re gonna be jumping & dancing around like we were in 2007!”

I get it, but respectfully, I was in first grade.

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 12: War Councils

Rhoda has gotten herself a chair, and is sitting in it to poke around in my tablet’s settings, trying to see if she can figure out why the battery insists on reporting that it’s at 100% even though I haven’t charged it since Kimberly gave it to me.

Or, at least, I think that’s what she’s doing. I can’t see the screen from where I’m sitting.

Cerce is watching her curiously.

While she works, Rhoda almost absently starts talking about something else, “Meghan, there’s something you need to be aware of, if you haven’t checked the local news today. You don’t need to do anything about it besides probably behave yourself as best you can.”

I compose myself carefully to show her that I’m listening. But she’s not looking at me.

“That squabble last night. I think it was Loreena and Poink? Apt names, if I’m right,” she says.

“Yes,” I affirm.

“The two of them, with ample help from the police – but that’s not going to factor into this of course – destroyed half of the Southside Fred Meyer,” she says. “Both City Council and County Council are holding emergency sessions tonight because of it. I’m planning on being at one of those meetings to speak on behalf of you and your kind, if I can. If they let me.”

Oh.

I can only say “yes”, “no”, and “stop”, or make expressions that she’s not looking at, because she has my tablet, but that’s OK. I think she’s going to keep talking anyway until she’s informed me and Cerce of all that’s going on.

“The funny thing is, if you can call it funny, Loreena and Poink were shopping,” she says. “They met in the meat department, of course. Which is right between their two territories, and why they had the dispute.” She pokes at my tablet some more. “But, I’m pretty certain we’re going to have some new laws, policies, and ordinances regarding dragons by next week or so. And the police are going to be empowered to act on them. Or animal control. Or both.”

She squints at the screen, and I bow my head.

“That’s going to put you in a really tight spot, and maybe a lot of danger,” she says. “The sheriff's department has a tank they bought in 2008. It can’t get up to the roof you sleep on, but – oh, this is very interesting.”

“What is it?” Cerce asks.

Rhoda puts the tablet down on the table so we can all see. She’s opened the file browser and navigated to the system folder. And she points at an icon on the screen.

“That’s not a standard file,” she says.

“How do you know that?” Cerce asks.

“I make it a point to know a little bit of everything,” Rhoda replies. “A habit I picked up from my late son.”

“What kind of file is it?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t know if it’s related to the battery, but it’s really weird,” Rhoda says. “That icon is a sigil or rune. Not like those antisemitic new age rip offs, either.”

“What? You’re shitting me. You understand that?”

“No and no,” Rhoda admits. “I just know what it looks like and what it’s not.”

Cerce narrows her eyes and studies Rhoda. “It sounds like you know something most people don’t.”

“That’s probably true.”

I’m back to thinking maybe Rhoda is a witch.

I see movement behind Cerce in the corner of my eye and look to catch Chapman approaching us glumly.

Is it lunch time already?

Sie is wearing an R2D2 themed skater dress and moon boots, with a purse the same color as hir hair. Sie must spend all of hir disposable income on outfits, but I honestly can’t fault hir for doing so.

Chapman notices Rhoda poking at my new hand-me-down tablet and stops and purses hir lips. Then decides it’s important to stay the course and approach us.

Cerce and Rhoda notice where my attention is paid, and look themselves.

“Hey, Chapman,” Cerce says.

“Cerce,” Chapman says in their maple syrup croon. “Rhoda. Hey, Meg. I’ve come to apologize, but now I see I may need to explain even more.”

“What do you mean?” Rhoda asks. But I see she’s not tensing up. She’s just curious. Not even confused.

“That file you're thinking of opening is something I added to the tablet myself,” Chapman says. “I knew Meg would need it.”

“How?” Cerce blinks.

“I’m a bit of an artist,” Chapman replies. Sie doesn’t elaborate and just stands there waiting for the next question.

“Can you explain that?” Cerce asks.

Chapman looks around to see if anyone else is in earshot, then wanders around the table to go get another chair to bring over and sit down. 

Rhoda scoots over to make room.

Then Chapman leans forward, elbows on the table, hands clenched, and looks at each of us conspiratorially. And then waits for us to lean forward.

When we’ve tightened the circle of ears, sie says, “Dragons aren’t the only ones to have awaked recently.” Then sie leans back and again falls silent, seemingly content with having said that little.

I tilt my head to the side.

Rhoda sighs, looks over, and says, “You’re going to have to elaborate, I think.”

“I’m sorry,” Chapman says. “I’ve sworn to secrecy. But the vow is very specifically worded. So, I’m waffling. Do I violate the spirit of the vow by upholding only the letter of it? Or do I keep my mouth shut? In any case, I slipped up with Meghan, and I ‘m sorry for doing that.”

I reach across the table to bring the tablet over to me, and hit home and then the AAC app.

“I felt thing,” I say. “I felt a switch.”

It’s Chapman’s turn to tilt hir head.

“Is magic?” I ask.

“Wait,” Rhoda says, holding a hand tilted toward me to beg my patience, while looking at Chapman. “It’s only been since the 24th. How did you all organize so quickly you have a vow?”

Chapman bites hir lip, then says, “The dragons didn’t come first, or simultaneously. This all begins earlier than that. But also, not everyone took the vow. Not all learned about it. And I just thought it was a good idea.”

I angrily knuckle my tablet, “Did you make happen? Did you do change?”

“No,” Chapman says. “As far as I know, now one knows what triggered it. Only that we’re all out, now.”

I remember my 3.5 edition D&D, and decide to ask outright, “Are you warlock?”

“What? No. I’m also not saying, otherwise I’d break the vow of secrecy,” Chapman scowls. “I basically already have, though. Please don’t ask more questions like that.”

I look at Rhoda and then ask, “Are you witch?” Just to be fair.

She falls back in her chair cackling and shaking her head, “Heaven’s no! Though, I guess I admire the idea of being a wise woman.”

I look at Cerce and she just giggles.

“Are you student?” I ask.

It’s her turn to break out laughing, snorting and putting a hand to her nose, but she nods and says, “Yes! Yes, I am.”

I feel like this is the first time in my life I’ve actually cracked a joke. And it’s a subtle, deadpan joke. My way of talking is really made for deadpan delivery. It’s about all I can do, and it makes me feel sly. I love it.

I know I’ve made people laugh before, but I can’t remember if I’ve done it deliberately or not. I’ve always felt like my purposeful attempts all fell flat before.

Everyone seems to be enjoying the moment, too.

Then I feel that shift again, and Chapman, who’s been snickering too, sobers up and turns Rhoda.

“I’ll take the Council meeting you miss, tonight,” sie says. “I don’t think we can do anything there to alter the Path tonight, but we can at least remain as informed as possible.”

Rhoda nods, and no one comments.

After a moment, I insist on clarification, “What ‘Path’?”

Chapman looks at me, “History.”

Of course. “Yes,” I say.

“What can the rest of us do?” Cerce asks, sounding uncertain that she’s included.

Rhoda puts a hand on her arm and says, “You can come to one of the Council meetings too. Or, since the two of us have that covered, be yourself. You’re doing good already just being friends with the likes of us. There’ll be more work to come. I promise.”

“Do you think we should get my bosses in on this?”

“I believe Nathan is working on that angle,” Rhoda replies. “But definitely. Since the shop is the seat of Meghan’s territory, this concerns them intimately.”

“OK, I’ll back Nate up. But I think they’re already on our side, anyway. The bosses love Meg,” Cerce concludes.

Rhoda just nods.

Cerce squints at Chapman for a bit, then says, “I’m sorry. I’m going to ask you a leading question, but I really want to know. Can you teach me your art?”

“If you took the vow, I think I could try,” Chapman says. “But I don’t think it’d work. It would be unprecedented.”

Cerce sighs and nods.

Chapman folds hir arms and looks down at the table. “OK. Everyone. I’m going to phrase this in a very specific way. Please take it at face value and do not read into it.”

Sie looks around at each of us through hir magenta pompadour.

We each nod.

Sie nods, then suggests, “Let’s all pretend that I’m Gandalf.” Then sie points at me, and says, “You! I was not expecting you to be able to notice things. That’s new to everyone. Though, I don’t think any dragon has been this close to someone like me, yet. It’s only been a week. Less for most.”

I tilt my head.

“That’s all you’re getting today. Just think about it and put it to good use, Meg.”

I bow my head, “Yes.”

I have the weirdly new to me experience of realizing my social connections are falling into place and making themselves clear. And they’re doing so in a way that is at once both reassuring and helpful, but also a bit of a disappointment?

Chapman’s all business now, and Rhoda’s deeper into her business, gripping it with both hands and wearing it like a shawl. And both of them in dedication to me, for some reason. Maybe on Rhoda’s part because we’re friends and neighbors. On Chapman’s part, though, it seems to be pure business, not just autistic interest, but wrapped up in whatever sie has vowed to keep secret. And all of hir signals, signs of excitement, smugness, were probably just the thrill of opportunity falling into place.

But, at least, sie sounds like sie is on my side.

I’m more heartbroken about this than I expected, and I’m kind of confused by that.

What are dragon relationships with humans supposed to be like, anyway?

I wonder what those infant dragons will grow up to be like, being treated as dragons right from the beginning. Are they being raised by other dragons, or humans? Or, are they more autonomous than human babies, and basically self sufficient little monsters with no socialization yet?

I take a moment to visualize maybe having a dragon whelp or four or eight or whatever of my own.

I’d love to lay an egg someday, if my body can do that. But raising even one child? I’m not sure.

Huh.

Would I even have to raise them? Or just protect them for a while? I like the sound of that latter option.

Double huh.

I’m starting to wish that there was an online forum for dragons, so I back out of the AAC program and fire up a browser and do a search while the others are talking about something.

And what I get is a little overwhelming for the moment I’m in currently. But, at a first, cursory glance, I’m not seeing anything labeled, “by dragons, for dragons.” And some of the stuff I am seeing makes me want to close the browser fast.

Between “r/dragon_fuckers”, “r/dragon_masters”, and “r/dragonslayers”, I’m done.

But before I go back to the conversion in front of me, I can’t stop myself from knuckling open the search query question, “Will my dragon fuck me if I ask?”

The answer provokes a series of knocking noises to burst from my syrinx.

It reads, “If you are in the Northern hemisphere, it’s not mating season. If you are in the Southern hemisphere, maybe. The recommendation is, don’t try it.”

“What was that about?” Cerce asks.

“No,” I say. Then I push the tablet over to her so that she can read it.

Her laughter is gratifying.

Chapman looks and chuckles. And Rhoda just shakes her head.

But she looks at me thoughtfully afterward.

She does not elucidate and I have no idea what she might be thinking. But it hardly matters to me at the moment. I’m too amused to care. And then we’re interrupted.

We hear Kimberly say, “Uh, oh.”

And when we all look, we see her standing just outside the door of the shop, arms akimbo, and staring Eastward up the street.

I vaguely hear some people calling things out from up that way, and look, along with the others.

If I had hackles, they’d rise. If I had a dewlap, it’d be inflated.

Instead, my chin starts jerking up of its own accord, and my wings need to be stretched, even though I don’t have the room to do that where I’m sitting.

I see the shadow before they come into my view, but I knew what they were before that and I’m not sure how.

There are eight small pointy heads, with frilled jaws, on thin long necks, all doing that Ray Harryhausen dance as they pull themselves forward on two limbs like a walrus with a thick tail long enough to strangle an elephant.

When I say pointy heads, I mean they look just like baby crocodile heads, but with the frills.

I know the name I gave them before they make a single sound.

It’s Poink.

“Meghan,” Rhoda says, an edge of warning in her voice.

But I’m blocked in by her chair and the table behind me, and I find myself trying to climb the side of the building, despite that big red iron awning being right above me. Also, the fact that there’s a huge picture window right there doesn’t help. Not many clawholds.

I twist to my left, through the air, all the way around, to land with my foreclaws in the middle of the table, and hiss. Which I haven’t done yet. That’s interesting.

“Hey, everyone,” Chapman says. “Let’s all back off and let Meg handle this. Don’t get in the way.”

Thank you.

I manage to wait for my people to clear out and get behind me, and for Kimblerly to glance our way and then retreat into the doorway of the shop, before I move further. Then I scramble right over the table, upending it, without thinking much about my tablet.

Poink is moving pretty slow, and seems to be hurt, and is looking around warily. A couple of their heads have spotted me and are tracking my movements.

When I make it to the corner of the sidewalk, I stop.

My territory extends further than that, and Poink is already in it, but I find that my conscious curiosity about what they’re planning on doing manages to override my urge to press an attack.

Something about their movements and postures does not seem challenging, and they haven’t called out yet.

I can now see that there are big gashes on Poinks shoulders, made by three talons with every stroke. They look bigger than I could make. They’re not really bleeding now, but they must be painful.

Part of me thinks I could crush and eat them easily. And the rest of me is repulsed by that idea. And that inner conflict has me frozen as well.

I wait until they come to the edge of their sidewalk, kitty corner to me in the intersection, and then I say, “Stop.” I can’t make it sound urgent or stern, but I make it as loud as I can.

Their heads all do this fluid pulling back thing, one after another, that would make an animator fall over in delight. A hydra’s version of a taken aback.

I hear a single, quiet, “Poink.” And then they bow, lowering their shoulders and then their heads.

All the cars that have been coming up the streets have stopped, including a city bus. They all know better than to get between us at this point. And ideally, we want a demonstration of draconic diplomacy instead of a fight.

But at that “Poink”, I cannot stop myself from charging!

Bound! Bound! Jump, glide, skid, flap, flap, “GggrrrrrrrrrRREEEYAWK! NOKNOKNOKNOK!!!”

[tarotoftheendless]

Forever Waiting: Waiting for Forever 0.5 - Chapter Three

Forever Waiting

Summary:

Willie can't sleep. Sneaks out, goes to town to go to the gig Jules invited him to. What he sees, hears and feels is not something he was prepared for, or even fully understands. Warnings/Tags:

Overall horniness, N S F W. Minors scram. Alcohol consumption. Kink. Fem Domming. Thirsty thoughts. Angst.

Thank you once again to @thoughtsfromlayla for beta-ing, editing and helping with the format. And thank you to @dragon-kazansky for beta-ing and making the Chapter Cards. I love you both so much!

MASTER LIST/FIRST/PREVIOUS/NEXT

Chapter Three: Bitter Sweet Symphony

October 3rd, 2008

Taft, Pennsylvania

10:07pm

Willie’s POV

Sleep is eluding me as I shift onto my side for the fourth time in a row. Joey and Dee had suggested I go to bed early to try to relax, but I am too wired to do so. Today did not go as planned.

Turning on my other side again, my eyes catch sight of the digital clock on the bedside table. Groaning, I throw off my covers. It's still too warm in the evenings for covers anyway.

Playing with the silver chain around my neck nervously, my mind races over what my brother told me. He has never understood me and that has always been a source of disconnect between us. Joey and Jules felt more like siblings to me than Jimbo. At least what I thought siblings should be like.

Watching Jules today with Joey and their playful banter made me both envious for that kind of connection but also a pang of guilt. I had been the one to never reach back out to Jules directly. 

After what she said about Emma back on that fateful summer, it felt like my throat had closed up and a wall went up when it came to her. Jules was always so hesitant to share her feelings on things after her and Joey’s mother died, before that she had been so passionate. I almost thought a piece of her died that day, and it was a feeling I could relate to.

Deciding that sleep was not going to come any time soon, I sit up in the bed, running my hand through my hair. Fidgeting for a moment with my leather bracelets around my wrists, my mind is made up. I will go to Jules’ gig. A distraction from my brother’s cruel words and my terror from earlier outside of Emma’s is much needed right now.

Getting out of bed, I try not to hit my head on the very low glass antique flower hanging light. I grab my red and black plaid hoodie out of my duffle and slip on my high-tops, and quickly tie them.

I make sure I have my essentials on me, and then quietly open my door that leads into the hall. Not wanting to disturb the rest of the house, I make the decision to go down to the basement. 

It has been years since I have been in Jules’ room. My heart-rate picks up as I turn the doorknob to her room. Maybe she wouldn’t want me in her space when she is not around. Then I think about how she did invite me to her gig, about how I am already late and that I really don’t want to wake the house by going out the front door.

Warm light glows as I open the door. Her room was always so cozy and inviting and that hasn’t changed. The sweet smell of incense fills my nose and with it flooding memories. Immediately my gaze goes to the column of wall that has polaroids all over it. 

Stepping towards it, I squat down to see if she kept that picture of us. My breath hitches as I find it and underneath it reads: WD + JS = BFF. We were so young, our smiles goofy. We had been cuddling on a beanbag on the floor, just talking when she had wanted to take a picture of us. 

“Would you look at that, she kept it. Even after everything, she kept it. Can you believe that?” I breathe out, knowing they are watching me.

I can’t help but smile at the memory. Joey is my best friend, but Jules always seemed to get me. I always felt seen and heard when it came to Jules. Until that day at the creek. When she hadn’t wanted to talk about Emma anymore that day I had felt a piece of my heart break. Jules had never spoken to me like that before.

Sighing, I stand up fully again and make my way to the side door that leads outside. Briefly my eyes catch that she has the beanbags still, right behind her drum set. That brings a smile back to my face as I open the door, the cool October air gently brushing against my face.

As I begin my walk downtown, my thoughts are filled with a growing panic on how I am going to finally approach Emma. 

Will she remember me? Will she return my affections? Even when I had seen Emma in L.A. when I was performing in the park, I had to keep my breathing under control. Fear gripped me today and I worry that Emma will think the same things about me like my brother does. 

Am I crazy? Maybe something is wrong with me. I feel normal, though. People like me when they met me, I always am able to make kids smile and laugh. And then there was Joey, Dee and Jules. I know they love me and support me, they always have. They are safe. I feel safe with them.

My mouth turns downward as I remember the summer of 1999, the summer their mother passed. Jules was different, Joey was trying not to be, I could tell. I once caught him crying in his room, and without a word I walked in and pulled him into a hug. Having lost both my parents, there was a deep understanding I had for how Joey felt. He was quieter about it, but Jules had been angry. Her dad and her fought a lot that summer. They tried not to do it in front of me, but I heard some of what was said. One fight ended right after her dad called her by her mom’s name. It had confused me and yet also made tears threaten to fall from my eyes. I didn’t understand what had happened or why Jules had stormed off after that, but I knew something was not right about that.

I pull the hood of my jacket up to cover my ears from the gentle breeze that began to tickle at my ears. It is entirely possible that I should have thought about getting some earplugs as I am realizing that as quiet of a nice night it is outside in my little hometown, going to a bar with loud music might be a bit jarring. Grimacing at the thought of sticking my fingers in my ears once I get in the venue, it begins to register in my brain that might appear to be rude to not only the other pub patrons but also Jules and her band. Insulting her and her music is not something I want to do right after we have seemingly patched things up.

Passing by the bank my brother works at, I see my reflection in the dark front window, the light of a streetlamp illuminating behind me. Trying to fix my seemingly both stunned and blank expression on my face, I pull my hood down and tousle my hair a bit. 

Not that I am looking to be noticed by anyone, the one person I would want to notice me isn’t going to be here, but I do at least want to appear to be desirable. Then again, no one has ever told me they have found me attractive, so what do I know? My hope is that once I reconnect with Emma that she will like what she sees. Then I can finally have the happily ever after I have always wanted to have with her.

Working up the courage to leave the very quiet downtown main street, I move forward once again towards the muffled sounds of music and talking. My fingers grasp the pub’s steel door handle, slowly, I open the door and I am met with the sounds of loud music and many people conversing over various kinds of alcoholic beverages.

The pub isn’t very big, the lighting is low and moody, and tonight it is packed and it isn’t hard to see why. On the back wall of this establishment is a stage with lights above it flashing between many colors, and there she is. 

Jules is on that stage, electric guitar in hand, singing, almost growling into the mic. She is mesmerizing, almost to the point where I don’t hear the bouncer in front of me asking to see my ID. 

Heat rises to my cheeks in embarrassment as I fish my ID out of the pocket of my hoodie. The bouncer takes it from me, looks at it and then back at me, cocks an eyebrow at me that makes me nervous for some reason, but then hands it back.

“She said you might be here, Mr. Donner, please enjoy the show,” says the bouncer as he gestures towards the rest of the space behind him.

Dipping my head down in a small nod, I stride past him, fumbling to put my ID back into my hoodie pocket. There are people everywhere, and my chest starts to tighten, like it had earlier outside of Emma’s house. I want to watch Jules and her melodic singing is like a siren's call, but I need to find a spot that is easier to breathe. 

Luckily, I spot an empty stool at the bar when a very ruggedly handsome bartender is mixing drinks. Scooting onto the stool, I shift the seat around so I can watch Jules fully. As my eyes adjust to the lighting and focus past the sea of people, what I see takes my breath away.

Never have I ever seen Jules be the way she is right now on that stage. She is playing her guitar, owning the stage, singing with her bassist while her keyboardist and drummer accompany them in the symphony of sound. The music is harder and more intense than I usually listen to myself, but I like it. It has a nice beat, making my foot bounce in time with the rhythm.

Jules is almost dancing on stage as she sings, her lace-up boots on her fish-netted legs catching in the flashing green, blue then red lights. My eyes travel up and I see the tattoo she alluded to; a worm in black ink with bat-like wings and a bulbous head. Her skirt is short and slitted in a way that has me feeling that maybe I shouldn’t be staring. Moving on from that, my breath catches when I notice the tattoo on her chest; a black inked sun with a face right above her heart. 

Confusion settles in me, so much so that I know I can’t hide it from my face. Why would she get a sun tattoo above her heart? Hadn’t Joey always said that I was… and then she was…? Not being able to keep up with her movements on the stage, my eyes then focus on what seems to be dark bruises on her chest, disappearing into her top. A wave of concern for her hits me. Something about that does not feel right. I have no idea what it means, but I feel an emotion bubble in me that doesn’t usually surface; anger. Not at her, but at whoever caused those bruises.

“This cover is so good!” I hear a girl standing off to my left shouts to her friend over the sound of the music. Her friend nods in agreement, bouncing in place on the balls of her feet in excitement.

Smiling, I can’t help but agree. Jules’ very metal synthy cover of ‘You Spin Me Right Round (Like A Record)’ is exceptional. She amazes me, going from singing with her shorter bandmate with the eyebrow piercing and long black hair, to going into a guitar solo to round out the song. It’s no wonder people are dancing. The way her music makes me feel, I want to dance too, but I stay seated on my stool, bouncing my leg to the beat.

She is gorgeous, her teased purple hair flowing around her with each movement she makes. Sweat is clearly beading down her forehead, down her neck and back on to her chest. Despite the confusion of her tattoo and the anger of her bruises, I can’t help but feel a pull of desire when gazing at her. Which brings with it a whole other confusion; Emma.

I love Emma. She has been the girl I have loved since that fateful day, even before that. She had reminded me that my parents would always be there, that they would always love me. Emma had touched my heart when I needed it most. Wasn’t that enough?

Watching Jules finish out the song with a certain flare, it’s almost as if time stopped. Though I was in the back of the bar, her eyes somehow found mine. Surprise paints her facial features, but she swiftly recovers. Winking at me, which makes me blush, her attention quickly moves to the audience.

Letting her guitar hang low from the strap on her shoulder, she grabs the standing mic, bringing her lips to it.

“I hear there’s a 21st birthday going on tonight! Where’s the birthday girl?!” Jules says into the mic, a certain husky sound to her voice that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. 

There was a squeal in the crowd near the front by the stage of a girl, who is bouncing up and down, making her way up to the stage in front of Jules. The crowd is cheering on the girl.

The girl is pretty, blonde and in a pink short dress and silver heels that looked painful to wear. “Me! Me! Me! That’d be me!” She shouts with her hands in the air and a spotlight is aimed at her from above as she gets right in front of the stage.

Jules lifts the strap of her guitar over her head, handing it to her bassist, who takes it with an almost knowing smirk on her face. Grabbing the mic out of its stand, Jules kneels down on the stage to get closer to this girl, an almost very flirtatious smile on her face. I blush as I realize that I have seen that smile before and it stuns me.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Jules says into the mic before holding it out for the girl.

“Victoria! My name is Victoria! O! M! G! You are so hot!” The girl, Victoria, expresses with an emotion I can’t place in her voice.

A very low laugh leaves Jules’ lips that makes a strange heat start in my cheeks, it goes down through my chest and settles between my legs. As I feel a dull throb and twitch, I shift uncomfortably on the stool. What is happening right now? This is Jules. Joey’s twin, my best friend. Guilt starts to set in as my mouth begins to salivate in a way I can’t control.

Watching Jules lean down closer towards this Victoria has me on the edge of my seat.

Speaking into the mic, Jules says, “Well, Victoria, we have a bit of a birthday tradition we would love to do with you if you are willing.”

Victoria nods eagerly, her fingers gripping the edge of the stage. 

The next couple minutes happen both in slow motion and so quickly. Jules has Victoria brought on stage with her and the band. Someone, one of the bartenders I presume, brings up a can of beer, handing it to Jules. Victoria is a giddy ball of energy on stage standing next to Jules to the point where I am almost jealous. I wish I was closer.

The crowd is watching intently, chattering among themselves as they are eager to see the tradition Jules mentioned earlier. Bringing the mic to her lips again, Jules speaks in a low voice that has me feeling goosebumps forming on my arms under my jacket.

“Well, Victoria, baby girl, I need you on your knees,” Jules croons as she makes eye contact with Victoria. The crowd all seems to hold its breath as they watch Victoria do just that. I also feel as though I can’t breathe, and I have to put my hands over my lap so as to not appear indecent in public. Not being able to control my body is not something I enjoy. First over at Emma’s earlier and now this, but a very different lack of control, has me feeling very confused and uncomfortable.

Jules skillfully opens the can of beer with one hand as she holds the mic with the other. “Now, princess, I need you to open wide, and not spill a drop, can you do that for me?” Jules' voice holds promises of sin and chaos, a seductive combination.

Nodding, Victoria opens her mouth wide and lets her tongue hang out of her mouth. My eyes go wide as that is the longest tongue I have ever seen anyone have. Chuckling, Jules decides to comment on it, “Fuck, baby girl, your girlfriend is one lucky girl indeed!” 

Somewhere in the crowd a feminine voice shouts back, “Damn right I am!”

Victoria keeps doing what she is doing, but the stage lights pick up on the pink shade that her cheeks. Jules laughing at the woman’s comment finally makes something click in my head and now I am blushing. My hands push down more firmly down on my pajamas clad lap, both feeling that pleasure shooting through my body and just utter embarrassment. This kind of thing never is on my mind, not even with Emma, so why is Jules making me feel like this? She’s my friend. Just my friend.

Addressing the audience, Jules starts to tip the beer towards Victoria but doesn’t quite tip it fully to start dripping into her waiting mouth. ���Should I give it to her? Has she been a good girl?”

The whole crowd, and I as well, shout in response, “Yes!” My voice felt rough as I said it though, almost as if I had swallowed pins and needles.

Turning her full attention towards Victoria, Jules finally tips the beer so a small trickle starts to drip onto her tongue. Victoria eagerly takes it, her hands reaching up to grab onto Jules thighs. Stopping the stream of beer, Jules tisks her. “Now, now, now, hands down princess, I want you to take it all hands free. Can you do that for me?”

Victoria nods again, opening her mouth wider. I feel my own mouth fall open as if mimicking what I am seeing, almost wishing it was me up there instead. Jules tips the can even further this time causing a fuller stream to begin to pour onto Victoria tongue.

“That’s right princess, take it all, drink down real good for me! Oh yeah! That’s right, you’re such a good girl, aren’t you? You are taking it so good for me, oh baby!” Jules praises Victoria as she brings the beer closer to her lips. 

I am so glad no one is paying attention to me right now as I am having a hard time hiding how this is all affecting me. The crowd is cheering them on, in awe of the pure sexual energy that is happening before their eyes.

Tilting the beer up further, she is now making Victoria gulp it down hungrily. “Oh yeah, princess, you’re almost done! That’s right, take it all for me. Oh yeah, be mommy’s little slut, every last drop! Good girl!”

With that Victoria finishes the drink with Jules moaning praise and encouragement. I have to bite my own lip to stop my body reacting more than it already has. I feel out of breath and my hands are struggling to hide what would be very tented pajamas.

Jules looks down at Victoria with an expression of endearment that makes me feel like melting. “Happy birthday, princess. You did such a good job for me.” Jules hands the empty can to her bassist and the crowd is in an uproar, toasting to the stage and taking drinks of their own alcoholic beverages.

In a giddy mess, Victoria gets up from her kneeling position with help from Jules as she takes her hand. Jules whispers something to Victoria which makes her giggle, kiss her cheek. She then skips towards the steps to get down off the stage, and is in the arms of what I would assume is her girlfriend. They kiss passionately and I blush.

Bringing the mic back to her lips, Jules says, “You all enjoying the show?”

The crowd responds with clapping and whistles. I tried to vocally join the revelry but all that came out was a whimper. Heat rises to my cheeks again, though I am not sure it ever left, making me so glad that it is so loud in here that no one hears me.

“We’re gonna take five, get all lubricated for you again, so don’t y’all go anywhere!” Jules announces as she puts the mic back on the mic stand, and begins to walk to get off the stage. Her bandmates all make sure their instruments are secured before following after her.

My chest tightens as I realize she is headed this way, to get drinks from one of the bartenders. My situation hasn’t changed either. Keeping one hand covering my lap, I swivel on my stool, getting the attention of the male bartender.

“Can I get some water please?” I ask, still with an airy sound to my voice. The bartender nods, and grabs a glass, filling it with ice. He grasps a nozzle and pushes a button on it, filling it with water. Sliding it to me, I take it and drink it down quickly, some water dribbling out of the corner of my mouth onto my stubbled chin.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down there, buddy. Jules really is something, isn’t she, eh?” The bartender says to me with a smirk on his face.

Rapidly I nod my head as I finish the water and hand the glass back to him, which he fills again. He chuckles when he hands me it filled again, watching me start to drink that too. I feel my current situation start to go away as the cold water calms me down.

The moment I feel myself start to relax, I hear her voice almost directly next to me, and my back tenses.

“Yo, Dean, babes, shots of Tequila!” Jules says as she slaps the bar counter, The bartender that had spoken to me looked in Jules direction, his smirk widening. Dean turns around to grab a bottle from the medium shelf of the liquor shelf, getting her order taken care of.

She hasn’t noticed me yet, and I dare to look at her. She is barely covered, and yet she is sweating. The very sight of drops of moisture dripping down her forehead makes me feel that very confusing feeling again. 

She is playing with her purple hair absentmindedly as she waits for the shots, still not seeing me, humming to the music the DJ decided to put on during her bands’ break. 

I take a sip of my water again, hoping the cool water will help dampen whatever feeling is coursing through me. Trying to think of Emma instead, I close my eyes, and my breathing evens out, my heartbeat slowing to normal. 

My hope is that when she does notice me that I won’t embarrass myself in front of her. Not only is she making me feel things that are confusing, but she is so much cooler than I ever knew. 

Talented, that’s what she is.

I knew she was cool before and I knew she had talent, but like this? Insecurity in my own abilities started to sink in. She was the one that taught me to juggle the summer before 5th grade, I owe everything to Jules with how I make a living. Do I even measure up to her in our friendship?

MASTER LIST/FIRST/PREVIOUS/NEXT

[nicklloydnow]

“The classical liberal or libertarian emphasis on individual rights can only be transferred to the realm of international relations with great difficulty. One might be tempted to analogize states to individuals. Just as an individual can do whatever he wants until he intrudes on the rights or interests of others, countries should be left alone as long as they mind their own business. But states are often run by leaders who achieve and maintain power by violating the rights of others. Maybe there is a practical or utilitarian case for applying the principle of sovereign equality to a state like North Korea and declaring Kim Jung Un the ultimate representative of the people he imprisons and starves, but there certainly isn’t a straightforward deontological case for it.

In the area of geopolitics, then, I find myself falling back to utilitarianism, and dispensing with talk of rights all together. All states are inherently suspect as moral entities, with some being better or worse than others. And individuals generally have zero control over what policies their governments adopt, making the doctrine of collective responsibility just as pernicious here as it is in the frameworks of wokes and Marxists.

That brings us to the Israeli-Palestinian dispute. Some will talk of the “right” of Israel to defend itself, or the “right” of Palestinian self-determination. But Israel’s right to defend itself means killing a lot of innocent people. And the Palestinian right to self-determination is just a fancy way of saying men with guns telling other people what to do because of where they happen to live, which given the record of Arabs I’m sure they would screw up much more than most other states have.

With utilitarianism, we might at least hope to make some progress, unlike what tends to happen when we engage in endless debates about who has the right to do what.

(…)

What seems certain is that there is no decent future for the people of the territory as long as the current leadership is in charge. Hamas will not only continually attack Israel, but keep its own citizens poor, repressed, and subject to reprisals. The question of what to do about this seems like a classic dilemma in which we have to ask ourselves whether we want to inflict short term pain for a greater long term good.

Israel controls the flow of food and electricity into Gaza. It should leverage that, along with air and bombing campaigns, in order to achieve a different kind of government. Kicking many of the Palestinians out and finding new homes for them would probably be the best of all worlds, as no matter how much trouble they might cause in Europe or Egypt, it won’t be as bad as them staying in Gaza. Israel making life so unlivable that they leave, while working with the US to pressure other countries to open up their borders, seems like sound policy. The population of Gaza is 2.5 million. Whatever the outflow is, it should be manageable if it is treated as a global problem. Turkey alone currently hosts 3.7 million refugees.

Anti-war types will make the argument that repression hasn’t worked up to this point. Yet given the power disparity between the two sides, Israel has been remarkably restrained. The 2008-2009 Gaza War, for example, led to 1,000-1,500 combatant and civilian deaths, a tiny fraction of the population. We can analogize this to the struggle against crime in El Salvador, which I’ve previously written about. People for a long time said you can’t just arrest your way out of the problem. Then Bukele came along, went much further than everyone else while ignoring the human rights crowd, and suddenly the murder rate plummeted.

It’s obvious that a real siege of Gaza, where food, medicine, and electricity are cut off indefinitely, would harm a lot of civilians. But it would hopefully build pressure to encourage other countries to let many Palestinians leave. Of those who stayed, the situation would eventually become so dire that something would have to change. Israel would be wise to extract at the very least a demand for recognition before it lifts the siege. Direct governance is probably impossible, but they could eventually perhaps hope for their own Kadyrov, which could in the best case scenario be the first step towards something better down the line once the death cult of Palestinian resistance is extinguished.”

“Top Israeli officials said they intend to retain security control of Gaza for an indefinite period to prevent new militant groups forming once Israel finishes its war with Hamas, but said they have little interest in administering Gaza the way the U.S. sought to govern Iraq two decades ago.

Israeli Foreign Minister Eli Cohen, in his first interview with a foreign media outlet since the start of the war on Oct. 7, said Israel has no desire to impose a civilian administration on Gaza. Once Hamas is toppled, Israel is looking at turning over responsibility for governing the territory to an international coalition, including the U.S., the European Union and Muslim majority countries, or to local political leaders in Gaza, he said.

“We don’t want to govern Gaza. We don’t want to run their lives. We just want to protect our people,” Cohen said.

That may include keeping soldiers in Gaza if Israel deems it necessary, along with tight controls on what goes in and out. “We will need to verify that weapons will not enter Gaza from any border,” including from Egypt, “and we’ll retain our right to work against any terrorists who want to build bases there,” he said.

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu expressed the same sentiment. “I think Israel for an indefinite period will have the overall security responsibility, because we’ve seen what happens when we don’t have it,” Netanyahu said, in an interview with ABC News on Monday evening.

Cohen and Netanyahu were careful not to describe Israel’s future role in Gaza as a military occupation, suggesting the details of the postwar security arrangements are still in flux. They also left unanswered many important questions, including whether the Israeli military plans to control the whole strip or just a portion of it.

(…)

Advising Israel to avoid a similar course, Washington has said the Palestinian Authority—the Western-backed government that governs most Palestinians in the occupied West Bank—should take control of Gaza once Hamas’s rule is ended. Hamas violently pushed the Palestinian Authority out of Gaza in 2007.

Netanyahu’s government has an antagonistic relationship with the Palestinian Authority, however. Senior members of his government oppose its existence in the West Bank, let alone in Gaza, blaming it for inciting radicalism against Israel through its school system and compensation payments to families of Palestinians who are killed or arrested while attacking Israelis.

(…)

As long as Israel controls security in Gaza, it also will be difficult to persuade the Palestinian Authority to resume civilian control of Gaza, as it did before Hamas pushed it out. Nor will Arab governments or even the United Nations be likely to step in to underwrite a temporary civilian administration if Israel is continuing to attack pockets of Hamas cells still operating in the densely populated areas of Gaza City and other areas of the strip, analysts and former Israeli officials said.

“Nobody wants to come in—that’s the situation we are facing,” said Tzipi Livni, a former Israeli foreign minister and deputy prime minister. At the same time, “it’s not in Israel’s interest to stay in Gaza long term.”

(…)

For Israel, there are few good options about what to do with Gaza in the long term, say current and former Israeli officials. In the past, Israel didn’t push for decisive control of the strip, instead tolerating Hamas as a necessary evil on its southern border to prevent more militant groups taking root there. The Oct. 7 attacks changed that paradigm.

Even if Israel can secure Gaza and exit relatively quickly, it may need to keep substantial forces there or on the perimeter of the strip with the option to go back in, in order to prevent Hamas or a successor militant group from regenerating, analysts said.

(…)

With Hamas’s civilian administration gone, the task of providing food and shelter to its displaced residents would fall at least partly on Israel if its troops occupy Gaza, but Israel itself has shown little interest in assuming responsibility for governing Gaza once the conflict is over.

“I really don’t think that is our job,” said Shimrit Meir, a former Israeli foreign policy official, referring to the calls for Israel to answer how it plans to administer Gaza after the war. “If the international community is worried about Gaza, it should take care of Gaza.”

(…)

Cohen said Israel would reject any pause in the fighting until Hamas releases the some 240 hostages it and other militants took on Oct 7. “For us there is only one we will agree to a humanitarian pause—the release of hostages,” he said.

The U.S. also has been exploring options for the future of the Gaza Strip, including the possibility of a multinational force that may involve an international peacekeeping component that would come in if Israel succeeds in defeating Hamas. Along with seeing the Palestinian Authority re-establish control over the strip, U.S. officials say one of the aims of the war should be to revitalize negotiations on creating a Palestinian state in the West Bank and Gaza, alongside Israel.

“At some point, what would make the most sense is for an effective and revitalized Palestinian Authority to have governance and ultimately security responsibility for Gaza,” Secretary of State Antony Blinken told the Senate Appropriations Committee last week.

Many analysts consider that scenario unlikely, noting that the Palestinian Authority, weakened by corruption and headed by an aging leadership, has at best a tenuous hold even on Palestinian areas of the West Bank.

(…)

Netanyahu’s prediction of a continuing military presence suggests he and his commanders are now worried about exiting Gaza too quickly—or that limiting the duration of the military campaign to pave the way for the eventual return of the Palestinian Authority, as the U.S. wants, could backfire.

But staying too long in Gaza brings its own risks for Israel’s forces, including the risk that their presence could fuel an insurgency among Hamas’s remaining fighters and other militants, much as the U.S. faced in Iraq.”

[renee-writer]

Loved Her First Chapter 95

AO3

She feels herself fallen. Her hands cling to her mama’s or, at least, she thinks they do. It is hard to tell as her body is thrown hither and nor. Then a stillness and silence so deep, that she fears she is dead.

 

“Mercy! Mercy are you..?”

 

She opens one eye and finds her mama looking down on her. “Are we dead?”

 

“No, my love. It did feel like it, eh?”

 

“Aye, it did.” She slowly pushes herself up. Looking around she adds, “We aren’t on the fae hill anymore.”

 

Now Faith notices. Her first concern has been for Mercy. She had been laying so still. Her eyes scan the surroundings. “Now, we aren’t.”

 

They are on flat land. There is a standing stone but not a circle of them. She helps her up.

 

“Now what mama?” A grand question.

 

“We try to determine when and where we are and if any relatives of this Joe Abernathy are about.” She tries to project confidence in her voice. In reality, she is petrified.

 

 

“They just disappeared.” Ian holds the whisky his uncle poured him with one hand, as her gestures with the other. “like a puff of smoke vanishes.”

 

Jamie nods. “Aye, I saw it with your Auntie, when I sent her through. She came back.”

 

“Aye, she did. They will, right? They must.” He places his arm around him.

 

“Like Claire returned with Faith and Bree, Faith and Mercy will return. I have no doubt.”

 

 

She knows they are at least in the right time when she sees cars. Though they are unlike any she remembers, they are proof they are in the future. Mercy stares, wide eyed, at the line of them going down the road.

 

“Horseless carriages?” She whispers to her mama.

 

“Aye, recall to call them cars.”

 

She nods.

 

One of the cars stops and the driver lowers the window. It is a black man and Mercy has to force herself not to stare. She has never seen one before.

 

“Are you ladies lost? It seems you stepped out of a reenactment of some type.”

 

“We are looking for relatives of Joe Abernathy.” Faith replies.

 

“No fooling! Joe is my pops.” He looks at them closer, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. “You ladies wouldn’t happen to be related to a Claire Beauchamp, would you?”

 

They look at each other and grin. It seems they were taken to the right place.

 

“She is my mama and her granny.”

 

“Faith or Bree?”

 

“Faith. This is my daughter, Mercy.”

 

“Pops is going to freak! Lord, my manners.” He steps out and opens the passenger door. “Please, have a seat. I will take you to him.”

 

They enter the car. Mercy holds tight to her mama as the man, who introduces himself as David, shows them how to use the seatbelts. They weren’t in cars the last time Faith was in one.

 

As they travel, David keeps up a stream of conversation about his pops aka his grandpa, Joe, and the stories he has grown up with about Claire and her daughters.

 

“She wrote a letter for any relatives of Joe Abernathy. It is s good that he, himself, can read it.” Faith says. Her daughter is to terrified of the whole situation to say anything.

 

“Oh yeah! To hear from Claire, it will be quite the treat for him.” David can’t stop smiling.

 

They stop in front of a beautiful house. “David, we have a few questions before we meet him?”

 

He nods. “Shoot, ah, go ahead.”

 

“Thank you. Where are we and when? When we came through, we were focused on a few things. Somewhere and time where Mercy, as a lass, could get a good education. She is simply brilliant. And your family.”

 

“We are in Boston, so that is familiar to you, at least. It is 2008. Pops is 80 but still as sharp as a tack.”

 

“2008?” Mercy speaks for the first time.

 

He smiles at her. “Yes ma’am. And I assure you that you will have no problem getting whatever education you desire. Are you ladies ready to meet pops?”

 

They are

 

 

He is busy. Between the regular chores and looking after Hope and Grace, he barely has time to think of his wife and daughter. Until the nights. Then he brings them to mind. He prays they are safe and Mercy is getting what she needs. Then he dreams of them. Mercy as a tiny baby, cradles in his arms. Faith, well his dreams of her are more as a wife. Dreams he wakens from, needy.

 

But, he tells himself it is only temporary and goes on with his full life.

 

Grace and Hope miss their sister terribly and their mama even more, even knowing why they had to leave.

 

 

“Pops, have I a surprise for you.” He leaves the ladies in the next room.

 

“David, what is it? Have you finally found a wife?” Joe is always teasing his grandson about that.

 

“No pops, but I have found a lady you used to know and her daughter.” He goes to the door and opens it. “Come on in ladies.”

 

They step through the door and Joe raises. He stares at them. “If it isn’t Faith and Bree, no but you are her spit, as I live and breath you are!”

 

“Mr. Abernathy, I am Faith, Mrs. Faith Murray now and this is my daughter, Mercy Brianna Murray. We have a letter from mama.”

[nickgerlich]

No Static At All

I bought my first car in 1979. It was a two-door Toyota Corolla, and about as basic as it could be. With a four-on-the-floor (which is now a rarity!), a heater, defogger, and AM/FM radio, it got me where I needed to be. And like a lot of people back then, I bought an add-on cassette deck, and mounted it under the dash. Two speakers on the rear deck meant that I was riding in style.

Well, in my mind. I kept telling myself that.

Skip forward to the van I bought in 2020 during high COVID. I knew the rental car companies were in a world of hurt, and needed to sell off inventory to generate cash flow, which would be used to buy newer models. This meant fire sales across the country at their regional sales lots. I shopped online, and got a killer deal on a low-mileage 2019, and am still driving it.



I had owned it for a full year before I discovered there was a CD player hiding behind the LCD panel. I haven’t listened to CDs in years. I had signed up for SXM when I got the van, and that was all I ever listened to, ignoring AM/FM as relics of the past. And when I get bored with 150+ satellite stations, I sync my phone to the system, and tune in Spotify. I suspect I am no different from millions of other motorists.

All of which causes me to ponder how much music consumption has changed through the years. We have gone digital, streaming either from satellites or cellular services, and in a fairly short amount of time. Spotify did not arrive in the US until 2011, and the original XM Radio in 2008.

The only time I have even used the old-school radio was last summer while crossing western Canada. I intentionally flipped over to FM, because I wanted to experience the Canadian Content law, which stipulates that at least 35% of the songs played must have some Canadian origins, either writer, performer, or production.

But for all the growth of digital music, companies like Spotify are still swimming in red ink. My students who were with me in MKT6356 last semester remember a huge end-of-semester assignment that involved watching a Netflix series about Spotify and the struggles it faced when it was founded. Their latest earnings report shows that, while listeners (both the free and subscriber kinds) rose significantly, things are not all that rosy. The firm slashed six-percent of its global workforce, or 600 employees.

And get this: Their shares popped yesterday. I guess that a growing listener base trumps losses and layoffs.

Spotify points to its aggressive moves into podcasting as the source of its woes. They dropped some major cash for exclusive rights, including $200 million for the Joe Rogan Experience. And some of those podcasts have not exactly performed at expected levels. Spotify relies on ears (unlike eyeballs for most other media), and if people are not listening (which they can track quite well), then advertising revenues will sag. Investors are bullish, though, and still see future profit potential.

In a related move, Ford just announced it was going to eliminate the AM radio in its new F-150 EVs. I’m not sure how or why they chose this model. While that move probably doesn’t ruffle the feathers of many EV drivers (or most people in general), it did upset one rural radio station owner who contends that farmers and other country folk need their AM radio to be able to get the latest wheat and cattle futures. That’s something you can’t do on FM, SXM, or Spotify.



I’ll let those people iron out that one, but for a guy who only used his broadcast radio for a few days in the last 2 1/2 years, I’m not going to lose any sleep over it. I’ve got too many choices as it stands on my SXM and Spotify. I keep sending my money to both, and were even just one of them to go away, my drives would be a lot quieter. 



Kind of like in that ’79 Corolla whenever I drove out of signal range, and the cassette got stuck in the player. Oh, the humanity.

Dr “Turn It Up“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[tabdabble]

Clownclusions pt.2

-I have drawn about Steve based on the entire Bigtop Burger Series

I’ve thought so much about this it’s insane please enjoy my thoughts on what clowns are and etc.

Also check my BTB Clown-centric master-post if you want more observations

Steve-specific conclusions

Steve’s bday is August 10 [S1 post-credits]

IF we assume the day of Greasepaint releasing is the same day in-universe. And that Billie, Tim and Steve weren’t celebrating something else worthy of a candled cake and a crown saying “Happy” 

Steve has nightmares [S2 intro]

Implying some sort of trauma at some point in his life. 

Steve might have lived in the early 1900s?????????? [Kid]

In Kid, kid-Steve is wearing a little sailor hat, with a peter-pan-collar, ascot(?), shorts and little boots with straps, I think. 

IF the kid-Steve was actually a living flashback, then Steve might have grown up in the early 1900s? (fashion history is nebulous so I’m not sure what exact year or country)

Entirely possible this was a bit and not at all relevant.

Steve maybe was in England between 1982-2008 [Stove]   

Acc. to the wikipedia site for Two Pence, the coin he flipped onto the customer’s hat was only in production between these years. 

Entirely possible he conjured it or just found it somewhere.

Lore facts/conclusions

Bigtop burger has had prior dealings with, or at least been warned by Steve about, Zomburger

We know this because in Zomburger, the newest hire Billie has no idea who they are or that they want to destroy Bigtop, but Penny and Tim seem unfazed by their attacks

Steve doesn’t like Cesare, but for what reason?

In Zomburger, without a word, Steve angrily rams the Bigtop truck into Cesare’s truck. 

Based on Cesare’s jabs at Steve, it seems they’ve met before

They don’t mention specific encounters or any other places or events. It’s just the food that Cesare insults.

It seems personal, but in a professional way?

I don’t think Steve knows who/what Cesare is

Steve seems angry/aggressive towards Cesare in Zomburger, but doesn’t actually say anything to him, seeming to wait until bodily attacked to retaliate (besides the truck ramming). Then he just halves their vehicle, and they seem fine despite the explosion?

Steve seems afraid/wary of Cesare in S2, but I don’t think it’s because he knows Cesare is trying to send him to hell. He obsessively seeks Cesare out but then hides behind Penny at their confrontation. It takes everyone’s convincing to get him to accept any of the gifts, especially the backpack.

He seems unsure, but more morbidly curious than anything.

Steve seems confused about why Cesare is giving him gifts, but seems cautiously open to a truce (at least with the backpack, which he donned willingly, and the lunchbox, which he admitted he might need)

Steve had no suspicion that the gifts were a trap. He’s angry about the gifts being heavy, and attempts to take one off, and give one away, but with no life-threatening urgency. He just stands there, seemingly bewildered but mistrustful, as Cesare approaches with the big stetson. He says he had enough gifts, but otherwise makes no attempt to run away, or refuse further.

Until the last, Steve had no idea why Cesare would trap him. Steve seems extremely confused at the gifts turning to kettle bells. He struggles against the weight as Cesare monologues, but makes no comment on his words. Steve says “I can’t- I can’t move!” in such a way as to suggest he was alarmed, but still had no idea why this was happening

I think that Steve thought that he and Cesare’s rivalry was strictly work-related. He had no idea who or what Cesare was, or what he wanted.

He accepted the initial peace-offering, and did not seem suspicious of the gifts at all except to question why they were so heavy. 

He had no idea, even at the moment before he was sent to hell, why he would be trapped like this.

Like all of us, Steve thought that the gifts were probably just a ‘sinister’ but ultimately benign plot by Cesare to torment him with heavy objects.

Head-canon town/What I got from all these observations.

I think that Steve didn’t purposefully escape hell, or wherever clowns came from/were sent to. 

Either someone else brought him to the surface as a child, or he is descended from the last undercover clowns on earth. 

This would probably explain his nightmares, as well, since there don’t seem to be many clowns left running around.

I think Steve knows what he is technically, but not exactly what that means. 

Steve seems to think it’s funny that people don’t believe he’s a clown, which would mean he knows that he is one. 

He has many different powers and tricks, but it seems like he might not know how to control them, or purposefully use all of them (e.g. his assertion that “everything’s fine”, and his erratic shapeshifting after smoking a “JUUL” in Kid?). 

This would also mean he wasn’t aware he needed to be very afraid of and suspicious of Cesare, or whatever Cesare is. 

Steve also didn’t even seem to be particularly enamored with the gifts, which seemed to be abnormally charming, primarily to Tim, then Penny and Billie, and even Conrad. Steve just had no idea there was a reason to avoid them. 

Steve did fall for the illusion of the magic, however. He either can’t detect magic, or has no idea what to look for to identify it. 

It kinda seemed like Steve, an abnormally erratic/powerful clown who had no idea what he really is, was just trying to survive on the surface like anyone else. 

He wears the same clothes all the time, cheap and comfy. 

He sleeps in his truck, which is also his only source of income. [S2 intro]

Despite the hardships, he seems to love his job and take pride in it, if his tearful reaction to Cesare’s comments is any indication. [Zomburger]

He was slightly suspicious of, but an active participant in, a “little workplace rivalry”

He seems to be very fond of people in general, as well as excited to learn more through the Expo! [Stove, Expo]

He has friends - Tim and Billie and Penny - whom he seems to care about a lot, and vice-versa.

He seems happy

And he got sent to hell for it ;v; 

Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it :D

If you did like it, check out my BTB Clown Lore post!

As well as the art/headcanons I already made for Wire:

Portal Dude, Big J

[andrea-lyn]

The Recs (Less Travelled)

I’m excited to bring you the first installment of my ‘roads less travelled’ recs! I will be doing another round of this, probably once the Ted Lasso fic tag hits about 25 pages, and then I’ll also grab a couple more fandoms to collect in there! 

The Rules:

Each fandom/pairing was sorted on Archive of Our Own by completed works. Anything recced here was not in the first ten pages when sorted by kudos at the time of reccing. There may be some more well-known authors on this list, but the specific fics I’ve picked are ones that didn’t crack that top ten or just didn’t get much traction and I think deserve it, so hopefully I have also balanced it out with other under the radar (and still great!) works. As ever, I have a pinned post of my other recs (none have been duplicated from there), so you can also check those out! Under the cut you’ll find 10 recs in each fandom for:

Raven Cycle

Roswell New Mexico

The Old Guard

Inception

Star Trek (mainly Kirk/McCoy)

The Raven Cycle

savor all the little pieces by littlelionvanz

“Since when do you garden?”

Ronan snorted, “Since I grew up on a fucking farm, genius. Jesus who gave you permission to pursue higher education.”

the old grip of the familiar by littleseal

"There is a single black feather and a printed out picture of Gansey, Blue and Cheng standing in front of some fucking monument Ronan didn’t care enough to remember the name of. Gansey sent it to Ronan’s phone some time ago, but it sat in his messages until Adam picked it up and grinned at it so hard that, one afternoon later, Ronan cursed and kicked and glared his old printer back to life in order to print it out.

Fuck, he thinks, I’m in love with a hoarder."

Adam collects things. Ronan is in love with him.

No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin by gansey_is_our_king

Ronan Lynch has wanted to kiss Adam Parrish for a long time.

(alternately titled: four times that Ronan could have kissed Adam)

Cheers to Another Seven Years! by skyermirth

Adam left Henrietta for Harvard and never returned. Now, seven years has passed, and an unexpected work assignment has brought him back to a place and people he hardly recognizes.

Row, row, row your boat by emmerrr

“What. Why are you smiling at me,” he says suspiciously.

Adam shrugs. “You’re cute.”

“I’m not cute, I’m terrifying.”

“Terrifyingly cute,” Adam says.

and now the world is ours to take / and every single move is ours to make by thatlittleblackcat

"Adam was the scientist, Ronan was the data, and Orphan Girl was the key that explained the strange outliers that Ronan presented, his previously unexplainable actions."

//

Adam sorts out his feelings, Ronan helps him, Gansey is the number one dad friend, Blue is the number one mom friend and Henry tries to make Ronan smile. Otherwise known as the story of how Orphan Girl became Opal.

All These Things You Make Me Feel by SilverOpals394

It was late. Adam could feel the long day catching up to him as he left Boyd’s, all his energy exhausted. When he started his car, the tape deck whirred to life once more. He sighed and raised his hand to turn it off, but before he did a soft melody began to play.

AU in which the mixtape Ronan made for Adam only plays the murder squash song until Adam realizes he's in love with Ronan, too.

Ways to Communicate by Jalules

Blue Sargent reflects on an early memory (and gets busy with her boyfriends.)

(The two things are related, trust me.)

Hold Me Closer, I'm Safe in Your Arms by actuallyronanlynch

“You wanna tell me why I had to hear from Henry Cheng that my boyfriend was at the hospital?” Adam hissed, though his voice wasn’t as acidic as it could’ve been. Ronan took small victories where he could.

“You don’t have a cellphone,” Ronan pointed out flatly. “It’s not like I could’ve gotten a hold of you.”

arts and crafts and the inevitability of death by sunshineinthestorm

Adam comes to the public library in search of a study spot, not a boyfriend. 

But it must be his lucky day—because he ends up with a bit of both.

 Roswell New Mexico

a conversation between insignificant others by Bellakitse

“Hey…have you noticed that our boyfriends are madly in love with each other?"

“You noticed that too, huh,” she answers dryly, letting out a huff of reluctant amusement.

***

Forrest and Maria share a drink and a conversation and start a friendship.

Own Personal Hell by BeStillMySlashyHeart

Now that Isobel's getting the hang of her telekinesis, Michael decides to test out his telepathic abilities. It backfires. Badly. Now Michael's trapped inside his own mind and only one person can break him out.

Drop the Hammer by brightloveee

Max makes a new friend at the shooting range, who turns out to be even more bad-ass than he expected.

(Takes place mid-S1)

Boys Like You by forgadgetsandgizmos

Curly, dirty blond hair (the mere description ‘curly’ felt like an injustice) twisted in every direction off his head, a sharp contrast with the scruff darkening his strong jawline and scowl-ridden face.

Alex made a mental note to compliment Maria on her excellent taste in men.

—

Or, Alex has coffee with Maria's one-night stand, a man who he definitely does not have a crush on.

let's exchange the experience by lostin_space

Michael decides they need to quarantine.

OR

Michael floods Alex with love and care over and over and over.

This Is Hardcore by Anonymous

Michael makes a proposal. Alex accepts. Michael wonders what the hell he’s gotten himself into.

i don't know what to think (but i think of supernovas) by Milzilla

michael discovers that the console can talk. then, he discovers it can do far more than that.

iridescence on skin by Lire_Casander

In a world where (almost) everyone has a tattoo on their right wrist with one set of coordinates that point to the place where their soulmate is born, Alex thought he wouldn't be any different. He couldn't be more mistaken.

He has two.

The Real Thing by elliebird

Max checks on Michael the morning after Michael saves Max’s ass from Wyatt Long and his dumbass buddies. He sees more than he’s supposed to.

Written for a Tumblr anon who one of their friends walking in on them or anyone of them finding out about Michael and Alex in an interesting way 

Sundering by romancandles 

“You know it was just an Air Force balloon, right?” says Alex.

Michael smirks. “That’s what they want you to think,” he says, with a wink.

The Old Guard

Peer Reviewed by ishandahalf

[From:] Journal of Medieval Studies (jms.eds@jms.com)

[Subject:] Ad-hoc note from the editor

I have noticed an uncommon level of animosity in your responses to your reviewers (or rather, one reviewer in particular). I am writing to ask if you would please do your best to keep your interactions civil. In fairness, I have also sent a similar request to the reviewer you seem to have this friction with. I trust you will both try and remain more professional in the future.

Again, thank you for submitting your work to this journal.

Sincerely,

James Copley, PhD

Editor-in-Chief

Journal of Medieval Studies

An (accidental) academic epistolary romance as (inadvertently) documented via a (theoretically) rigorously blinded peer review process.[citation needed]

third for a word and the song keeps going Macremae

It was honestly shaping up to be a pretty uneventful year before the Vatican got on Nicky’s bad side.

Or: three times in 2008 that the team genuinely thought about killing Nicky if only to get him to shut up about the changes to the Catholic English Mass and his unrelenting opinions on them, and one time Nile did.

Apex Predators In Island Ecosystems (Freeman et al., in press) by Sixthlight

Palaeobotany PhD student Nile Freeman and her supervisor Joe al-Kaysani are invited to billionaire Stephen Merrick’s new project – a theme park full of cloned dinosaurs. What could possibly go wrong?

This Rough Magic by Marivan

When Joe came to Scotland to study the sea, he did not expect to also encounter a beautiful man claiming that A. he’s a selkie and B. they’re married because Joe picked up his scarf.

It sounds like a fairy tale and that’s a problem. Because Joe’s a scientist. And selkies don’t exist.

Wars for the broken by Yuliares

Five years into his exile, Booker is joined by a companion he never expected to meet. Together, they try to work on healing.

Sometimes they go down to the sewers just so she can scream and scream. “I like to hear it echo,” she explains. “Underwater, you can’t hear anything. Here, at least I can be heard.”

“I don’t feel like a warrior anymore,” she tells him, throwing bread crumbs at pigeons. “I feel broken.”

“You’re still a warrior,” he says roughly. “This is still fighting.”

a good (eighth) impression by deanniker

Over the next few months, Joe runs into Nicky every so often at the farmer’s market. Some weekends Nicky doesn’t make it, because of his work schedule - Joe doesn’t understand it because he doesn’t ask, though he does start to recognize when one of those missing weekends is coming up because Nicky will stock up on things with longer shelf-life. When they do run into each other, they make small talk and move through the stalls together.

Joe doesn’t mention it to Lykon when he stops by, because it is kind of weird, that Lykon’s ex-boyfriend texts Joe things like - If you’re here, the apples look particularly good this week and thank you for that recipe, I did not know what I was going to do with that much couscous

Or,

Joe wouldn't usually consider starting anything with his best friend's ex, but as long as they keep it casual, it shouldn't be weird... right?

get back to where you once belonged by tenderjock

Nile takes a sip of her cappuccino and closes her eyes.

(Booker and Nile get that coffee. Life happens, along the way.)

a house; a home by mehm

“Is this a kidnapping?” Joe asks as Nicky checks both their seat belts. “Like, I don’t mind. It’s just not quite what I expected for my birthday.”

In which Joe gets a birthday surprise, because that’s the stuff you have time for when you and the love of your life become mortal at the same time.

the ties that bind by damaskrose

“There’s a story I heard many times,” Andy begins, “in the Mediterranean. Threads of fate and three sisters. One to spin, one to measure, and one to cut.”

Clutter And Croutons by flawedamythyst

Joe and Nicky have an argument, and then Nicky talks to Nile about what it really means to be in a relationship for 900 years.

Inception

My Big Fat Slightly Annoying Wedding by jibrailis

Arthur and Eames elope for ~tax reasons. Certain people in their lives are not happy at the lack of a wedding.

Remember Sydney by pathera

When Eames shambles into the safe house outside of London, he finds a red light blinking on the phone.

For the inception_kink prompt:

Arthur is on a plane which is about to crash. No way anyone is going to survive. Instead of panicking he calmly calls the team's office and gets the answering machine. He hangs up before the plane crashes.

Give me Arthur's last message to the team.

 (TW: Character Death / Angst)

Of Such Deceitfulness and Suavity by delires

In which emotions manifest themselves in unusual ways.

YO, K2tog (it's like a code) by lazulisong

“Oh my God,” moans Arthur. “I’ve paid less for Somnacin. Good Somnacin.” A horrible thought strikes him. “How much is the yarn --”

“I want you to have an unguarded reaction,” Eames tells him, and pulls him up from the floor.

(They run an extraction on a knitter.)

hit the ground running by orphan_account

"I travelled halfway around the world for you. I dealt with the French for you."

Valley by wldnst

It's an old story: a knight, a prince, a kingdom in peril.

If This Is Rain Let It Fall On Me and Drown Me by Brangwen

We used to be so brave, Eames thought. Of the two of them, Arthur had always been the more fearless.

a gentle familiarity by jollypuppet

Two weeks later, Eames is on his doorstep with bad Italian takeout and a grin, and Arthur tells him he can sleep on the couch.

Your Crisis Cannot Be Completed As Dialed by sevenimpossiblethings

Arthur doesn't do snow, Ariadne is determined to be as Midwestern as possible, and blizzards make cell phone service unreliable.

Let’s Say I Do (I Do) by xsilverdreamsx

There were, perhaps some things worse that this, Arthur thinks, as he glares at the letter in his hand with his name printed clearly in bold ink, indicating his presence in two weeks for his esteemed marriage to one William H. Eames, III, at St. Catherine's Church in London, England.

Star Trek (predominantly Kirk/McCoy)

Show the World That Something Good Can Work by knune

Leonard McCoy is a doctor, not a personal assistant, and maybe that's why he can't stand working for Jim Kirk.

It's in the little things by winterover

Bones is bemused by a persistent secret admirer.

"Wedding" Away with It by pendrogon

One morning, Bones wakes up and he's single. By the same afternoon, he's married to Jim Kirk for Arbitrary Fic Reasons(TM).

How Long Will You Stay (For Your Whole Life) by withthepilot

Jim Kirk, deputy director of the Enterprise parks and recreation department, sees all of his hard work fall to pieces when budget specialist Leonard McCoy arrives from the state capital to cut Jim's budget and threaten the livelihoods of his colleagues. But thanks to a major parks project, Leonard finds a place in the department, as well as in Jim's life—and when all is said and done, Jim doesn't want him to leave.

All-Time Favorite by mardia

What to do when your best friend suddenly starts making new friends. 

Joy Ride by Cards_Slash

While running for their lives from an alien species Kirk had accidentally enraged, they come across a car. And well, if you were to come across a car while being chased by aliens that wanted you dead, and you possessed some lingering knowledge of how to drive a car similar to said car, you would have decided to drive it toward the nearest cliff too.

Also a gunfight.

Syncytia by epistolic

He’d signed up for Starfleet on an impulse, but Starfleet meant James Tiberius Kirk: the first – and second, and third, and fourth – big mistake of Leonard McCoy’s life.

Renovation by canistakahari

Jim has a whammy put on him by an alien death ray and he suddenly craves domesticity. He's crazy with longing to shop at space!Ikea and get potted bamboo and he starts looking into adopting AND HE HATES HIMSELF AND CANNOT CONTROL THE SHIT. Luckily, McCoy is drunk all the time and plays house.

17:08 by butterflycell

She'd watched the news holos with a sick feeling, searching for information that was completely obvious in its absence. Amidst the reports of the the Enterprise's miraculous recovery and the damages sustained, there had been next to nothing about the crew or her captain. Jim had been mentioned only in passing, his name shied away from as his first officer limited interaction to the bare essentials.

The Honey of Hybla by shrift

"Bones, prepare to be my date."

[ashdumpsterpile]

Ohmygod YES Susan Pevensie is awesome please talk to me about Susan i want to know everything you have to say

Literally THANK YOU for asking me this bc Susan Pevensie is a character I never get asked about and I have So Many Opinions.

I'm going to start by saying that Susan used to be my least favorite character in the series. This goes for the books and the movies. Some of it was for personal reasons--she reminds me of a couple of annoying ppl I know irl--but it was also bc I watched Prince Caspian which shoehorned her into a relationship with Caspian which I hated.

HOWEVER. I ended up rethinking this position after interacting with Susan fans and realizing that there are so many wonderful things to love about her!

(putting under the cut bc this got long)

Things Ash Loves About Susan Pevensie

Aight I'm not going to do a formal analysis yet on her, but instead rant about some of the unrelated things I adore about Susan Pevensie.

Susan the Archer

Look we all love archery here. I don't have anything more to say.

Okay, I actually do have more to say. I love the fact that Susan is a complete badass with the bow. You get the general impression that she's one of the royals in charge of public relations, traditions, foreign policy, etc. and yet she's the most competent archer in the series. One of the few things I liked about the movies is how they didn't downplay this. They actually let her be a badass and show off her skills.

Also the part where she kicks Trumpkin's ass was awesome.

Susan the Gentle

Susan being the most passive Pevensie was something I definitely underappreciated as a teenager. I think my non-ability to see past "I'm not like other girls" narrative and the combination of Susan being described as the most traditionally feminine woman in the Narnia series is what initially turned me off from her.

HOWEVER, now it's one of my favorite attributes! I love that Susan is a badass and the most beautiful woman in Narnia. She has hair down to her feet, every man and woman in the kingdom want to fuck her, and she's still a fucking badass who will not hesitate to kick your ass.

Susan the Sister

Most of my thoughts of Susan as an older sister mostly stem from my own personal headcanons, but she is an awesome sister to her siblings. She's Peter's voice of reason, Edmund's sass partner, and Lucy's big sister.

Susan the Mom-Friend

She is a literal mother-figure for Corin.

"[...] the most beautiful lady he had ever seen rose from her place and threw her arms round him and kissed him, saying: "Oh Corin, Corin, how could you? And thou and I such close friends ever since thy mother died. [...]"

-The Horse and His Boy, 33-34

Most everything I have to say about this ventures into headcanon territory, but I love the idea of Susan basically adopting Corin after his mom dies. The way she trusts Cor--who she thinks is Corin in this chapter--is really sweet and I wish we could've seen more of that relationship.

Susan the Flawed

Something I notice from the fandom is a lot of people who hate Susan tend to because of her flaws. On the other hand, most Susan stans like to wave away these flaws and blame C.S. Lewis for being misogynistic or Aslan for being a "cruel god" and ignore the fact that she is a deeply flawed person.

Susan gets something of a "reverse redemption arc" in The Chronicles of Narnia. This makes her not only a fascinating foil to Edmund--as both are analytical, logical people--but an interesting character by herself.

She starts out in TWW as very skeptical of Narnia and it's whole deal and also very condescending to Lucy throughout. She ultimately does admit that Lucy was right and does get on board with the whole prophecy at the same time Peter does, and ends the book being crowned "the Gentle Queen."

In The Horse and His Boy, she has a very interesting dynamic with Edmund and in even more interesting relationship with Rabadash. They don't even interact on-page with each other, but it's highly implied that she was interested in him when he was a guest in Narnia. His behavior obviously changed when she visited him in Tashbaan, but you have to wonder what their dynamic was like before for her to travel all the way to his home when relations between the countries were strained at best.

Prince Caspian is where the cracks start showing through. Susan has lived an entire life as an adult in Narnia, gets thrown back to England with her siblings, and is yet again in Narnia as a child. This book is what really emphasizes her one fatal flaw: convenience.

(Put a pin in that thought, I'll get back to it.)

Susan denies once again that Lucy saw something that the rest of them can't seen. She continues this narrative until every other sibling finally acknowledges Lucy in the right and only then does she apologize.

The last mention of Susan is in The Last Battle, where all of her flaws rise up against her in the worst way possible. I have a lot of controversial opinions on this that I'm going to address later, but I just want to say that Susan's reverse-redemption arc is something I actually like about her.

(There is also evidence that Susan does get a full redemption arc, just as Edmund and Eustace did, but C.S. Lewis was pretty much done with The Chronicles of Narnia at the point and instead encouraged fans to write their own version of how that went down.)

Okay, back to convenience being Susan's fatal flaw. So the one thing that comes up time and time again in the series is that Susan is very focused on material comforts. I believe it's implied that she's vain, and it's canonical that her own personal comfort spurs her to make decisions.

"[...] I really believed it was him — he, I mean — yesterday. When he warned us not to go down to the fir wood. And I really believed it was him tonight, when you woke us up. I mean, deep down inside. Or I could have, if I'd let myself. But I just wanted to get out of the woods and — and — oh, I don't know [...]"

Prince Caspian, 81

Prince Caspian has the strongest examples of Susan doing this, but certainly there's evidence elsewhere. There are a lot of fans who are distressed by this, claiming that Aslan and the others are too hard on her and shouldn't judge.

Honestly, I like that she's written with this flaw. Not only is it very relatable--(my own personal comfort and convenience is something I highly prioritize too)--but it humanizes a character who otherwise is ridiculously op and basically the Helen of Troy of the series. It may sound like I'm using this as an excuse to rant, but I really wouldn't have her any other way.

Susan As Portrayed by Anna Popplewell

Movie!Susan is a fucking delight.

She's sarcastic and badass and awesome and I could spend hours heaping praise on Anna's acting and her portrayal of Susan, but I can already tell that this post is going to be long so, I'll just stop here.

(10/10 want to be stabbed by her tho.)

Personal Headcanons

Let's talk about my fanon thoughts. I have many.

Susan is Aro

There's canonical evidence for this! Susan is a character who is heavily pursued by suitors everywhere, and even lets herself be courted by many of them, but chooses not to settle down. Even when she gets back to England and is described as only having interest in parties and material things, boys aren't mentioned.

I like to think that in The Horse in His Boy Susan was interested in Rabadash at first because he was a brilliant conversationalist. Nothing she says about him implies romantic interest, before and after she realizes the truth of his intentions.

Susan and Edmund Were Best Friends

This might be my love for The Horse and His Boy showing itself, but I think Susan and Edmund were thrown into circumstances where they interacted the most with each other.

Edmund is the ruler in charge of politics. Susan is the ruler in charge of Cair Paravel's public image. I imagine they spent time as ambassadors to other countries and planning royal functions.

They're also the most level-headed and logical out of their siblings, so they probably found a lot in common.

Susan Fancast

I literally just said I loved Anna's potrayal of Susan's (and I love what they gave us of older Susan too in LWW!), but I read the books in 2008 and my parents didn't let me see the movies bc I was like...nine years old and they thought it would be too scary.

So I had to headcanon my own interpretations.

Queen Susan the Gentle:

For some reason Merlin wasn't too scary for me to watch and I fell in love with Katie McGrath in like. Two episodes so. (On an unrelated note, I also fancast Bradley James as Peter at the time.)

Anyway, fanon Susan is basically Morgana Pendragon pre-evil arc. Sassy as hell, hot as fuck, and can kick your ass.

Unpopular Opinions

Yeah, feel free to skip this part if having controversial fandom opinions is a deal breaker for you.

The Problem With Susan Isn't Actually A Problem

I'm about to start so much discourse in the Narnia fandom, but C.S. Lewis's choices with her in The Last Battle weren't misogynistic. Bear in mind, I'm not saying that all of his writing choices in the series were A++ or excusing away certain racist/sexiest bits, but it's honestly baffling to me that people are so up in arms over Susan's exclusion in the final book.

So the part that everyone loses their shit over is as follows:

"My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia."

"Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'"

"Oh Susan!" said Jill, "she's interested in nothing now-a-days except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up."

"Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can."

The Last Battle, 83-84

There's a lot to unpack here and I first want to say that everyone's opinion on this part, no matter how different than mine, is valid. I'm going to be quoting some other ppl's opinions on here and by no means am I bashing them. I just want to address my feelings on the matter and the best way to do that is to cite the thoughts of ppl who have opposing ideas.

Here are some arguments on Tumblr I've heard regarding "The Problem of Susan":

"How about we talk about what might have happened if Narnia hadn't deserted Susan? [...] What if we didn't tell Susan she had to go grow up in her own world and then shame and punish her for doing just that? She was told to walk away and she went. She did not try to stay a child all her life, wishing for something she had been told she couldn't have again."

"Narnia is filled with metaphors (often not very subtle ones) that are supposed to teach us how to be, and the most glaring one for any young girl to absorb is that it's okay to be a girl like Lucy, unthreatening and cheerful and valiant and faithful, but to be a girl like Susan gets you punished - in fact, you aren't just punished, you're destroyed."

"why do we call it ‘the problem’ where’s the problem about a young woman dealing with her trauma and choosing her own path, actively making the choice to keep living and to stay and to carve a life out in England when her siblings couldn’t? what is the problem about susan forgetting to somehow cope with what she’s experienced? why is it ‘the problem of susan’ that she recontextualised her faith?"

And then there's JK Rowling who said this:

There comes a point where Susan, who was the older girl, is lost to Narnia because she becomes interested in lipstick. She's become irreligious basically because she found sex. I have a big problem with that.

It's weird how I'm still finding new ways to hate JKR in the year 2021. Again, there is absolutely zero implication that Susan had sex when she came back to England. ZERO. Did she actually read the books? IDK. If someone shares this opinion pls reply with actual canonical evidence.

Back on topic, I'm a firm believer of death of the author and interpreting art via your own experiences. Which is why I'm also going to share my own interpretation by saying y'all are wrong.

Susan Pevensie was not abandoned by Narnia. She was not barred from Narnia because she is traditionally feminine or because she "owned her sexuality" (another opinion I didn't have time to condense down for this post) or because she recontextualized her faith or even because she deserved to be punished.

I also fail to see how Susan recontexualized her faith, as the entire point of it all is that she has none. Bringing this back to Susan's fatal flaw (personal convenience/material comforts), her prioritizing herself over her own faith is the reason she is "no longer a friend of Narnia." Not...whatever fanon y'all are imposing on her character.

Susan is not being punished for liking lipstick and looking pretty. Susan's not even being punished. Y'all read Neil Gaiman's The Problem of Susan and forgot it wasn't canon.

There are many reasons Susan is not in Aslan's Country (one of them being that she's not actually dead yet), but the main one has to do with this:

"[...] But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

Voyage of the Dawn Treader, 215-216

Yeah, okay that's why Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia. The implication when the Pevensies are told that they can no longer enter Narnia is that they are to find Aslan in other places. Susan doesn't do this, instead choosing to focus her life on material things. It isn't the lipstick, it's that she only wants the lipstick.

Susan Had Sex In The Books

Oh and not in the context y'all are thinking. (Again, there are no implications that Susan was barred from Narnia for having sex or that she had sex when she came back to England.)

So there's actual canonical evidence that Susan and Rabadash had a sexual relationship. Sort of.

"What think you? We have been in this city fully three weeks. Have you yet settled in your mind whether you will marry this dark-faced lover of yours, this Prince Rabadash, or no?"

-The Horse and His Boy, 35

Edmund calls Rabadash her lover. Not her suitor. I don't know if the word had a different meaning in 1954, but it feels like C.S. Lewis is saying that they're fucking. I'm not really happy with the idea of Susan sleeping with an abuser, but really proud of her for Getting Some as a woman born in a time period where having premarital sex was a big no-no.

This also invalidates the weird opinion going on that Susan was barred from Narnia because she had sex.

Suspian Is The Worst

I haven't really talked about Movie!Susan much, but as long as we're talking unpopular opinions, it's worth noting that I hate Suspian. Some of it is the "Susan is Aro" headcanon screaming inside of me, but it's also the fact that it's written poorly, does nothing interesting for either character and generally comes across as awkward.

I feel like they were trying to make Prince Caspian sexy and relevant to teens. It came across as super heteronormative and unnecessary.

It also gets really really weird bc the next movie then gives Caspian and Edmund mad chemistry and we're all just like........ok.

Final Thoughts

Susan may not be my favorite character in the series, but she's grown on me over the years. I have many issues with fanon interpretations of her--which definately fueled some of my disdain for her initally--and I don't identify as a Susan Apologist.

I do however adore Susan and have many headcanons for her not mentioned here. I love reading fanfic, writing fanfic and meta, and generally having conversations about her and would love to talk more about it.

I welcome criticism (CONSTRUCTIVE) and conversation on all of my opinions and observations. Please drop into my inbox. <3

[cloud-joie]

hello! hope you have a good day! can i request a pt 2 for the beginning of everything? maybe the whole gang is reunited bc of a u.a. reunion or smth and aizawa and the reader saw each other again? hddjhdjfbdj tysm!

Thank you for requesting this, I really wanted to give the other story a happy ending, so now I can.

A New Beginning.

pt. 1 / pt. 2

Type:  Angst / Fluff - Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2 K

Warnings: none.

Summary: You and Aizawa took different paths in life, but who says destiny can’t reunite two hearts after all?

A/N: English is not my first language so I apologize if there are some mistakes, feel free to let me know.

You were taking a plane back to Japan that day, the reason? A U.A. reunion for the 2005 to 2008 class.

You were a little nervous about the whole situation, you have talked to Nemuri and Hizashi several times, but they were not the problem, Aizawa was, how should you react? Would he be mad about how things ended? Or would he act normal? One thing you knew for sure, things wouldn’t be the same.

Nemuri was supposed to pick you up from the airport, so as soon as you saw her you ran into her arms.

“(y/n)! How are you? How was London?” Nemuri was so excited to see you, you could tell that by how fast she was talking, and also because of how strong her grip was.

“I’m fine, how have you been? It’s been ages since we saw each other” you said back to her.

“I’ll tell you everything in the car, come on.” After that you followed her to her car.

The plan was for you to stay at Nemuri’s apartment for your stay in Japan, but there was something you haven't told them, but you had to wait for a better time for that.

“So I have a surprise for you.” Said Nemuri as she continued to drive, you looked back at her with doubt in your face. “What is it?” 

“I invited the whole gang over, it will be like the old times, you, me, Hizashi and Aizawa.” 

As soon as she said his name your whole face lost all its color, of course Nemuri and Hizashi knew about you and Aizawa, you told them everything, and you were sure Aizawa also told them his version of the story. What you didn’t know was that they had a plan, Nemuri and Hizashi were tired of hearing how depressing your lives were. 

“So is he going to be… there?” you said to Nemuri.

“(y/n), I know what you’re thinking, and I know you are scared to face him, but you have to do it sooner or later. What was your plan? Wait until the reunion to see him, say hello and then leave? Don’t you think he needs an explanation?”

You knew she was right but that didn’t make you less anxious, just the thought of seeing him, hearing his voice, you didn’t want to face his judging expression towards you. 

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

Meanwhile Aizawa was sitting at his desk doing some work related to school, but as much as he tried he could not concentrate at his work, the only thing he was thinking was you.

After you left, his life changed so much. He still hung out with Nemuri and Hizashi, but there was something missing, more like someone, he knew it wasn't your fault, but you could at least call him every now and then, maybe letters, he even had social media, so not even a single friendship request? So he still resented you about it, and he might deny it but the feelings he had for you were still there. 

“Should I take the fact that you are doing work at this hour as a signal that you are not going to Nemuri’s house?” Said Hizashi as he entered Aizawa’s office. 

“Not in the mood.” Aizawa said as he kept his focus on the papers on his hands.  

“Why? Are you scared?” Said Hizashi back. 

“Fine, you want me to tell you? I don’t want to see her, why should I? I mean, she made very clear how she feels about me, she talks to every one of you, but not to me, and she has never spoken to me since that day. So why should I care?” Hizashi noticed how Aizawa’s voice changed, he really felt the sadness in his voice. 

“Well if you change your mind you know where Nemuri lives.”

Aizawa was angry, not just at you, but at him, because even if he didn't want to see you he knew he was going to be there, even if he still resented you for what you did he wanted to see you, to hear your voice one more time.

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

It was eight PM, and dinner was ready at Nemuri’s apartment, Hizashi had arrived and the three of you were hanging out, talking about your trip, and how much you missed each other.

At that time you lost hope about Aizawa showing up, you knew he was angry at you, and you couldn’t blame him, he had his reasons. The three of you stopped talking as you heard the doorbell ring, as Nemuri went to open the door Hizashi gave you a reassuring smile, you knew who was behind that door.

“Nemuri, hi, sorry I’m late.” Aizawa said as he entered the apartment.

As soon as he entered both of you were looking at each other, you could swear your heart stopped beating at that time. He looked so handsome, so tall, his hair was still long; you wanted to hug and kiss him, but you knew that was mostly impossible right now.

After he arrived you proceeded to eat dinner, the atmosphere was so tense that everyone could feel it, but it was expected. 

“Hey guys do you want a beer? I think I have some in the fridge” Nemuri said as she stood up and walked to the fridge, “Oh no! How could I forgot to buy some?” 

“Don´t worry, it's okay I don’t want one” you tried to say to her.

“Hizashi can you come with me to the store?” Said Nemuri.

“Wait why me?” as soon as Hizashi said this Nemuri moved her head to the door, making it clear to him that she wanted to leave the two of you alone “Oh! Yes I’ll go with you.” 

Of course the plan was to leave the two of you alone all this time, I guess you really needed to talk.

“So… how have you been?” You said to Aizawa. 

“Good.” His answer was so sharp, he didn’t even ask back.

“I guess you are mad at me.” You said as you looked at him and watched his whole expression change.

“You guess? (y/n), I don't think we should even talk about this, that was thirteen years ago. Let the past stay in the past.” With every word he said you could feel your heart breaking even more. 

“But I want to talk about it.”

“Oh, now you do? You had thirteen years to say something, but you never did, you never replied to the letters I sent you, did you even care? Did you even love me like you said?” 

Now both of you were crying, both of you knew having this conversation was painful, but it was needed.

“Of course I did! I never lied about my feelings towards you, and I’m sorry about it, I know you hate me, and you have all the right to do it, I never replied to those letters because I knew we had to move on, I didn't have the money to come back to Japan to visit you, so it was not fair to make you wait for me.” 

Now you couldn’t even see him straight to the eyes, you didn't want to see him judging you, it was so painful. “I know that was a stupid reason, but when I finally had the money I found out that you had a girlfriend, and I thought that you were happy, that I wasn´t needed anymore.” 

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I did need you? That maybe there was a void in my heart because of you? But you never asked me, you didn’t even thought of me.” Now the pain was noticeable in Aizawa´s voice. “I don't think I can do this, goodbye (y/n). Hope you enjoy your stay here.”

As soon as he said this he stood up and left the apartment leaving you crying on the floor, you wanted to go after him but you couldn’t, you knew his feelings towards you wouldn’t change. Nemuri and Hizashi arrived at the apartment and they saw you crying on the floor. They sat right next to you and tried to comfort you.

“He hates me, and it’s all my fault.” You said crying.

The day of the reunion came, you really didn't want to go there, but you wanted to see your friends and maybe you needed some distraction after the confrontation with Aizawa.

You were in one of the buildings reserved for the party, you haven't seen Aizawa, so you thought perhaps he didn't show up. You were starting to feel a little claustrophobic so you needed some space, and you only had one place in mind, the usual roof. The place was exactly like you remembered, you could see all the U.A. green areas from there, it was a nice view. 

“I knew you would be here,” and there you saw him, Aizawa was standing right next the door. 

“So…Sorry, I wasn't expecting you to be here at the party.” You were nervous to see him after what happened at Nemuri’s place, “If you want I can lea…” 

“Don´t!” Said Aizawa, interrupting you. “I wanted to see you, I need to ask you something.” 

“What is it?” You said to him.

“I want you to be honest with me” Now you were intrigued about what he had to say to you. “(y/n), when I saw again I realized how much I hated you for what you did, you hurt me in a way I cannot explain, you were everything to me and when I finally had you something took you away.” As he said this you could feel your eyes beginning to feel wet. “But I also realized something, that my life without you was miserable. I haven't been the same since you were gone, I realized how much you mean to me, so I want to ask you this. Do you love me? Because I still do, and I haven't stopped loving you since we were seventeen.”

It was like history repeating itself, like a déjà vu, him confessing his love towards you as you were crying on the same roof, but this time was different, this time you were adults. It was your time to be happy.

“Of course I love you, and I never stopped doing it.” After you said this both of you ran into each other’s arms, now both of you were now crying. 

You sat on the floor together as you hugged each other, you were afraid to move because the situation seemed too fragile, you both wanted that moment to last forever. After some time you raised your head to see Aizawa.

“Can we stay like this forever?” 

“Please don´t leave, (y/n) I’m begging you, don´t leave me again, I’ll even move with you, or if you prefer it I can help you find a job here.” Aizawa said as he held your face with his hands.

“Aizawa, I have something to tell you,” you said as he looked at you. “I’m moving back to Japan.” You saw the excitement in Aizawa’s face. “I was supposed to tell the three of you the news at the dinner, but after you left I totally forgot about it.”

Aizawa was so excited about your news, he didn't need to say goodbye to you again, you were staying with him, and you could finally enjoy the happiness both of you deserved.

“So is this a new beginning?” Aizawa said to you, you noticed how his eyes were shining, they were so different from that day you saw him. All the pain in his voice was replaced by happiness.

“It is, let's begin our lives again.” 

After that you grabbed Aizawa’s neck and brought his face close to you so you could kiss him, there was nothing that reminded you of home more than Aizawa’s kisses, now you could finally say that you were home. 

[blackwoolncrown]

The defining feature of conversation is the expectation of a response. It would just be a monologue without one. In person, or on the phone, those responses come astoundingly quickly: After one person has spoken, the other replies in an average of just 200 milliseconds.

In recent decades, written communication has caught up—or at least come as close as it’s likely to get to mimicking the speed of regular conversation (until they implant thought-to-text microchips in our brains). It takes more than 200 milliseconds to compose a text, but it’s not called “instant” messaging for nothing: There is an understanding that any message you send can be replied to more or less immediately.

But there is also an understanding that you don’t have to reply to any message you receive immediately. As much as these communication tools are designed to be instant, they are also easily ignored. And ignore them we do. Texts go unanswered for hours or days, emails sit in inboxes for so long that “Sorry for the delayed response” has gone from earnest apology to punchline.

People don’t need fancy technology to ignore each other, of course: It takes just as little effort to avoid responding to a letter, or a voicemail, or not to answer the door when the Girl Scouts come knocking. As Naomi Baron, a linguist at American University who studies language and technology, puts it, “We’ve dissed people in lots of formats before.” But what’s different now, she says, is that “media that are in principle asynchronous increasingly function as if they are synchronous.”

The result is the sense that everyone could get back to you immediately, if they wanted to—and the anxiety that follows when they don’t. But the paradox of this age of communication is that this anxiety is the price of convenience. People are happy to make the trade to gain the ability to respond whenever they feel like it.

While you may know, rationally, that there are plenty of good reasons for someone not to respond to a text or an email—they’re busy, they haven’t seen the message yet, they’re thinking about what they want to say—it doesn’t always feel that way in a society where everyone seems to be on their smartphone all the time. A Pew survey found that 90 percent of cellphone owners “frequently” carry their phone with them, and 76 percent say they turn their phone off “rarely” or “never.” In one small 2015 study, young adults checked their phones an average of 85 times a day. Combine that with the increasing social acceptability of using your smartphone when you’re with other people, and it’s reasonable to expect that it probably doesn’t take that long for a recipient to see any given message.

“You create for people an environment where they feel as though they could be responded to instantaneously, and then people don’t do that. And that just has anxiety all over it,” says Sherry Turkle, the director of the Initiative on Technology and Self at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

It’s anxiety-inducing because written communication is now designed to mimic conversation—but only when it comes to timing. It allows for a fast back-and-forth dialogue, but without any of the additional context of body language, facial expression, and intonation. It’s harder, for example, to tell that someone found your word choice off-putting, and thus to correct it in real-time, or try to explain yourself better. When someone’s in front of you, “you do get to see the shadow of your words across someone else’s face,” Turkle says.

In last month’s viral New Yorker short story “Cat Person,” a young woman embarks on a failed romantic relationship with a man she meets at the movie theater where she works. They only go on one date in the story; they get to know each other primarily over text. When the affair ends messily, it reveals not only how the bubble of romantic expectations can be popped by reality’s needle, but also how weak digital communication is as a scaffolding on which to build an understanding of another person.

In an interview, the story’s author, Kristen Roupenian, said the piece was inspired by “the strange and flimsy evidence we use to judge the contextless people we meet outside our existing social networks, whether online or off.” Indeed, even for the people we already know, we increasingly rely on contextless forms of communication. This puts an unusually large burden on the words themselves (and maybe some emojis) to convey what is meant. And each message, and each pause in between messages, takes on outsize importance.

“Text messages become marks on rocks to be analyzed and sweated over,” Turkle says.

It’s not always easy to figure out what someone meant to convey by using a certain emoji, or by waiting three days to text you back. Different people have different ideas about how long it’s appropriate to wait to respond. As Deborah Tannen, a linguist at Georgetown University, wrote in The Atlantic, the signals that are sent by how people communicate online—the “metamessages” that accompany the literal messages—can easily be misinterpreted:

Human beings are always in the business of making meaning and interpreting meaning. Because there are options to choose from when sending a message, like which platform to use and how to use it, we see meaning in the choice that was made. But because the technologies, and the conventions for using them, are so new and are changing so fast, even close friends and relatives have differing ideas about how they should be used. And because metamessages are implied rather than stated, they can be misinterpreted or missed entirely.

This metamessage opacity spawns thousands of other text messages a year, as people enlist their friends to help interpret exactly what their romantic interest meant by a certain turn of phrase, or whether a week-long radio silence means they’re being ghosted. (The New Yorker parodied this collaborative textual analysis in a video in which a group of women gather, war-room style, to answer the question “Was It a Date?”)

Features intended to add clarity—like read receipts or the little bubble with the ellipses in iMessage that tells you when someone is typing (which is apparently called the “typing awareness indicator”)—often just cause more anxiety, by offering definitive evidence for when someone is ignoring you or started to reply only to put it off longer.

* * *

But just because people know how stressful it can be to wait for a reply to what they thought would be an instant message doesn’t mean they won’t ignore others’ messages in turn.

Sometimes people don’t respond as a way of deliberately signaling they’re annoyed, or that they don’t want to continue a relationship. Turkle says sometimes taking a long time to write back is a way of establishing dominance in a relationship, by making yourself look simply too busy and important to reply.

But oftentimes, people are just trying to manage the quantity of messages and notifications they receive. In 2015, the average American was receiving 88 business emails per day, according to the market research firm Radicati, but only sending 34 business emails per day. Because—who has the time to respond to 88 emails a day? Maybe someone isn’t responding because they’ve realized the interruption of a notification negatively affects their productivity, so they’re ignoring their phone to get some work done.

I find myself ignoring or procrastinating even important messages, and ones I want and intend to respond to. I had to create a bright red “Needs Response” email label to battle my own “delayed response” problem. I regularly read texts, think “I’ll respond to that later,” and then completely forget about it.  Working memory—the brain’s mental to-do list—can only hold so much at once, and when notifications get crammed in with shopping lists and work tasks, sometimes it springs a leak.

“A lot of the time what’s happening is people have five conversations going on, and they just can’t really be intimate and present with five different people,” Turkle says. “So they kind of do a triage, they prioritize, they forget. Your brain is not a perfect instrument for processing texts. But it will be interpreted as though it really was a conversation, and so you can hurt people.”

* * *

Still, even though instant written communication can be overwhelming and anxiety-inducing, people prefer it. Americans spend more time texting than talking on the phone, and texting is the most frequent form of communication for Americans under 50.

While texting is popular worldwide, Baron, of American University, thinks that a strong preference for communication that can be easily ignored is a particularly American attitude. “Americans have far fewer manners in general in their communication than a lot of other societies,” she says. “The second issue is a real feeling of empowerment. I think we have become a version of power freaks, not just control freaks.”

In a survey Baron conducted in 2007 and 2008 of students in several countries including the United States, the things that people said they liked most about their phones were often related to control. One American woman said her favorite thing was “Constant communication when I want it (can also shut it off when I don’t).”

“What I have seen in this country, and I don’t know if it’s a national trait, is people wait until they think they have the perfect thing to say, as though relationships can be managed by writing the perfect thing,” Turkle says. “And I think that is something we pay a very high cost for.”

In Baron’s survey, people also mentioned feeling controlled by their phones—bemoaning how dependent they were on the devices, and how the constant connectivity made them feel obligated to respond.

But texts and emails don’t create as big of an obligation as phone calls, or a face-to-face conversation. When young adults are interviewed about why they don’t like making phone calls, they cite a distaste for how “invasive” they are, and a reluctance to place that burden on someone else. Written instant messages create a smokescreen of plausible deniability if someone doesn’t feel like responding, which can be relieving for the hider, and frustrating for the seeker.

More than anything, what the age of instant communication has enabled is the ability to deal with conversation on our own terms. We can respond right away, we can put it off for two days, or never get around to it at all. We can manage several different conversations at once. “Sorry, I was out with friends,” we might say, as an excuse for not texting someone back. Or, “Sorry, I just need to text this person back real quick,” we might say while out with friends.

As these things become normal, it creates an environment where we are only comfortable asking for slivers of people’s distracted time, lest they ever obligate us to give them our full and undivided attention.

[soulcluster-moved]

absolutely no one asked for this but here we go. I’m gonna talk about why adam would want to experience pregnancy and how he would. it’s under the cut mostly for length and pregnancy talk and talking about private parts 

so tangentially related is that I write adam as bigender. which I was already leaning kinda toward and then I saw these panels a while back and got whammied

tell me this is not a ‘I’ve finally found something I connect with how I’m feeling’ moment. you can’t

now adam is the kind of person that really cherishes life, and wont even kill enemies if given the option not to, and usually finds a way not to. he's also the avatar of life for the universe, but that just means he keeps the balance between life and death (too much death is bad, but also too much life is). still, he’s uniquely suited for the role.

if he was with a partner he trusted and knew he could be with long term, and he had weighed all the responsibilities of having a kid (cause ofc he would, adam can’t stop thinking about responsibilities) he’d be very interested in the process of creating life. it speaks to a deep part of him, the same part that cherishes life and that also connects to his feminine side. 

so that’s at least the why part in a nutshell. he abhors taking life, but being able to create a life and bring it into the world and feel that process? wondrous 

which is all well and good but the how, howst can adam accomplish this?

answered in the most simplest terms, adam regenerates his whole body whenever he dies. after the stuff with magus in the 2008 gotg comics, adam truly ‘dies’ but death rejects him and sends his spirit back to reality. at first he’s able to draw his own corporeal form, but any time after that his energy just like...goes and finds itself a place to nest and makes adam a cocoon from which he can grow a new body. It takes like...about two weeks if he’s not doing any major changes to his body or powers. if, like in annihilation, where he’s nurturing new powers, he needs longer to rest. months probably.

you can see where I’m going with this I’m sure.

with his powers, it’s always presented as the powers manifesting due to his cosmic senses. they sense he needs something (the ability to mend two universes together) and he just...gets the powers but doesn’t know why (until he’s facing galactic rifts and starts piecing it together). I can see him being able to do the same with his body if he wanted. actually focusing on the process of regeneration and giving himself reproductive organs and what he needs.

which...brings me to the private parts.

adam would need a vagina for birthing of course (i wrote/read fanfic in ye olden days, we’re not doing ass babies here ok), but also...if her partner doesn’t have a penis, what is our ferrero rocher to do? I think he’d be just fine with intersex parts, having both sets down there. and when adam is with someone who doesn’t have a dick, his could just.....absorb....what it needs while she’s inside her partner (don’t look at me like that ok) when they cum. IT MAKES SENSE TO ME OK 

though if she’s with a partner who does have a dick, then adam might just go with the one set he needs. idk, I’d have to think about that more, that’s not what this post is for. I do also see him having breasts in this kind of form cause yeah that’s their function, feeding baby. 

and there ya go, the answer to something you never asked

jokes aside tho, I’m on the nonbinary side and asexual so like if you have comments/critique I’m more than open to hearing them. 

[magnusmysteries]

Part 32: When Rituals Fail

The Magnus Archives was a horror podcast. It is now completed. Many of the show’s mysteries were never explained on the show. I intend to explain them. Spoilers for the show, but also spoilers if you wanna solve these mysteries yourself.

Elias thought that the reason the rituals failed was because the fears could never be separated. That it would be impossible to bring just one through, it had to be all. I think he was wrong, for three reasons.

First reason. Here’s a quote from Elias, where he explains why it is impossible to separate the fears “To try and create a world with only the Buried makes as much sense as trying to conceive a world with only down.”

But we have seen such a world. Quote from Entombed “This is forever deep below creation. Where the weight of existence bears down. This is The Buried, and we are alive. There isn’t even an up.”

The Buried is a world without the Hunt. The Hunt can’t reach Daisy there, because the Hunt and Buried are opposites (See Part 3). Elias uses the absence of up, as an example of an impossibility. But John says in the Buried there is no up. I think this was specifically written to clue us in to Elias being wrong.

Second reason, every time we hear of a ritual there is always a reason why they fail. The reason isn’t always obvious, but I’ll go through most of them in this post. Elias based his conclusion on the assumption that there was no reason for the Dark’s ritual to fail. He was wrong, as I’ll explain.

Every attempted ritual, except the ones involving John and Agnes, has a group of people choosing something related to the fear. (With a broad definition of choice.) If only one person does not make the choice, the ritual fails.

The Lonely. A group of people in an apartment building were all supposed to choose to be lonely (rather than move out of the nice cheap apartment). Gertrude wrote about it in a paper, the people got help, they weren’t lonely, the ritual failed.

The Slaughter. The soldiers are supposed to brutally murder each other. But the statement giver doesn’t like killing. He is not swayed by the music, he does not join in on the violence. The ritual fails.

The Hunt. Daisy speculated this failed because the Hunt doesn’t like to complete things. She was wrong. The people were supposed to join in the obsession of the hunt, to kill vampires and probably to die. But the statement giver was only pretending to be obsessed, the ritual fails.

The Corruption. This is from the episode Love Bombing. (John was wrong that the Prentiss attack was a grand ritual.) Here the choice is to love. First they take care of a sick dog. That is, they love it. Then they have to love and join the monster mass of people.

The part where they have to say they love each other, it's a test, to see if they are ready for the ritual. The protagonist did not love the other woman, and so she is told to leave. She is jeopardizing the ritual.

Note that she is not forced to leave, or killed. Had there been force or violence the ritual would have failed. That’s another rule for the rituals.

I think when she left, it was already too late and the ritual failed. Or maybe it failed when it got blown up. Probably by Gertrude.

I think nobody in the cult was working for the Corruption originally. The Corruption just found a cult that was really into love and thought "Jackpot! Send in the dog!"

The Buried. The choice here is for everyone in town to get into the pit at the same time. When the statement giver comes to town, he is told to leave. But not forced, significantly. He is jeopardizing the ritual, because he might not climb into the pit with the others.

The statement giver has a “dream” where he willingly climbs into the pit and puts his arm into the hole. Though it’s not really a dream. This is a test, and he passed. Whoever’s in charge decides to go ahead with the ritual.

This is a mistake. The statement giver does not go into the pit with the others. A woman in the pit suddenly begins to scream. Not because she is in the pit, but because she noticed the statement giver is not in the pit. She knows the ritual is about to fail and it does.

Later Gertrude shows up and dumps Jan Kilbride into the pit. She thinks she stopped the ritual, but she was too late. The ritual had already failed.

The Flesh. The choice is for everyone to throw meat into the pit. (I’m guessing they also all have to die from exhaustion and get thrown in the pit or jump in, but we don’t see that part). When Tom Haan notices Lucia Wright is present, he hands her meat. He hopes she will take it and join in, which she does. Had she not done so, the ritual would have failed. If she had left, the ritual would have failed. If Tom had killed her or forced her to join in, the ritual would have failed.

The ritual fails anyway, because Gertrude blows it up.   

The Spiral. Quote from Michael “A thousand staring morsels stood, and not one of them believed themselves sane to look upon it.”

If one of the humans there had believed themselves to be sane the ritual would have failed.

Actually there was a person there who believed they were sane. More from Michael: “Michael did not go mad, though no words you could have said would have convinced him otherwise. (...) If Michael thought he had lost his mind, it was only because what he saw with crystal clarity was simply not something that could be real. But Gertrude Robinson did not waver. (...) She gave no indication that she saw anything more or less than was expected. Hers was not a mind that left room for doubt.”

Gertrude didn’t realize, but there was no need to sacrifice Michael Shelley. The ritual would have failed simply by her presence.

The Stranger. When John and the gang set up the explosives to blow up the Unknowing, Nikola does nothing to stop them. She knows they are there. She waits until they have set up the explosives before she starts the ritual.

There are no other victims there than the Magnus crew. They are the ones that are supposed to make the choice. The choice they are supposed to make is to use logic and reason during the Unknowing. Nikola has to give them a chance to win, and part of that is she lets them set up the explosives.

In the 1787 attempt at the Unknowing, the ritual is stopped by a soldier from the Slaughter. The soldier is not confused: “I was sure he was a soldier, and he was nothing but a soldier.”

In Nemesis Gertrude speculates that the Unknowing can only be stopped if the explosives are detonated from within Unknowing. Meaning, someone has to “choose” to use enough reason to set it off.

Just four victims is a small number. But I think John counts extra, since he is the Archivist and should be harder to confuse. 

Maybe Elias made a deal with Nicola, told her about their plan. After all, Elias wants John to get blown up, to get the End scar.

Elias advised John not to bring Tim to the ritual. Tim seems pretty suicidal at this point, earlier he dared Elias to kill him. Elias is worried that if Tim is the one to blow up the ritual, John won’t get the End scar.

The ritual fails because Basira reasons her way out. Or maybe it fails because Breekon uses violence against Daisy, not sure.

John is at first very confused, but then he starts to see more clearly. That is because the ritual is already failing, because of Basira (or Breekon). There is no need for Tim to blow up the place and sacrifice himself.

The Eye. We don’t know much about Elias' first attempt at a ritual, but it seemed to take place in the panopticon prison, with Elias in the middle, watching the prisoners around him. The prisoners were probably supposed to make some kind of choice, and at least one of them failed to do so.

The Dark. The darkness ritual first begins to collapse at Hither Green, where it is led by Natalie.

Quote from Manuella “Natalie and the others followed, but they did not truly understand. Not truly, with their talk of peace and unity and Mr. Pitch. A friendly name, to try and hide from a concept they couldn’t grasp.”

In the episode Police Light the darkness creature inside Rayner is trying to get a new host, by entering Callum Brody. Then the police intervene and shoot Rayner, saving Brody from being possessed. But a droplet of the monster hits the police officer Altman. Altman is in the process of being possessed. Then Altman is stabbed and killed by Natalie Ennis.

There is misdirection here. We are supposed to believe that Natalie stabbed Altman because he was a cop. But actually she killed him because he was possessed. She was secretly working against the darkness cult.

Why? Gertrude must at this point have realized how a ritual will fail if one person makes the wrong choice. She must have talked with Natalie and explained to her that Mr. Pitch is a lie. That the Darkness is not about peace and unity. So because of Natalie the ritual failed.

The third reason for why Elias is wrong is the most important, and I’ll cover it in the next post.

If Elias is wrong that a ritual must draw in all the fears at once, why is it that no ritual has succeeded throughout all of history? I think there just hadn’t been that many attempts.

In Family Business Gerard says if a ritual fails, it takes centuries to build up enough power to attempt one again. Yet we hear of several ritual attempts happening very close together in time: the Lonely circa 2007, the Spiral sometime after 2007, the Buried in 2008, the Flesh in 2008, the Corruption circa 2012, the Dark in 2015, the Stranger in 2017 and the Eye in 2018. How can that be?

In the Architecture of Fear, Smirke says he wrote down several rituals. Since Smirke lived a couple of hundred years ago, it could mean most of his rituals were attempted back then, and that’s why most of them were due to be attempted again around 2007. But that gives us the same problem, just further back in time. Why was it that most of the rituals could have been attempted about the same time, back when Smirke wrote them down?

I think the reason was, most of the powers had never attempted a ritual before Smirke designed them. The Powers have no creativity (see Part 9) and could not have attempted a ritual until a person came up with one. Smirke says he is unsure if all the powers had rituals before he put pen to paper.   

I think there were two rituals that Smirke designed that were attempted relatively long after his death. The Slaughter ritual probably needed a great war to succeed, and therefore did not happen until War War 2. And the Hunt ritual took over a hundred years to set up, as it included two groups of explorers from over a hundred years apart.

Three rituals predate Smirke’s creations, those of the Dark, The Vast and the Stranger. 

Smirke got his ideas for rituals after hearing of the ritual of the Dark. In Heart of Darkness, Manuella implies her ritual had been planned for three hundred years, after the failure that birthed the thing inside Rayner. I think when Flamsteed drowned Reimer in The Movement of the Heavens, he stopped the first ritual of the Dark. Reimer was drowned May 2 1715. On May 3 1715 there was a Total Eclipse that could be seen in London. (That date is from real life, not mentioned on the show.) I think that’s when the first Darkness ritual was gonna happen.  

The first Unknowing happened in 1787, Smirke was born in 1780. So unless he invented it as a child, it predates him.

In Big Picture Simon talks about the last ritual he attempted, in 1853. That implies he’s had at least one earlier attempt. Simon became an avatar in the 1500s, so he’d probably only had time to do two ritual attempts in total.

[mercuryonparklane]

Since Taylor released “You All Over Me” last night and also posted the “Love Story” remix lyric video that includes a group picture with Emily in it, I am reposting this from my other blog (because at the time I posted it my other blog was too new to show up in the tags). I’m not necessarily saying that YAOM is about Emily...

Anyway, here is a post about “Breathe” and how it is the only Grammy nominated song of Taylor’s that she has performed just once:

Prior to Lover Taylor had 9 Grammy nominated songs (that appeared on her own records): “You Belong With Me”. “White Horse”, “Breathe”, “Mean”, “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together”, “Begin Again”, “Shake It Off”, “Blank Space”, and “Bad Blood”.

According to Taylor herself, despite multiple requests from fans over the years, she has only sung “Breathe” live one time. She performed it for the first and, so far, only time on August 18, 2018 during her reputation Stadium Tour show in Miami.

I decided to compare this to how many times she has sung her other Grammy nominated songs (I chose not to include anything from Lover or folklore because she obviously hasn’t had the opportunity to perform those songs as she normally would):

(Disclaimer: the data related to the number of times Taylor has played each song comes from setlist.fm, so it may not be 100% accurate, but it is close enough to demonstrate the purpose of this post)

“Breathe”

Date of release (as a single): October 23, 2008

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 1

“White Horse”:

Date of release (as a single): December 9, 2008

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 137

“You Belong With Me”

Date of release (as a single): April 26, 2009

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 381

“Mean”

Date of release (as a single): March 13, 2011

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 196

“We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together”

Date of release (as a single): August 13, 2012

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 272 (that # includes 1 time she performed the song as a mashup with “Bad Blood” and 53 times as a mashup with “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things”)

“Begin Again”

Date of release (as a single): October 1, 2012

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 75

“Shake It Off”

Date of release (as a single): August 18, 2014

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 189

“Blank Space”

Date of release (as a single): November 10, 2014

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 166

“Bad Blood”

Date of release (as a single): May 17, 2015

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 141 (that # includes the 53 times she performed the song as a mashup with “Should’ve Said No”)

As you can see, there is a pretty glaring disparity between the number of times she performed the other 8 songs live compared to the 1 time she performed “Breathe” live.

The song was released as a promotional single in the lead up to the release of Fearless, but wasn’t really a main single. It never had a music video, which means that it was probably never meant to be pushed for the charts. Although, it did spend one week on the Billboard Hot 100 chart, peaking at #87 on the week ending November 29, 2008, following the release of Fearless.

The song was co-written with Colbie Caillat, who also features on the track. Colbie was fairly popular at the time, in particular her debut single “Bubbly” had been very successful the previous year. So, you might think Taylor’s team/label would have wanted to push this song a bit more, but for some reason they didn’t.

The song seemed to be received well by critics too. There were obviously plenty of people who thought the song was good enough to earn a Grammy nomination. Although, it did end up losing to Colbie’s other, more commercially successful collaboration (“Lucky” with Jason Mraz).

So, it has been established that the song was released as a promotional single, it was nominated for a Grammy, and it was a collaboration with a popular (at the time) artist. These three factors combined might make someone wonder why she didn’t perform this song live until almost 10 years after its release. Just to reiterate, Taylor performed “Begin Again”, the song she performed second least out of this list, 75 times compared to the 1 and only time she performed “Breathe” in 2018.

This brings me back to the point that all of these other songs have a music video and were pushed as singles, whereas “Breathe” was only a promotional single and never had a music video.

Perhaps it would be fairer compare “Breathe” with the other promotional single Taylor released in the lead up to Fearless (I am excluding “Change” because it does have a music video and was used during the 2008 Olympics):

“You’re Not Sorry”

Date of release (as a single): October 28, 2008

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 124

Yes, that’s right. Taylor has performed “You’re Not Sorry”, a song that got about the same amount of promotion as “Breathe”, well over 100 times.

Fearless was Taylor’s sophomore album and it was her first tour as a headliner. She had two albums worth of songs, plus a handful of others, to choose from. “Breathe” did not make the setlist. The only other song from Fearless that was not a part of the main setlist for that tour was “The Best Day”, a song that she performed live 6 times between 2009 and 2018, including twice during the Fearless Tour.

So, “Breathe”, again, was:

co-written by and features an artist who was popular at the time

released as a promotional single

nominated for a Grammy

never performed live before August 18, 2018

Which begs the question, why did she wait so long to perform the song live?

It has pretty much been established that the song is about Taylor’s original fiddle player, Emily. Taylor has never named names on this one, but most Swifties, even non-Gaylors, think the song is about her. Colbie Caillat basically confirmed this longtime fan theory in an April 2020 interview, where she says that Taylor “was writing about something she was going through with a band member at the time, and she was pouring her heart out about it”.

Taylor did say in the “making of” video for “Breathe” that the song is about a friend:

“It was total therapy because I came in and I was like, ‘Look, you know, one of my best friends, you know, I’m gonna have to not see anymore and is not gonna be part of what I do and it’s, like, the hardest thing to go through.’ It’s, like, crazy listening to the song cause you’d think it would be about a relationship, but it’s really about, like, losing a friend and, like, having a fallout and just the loss…”

She also adds:

“It’s never specific as to why. That’s my favorite thing about it. It doesn’t talk about why or whose fault it was cause sometimes the hardest time and way to say goodbye is when it’s nobody’s fault. It just has to stop.”

But, again, I’m pretty sure that Taylor herself has never said that it was about Emily. The official story is that Emily left the band to attend law school, but there is a rumor that she was actually fired. More specifically, the rumor is that she was fired when the true nature of their relationship was discovered.

This is all old news to Gaylors, of course. I said in my first post for this blog that I would not go too far into this theory due to the fact that Emily was 21 when she was hired and Taylor was only 16 at that time. I do think it is possible that Taylor had strong feelings towards Emily and maybe those feelings were unrequited or maybe they were reciprocated. Either way, perhaps someone found out somehow and the fallout was Emily getting fired.

It is also not improbable that Emily decided that she didn’t really like being on the road or the business side of being a professional musician and wanted to pursue a different career. If that was the case, then I do wonder why Taylor felt the need to repeatedly sing “I’m sorry” at the end of “Breathe”.

The only thing that would make sense, other than a potential firing that Taylor somehow felt responsible for, is that they had a fight when Emily broke the news to Taylor that she was going to leave the band. Hence, Taylor feeling the need to apologize so profusely.

Even if that is the case (here is where I project a bit/draw from my own experience), it still seems, to me, like Taylor felt a deep connection to Emily that might have blurred the line between platonic and romantic feelings. Maybe Emily is the first woman that she had those feelings for (ignoring “Angelina” and “Me And Britney” for this point) and so when she left it hit her really hard. Thus, she couldn’t bear to sing about it, even by the time the Fearless Tour started almost a year and half later.

That is all speculation, of course. Still, I can’t help but wonder why she would let almost an entire decade go by before she decided to sing a literal Grammy nominated song on stage for the first time. Especially considering the fact that she has performed all of her other Grammy nominated songs well over 100 times, aside from “Begin Again” (which she has still performed 74 times more than “Breathe”).

[teamhappyme]

a series of promising events (2/5)

aaron hotchner x female!reader

word count: 10.6k (yeah i have a spacing problem)

a/n: part 2 of this series is here! some dialogue, cases, and themes taken directly from criminal minds (S03 EP20, S04 EP01, & S05 EP08). originally, i had it planned to be 3 parts, but after editing, and looking at the word count, it makes more sense to be 5 parts. i don’t want to inundate you lovely people with massive word counts (even though 10k is massive) so this is the finalized count. because i finally got my shit together and finished this out, part 3 will be up wednesday morning, part 4 will be up friday morning, and the final part 5 will be up sunday morning. thank you to everyone who showed some love for part one, and thank you to anyone else who stumbled across my crazy writing and read along!

at the end, I’ve tagged the peeps that interacted with part 1. if you don’t want to be tagged for the other parts, just let me know :)

ok enough of my rambling inner monologue, here we go friends!

link to part 1: here

****

May 2008

We were in New York, investigating what started out as five connected shootings in the city. After twelve hours, we were up to nine fatalities.

We delivered the profile at nine thirty, finally satisfied with the outcome after a day's worth of combing over crime scene photos and witness statements. Hotch didn’t want to waste another second, making sure the profile went out before the night shift went out to patrol.

“Now, our first theory is that we’re dealing with a team.” Derek started. “In the case of the D.C. snipers, there was actually one intended victim.”

“John Muhammad wanted to kill his ex wife, but he knew if he did, he’d be the prime suspect, so he created a spree in order to mask his primary motivation.” 

Spencer added before turning to SSA Joyner. “Muhammad and Malvo also left a death card at one of their scenes, just like this unsub.”

“We believe our unsubs have studied that case. They’re opening a line of communication.” 

There was an outpouring of judgement focused on us, since we were in charge of the D.C. snipers case as well. These unsubs know we’re here, and they’re trying to show they can outthink us.

“Yes, they are playing games. But what that tells us is at least one of them has some intelligence.” You tried to hold your ground, and not let their opinions get to you.

“And like I said,” Prentiss interrupted, ready to put these cops in their place. “They know these cases. He’s also studied the placement of the surveillance systems well enough to avoid detection.”

“We’ve asked officers to canvass their precincts, and look out for a father-son type of duo that fit the dominant-submissive profile.” Rossi had Reid hand out some gang related profiles, just in case the profile shifted. But we were pretty confident in our first go. 

“Talk to the people on your beats, look out for anything suspicious. And let's pray that this isn’t random.” The detective in charge finished and let his precinct disperse. 

“Hey y/n/n, we’re gonna head back in five if you want a spot in the fun suburban.” JJ teased and lightly shoved Spencer’s shoulder. 

You smiled and started packing up your backpack. “Okay. Just, leave the fragile doctor alone.” 

After packing up any files you wanted to review when you got back to the hotel room, you let Morgan and Rossi know the four of you were headed out. They weren’t much further behind with Prentiss and Garcia. 

You met Reid and JJ in the lobby, droopy eyes and mouths full of yawns adorning the three of you. It was a long day, and it was only going to be worse tomorrow. 

“Where’s Hotch?” You asked, ready to get your feet out of these narrow leather dress shoes. You were wearing your combat boots tomorrow. 

“He’s checking in with the lady friend.” JJ nodded her head toward Hotch, who was conversing with Joyner in her office. They were standing close, and you thought you caught a smile on his face. “Do you think they’re into each other?”

“She looks like she could be Haley’s twin,” Spencer added and you sighed. 

The moment the team arrived at HQ this morning, everybody noticed the resemblance to Hotch’s ex-wife. SSA Kate Joyner went pretty far back with our unit chief. They went through the academy together and had some assignments overlap over the years. If it were up to Morgan and Garcia, the two of them would be out on a date right now. But you and Rossi quickly quieted the rumors, not wanting to deal with the rage that was Aaron Hotchner if he knew we were discussing his love life. 

It had barely been six months since Haley left with Jack, and Hotch had just taken off his wedding band a few weeks ago. He didn’t tell any of you until you all witnessed him getting served in the office. It slapped you across the face, especially since you’d just met Haley and Jack for a quick lunch a month and a half before. I guess she wanted Hotch to tell you when he was ready. 

As much as you valued your three year friendship with Aaron Hotchner, you knew Haley deserved better. Hotch adored his wife and son, and would fight heaven and earth to keep them safe. Unfortunately, he was too busy fighting the demons from hell to be a present father and husband. Everyone had their breaking point, and Haley had hit hers. From what Hotch has told you, they’re still amicable, and are trying to be friends again. After all, it wasn’t a lack of love that ended their marriage. It was a lack of prioritizing his family. 

“Knock it off. He’s on his way over.” The three of you turned to one another, pretending to hold an intriguing conversation about one of Spencer’s magic tricks. Truthfully, you were always intrigued in his magic tricks; you never understood how he could pull endless quarters out of your ear. But that conversation would have to wait for another day. 

“Ready to go?” Hotch pulled the keys out of his pant pocket, and the three of you nodded as Spencer called shotgun. A smile crossed your lips, never getting over the jovial things Spencer loved to claim when his intellect wasn’t needed to solve a case.

The fifteen minute ride to the hotel downtown was silent. You were all exhausted, emotionally and physically, sick of having to watch people die over and over again. 

The four of you made it into the lobby, tomorrow morning’s papers already spread across the table. “The late edition didn’t miss a beat.” You said and picked up one of the papers, the headline reading ‘Execution Style’ with a still from one of the murders. You showed it to Hotch and he shook his head. 

“I’m glad I never stooped to this level when I was publishing.” You murmured, reading the first paragraph of the article. 

“JJ,” Spencer started and pointed across the lobby, causing all of us to turn. It was Detective Will LaMontagne Jr., JJ’s adorably chivalrous Louisiana boyfriend. 

“Will.” You could practically hear the smile on her face as she led the walk over to him.

He was supposed to fly into D.C. to visit JJ for the weekend, but came to surprise her in New York when he heard the news. Spencer and I shared a look as Hotch extended a hand to him. 

“Detective.”

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, I know you’re working. But, um. I can’t stand you being on this case. And me not being here, not with what’s going on.”

JJ shook her head in the slightest, and you started to get nervous.

“Is there a problem?” Hotch asked, concern completely taking over his voice at the thought of any harm happening to his team. The couple shared a knowing look, and your patience was starting to run thin with the information being withheld. JJ meant the world to you, and you wanted to make sure she was okay.

Reluctantly, she turned to face you all, a shy smile covering her face. “I’m pregnant.” 

Spencer looked over at you, not knowing how to react to the news. But you couldn’t help the smile widening on your face. 

“Oh my god, JJ! Congratulations!” You wrapped your arms around her and she laughed, most likely out of relief. This was a secret she kept for a long time.

“I’ve asked JJ to marry me,” 

“Will.” She cut him off as Hotch gave him a congratulatory handshake. 

“We’re working out some kinks.” He added as Spencer was next to hug your blonde friend. A baby, in the BAU. You might have been more excited than JJ.

“We’ll, uh, give you both some privacy.” Hotch started towards the elevator, and JJ was quick to follow. 

“Hotch,” She didn’t continue, you knew this wasn’t the exact situation she wanted to tell everyone she was having a baby. 

“JJ, you could have told me.”  

The tenderness in his voice could have broken your heart in two right then and there, but add on the fact that you swore you could see Hotch’s eyes tear in the slightest, you were done. You didn’t want to mention it in front of Reid, but you knew this had to do with Haley. You’d be an idiot not to notice.

The three of you filed into the elevator, leaving JJ and Will to talk in private. You all got off on the fourth floor, Reid’s room the first to come up in the hallway. 

“Night Spencer.” 

“Goodnight. Seven a.m.,” He reminded you as he opened the door with his keycard.

You and Hotch walked down another ten feet before he found his room. 

“Goodnight,” He mumbled out and reached for his key. 

“Hotch,” He closed his eyes, nodding his head in the slightest. 

“I’m tired, y/n.” You could’ve pushed harder. You could have gotten him to crack if you started nagging enough. You’d earned the title as baby sister from the team since you could whine and nag them into doing anything. But tonight didn’t seem like a good time for your skills. 

You nodded, understanding this conversation wasn’t going to happen. 

“Goodnight. Get some sleep.”

Despite your best efforts, you didn’t sleep a wink. Hotch had gone over his files and called for Kate to meet him in the lobby. But then there was an explosion, and you had to watch from your window as Hotch sat by Joyner, waiting for her to die.

Once the team had caught the second unsub and wrapped everything up at the precinct, you headed to the hospital to check on Hotch. And unsurprisingly, he was refusing any further treatment for the ringing in his ears he tried to deny. You saw him kick Rossi out of the room, the third member that couldn’t get through to him. 

“Bobo, why don’t you give it a try. Can’t yell at the baby with a broken arm.” You were the one to tackle the unsub, and landed pretty hard on the pavement downtown. Nothing a black cast covered in smiley faces from Spencer and Garcia couldn’t fix. 

“I know you can’t tell, but I’m flipping you off right now.” You responded to Morgan as you raised your casted hand toward him.

You headed to Hotch’s room, knocking on the window before you walked in. 

“I swear to god if you try to put me in another MRI,” He started to raise his voice when you interrupted him.

“Shit, I should go tell Morgan he was wrong. Boss is willing to yell at the baby with a broken arm.”

He turned around to face you, the lines on his forehead disappearing once he saw it was you and not Rossi. 

“What happened to your arm?” You smiled and glanced down at the cast. “Just another day on the job. Tackled the unsub, the pavement was not very kind to me.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to put his tie back around his neck. You scoffed, stepping over to him. 

“Why the hell would you want to put that back on?” 

“Because it’s part of my suit.” 

You knew better than to pull it out of his hands. He was holding on to any semblance of control, and his outfit was all that he had left. Instead you took a seat in the stiff chair across from him, watching as he grimaced every time he lifted his arms too high. 

“If your goal is to get me to stay another minute here under observation, you’re not gonna win.” 

You shook your head. “That’s not my goal.”

He sighed, giving up on putting his tie on. He moved to finish his top button, he was at least going to be covered. 

“You should be excited for JJ.” You started, testing the water on this subject. 

“Did I suggest otherwise?” He asked and you shook your head. 

“When was the last time you saw Jack?” His eyes widened the slightest, and you regretted asking the question. You gripped the arms of the chair, ready to be ripped a new one. 

Instead, Hotch let out a sigh, and you snapped your head up. “Two weeks. Haley went to visit her mother for a week, and then we went from Florida to New York in three days.”

He was already away from Jack half the week when they were still living under the same roof. Now he was lucky if he got to say goodnight on a weekend. 

“Why don’t you take some time off? I’m sure you have weeks saved up. I’ve been here three years and have never seen a tan on you.” 

He shook his head. “Strauss would never approve of it.”

“Hotch,” 

“Y/n, I really want to get out of this hospital room and call my son.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Fine. But you’re not flying home. You have a choice between Morgan and Rossi to drive you home. My recommendation would be Morgan, you don’t want to sit through four hours of Opera music.” 

You stood up, refusing to meet his eye. You were sick of dealing with stubborn men. 

“I’ll see if they can fax your records to D.C. before we leave.” 

He muttered out a thank you as you left the room, shaking your head at the rest of the team.

“Nothing?” Morgan asked as you returned to them. 

“Nothing. Even the baby gets yelled at.” Spencer spared you a glance and you gave him a small smile. You would be fine. “And Derek, you’re driving him back.”

***

January 2010

You didn’t think it could get worse than seeing Hotch with nine stab wounds at the hands of Foyet. You desperately wanted to believe that it couldn’t be worse than that. But you were naive to think that he would let Aaron survive and not make him suffer.

None of you would be able to erase the image of Haley’s bloody body lying in the home where she and Aaron created their family. You wouldn’t forget the sight of Hotch beating into Foyet’s face, or the sobs that raked through his body once Derek had shaken him off. This was a tragedy that shaped the entire team.

After Haley’s death, the seven of you took turns checking in on Hotch, Jack, and Haley’s sister Jessica. She stayed close by when Hotch was on leave, helping him with Jack’s routine, and how to explain to the four year old where his mommy went. She moved back into her apartment a few blocks away before Aaron returned to work. He wanted to prove to her that he could do this on his own, that he could be the strong father that Jack deserved, and that Haley would be proud of.

While the three of them were together, the team would try and make it over every Saturday for dinner. Hotch needed to be around friends, and Jessica needed a guilt free night to spend with the people that made her feel good. He was reluctant at first, not wanting us over the apartment, complaining that it was a mess, and it was too small to fit everyone. But it was impeccably neat, the result of a widow not being able to sleep. Once he became comfortable with us coming around on Saturday’s, we’d pick two weeknights to stop by with a dinner, movie, or game to help take their minds off of the pain. Although you and JJ stopped by every friday regardless of whose week it was, Hotch really appreciated the extra company, and so did Jack.

Despite his attempts at being independent, there were one too many distressed calls being made to you or JJ if he couldn’t get a hold of Jess, or if he didn’t want to burden her with the responsibility. 

Your feelings about Jack Hotchner hadn’t changed in the four years since you met him. You would still do anything to see the adorable little boy smile. So, it was easy to say that you didn’t mind the late night phone calls worrying about Jack’s stuffy nose or when he should take the chicken out of the freezer without it going bad. Because the more he reached out to any one of you, the closer he was to finding a new normal. 

However, all of you were surprised to see SSA Aaron Hotchner in his office only a month and a half after the event. Sure, he made remarkable progress, but you all assumed he would take a little more time, maybe take Jack on a well deserved vacation. Instead, you walked into the office on a monday morning, Hotch the first one in attendance. 

That was two weeks ago. 

The readjustment period had worn off, and Hotch was back to being a drill sergeant. Even more aggressive than he was before. 

The case we were working was local, saving us the discomfort of sleeping in a hotel bed. We were in Virginia, investigating two murdered families, similar to ‘The Fox’.

“Who?” You asked, not familiar with the creepy nickname.

“Four years ago Karl Arnold, aka the fox, killed eight families.” Derek informed you. It must have been just before you started at the BAU. 

“Similar to this case he took the father’s wedding rings, except in his case he took them as trophies.” Spencer finished.

“Hotch, you gave evidence at Arnold’s trial. I think you should go see him.” Derek was acting unit chief since before Haley’s death, and continued his position even with Hotch’s return. Strauss was weary now more than ever to give Aaron the title back so quick.

“I’d like to take l/n with me.” You looked over to Hotch, his eyes resting on yours, waiting for your approval. 

You gave a small nod, placing your sunglasses over your eyes. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Hotch got the keys to a suburban and before you could meet him at the car, Prentiss pulled you back. 

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay with this?” She was always looking out for you, heck she was the one that made you pack extra barf bags for crime scenes. She knew meeting face to face with a family killer would do a number on you. But Hotch can’t face this guy on his own. Not after what happened.

“I’m good. Not the first time I've interrogated a psychopath.” She reluctantly nodded. 

“Okay. Just, let Hotch take the lead.” 

You gave her arm a squeeze. “I will. Let’s find this guy.”

The ride to Red Onion Supermax was a short and quiet one. Hotch filled you in on the particulars of Arnold’s case, making sure you knew it inside and out. This was a team effort after all. 

You couldn’t get a clean read on Hotch, however, on the ride over. He’d yet to crack a true smile or laugh in the weeks he’d been back, which normally wouldn’t be so out of character for him. But Reid had been trying to get him to crack with every magic trick he knew, even agreeing to let Derek joke about his lack of childhood and understanding of pop culture. But nothing worked. 

It worried you to see the regression he’s made since coming back. You knew how happy he was at home with Jack, that a smile crossed his face most of the day when he was playing legos with his son. You hoped he was here because he wanted to be, not because he felt like he had an obligation to the team or the Bureau. 

“Karl has a big ego. He’s going to answer every question with a question. He’ll try to gain the advantage with me by asking why I’m not wearing my wedding ring.” You looked down at his left hand, the gold band that you noticed on your first day, now gone, along with the woman he loved. “And then he will turn his attention to you.”

“So that’s why you brought me along.”

“Your presence will throw him off guard. And he’s going to want to describe to you in graphic detail every sexual act he committed with the families.”

“To freak me out?” Because you haven’t even met this sick bastard and you were certainly already freaked out. 

Hotch met your eye, and you knew this was only going to get worse. “To pull you into his fantasy.”

The guard radioed for the gate to open, and you tried to contain the tremors in your hands. This was a wing of psychotic sexual sadists, they would pick up on your nervous ticks.

You looked to Hotch once the gate opened, and he nodded for you to go in. 

“Go ahead.” You followed the guard in, surprised at the lack of noise you were welcomed with. “Keep your eyes forward. More than anything he’s going to want to see images of the children.”

“We can’t give him that.” You argued, as you started to hear the men from their cells. 

“We have to give him something or we’ll get nothing from him.” 

You’d kept your breathing under control the entire walk down the hallway, until a man crashed against the glass, causing you to flinch and spare a glance.

“Isn’t that, uh,-” 

“Derek Payne.” He finished for you, his eyes still straight ahead. 

“It’s reinforced glass.” You scoffed. Of course he wasn’t worried about another man ripping him apart.

“Easy for you to say, he tore apart fourteen women.”

The door opened to the interrogation room, and this time Hotch entered first. You were met with Karl Arnold, red bushy hair and a beard to match. He was average height, and a little stocky, not what you pictured him to look like.

“Hello Karl,” Hotch greeted him as we settled in on the other side of the table.

“Agent Hotchner,” He stood. “I wasn’t informed you were bringing a, uh,” He glanced at you, looking you up and down before turning back to Hotch. You really regretted wearing a white silk top with your dress pants today. “They just said two agents.”

“This is Agent-” 

“Y/n, l/n.” You tried to control the dilation of your eyes as he looked right through you. “I know all about you.”

Now you understood why Emily asked you if you were sure about this. He kept his eyes on Hotch as he started the interrogation, never looking you in the eyes longer than a second. Even if you directed a question toward him, he would only answer to Hotch. He was a misogynist. You don’t know why you’re so surprised at this discovery, he tortured wives and families.

When he offered up his book of dialogue between him and his fans, he smelled your perfume as you reached across the table to grab it. Hotch quickly took it for you, letting you sit back down in your seat. Your gut was no longer in your stomach, it was lodged in your throat. 

“How’d you lose your ring, Agent Hotchner?” It was beyond your level of profiling to understand how Hotch could just sit there and take the assault on his personal life from a man who ruined families, especially with what he’d just been through. You’d never mastered the art of compartmentalization quite like Hotch. But right now, you were thankful for your uncontrollable emotions.

“I can look past your refusal to answer my question, if you let me see the children. It’s the only way I can truly help you.” You gripped the files harder at the mention of the victims and looked at Hotch. 

“Can I speak with you for a second?” He nodded and the two of you stood. 

“Is there something wrong, y/n?” You bit back the sarcasm that was threatening to fall from your mouth. 

“Nothing’s wrong, Karl.”

You exited the interrogation room, still clutching the files close to your chest. 

“We cannot show him these.”

 He looked at Arnold, who seemed to find your eyes, even through the reflective mirror. “These images will be his undoing and will lead us to the killer.”

“These are not just images.” 

“That’s exactly what they are.” 

“Hotch, I am not about to parade a dead twelve year old girl in a bathing suit in front of a serial killer who gets off on it.” You raised your voice, not willing to compromise any respect you had left for these victims. 

“Then show him the others. It’ll gain his trust and get him talking. He won’t talk to me, he knows I know everything that gets him off. But he’ll want to tell you just what he would do to them. I told you, he wants to pull you in.”

You shook your head. “These are children! Helpless children whose fathers have to live with what this animal did to their families! These strangers do not get to see the torture and humiliation that they went through.”

“If you can’t stomach showing him what he desires, then I’ll do it. Because we’re not leaving until we get a name out of him. You’re either with the team or you’re not.” 

You scoffed. “You’re not the unit chief anymore. I do what Morgan says if we can’t come to an agreement.”

It was bold of you to remind him of his subordinate place. But you were equals now, despite the decade between you two. You didn’t have to listen to his orders if you felt they were wrong. 

He reached for the files, but you turned away from him. “I’m going in there. Not you. But I’m going to run the interrogation my way, not exposing these children. If you have a problem with that, you can call Morgan.”

You motioned for the guard to let you back in. You took your seat across from Karl, a smirk still evident on his face. 

“What, no Agent Hotchner?”

“You know, yours was one of the first cases I studied,” You started, trying to loosen up the muscles in your face. Going against every natural instinct in your body was making it hard to relax. “I’ve been fascinated ever since. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was embarrassed with him in the room.”

“You’re embarrassed because you want to know what I did, don’t you.” You pushed out a smile, a little giggle behind it to entice him.

And of course it did. “Yes.”

“I can show you exactly what I did to them.” 

“Tell me.” You tilted your head to the side, pushing some hair behind your ear. You were fighting the bile rising in your throat with every word you exchanged with him.

“Children are so precious, so clean. But they need guidance, especially the girls.” 

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

“Girls have much more to lose than boys. It’s a fact, the female body can handle pain much better.” If this wasn’t a serial killer across from you, you’d agree with him and make some jokes about the female anatomy. But he was enjoying this, just like Hotch said. He was pulling you in.

“What did you do to them?” 

He smiled. “I showed them, what men, their fathers, and brothers, are capable of.” 

“And what is that?”

“Once I killed the children, It always amazed me how little the father fought the inevitable, the dying.”

“I never thought I would get these answers, let alone from the man himself.” You pushed out another smile, because you knew he was holding back. He was almost willing to trust you, he just needed to be groomed a little more.

“It takes a good woman, to make an honest man. And you’re prettier than Agent Hotchner.” 

He was dancing around the information now, knowing that he had your time and attention. “Karl, do you know why you killed all those families?” 

“I already told you why.”

You dropped the sweet tone, and pushed up on your elbows. “No, you told me how. And your motivations were all driven by sex, motivations you learned from your father.”

You saw him flinch, and you knew you were getting somewhere. 

“You assert your dominance by making the father, the head of the household, watch you torture, assault, and take anything you wanted from the people he’s supposed to protect. Now your admirer, they don’t have the same ambitions as you do. And normally, that would bother a man like you. You want to be adored for every single part of your mess. But like you said, they’re an admirer, not a fan. So I’m guessing it’s a woman, who you’ve really come to care for.”

He tugged on his shackled wrists, you clearly got what you were looking for.

 “Those women, those girls, they needed to be taught a lesson. How to obey who’s in charge. And you,” he laughed as he inched as far across the table as he could. “The things I would do to you if I weren’t nailed to this table. You’d be done before I could call your name.”

Before you could respond, Hotch came into the room, demanding a name. You stood up, no longer needing to play a role. 

“It must be distracting, working with such a beautiful woman everyday.” You didn’t spare him another glance as you heard him mumble out a name to Hotch, finally getting what he wanted: power over you.

“Morgan, we’ve got a name. It’s a female guard in intake. Get everybody here ASAP.” The guard led you and Hotch back down the hallway, through the lion's den, and back to the elevator. Once inside, you let out a breath. Hotch turned to look at you, but you spoke up before he had the chance. 

“Don’t ask me to do that ever again.”

You would’ve yelled at him, tore him to pieces in the elevator ride from the fourth floor to the exit, but there was a guard escorting you out. You didn’t want him to have the privilege of watching two FBI agents battle it out. And honestly, you weren’t sure if you had the heart to yell at him after all he’d been through.

But once you were escorted through the exterior gates, your team in sight, you regained the nerve to give Hotch a piece of your mind.

Not before he spoke first though. 

“You did exactly what needed to be done. I didn’t ask you to act that way toward him, and I’m sorry you feel that that was your only way in. But I’m not going to apologize for getting the name of the killer.”

“So you would have acted in the same degrading way if the roles were reversed?”

He scoffed. “Yes, I would have. Because unlike you, my feelings don’t impair my judgement or ability to do this job. You’re an asset to this team, you need to find a way to get your emotions in check.”

You stopped walking, turning around to face him. You were in the middle of the driveway now, SWAT and BAU canvassing the scene. But you were going to do this here and now.

“The only reason you brought me here was to appeal to that sick son of a bitch. The only thing that makes me an asset to you is the fact that I have a vagina and you don’t. You turned me from a Supervisory Special Agent into a fighting fuck toy! You watched as I drained every ounce of respect I had for myself to turn into what that psychopath desired, all because I wouldn’t show him pictures of innocent children.” He looked over your shoulder to the team, embarrassed that they were hearing this. “At least have the respect to look at me while I’m talking to you!”

Hotch had never heard you yell like this. You were the calm one, the baby, as Derek called you. No one ever pushed you so far over the edge to get a reaction out of you. At least, not until he did. 

“The next time you ask me, JJ, Prentiss, or Garcia to flirt our way into a serial killer's mind, to expect us to degrade ourselves in order to save another woman, I will not hesitate to report you to Strauss.” You could hear footsteps behind you, but you continued on as tears started to form in your eyes. “You used to say that my empathy was what made me an amazing agent. That my ability to connect with victims and families was the reason I’m here. So do not try and make me feel worthless for possessing something that you wish you could have. Because the way you act, with no capability for empathy, is a depressing way to live.” 

“Y/n,” Spencer rested a hand on your shoulder, but you shook it off.

“Figure out the man you want to be.”

Before you could say anything else, Spencer dragged you away from Hotch and towards the cars. You could feel the tears freely falling down your cheeks, but you made no effort to remove them. You ignored the stares from the rest of your team, not giving them the satisfaction of knowing what went down in that interrogation room. Instead, you got into the passenger seat of the suburban, and Spencer started the drive back to the office. 

Rationally, you knew you went off too hard at him. He never deliberately asked you to flirt with Arnold. He asked you to show him the pictures of Lucy, to get him to crack under the fantasy. But you refused. You would rather make yourself go through that pain than any young child. It’s what you’d always done.

Spencer tried to convince you they hadn’t heard the conversation. That they were all too focused on SWAT’s apprehending of the guard to pay attention.

“Spence,” You started and looked over at him. “We all had our earpieces in. You heard every word.”

And he was silent the rest of the ride back. You were exhausted, and you wanted nothing more than to go home and fall asleep on your couch with reruns playing in the background. But you had a mountain of paperwork to finish, and still needed to debrief when the team got back.

Halfway through your stack, the team came back to the bullpen. Prentiss gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze as she passed by, heading for her desk. Derek had agreed to let everyone go home without debriefing. This was the earliest we’d been done with a case so close to home. We needed to capitalize on our rest. 

JJ was the first to go home, excited to be home in time for dinner with Will and Henry. Prentiss and Rossi followed shortly after, going to celebrate the win of this case at an expensive restaurant, at Dave’s expense. 

“Come on you two, don’t make me drag you out of here kicking and screaming.” Derek addressed you and Reid as he pulled his coat on. 

“We’re right behind you boss man.” Spencer said and turned his desk light off, grabbing his cane. He should be able to ditch all mobility aids soon.

You swung your backpack over a shoulder and turned off your own light. You didn’t even make it out of your four foot space before Hotch called out to you.

“Y/n, could I see you before you leave?” He was standing in front of his office, on higher ground than the rest of us. Power move, you thought to yourself. But he wouldn’t be that petty.

You looked back to Reid and Moran, the former nodding to you before seeing himself to the elevator. Now it was just Spencer, his eyes begging for you to leave. 

“I don’t need to remind you how deeply you care for all of us. But if you keep putting yourself out there to comfort him, you’re going to get destroyed.” This was the first time Spencer had mentioned this to you. Sure, you’d been helping Hotch out at home, a little more than normal, but everybody was pitching in. His wife died for god's sake. 

“Spence, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He let out a sigh and fidgeted with his cane. You found it at a consignment shop on one of your weekends off, and bought it for him without hesitation. It had an eagle engraved in it’s clutch, something regal, medieval, and screamed Spencer Reid. You ignored the price, a forty dollars more than you would’ve liked to spend on a walking stick, but the look on his face when you gave it to him was priceless.

“You need to stand up for yourself. Nothing excuses the way he treated you today. Regardless of your decision to play a character.” 

God, could he read you. 

“No pair of rose colored glasses could cloud that. Not even yours.” He gave you one last shadow of a smile before limping his way to the elevator.

Once you regained your composure, you turned to make your way up to Hotch’s office. He was sitting in his chair, staring at the paperwork waiting to be filled out before him. You knocked on the open door, and he stood up without even looking at you. You were going to take Spencer’s advice and stick up for yourself, so you had to set the pace.

“Can this be quick? I wanted to get home before traffic started up.” He rounded the front of his desk, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he leaned against it. 

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you back at the prison.” You nodded, not wanting to verbally accept the apology that was due to you hours ago. “I was out of line and completely blinded by the case. I should’ve listened to you and taken your reservations into consideration. It was narcissistic of me to think I was the only one capable of making the right decision.”

“Thank you.” You stuttered out, still absorbing the tone of his voice. His word choice was self deprecating, a cry for help if you didn’t know any better. 

“Y/n,” He started but was interrupted by a shaky breath. “I hate that I made you feel like all you’re good for is to romance your way into their heads. You deserve to be treated with respect, to be valued because of your empathy and your psychological understanding of victims and their families. If I’ve ever made you feel like you were worthless before this afternoon, please tell me.”

“No, you’ve never made me feel that way.” 

He nodded before turning to grab a piece of paper from his desk. 

“Good. Because I’ve written up a complaint for Strauss, describing my behavior and language directed toward you today. You shouldn’t have to wait for a next time to file it.”

He extended the paper to you, and you walked until you were standing in front of him, accepting the complaint into your hands. But you didn’t even read it before tearing it in two. 

“What are you doing?”

“Hotch, I’m not filing a complaint against you. Everything that I did today was my choice. You didn’t force me into anything.” 

He ran a hand through his hair, the first time you’ve seen it tousled in the office.  

“I was uncomfortable showing Arnold those pictures. So I made the choice to play a character, to appeal to his fantasy. You weren’t in the room, and you didn’t suggest that. If anything, you tried more than anything to get me to stick to the script. Did you have some choice words for me that weren’t necessarily appropriate? Yes. But we all have our moments. After we got out of there, I felt sick that I had to do that to get a name out of him. It wasn’t the first time I’ve camouflaged myself for the greater good, and it won’t be the last. I took out the self hatred I had on you, because you were there. Because if I did it your way, I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror again without feeling ashamed. But you didn’t deserve it.”

“Yes, I do. I deserve to be ridiculed for telling you that your empathy is a weakness. I deserve to be ridiculed for yelling at Garcia for missing something on a search. I deserve,” 

His voice broke, and you froze in place. You were about to see Aaron Hotchner cry for the first time in four years. “I deserve to be punished for Haley’s death.”

Your own eyes started to water as you saw a single tear roll down his cheek. Without thinking, you reached forward and held his hands in your own. They were shaking, and he tried to pull them away from you. But you held on tight, you weren’t going anywhere.

“Hotch, look at me.” He kept his gaze on the windows, looking out onto the concrete roof. 

“Hotch, please.” You were quieter the second time, and that’s what got him to meet your eyes. 

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you that you could’ve prevented Haley’s death if you did one thing instead of the other. Because no matter what you did, Foyet would’ve found her, and done this all over again.” He tried to look away from you, but you tugged on his hands, begging him to stay. “But what you did prevent, was Foyet taking away the greatest thing you and Haley ever made. You saved your son, Hotch. And you ended Foyet’s reign of terror. You get to spend every day reminding Jack how amazing his mother was. How strong, resilient, and fierce she was. How she looked death in the eye and didn’t even flinch. You get to live the rest of your life for your son.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, letting the few remaining tears fall down his face. You let your own fall with the reprieve of no longer being under his stare, not wanting to fall apart when he needed you.

“I love her. I never stopped loving her. The divorce, it wasn’t because of that. It was because of this job.” 

You squeezed his hands before letting them go, letting him wipe off his face. 

“I know. And I know she never stopped loving you.”

You never thought you would get to this moment when you first met Haley. You let out a small laugh while remembering your first encounter, how pregnant and angry she was at Hotch.

“What?” You smiled and shook your head. 

“I’m just remembering the first time I met her. She was pregnant, she called you a robot, and was cracking jokes left and right to try and get you to crack.”

That got him to smile. “I could always make her laugh when we were younger. She had the funniest, most embarrassing laugh. But it was Haley. And it was addicting.” 

You wanted him to remember her like this, with a smile on her face and the loving soul she was. 

“I truly am sorry for what I said to you, but you have to know I didn’t mean it.”

You nodded. “I know you didn’t. Just apologize to Garcia in the morning, and get home to Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He gave you a small smile as you picked up your backpack.

Spencer’s words stung in your ears while you were holding Hotch’s hands. You loved everyone on this team as your family. And Hotch needed you to be there for him a lot more over the last two months. Sure, you’d brushed off some harsh conversations with him considering the circumstances, but you knew when it went too far, like today.

“Y/n,” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, stopping you at the door. “Thank you.”

You nodded. “Of course.” 

Maybe you did care too much for people. But if it helped them get back to normal, you’ll continue wearing those rose colored glasses a little while longer.

***

March 2010

“I’m grocery shopping. Because I have no food in my apartment and I never thought I’d say this, but I’m sick of eating pizza.” You threw a box of cheerios in your cart, careful not to hit the eggs on their way in. 

“That’s how you’re spending your saturday? Our first saturday off in a month?” 

“Well, unless I want to spend another twenty bucks on one meal, I’ve gotta do my grown up chores.” “You need to get your butt back home so we can go out and drink.”

Emily was relentless, to say the least. Every single weekend you had off, her number popped up on your phone the minute you got home. She hated resting in her own solitude, and tried to drag you along for any activity she could think of. Shopping, drinking, walking around the national mall, and, in desperate cases, running. But her record wasn’t stellar in getting you to attend.

“I’m spending the afternoon with my couch, a book that has taken me too long to read, and probably eat an entire bag of smartfood.” You chucked a box of granola bars in your cart too when you heard a kid cry. You turned to the end of the aisle, but the parent was blocking the child. “Besides, it’s dinner tonight at Hotch’s.”

“He canceled this morning. Rossi was supposed to call and let you know.” You rolled your eyes. Of course Dave forgot. 

“Daddy! I want the poptarts!” You heard the kid yell out again. But you knew that voice, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Em, I’ll see you on Monday. Have a shot for me.” 

“I’ll have two.”

You laughed as you hung up the phone, pushing the cart over to your favorite little boy on the planet. You didn’t think to give the father another glance when you didn’t recognize him, but that’s because Aaron Hotchner is never without a suit at the office. He was dressed in jeans now and a quarter zip, looking like a normal dad.

When you approached the two boys, Jack was leaning against the shelf, tears streaming down his cheeks as he kicked his feet against the ground. 

“It looks like SSA Hotchner could use some help profiling his son.”

Hotch was quick to stand up, meeting your eye. You only smiled while crouching down to Jack’s level. 

“Hey little man, what’s the problem here?” He wiped the tears from his cheeks, and your heart broke at the redness in his eyes.

“Daddy won’t let me get any pop tarts.” 

“That’s because you ate the whole box in one day without my permission.” Aaron argued back. 

You hid your laugh in your shoulder, not wanting to upset Jack any more. But Hotch had already caused him to spiral into a meltdown again. 

“Jack, have you ever had ants on a log?” He shook his head, tears continuing down his chubby cheeks. “Well, they were my favorite snack when I was little. It’s celery, peanut butter, and raisins all set up on a plate. And the best part is, you get to make it yourself! Now, I know how much you love peanut butter, and I bet if you ate this snack, Daddy will let you get poptarts the next time you go grocery shopping.”

“Okay.” He said and nodded his little head. “But I’m sick of grocery shopping.”

“Me too buddy.” I sat down next to him. “I do not like having to walk up and down these aisles searching for food. So, why don’t we sit here while daddy finishes his list?”

You spared a glance at Hotch and his practically full basket. You knew he would be done in ten minutes if you stayed here with Jack. 

“Are you sure?” Aaron asked and you nodded. 

“‘Course. I don’t need food that bad anyway.” He sighed and made his way back to his carriage.

You pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of your purse and handed it to Jack. 

“Aunt Jessica told me that you know how to write your name now. Can you show me?”

He sat up straight, laying the paper down on the floor. You watched as he made a loopy uppercase J, followed with big and small letters to spell out the rest of his name. 

“That’s awesome buddy. What about your last name?” 

“Hotchner!” He yelled out and you laughed. 

“Yeah, let me spell it out for you.” You wrote it out on the paper and it took him a few minutes to copy down.

“You’re turn now, y/n.” He handed you the pen and you wrote your name down, saying the letters as you wrote them. Jack repeated you, and it made you laugh. You forgot that kids were such sponges. 

By the time you finished writing Aaron and Haley’s names for Jack, Hotch was back with his cart. “Alright buddy, it’s time for us to go. We gotta let y/n finish her grocery shopping.” 

“No! I want y/n to come home with us for dinner. She was helping me spell everyone's names!”

You smiled as you stood up, giving Jack a hand. “Maybe next time buddy. But you gotta get home to try those ants on a log.”

“Actually, we’re making pizzas for dinner, Jack’s saturday choice. You can come over, if you don’t have any plans already.” You’d never heard Hotch this nervous before. It made you laugh a little. 

“I’d love to. Only if I get to put extra cheese on my pizza though.” 

“Of course!” Jack exclaimed and you matched his smile. 

“Awesome! I’ll let you two pay for all this food and I’ll meet you at your house okay?” Jack nodded before running to the front of the cart.

“You sure you don’t have any plans? I don’t want you to give up another saturday night at my expense,” 

“Hotch there is nothing more exciting than spending my weekends with the cutest four year old on the planet.” He smiled, but you knew he still wasn’t convinced. “Besides, every other twenty-nine year old I know is in a stuffy club in uncomfortable clothes. This is much more my pace.”

He nodded, a small smile on his face. “Okay. We’ll meet you at the apartment in a half an hour.” 

“Sounds good. See you soon Jack!” You waved to the little boy and quickly tried to finish buying the staples that could get you through a few days at home. 

You got home and quickly put your food away, making sure everything that needed to be refrigerated was chilled. You switched your t-shirt for a long sleeve tee, opting for sneakers instead of boots. Comfort was the utmost importance on days off.

It took you twenty minutes to get to Hotch’s apartment from yours, arriving at five on the dot. You were known for, and proud of your punctuality. Hotch answered the door after two knocks, and you couldn’t help but focus on the noise of three different locks unlocking. 

He greeted you with a slight nod of the head, button down replacing his quarter zip. 

“Do you even own comfortable clothes?” “This is comfortable.” You rolled your eyes, as he took the poptarts from your hands, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Didn’t I just have this fight with my four year old son about not buying these?” He asked as he let you in the house. 

“Yes, but I’m the fun dinner guest. I bring the treats for the children.” 

He tried to hide the small huff of a laugh that escaped his lips, but you still caught it. “You will be the death of me.”

You let out a laugh as he led you into the kitchen, putting them away on the top cabinet. I reached for my hip and pulled my holster off, putting it on the counter. 

“Do you have somewhere I can put this? Last thing I need is to drop it while I throw up my pizza dough.” He unlocked the drawer in his desk, placing it in there before locking it back up.

You heard tiny footsteps running down the hall. “Y/n! It’s pizza time!” 

You smiled as he tugged at your legs. “I know! I’m so excited!”

“Alright buddy, you’re up first. Show y/n how we properly throw our pizza dough in the air.” Hotch pushed a step stool over to the counter, waiting for Jack to step up. The grin on the little boy's face was ginormous as he powdered his hands with flour, taking the small ball of dough Hotch separated for him.

The two of you were on either side of Jack, each ready to follow his lead in the process. “Ok, on the count of three. One, two, three!” 

You spun the dough in your hands before throwing it in the air, watching it separate the slightest bit. Jack’s giggles filled the apartment as he let his dough fall onto the counter. Aaron shook his head, you could tell this part of the meal was always a struggle for the little boy.

You watched as Jack spread out the miniscule amount of sauce he wanted along his crust, topping it off with a mountain of cheese. You taught him the more cheese, the better, and he clearly still believed you. You added some pepperoni to your own oval shaped pie, unsuccessful in making a perfect circle crust. But, not everyone could be the perfect Italian chef like David Rossi.

While the pizza’s were in the oven, the three of you sat down to play a few rounds of Candyland. You hadn’t played since your time at DCFS, and you forgot how there was no real objective to the game. It certainly wasn’t your game of choice, but Jack was still a little young to be able to contend with you in a game of monopoly. A few more years, you thought.

Once the pizza’s were done, Jack helped you set the table as Hotch cut the pies. You felt a little out of place, crossing some very important boundaries by having dinner with just the two Hotchner boys. This saturday was much different than the ones you spent when the whole team was over, Henry and Jack putting on dance parties for the guests. 

You started to become more aware of your actions around the apartment; how you knew where the placemats were kept, that Jack used his purple cup for milk at dinner, and the strict no electronics rule at the table. However, that had been established by Haley years ago. The thought of her had a shot of guilt running through your stomach, sitting down with her family for dinner, just three and a half months after she’d passed. 

You’d been thinking a lot about what Spencer had said that night at the BAU. He was vague, too vague for the doctor that could tell you how long he’d been alive down to the second. After a few sleepless nights, you called the doctor in question and demanded he explain himself. But after his admission, you quickly regretted having all the information.

Spencer Reid has known you for almost five years now, and has seen you through the moments that have shaped your adult life. Killing Stephanie Moore, testifying in the fisher king case, being your excusing phone call from multiple dates, and holding your hand as you took in one of your former foster siblings from a bad relationship. There was absolutely nothing in your life that could be hidden from him.

So when he told you he noticed your feelings for Hotch ‘about two years ago’, you nearly stopped dead in your pacing tracks. Not because you didn’t know your own feelings for the man, but because you didn’t realize it had been that long. That he had been married to Haley, albeit only for a month longer, that you started to notice how handsome your boss was. Upon hearing the truth out loud, and from another person, you ran to the bathroom and threw up a few times. 

You were so embarrassed, so ashamed of caring for someone that couldn’t be yours. For caring for someone who’s wife you truly adored. After the third round of puking, Spencer reassured you through the phone that it wasn’t your fault. We can’t control who we love. And yes, he said love.

“Are you okay y/n?” Jack’s little voice pulled you from your thoughts. You smiled at his sauce covered face and nodded. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. How’s your pizza, Jack?”

“Awesome! Daddy is the best pizza cooker ever!”

“You sure you’re okay? You look a little pale,” Aaron commented and referenced your plate. You hadn’t taken a bite. 

“I’m good, really. Just thinking about how I’m going to make a bigger lego tower than Jack after dinner.”

That got the little boy to laugh, successfully switching the conversation to Jack’s favorite toys. But you noticed the glaces Hotch snuck your way, not believing you for a second. You were an awful liar. 

The longer the three of you sat at the table, the larger your smile grew around these boys. Seeing Hotch being able to relax and really enjoy his time with Jack always brought a smile to your face. He was a natural father, sliding into the role of playmate and swaddler, cuddler and soother. You even remember him helping JJ out with Henry’s swaddle at work one day.

But you knew he felt guilty, not being able to be present in his son’s life everyday. You saw it in the hundred’s of views of the video of Jack’s first steps, the late night phone calls while away on a case just to say goodnight to his little boy. He missed out on a lot of the baby years, and he would be making it up to Jack for the rest of his life, with nights like these. With the whole weekend devoted to Jack Hotchner’s favorite things, minus the sugary pop tarts. Hotch had mastered the duality of being a Supervisory Special Agent for the FBI, and the loving father to Jack Hotchner. It was one of the reasons why you started caring so much for him. 

“Alright Jack, you can build one tower with y/n, then it’s bath time and off to bed.” You saw the pout on Jack’s face as Hotch cleared our plates, and you helped him off the chair. 

“Come on, maybe if we’re quick enough we can make two.”

He giggled as he led you to his room, stuffed animals and toys galore. This boy won’t want for a thing.

“Okay, you make a big blue one, I’ll do purple.” 

You finished much quicker than the four year old, but under no circumstances would he let you sit and watch him make his masterpiece. Instead, since you had nearly two and a half feet on him, you stacked your tower on top of his and continued adding pieces to make it bigger. He cheered you on as it started to reach your head, and you were getting excited yourself. Until, it came to a crashing fall with the last green piece on top. 

“Noo!” Jack yelled out, trying to catch the falling pieces. 

“It’s okay Buddy, you can always make another one.” Aaron’s voice trying to soothe his son caught both you and the little guy’s attention.

The two of you turned to see Hotch leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. You wondered how long he’d been standing there. 

“And maybe next time, we can make one as big as daddy.”

 Hotch let out a laugh as Jack smiled at you in amazement. He liked how your brain worked. 

“Bath time, bud. We gotta get your face cleaned up from all that pizza sauce, and ship you off to bed.” 

“But y/n’s here,” He whined, not wanting the lego fun to end.

“Well I have to get home and take a shower too, bud. Don’t worry, there’s plenty more playdates in your future.” You said and stood up, giving the little boy a high five. 

“Go wait for me in the bathroom okay, I’m gonna walk y/n out.” 

“Okay. Bye bobo.” He said and ran off to the bathroom, leaving you speechless in his bedroom. 

“You let him be around Derek Morgan way too much.”

“Probably. But you can’t compete with the guy who brings over a new lego set every weekend.” Hotch got your gun for you, walking you back to the front door. 

“Are you kidding? You’re his hero, Hotch. He asked me last week if I was a superhero like daddy.” He cracked a smile, but his eyes were glued to the floor, unable to meet your own.

“Why did you cancel dinner tonight?” He sighed and lifted his head. You’d been wanting to ask him since you were at the grocery store. The team had been coming over for three months now, and it was something we all started to look forward to.

“I was sick of feeling like a burden to you all. I mean, asking you all to give up your Saturday nights, sometimes our only free night of the week to spend in my depressing apartment, it had been enough.” If only you could show this man how much the team cared for him through your eyes, he would never doubt his worth another day in his life. 

“Hotch, the highlight of my week is coming here to be with you all. My family. Watching Henry and Jack play with each other, listening to Spencer and Penelope fight over who the true godparent is, and getting to be on the receiving end of Rossi’s awesome cooking?” 

He nodded, mumbling an ‘I know’ a few times under his breath. But he needed to know that as much as you all come here for Jack, you guys care for Aaron and his well being just as much. 

“I come here every saturday to make sure that Aaron Hotchner has not dressed in a suit for the sixth day in a row, and to make sure he knows that he’s doing such an amazing job with Jack. That he is being the best father, friend, and boss, that he can be.”

This time, his eyes were locked on yours as you got a real Aaron Hotchner smile out of him, dimples and all. You couldn’t help but make a check mark in the air, the team tally still going strong. He playfully rolled his eyes as you swung your bag across your shoulder. 

“So who’s in the lead now?” 

“Me, for the last six months. I can’t be dethroned.” You felt your cheeks grow warm, hoping he wouldn’t think too much into your stat keeping. 

“Well, that seems like a pretty accurate tally.”

You made sure it was. And selfishly, you hoped no one else could get that beautiful smile to cross his face like you could. 

“Thank you for coming over. We both had a lot of fun.” 

“I did too. I’m around anytime, my tower building skills are not occupied for many other people.” He let out a laugh as he opened the door for you.

“Goodnight y/n. Let me know when you get home.” 

“I will. Night, Hotch.”

You got home in twenty minutes, texting Aaron as you walked through your door. Quickly changing into pajamas and throwing Legally Blonde into the DVD player, your phone dinged at a new message.

It was from Hotch, a picture attached to the message. It was of Jack, towel wrapped around his head, eyes shut from grinning so wide. ‘He wanted me to send this to you. He said, ‘this is how happy I am that y/n was here tonight.’ Thanks again for everything. Goodnight.”

You couldn’t help the tears that pooled in your eyes at the sweet little boy in the picture, and his amazing dad behind the camera.

****

tags: @simplyprentiss @michaelahah @ssahotchner99 @svrgicalhands @hotchtopic @unionjackpillow @philcoolson @tommhollandzxhaz @kathleenjasmine @canimarrypizzaornah @reaperwalking @inlovewithaaronhotchner @shelbymm11 @mrshotchner23 @tropicalwrites

[soopersara]

Okay I have seen several people say that Bryan and Mike supported the original movie until after the backlash and was wondering if you knew of any sources on it?

Okay, I know you just saw some of the stuff I managed to dig up (or had friends find for me, thank you so much @lady-of-bath, you truly are the queen!), but since the internet has been blowing up over the announcement that Bryan and Mike are no longer working on the Netflix live action ATLA remake, I might as well throw this out in public too!

So, in the interest of being as objective as humanly possible, let me start off by saying that the internet being what it is, it’s hard to find sources of information about the creation of a 10-year old, widely panned movie. The fact that I can’t personally find it doesn’t mean that it isn’t out there, or that it wasn’t purged in the past 10 years. But, that said, I wound up with more than I expected. Brace yourselves 😉 (sources will be linked!)

So, back in 2008, both Bryan and Mike were very enthusiastic about the movie. And, in their own words, well... Bryan said:

The one thing we weren't joking about is that we really are helping on the movie quite a bit. Night has been very collaborative from the get-go, from the first time we ever met him. Very respectful of the project and of us. So we're helping out a lot on that.

They also did this interview with M. Night Shyamalan (posted in July 2009, though I’m not sure when it was filmed), in which it was confirmed that:

Bryan and Mike were actively working with M. Night

Bryan and Mike looked over M. Night’s script and approved of the changes 

Bryan and Mike were planning to be on set for filming

Based on the content of the video interview, it’s clear that casting wasn’t complete at the time the interview was filmed, though the initial cast was announced in December 2008, before the interview was posted. So it’s hard to say whether Bryan or Mike had strong feelings about the whitewashing of the cast at the time, but based on the fact that Mike said (6:05 in the video linked above), “Well, if you don’t find anyone for Aang, I’d like to suggest perhaps I could, y’know, maybe play him”, I don’t think whitewashing was high on their list of concerns at the time. I know it’s a joke. I know that. But given Bryke’s tendencies to make insensitive, or downright insulting jokes, then double down on them years later (Book 4: Air, and Bryan’s later repost of the video with the world’s most condescending caption (featuring a dictionary definition of the word “joke”), I’m looking at you) rather than admitting that they were in poor taste (and the fact that that adult Aang looks exactly like Mike with a jawline), I’m inclined to believe that they genuinely DID NOT CARE about the ethnicity of the actors cast at this point. And again, this interview came before the casting and before the associated backlash.

Now, admittedly, this is the last information I can find from Bryke relating to the live action movie before the movie’s release in 2010. And a lot can change in 2 years. According to this post, a lot did change, and not at M. Night’s request, though this is a secondary source of a now-deleted forum post, so the reliability of the information is anyone’s guess. But, that said, there was an active controversy surrounding the casting of the live action beginning in 2008 (taking the timeline from the wiki because I can’t find a semi-comprehensive rundown anywhere else). The movie was released in 2010. Plenty of people associated with the original series made their disapproval public. Bryke, though? The first time I can find them even referring to the live action disaster is in this interview from 2011:

Wall Street Journal: Have you heard anything about whether there will be a sequel to the "Last Airbender" live-action feature film? Michael DiMartino: Uh, no. It's definitely not up to us, so.

No mention of their opinion of the thing. And three years of silence doesn’t exactly equate to an endorsement of the movie, but uh... three years is a lot of time in which they could have made their opinions known, especially about the whitewashing, which was a widely-known problem. 

If they were truly concerned about representation, which seems to be the thing that a LOT of the internet is worried about after their exit from the Netflix live action, wouldn’t they have had something to say about it? Just asking. 

Oh, but they did... eventually. In 2013, 3 years after the movie’s release, and 5 years after they (to my knowledge) last expressed an opinion on the movie, Bryan made this post in response to criticism of the Kataang kids’ skin color in LOK. And he had this to say about the live action movie:

I prefer to stay out of this type of discourse on Tumblr and let the large body of work Mike and I have put out there over the years speak for itself (which obviously DOES NOT include the gross misinterpretations and misrepresentations of our work in this guy’s work). 

That’s as specific as it gets. Pretty passive-aggressive and open to interpretation if you ask me. The only reason you can tell that he’s actually referring to the live action movie is because in the original post, “this guy” links out to M. Night’s page, and the only reason you can tell that he’s referring to the whitewashing of the cast is because the post is a response to similar criticisms levelled against LOK. 

Then apparently there was an interview in 2014 that finally went more in depth on the subject of the live action, but the original was deleted, and the transcript I was able to locate is practically unreadable. No names attached to any of what was said, so I really couldn’t tell you who thought what about the movie, and honestly, if anyone can decipher this garbled mess, I salute you. It seriously looks like a cat walked across a keyboard for an hour while autocorrect went bananas. 

Ah, old internet drama. So hard to track down. 

Anyway, all of that is why the wiki summarizes the situation by saying:

Before the film's release, co-creators Bryan Konietzko and Mike DiMartino vocally supported the film, even appearing in an interview with M. Night Shyamalan. However, following the film's release and the negative reception it had received, the two remained quiet on the film, making only brief statements on it.

And that is why I’m laughing my butt off with every person I see lamenting Bryke’s exit from the Netflix live action. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have high hopes for the thing. Ideally, I’d like to see the whole thing cancelled, ATLA allowed to go down in history as a great show, and the creators to move on to new, unrelated projects (come on, dudes, you’ve gotta have at least one more original idea you could try instead of beating the ATLA universe into a bloody, unrecognizable pulp). And failing that, I’d like to see the show recreated faithfully, some plot threads in Book 3 tied a little tighter, and no canon romances with the possible exception of Suki/Sokka. But Bryke’s involvement was never a guarantee of quality. Sure, it might suck without them. But it could have sucked just as badly with them on board. Maybe now it will suck in new and unexpected ways!