#pretty sure women are having their first borns well into their 30's

[readingfolklore]

me: ok, i'm officially OVER having periods

mum: ha, good luck, you still have another 20+ years left and lEt'S nOt FoRgEt AbOuT mY gRaNdChIlDrEn 👁️👄👁️

[sapphire-weapon]

No, hold on, I'm actually mad about this now (again).

Like, I just want everyone to stop and think about how completely nonsensical this version of Leon that's being pushed actually is.

So, he's a blonde second-generation Italian guy (despite the fact that him being so aggressively American is a running gag in OG RE4) named Scott Kennedy (because that's not ridiculous on its face already. Also he spends literally every single moment of his adult life outside of RE4 making sure that his roots never show because ??) who is the most naive motherfucker on the planet going into RE2 despite the fact that he grew up in a mafia family. Said mafia family, by the way, was murdered by a rival gang, and the only memento Leon has of his late father is a Zippo lighter that he then, later, as an adult, got the RPD logo engraved on. Because fuck sentimental value, actually, I guess.

He hits on every pretty woman who crosses his path, except it's just a joke and for funsies and he doesn't actually sleep with any of them or even want to, and when he tells Shen May he wants to take her out and doesn't care that she has a boyfriend, that's completely innocent and in no way reflects badly on him as a complete and total scumbag. His arrested development at age 21 and his brain being frozen permanently in 1998 paired with his extreme loneliness caused by forced isolation are just accessories for window dressing, actually, and have absolutely no bearing on his personality because he's just a clueless well-meaning introvert at heart who accidentally stumbles on the scummiest shit to say to women sometimes, but it's ok because he's doing his best.

Also, despite being an obnoxious do-gooder and perfect student, he was late to his first day of work at the RPD because he irresponsibly got drunk over being dumped by a girl that is never mentioned or even alluded to at any point during his character arc.

But he's definitely not a slut.

Not only that, but he's said to be one of the smartest people in the cast ("practically a genius," Ada calls him in a report) and yet he hero worships and unconditionally trusts and respects the man who kidnapped him off the streets outside of Raccoon City and held a gun to his surrogate daughter's head and ruined both of their lives.

All of this makes sense. This is definitely 100% the true intended interpretation of Leon S. Kennedy and is in no way a bunch of bullshit slapped together with no evidence for it in canon.

This absolutely makes way more sense than the interpretation of:

Leon has no canonical backstory but is so aggressively American that it's a running gag in OG RE4 (he's literally called "The American pig" at one point), so chances are he had a really mundane upbringing by parents who are part of families that have been in this country for several generations past already. He was an honor roll student who got top marks in police academy and specifically chose to apply to and join a police force in a city that had a gruesome serial killer investigation on-going because he has something to prove.

(Also, he's only blonde in one singular title out of the ten that he's appeared in because his natural hair color is, in fact, actually brown.)

In his stubbornness, he pushes Claire away because he's still trying to prove something to everyone and also himself by insisting that he'll be fine taking care of Sherry on his own. This hubris born from insecurity bites him in the ass when he gets snatched off the street by faceless CIA goons and forced into being trained to and actually performing the government's dirty work.

His captivity, forced isolation, and personal failures in and just after Raccoon City have dealt a massive blow to his sense of self-worth and his self-image, creating a desperately lonely man who has the maturity of a 21 year old well into his late 20s and 30s. This causes him to pursue superficial, physical relationships with women, because he fears being vulnerable enough to actually open up to anyone emotionally. Unfortunately, all of these little details culminate in some self-sabotaging and scumbag behavior, up to and including being an outright homewrecker, unconcerned with whether a woman he's trying to fuck has a boyfriend or is married or whatever -- as evidenced by his interaction with Shen May.

His self-isolation and depression get even worse later in life when an outbreak occurs in Tall Oaks, and he's forced to shoot and kill one of the only people who's ever cared about him -- a military officer turned president whose goals and values align with Leon's own, and who genuinely values his company and expertise and takes his (Leon's) emotions and trauma seriously. Adam Benford can't undo the damage that was done by Leon's capture and forced servitude, because he can't go back in time and he wasn't even there when it happened, but he did give Leon hope for a brighter future.

^^^^^ THIS??? ^^^^^ is using information that is strictly found in the games and CGI movies -- and does not conveniently omit any other details about him (other than the whole Ada thing, but like -- that's irrelevant to the point I'm trying to make). It is the whole picture of Leon as the games paint him and nothing else. THIS is what the intended canon for him is.

NONE OF THAT OTHER BULLSHIT is in the games, because none of that other bullshit makes sense -- which should be really fucking evident to anyone paying attention, especially now that it's been written out in full.

[sea-dukes-assistant]

Since seeing your recent posts today about all this blatant lying about sea duke crap it reminded me that when I was reading a book last night which I believe was “The Royal Marriages” by lady Colin Campbell. (after some research I’ve done some people deem the author as reliable, some say she’s unreliable idk!). Either way she digs into the first 15 years of the marriage and she says how they were blissful until in 1952 when Princess Elizabeth became Queen and it put a strain on their marriage and parenting life because of the long hours, work, stress, grief, and how everyone who was around them was literally pushing sea duke away and treating him badly and QEII couldn’t do much about it. Anyways the author basically alluded to the fact that from like 1952 to about the early/mid 60’s (even when Andrew and Edward were born) that there was absolutely *no* romance left in the marriage and that they were practically separated in every way except publicly but obviously couldn’t divorce. She also stated that although there was no solid concrete evidence for anything happening physically (Although there were always rumors even about certain kids being his) that at the very least sea duke was basically having flirtatious affairs to have control over one part of his life and to prove to himself that he still had his manhood and that the queen found out about all of it over time through the grape vine, confronted him, sea duke denied all claims, assures her that he’s been faithful to her etc etc. (because in all technicality he had been). My personal problem with all of this is I don’t believe for a second that from 1952 to 1959 (Andrews Conception) that they were never physically intimate or romantic. You just can’t make me believe that. There is videos from that time period of him and her both giving each other the most adoring look in public. Not to mention there is accounts from people who were around them in the 50’s and 60’s giving anecdotes about sweet stuff they said to each other, how they behaved with each other and all that. Do I believe they absolutely could have had a strained relationship for a while in the 50’s? Sure. Did they probably have some tense arguments like most relationships? Sure. Did they have ups and downs? Sure. However do I believe that for upwards of 15 years and even after that they just didn’t like each other or were never romantic? Absolutely not. Do I think sea duke is a certified slut by nature? Sure. Do I think he was an certified slut in practice and was stepping out on the queen? No! If anything I think he was just very flirtatious and got a rise out of having conversation with pretty girls, and very well was maybe was missing that for a period of time in his marriage. Sorry for the long ask but thoughts on this?

First, I'd like to say how refreshing it is to finally have a nuanced perspective; I'm tired of being the only one!

More than one book I've read about him does go into his Big Dick Energy (dubbed "phallic swagger)." Sir just...*gasp* likes women? Not in the sense of pursuing sexytimes, but yes, that's exactly it; he is a flirt and he genuinely enjoys the attention he gets from them (I do too, but mostly because I'm under 6' and not "hot" so this sort of attention is alien to me).

But yeah, I agree with you, abso-fucking-lutely. It would be more concerning if there wasn't stress in their relationship during the first years of her queening. That's a hell of an adjustment to make in such a short amount of time. She hadn't even hit 30, and Sir had just earned command of his own ship.

I mean fuck sake just read the excerpts of letter he's written that are available. My man has been through Some Shit and literally said that his wife has been the only "absolutely real" thing to happen to him. Like, all that instability he'd dealt with in his childhood and now he's finally got a home (literally and metaphorically) and a family of his own, and some people think he just gonna say "fuck that" just for some instant poon-tang with the first society girl/celebrity who says "hi" to him?

I think it's shitty the rumors/badly written fanfic disguised as journalism had outlived them. A lot of this is due to the Baltimore Sun spreading that rumor of a "royal rift" during Sea Duke's 1956-57 solo tour (CDR Parker's literal fuck fuck games did not help), because "omg why is he away from her for so long" like this man had never been away from his wife while being officer as fuck in the Royal Navy. Why the fuck, after having stacked bodies in the war, and been stationed in other parts of the UK and world, is him being on "civilian deployment" suddenly the end of the marriage?

Me, an actual Sailor:

In conclusion, Sea Duke has Big Dick Energy and him being, *snicker*, "a certified slut by nature" gives me life (and erections).

[wickedpact]

dear tumblr user crim wickedpact pls write the essay/dissertation about nicky being shakespeare's fair youth (if you have time, ofc!!)

Not To Imply Nicky Was Shakespeare’s Fair Youth But Ive Read The Fair Youth Sonnets & Nicky Was Definitely Shakespeare’s Fair Youth, an essay by me, tumblr user crim wickedpact

background knowledge: our man shakespeare wrote some 120 sonnets about a young man referred to as the Fair Youth during the mid 1590s; there has been some debate among shakespeare enthusiasts whether shakespeare’s interest in the Fair Youth was platonic or romantic (but like. they were definitely romantic). no one knows for sure who the Fair Youth was, but it was definitely nicky and my first and most important piece of evidence regarding this hypothesis is the ‘lmao babe do you remember that guy who had a crush on me?’/ ‘i try not to remember the guy who had a crush on you’ look joe and nicky exchange when Merrick brings up shakespeare during the movie. especially since gina confirmed in a tweet that joe and nicky canonly did know shakespeare

my second piece of evidence is that it just Works (except for a couple small facts like.. the Fair Youth was prolly closer to his 20s than his 30s. and the fact that shakespeare implies that the Fair Youth slept with his mistress at one point. but he doesnt know what hes talking about shhh we IGNORE)

long post under cut

A. The Description Matches

when describing the Fair Youth (who I’ll call the FY from now on), shakespeare says he has a ‘gold complexion’ and ‘beautiful eyes’ and compares him to a ‘summer’s day’. He says the FY has “A woman’s gentle heart" and “An eye more bright than [women’s are], (...) Gilding the object whereupon [they] gazeth”

As much as shakespeare’s perceptions of sexuality and gender are very........  late 1500′s (whoo boy sonnet #20 is a wild ride) ...... the description does match, and also:

  B. The Fair Youth Refused to Get Married

it’s never really said why one way or another (shakespeare assumes it’s because the FY is selfish) but the FY didn’t/wouldn’t take on a wife and have a kid, and this was something that was a real sticker for our man Willy S. because, as he says in his sonnets a million times: beauty doesn’t last forever, but having a child not only passes down the FY’s beauty, but also blesses the woman the FY would have a child with (im not saying shakespeare wanted to bear the FY’s children, but he definitely did)

Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. For where is she so fair whose uneared womb Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?

(ie. If you don’t renew yourself/ have children, you deprive the world and deprive a woman from having your child, since what woman out there is so beautiful that she wouldn’t want to bear your child?)

Like.

1.) if nicky is the FY then so many of these poems center around the idea of nicky growing old sometime soon and that must have been pretty funny to Nicky and

2.)  the fact that shakespeare would have been So Desperate for nicky to find a wife must have been the opposite of funny to joe. considering the ease of his and nicky’s relationship and the fact that being gay in late 1500s england was probably not a walk in the park, it is very likely shakespeare wouldn’t have known they were in a committed relationship-- or at least not known how close they actually were. Thus:

  C. The Rival (aka. Joe)

shakespeare mentions having a poetic rival in regards to the FY in several sonnets. In sonnet #21 he talks about how he’s not like Those Other Writers who use grand metaphors to talk about their muses

So is it not with me as with that Muse, Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven itself for ornament doth use And every fair with his fair doth rehearse, Making a couplement of proud compare With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems, With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare,

(ie. I’m not like other poets who, when inspired by a ‘painted beauty’ use heaven and every other beautiful thing on the planet to make a grand comparison to their muse: he specifically lists the sun and moon as examples as well as other beautiful things)

He then goes on to say

And then believe me, my love is as fair As any mother's child, though not so bright As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air:

(ie. my love [the FY] is as beautiful as any other beautiful person, though I wouldn’t compare them to the stars/heavens (which is what he means by the 'gold candles’. those are stars.))

So shakespeare insults poets who compare their subjects to the sun, moon, and stars (amongst other things) and in the comics, Joe does literally exactly that

That man is the stars in my sky, and the sun that lights my days. That man is the moon when I'm lost in darkness, and warmth when I shiver in cold.

shakespeare also goes on to say in the same sonnet “Let them say more that like of hearsay well / I will not praise that purpose not to sell” which is to say ‘let people who like that kind of language use it, I wont because I don’t want anyone else to have the subject of my affections (the FY)’.

(which is a bit of a contradiction regarding his feelings abt the FY getting married, but these sonnets are full of contradictions. shakespeare was a confused dude; man spent the first 100 or so sonnets convinced the FY loved him back only for him to start wondering if the FY ever loved him near the end)

(not to mention Marriage For Love wasnt really.. much of a thing in Ye Olden Times but thats a different conversation. so shakespeare prolly didnt associate marriage with love/competition? anyways)

Shakesy-boo goes on to complain about this rival several times. In #79, he says

Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent He robs thee of, and pays it thee again. He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word From thy behaviour; beauty doth he give, And found it in thy cheek: he can afford No praise to thee, but what in thee doth live.

(ie. everything ‘your poet’ (as the FY apparently favored this unnamed rival) says about you, he takes it from you in the first place. he talks about your virtue, but learned the word from watching your behavior. he calls you beautiful but only discovered beauty by looking at your face. every compliment he gives you he took from you in the first place)

[and, as a smaller example, he also bemoans the fact that people want to paint the FY in #67, saying, “Why should false painting imitate his cheek, / And steal dead seeming of his living hue?”. and yknow. Joe’s an artist.]

And then another example in #86

Was it the proud full sail of [the rival’s] great verse, Bound for the prize of all too precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?

Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?

(ie. he’s talking about how he’s having difficulty writing abt the FY and is rhetorically asking if ‘the proud sail’ of the rival’s verses was the reason his ‘ripe thoughts’ were killed in their ‘womb’. He then asks (again rhetorically) if it was the rival’s ‘spirit’ (or creativity, maybe) ‘’’‘by spirits taught to write’’’’ that killed his own drive to write. none of the analyses I’ve read really explain what shakespeare means by ‘spirits taught to write’, other than maybe being a joke or reference to something we dont know, but... ‘taught by dead people to write in a way mortal people can’t’ very much sounds like a description of an immortal poet, eh?)

Which brings me to,

  D. Willy Boy Thinks There Are 500 Year Old Writings About the Fair Youth

shakespeare talks about people having written about the FY ‘500 years ago’ from the late 1500s in #59 which......................... would have been around 1100 AD. :thinking face:

Oh that record could with a backward look, Even of five hundred courses of the sun, Show me your image in some antique book, Since mind at first in character was done, That I might see what the old world could say To this composed wonder of your frame;

(ie. Oh if I could look back 500 years and see how you were described in some old books so I could see/reference what people used to write about you)

Which again brings me to,

  E. I’m Not Saying shakespeare Stole From Joe, But:

1.) In #22, shakespeare says this,

For all that beauty that doth cover thee, Is but the seemly raiment of my heart, Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me: 

(ie, your beauty is due to the ‘clothes’ my heart gives you-- probably means something like ‘you’re beautiful because i love you’. goes on to say his heart lives in the FY’s chest, and the FY’s heart lives in shakespeare’s chest)

so: shakespeare tells the FY he has shakespeare’s heart. in comparison, Joe calls nicky ‘my heart’ in the comics...... :thinking face x2:

2.) In #109, shakespeare tells the FY ‘thou art my all’,

For nothing this wide universe I call, Save thou, my rose, in it thou art my all.

which rings similar to Joe’s ‘he’s all and he’s more’ as well as (from the comics) ‘he is my everything’

and just saying. joe looks pretty #done the mention of shakespeare.

  F. The last One

Despite shakespeare writing 30+ poems about the FY eventually growing old, the very last poem he writes about/for the FY says,

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle hour; Who hast by waning grown, and therein showest Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self growest. 

(ie. you [the FY] have power over the ‘mirror’ (fickle glass) of time as well as time’s ‘harvesting’ ability (sickle hour) and as you grow older, you remain beautiful while your lovers [shakespeare] wither and grow old)

The transition from ‘get married and have a baby before you get old!!!!’ in #1-20 to talking about the FY’s presence in 500 y/o books in #59 to admitting the FY isn’t growing old in #126 kinda seems to imply shakespeare learning of/about nicky’s immortality at some point, and this last poem is him accepting it.

TLDR: not only does it make perfect sense if nicky was the Fair Youth from the FY sonnets, but it also makes perfect sense if joe was the Rival from the FY sonnets. its canon nothing will convince me otherwise

[ssa-babygirl]

Out of My League [Part 3]

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Single mom!Reader

Word count: ~4.5k 

Summary: Nothing brings two friends together like a bit of grief with a side of daddy issues. (Mixed POV, includes flashbacks)

Warning(s): As the summary states, angst, grief and daddy issues, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of cancer, a few swear words, i think that’s it??? i use the word “smile” like 138407894 times i’m so sorry i hate noticing my crutch words

Author’s Note: I am SO sorry how long this took I honestly have no excuse, this chapter isn’t even that great but this is only two thirds of what I actually intended this part to be so GUESS WHAT I SPLIT IT UP!!!! the next part shouldn’t take too long (I say that but watch it’s gonna take like another year) and it’s gonna be super fluffy so DON’T Y’ALL WORRY IT’S GONNA BE FLUFF CENTRAL FOR THE NEXT COUPLE OF CHAPTERS

[Previous Part] [Series Masterlist]

WASHINGTON D.C., 2007

(Reader POV)

You had only been to D.C. a few times before to visit your dad, normally under happier circumstances, such as him getting sworn in for another term, but this time was not the case. You got the phone call from your mother the evening before when you quickly packed yours and Jamie’s bags for the flight that left later that night. The few hours you had spent in D.C. already felt like long days. You were physically and emotionally exhausted. Jamie had never been on a plane before and was grappling with the effects of jet lag.

You needed a bit of a pick-me-up yourself, so you ran over to a coffee shop for a bit of a change of scenery. It was about eight o'clock in the morning when you heard your name being called, but not by the barista making your drinks, but by a familiar voice that you had only heard over the phone for a couple of months since his last visit home. You turned around to face the source and locked eyes with Spencer.

“Hey!” You smiled, trying your best to not look like you had just had the longest 24 hours of your life.

“What are you doing here? Why didn’t you say you were gonna be in town?”

“I didn’t know I was gonna be in town until last night!” Spencer could see right through you. He pursed his lips, not asking what was wrong yet, but still opting to check-in and make sure you’re okay.

“How are you feeling? Jet lagged?”

“Some profiler.” Your chuckle came out more annoyed than you would have liked it to. 

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, just getting some coffee--”

“No, like, are you okay?” He knew something was wrong, he wasn’t stupid, quite the opposite, by a long shot.

“I’m fine, Spence,” you lied through your teeth.

“Then who isn’t?” Panic and worry flashed across his face, “Is Jamie okay?

“Yes! He’s fine!” You couldn’t help but smile at the relief Spencer displayed that your son was safe and well, his hand coming up to rest over his heart. You hesitated for a second before giving in and telling him why you seemed so off, “My dad’s sick in the hospital.”

“Oh! Do they know what’s wrong with him?”

“Yep. Stage 4 lung cancer.” Your dad had been a smoker for most of your life. He tried to quit after Jamie was born, but the damage had already been done.

Spencer looked genuinely heartbroken as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to think of what to say next “Do you know how much time he has?”

“Couple of weeks if we’re lucky.”

His eyebrow furrowed and his golden eyes softened to an impossible degree, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. This wasn’t sudden, we’ve been expecting it, but when the doctor says eight to twelve months, and you get through month eight, you start hoping it’s gonna be twelve.”

“Are you going back to the hospital now?”

“Yeah-”

“I’ll come with you!”

“Don’t you have work?”

“I don’t have to be there for another hour and,” he checks his watch, which was pulled over the sleeve of his dark gray cardigan, “fifty-six minutes.”

“The hospital’s out of the way and you hate being late.”

“I hate the thought of you going through this alone even more.” You tried to ignore the warm and fuzzy feeling that gave you but ultimately failed. Those big brown eyes refused to stop studying your face, analyzing any signs that you needed him, which to be fair, you did.

“I’m not alone, I got Jamie and my mom.”

“Even more the reason for me to want to go with you.” He finally dropped the solemn frown and took up a bright smile instead. You swore his grin was contagious because, by the time you both got your coffees, you were smiling just as wide.

You drove back to the hospital in comfortable silence. Walking back to your father’s room felt easier with him by your side. Jamie looked up from his drawing as he saw you approach, beaming at you and his favorite federal agent.

“Doctor Spencer!” He came running up to him and hugging his legs.

“Hey, little man!” Spencer ruffled his hair and grinned down at the tiny human squeezing his arms around his thigh.

Your mother looked up from her book, “Doctor? Spencer? Wait. As in…”

“Yeah, mom.”

She stands and wraps him in a hug, “Oh my goodness, sweetheart, you got so big! You’re all grown up! Oh, and you’re cute, too!” She pinched his now pink cheek as his face twisted into a bashful smile, “Right, Y/N? Spencer got cute!”

Now you were blushing a little.

Why am I blushing? I don’t blush over Spencer!

You pursed your lips and looked him up and down. His striped tie was crooked under his cardigan. His long hair was a bit shaggy, as if he rolled out of bed, showered, and decided to go to work. You just laughed nervously as you met Spencer’s eyes. God, those eyes. “Yeah… I’d say so.”

“You definitely grew into your looks. Honey, this is Spencer. Remember the boy that used to tutor Y/N?”

“Oh, nice to finally meet you, son, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Your father shifted in his bed, managing to sit up slightly.

“You too, sir, I just wish it could have been under better circumstances.”

“Don’t give me any of that ‘sir’ crap, I got enough of that working on the Hill,” your father chuckled but his hearty laugh quickly devolved into a coughing fit. Your mother sat back down on the bed next to him and fed him some ice chips to keep him hydrated.

“So, Spencer, Y/N says you work for the FBI now?” She turns her attention away from her husband and forces a smile.

“Yes! I do.”

You took a seat and sipped your coffee, “He was on the team that helped save Jamie, remember?”

“What division are you in?” Your dad asked.

“The Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“I got some buddies in the bureau, who’s your supervisor?”

“Aaron Hotchner?”

“Oh, I knew him in his prosecutor days. Helluva lawyer, he got some of my clients put away.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be, they were guilty, weren’t they?”

Spencer’s phone rang in his pocket, “Speaking of which, I have to go. Got a case.”

“Go! Don’t be late!”

“Go catch the bad guy, Doctor Spencer!”

“Will do, Jamie.” He ruffled his hair before turning to your parents, “Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. L/N, it was great seeing you.”

“Bye, sweetheart, don’t be a stranger!”

“I’ll walk you out, return the favor.” You walked quietly with him.

“Listen, I don’t know when I’ll be home from this, but I’ll let you know when I get back, and if you’re still here just give me a call, okay?”

“Of course, Spence. Now go catch the bad guy!” You grinned as you parroted your son’s words. He returned your smile and pulled you into a hug. You could feel tears brimming in your eyes, but you fought it off best you could. Spencer could still sense your pain and hugged you as tight as possible. You were the one to pull away first, patting his back and forcing your pursed lips into a smile. His phone started to ring shortly after.

“Don’t let me keep you.”

            (Spencer’s POV)

The case went on for too long. Two whole weeks passed before we were able to come home from Minneapolis. A man was strangling women with short black hair between the ages 30-40 because they reminded him of his mother, it’s standard stuff, it should have been a pretty cut and dry case, but the guy was almost impossible to find, he was completely off the grid. It took Garcia days to just get us a name, let alone contact information. He killed two other women while we were there. One of them was a mother, she had three kids all under the age of 10. Cases like these were always tough, but Gideon had seen enough to talk us all through it. I still wasn’t used to him being gone.

I couldn’t get any sleep on the jet. The nightmares have been coming back with a vengeance since Gideon left. He was like a father to me, my protector, my mentor, and now I have no one.

That’s hyperbolic; I do have the team, and they miss him too, but I’m pretty much alone out on the field. I know I can go to them, but it doesn’t feel right. I don’t like to rely on others because when they leave, I’m by myself.

Which is exactly why I am the only one awake on the jet home.

I suppose I wasn’t totally alone, I could call Y/N, but I wouldn’t wanna bother her if she was with her family. She only has so much time left with her dad. I took my phone out of my pocket anyway and saw a missed call from her last night, I hadn’t seen it before because of the case. If she wanted to talk she probably needed to, right?

I mulled it over in my head, and before I could even come to a decision, my fingers worked on autopilot, dialing the same number I had memorized years ago, and hit call.

Las Vegas, 1994

I picked up the book from the top of the pile she set down on the counter, “You’re reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

“Yeah, for class.”

“If you need any help with that, my mother was a classics professor, I’ve read most of Shakespeare’s works.”

“Really? That’s cool. I’ve read the basics in other classes, Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, Macbeth, all that, but this one is definitely my favorite so far.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I don’t know why, but the idea of falling in love with the wrong person just sorta… I dunno… resonates, I guess.”

“Yeah, same here.”

She snorted, “You’re like 12, how would you know about that?”

I bit my lip before explaining, “Reminds me of my parents. They loved each other at one point, obviously, but not enough to stop my dad from leaving us.”

She cringed to herself as if she realized some horrible mistake, “Jeez, I’m sorry, man.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“How long ago did he leave?”

“Two years ago.”

“So it’s just been you and your mom?”

“Yeah.”

She stared at the pencil as she twisted it in between her fingers. Her eyes refused to meet mine. “My dad has worked in D.C. pretty much my whole life, and a lot of the time it was just my mom and me. He was always home for Christmas and birthdays, he came to all my recitals as a kid, but he was gone the rest of the year. I see him maybe… fifteen days out of the year?”

She finally looked up, if only for a second. Seeing her eyes, at last, I took note of the sadness behind them, “Which is fine, it’s better than nothing, but I don’t really have a dad the other 350 days of the year, you know? I could call him, but I don’t, it’s always ‘Sorry sweetheart, I’m a bit busy right now.’”

“Yeah, my dad was always too busy too.”

“I know our situations are still really different, and you probably already know this after two years, but it does get easier.”

Present Day

(Reader POV)

You click the button to answer the call, “Spencer?”

“Hey! We’re landing soon, you still in D.C.?” His voice is scratchy like he had just woken up, or like he hadn’t spoken to anyone in a couple of hours.

“Y-yeah! I’m still staying with my mom.”

“How’s your dad?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to, your silence answered his question well enough.

“Oh, shit…” Spencer groaned, “God, Y/N, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be, you didn’t know.”

“How long ago?”

“Last week, the funeral was yesterday.” You could hear him grimace over the phone.

“Y/N I am… so sorry I couldn’t be there for you—”

“Don’t be! You had to work, it’s okay, Spencer.”

“I should have called sooner.”

You almost laughed at his tone, “Spencer, you were catching a serial killer, it’s not your responsibility to make sure I’m okay.”

“I know, but—”

“But nothing. I’m fine.”

“How’s Jamie, god, how’s your mother?”

“She’s holding up. I’m helping her out for a while, I don’t want her to be in this house alone.” You decided to leave out the part about you putting a downpayment on an apartment a couple of blocks away from your mother’s house for now.

“How’s Jamie doing?” He asked with perfect timing as Jamie flopped onto the couch behind you.

“Wanna talk to him? He’s right here.”

“Can I? Please?”

“Jamie, baby, wanna talk to Doctor Spencer?” He didn’t even say yes before he leaped up from his seat and grabbed the phone from your hand.

“Hi, Doc!”

“Hey, little man! How’s it going? How are you?” You could still hear his excited voice even though it was nowhere near your ear anymore. It brought a smile to your face as you saw Jamie light up at the sound of your friend on the other side of the call.

“I’m okay. Did you catch the bad guy?”

“Yes, Jamie, we got him. How’s your mom?”

“She’s saying she’s fine, but she’s still really sad.”

“Well, can you put her back on with me?” Jamie hands the phone back to you and runs off to return to his coloring book and crayons.

You sighed before putting the phone back to your ear, “Don’t worry about me, Spence—”

“Come to the BAU.”

He said the words so fast you almost needed him to repeat it, “What?”

“I mean it, I’ll call you when we land, come visit. Bring Jamie and your mom.”

“Won’t you have a ton of work to do when you land?”

“I couldn’t sleep, I did all my paperwork on the jet.”

“Spencer—”

“Please. I need to see you guys.” He was practically begging. It tugged at your heart in a familiar way, but there was a pit in your stomach that you couldn’t place.

“What happened on the case?”

He sighed, “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Just come in like, an hour.”

You tried to lighten the mood just a little bit, “My mom’s been obsessively baking, want us to bring you your favorite?”

“Did she make her famous oatmeal cookies?” You could almost see his face and the way his brown eyes lit up, even while he was on a plane hours away.

The image brought a soft smile to your face and sparked a tiny bit of light in your heart, “Yep!”

“Y/N L/N, if you bring me some, I will be forever indebted to you.”

“You owe me nothing, Doctor Reid.”

               Security waved you through to the elevator, Spencer had cleared you for entry already. One guard hit the button for the sixth floor and sent you up, one hand holding Jamie’s and the other holding a Tupperware of your mom’s cookies. When the doors opened, you saw the entrance to the bullpen, desks filled with paperwork, and busy agents trying to get it all done. As the three of you crept through the hall to the glass doors, your eyes locked onto Spencer, who was sprawled out in his office chair with a thick book, legs propped up on his desk, and glasses balanced on the ridge of his nose.

“Hi! Who are you here to see?” A chipper blonde with purple cat eyeglasses and curly ponytails waved at you from down the hall.

“Spencer Reid?”

“Oh! He mentioned he’d have visitors, you must be Y/N! I’m Penelope.”

“That’s a pretty name!” Jamie beamed up to the woman, who clutched a hand over her heart and returned his smile.

“Oh! Thank you, sweetheart! What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Jamie!”

“Oh you are just precious, he is precious, Y/N, good kid.”

You laughed at the pair’s enthusiasm, “Thank you, can we just go straight in?”

“Yep! Go ahead!”

You walked up to his desk and placed the cookies next to his computer, pulling his attention away from his book. He turned to look up at you, closing the book and throwing it where his feet rested before he jumped up to wrap his arms around you. Jamie hugged his leg and your mother pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Hey, how are you guys doing?”

“Spencer, we’re fine.”

He didn’t say anything, just examined your face for any sign of a lie. The frustration on his face said he didn’t find one.

“Stop profiling me, I’m okay.”

“Mommy, can I have a cookie now?” Jamie eyed the container like a hawk; he shared Spencer’s love of oatmeal cookies, especially from your mom.

“Right! You brought your cookies, thank you so much, Mrs. L/N.”

“You’re not a kid anymore, honey, you can call me by my first name.”

“No, I absolutely cannot,” he laughed.

“Y/N?”

You turned around and saw the woman who hugged you while you cried when you thought your son was gone: JJ.

“Hi! Good to see you again!” You brought her in for a hug while Spencer continued to catch up with Jamie and your mom.

“You too! Jamie got so big!” 

“Yeah, he’s starting 3rd grade soon!” You reached around to ruffle Jamie’s hair.

“When does he start?”

“A few weeks! We gotta go back to school shopping!”

“Ooh, that’s exciting! So you’re heading home soon?”

“Um…” You glanced at Spencer and your mom, who was pestering him about whether or not he had a girlfriend, “Actually, I just thought it would be best for us to stay close to my mom. Jamie likes it here, so we’re actually going to be moving here before school starts.”

“A new school! Are you excited, Jamie?”

“Yeah!”

Spencer, still a blushing mess thanks to your mother’s nosiness, sputtered out “Uh… Excited for what?”

“To move to D.C.!” You raised your hands in a little “Surprise!” motion.

“W-what?” He couldn’t stop himself from looking delighted even if he tried.

“We’re moving here to stay close to my mom.”

“She’s been such a good help,” she gestured to the cookies, half gone over the course of the conversation, “I’m not really ready to give her up just yet.”

“Spence, you should show her around!” JJ’s face had an unreadable look, but I guess that’s what profilers are for “Take her sightseeing. Jamie, have you been to the Washington Monument yet?”

“Nope! Doctor Spencer, can you take us?”

“Sure, little man, you want your mom and grandma to come with?”

“Yes!”

Spencer grinned at him, ruffling his curls before smiling at you. His eyes were scrunched into thin lines from his cheeks, but there was still something behind them. Something you couldn’t quite read. His smile softened slightly and you finally got a clear view of his hazel eyes. His lips parted like he was about to say something, but Jamie cut him off again.

“Ooh! Ooh! Can we go to the Smithsonian?”

“Oh, honey, you’re gonna wish you didn’t say that,” JJ joked.

“The kid knows everything, you’ll be there for hours,” a deep voice said behind you.

“Morgan!” You smiled and stretched your arms out to hug him.

“Good to see you again, Y/N.”

When you turned back to Spencer, his warm grin was gone, replaced by a glare directed at Morgan. Had something happened with them? Last you heard they were best friends. Maybe that’s what happened on the case? Maybe that’s why he was so upset on the phone? Whatever it was had to be bad because he barely spoke for the rest of the visit.

               A few weeks later, after you were all moved into your new apartment and Jamie was settled into his new school, you called Spencer. He owed you a trip to the Washington Monument. On your little day trip, there was no such thing as silence. Even in the quiet museum, Spencer’s voice filled the air, spewing facts about the monument, the memorial, the exhibits, and everything in between. Jamie loved to learn, so he hung onto every word that he heard.

“Plans for the monument’s development actually started in 1783, before Washington was even elected president. D.C. wasn’t even the capital of the country yet. Washington was actually against the monument because he didn’t want to use public funds for it, but after his death, Congress wanted to build him a mausoleum--”

You didn’t mind the rants. You still loved to listen to him ramble. Even if you didn’t understand what he was talking about sometimes, the sound of his voice was just soothing, especially after the stress of moving across the country. 

Jamie got tired after walking around all day after the tour of the National Museum of Natural History and the Washington Monument, so your mom offered to take him home. You planted a kiss to his forehead and ruffled his hair, hugging your mom goodbye as Spencer high fived him and waved as they went off in the direction of home.

“You know, you didn’t have to stay with me. If you wanna go home too, you can.”

“No. I wanna stay with you.”

A small smile crept across his lips, blush rising to his cheeks. He bit his lips and looked down at his feet as he started walking off to the next stop on his little tour.

“Where to now, Doc?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Come on, tell me, tell me!”

“No, ‘cuz then it’s not a surprise!”

“I’m aware of the definition of surprise, you don’t need to have an eidetic memory to know that.” You would just have to rely on your less refined profiling skills to figure out where you were going. You were on foot, so it couldn’t be too far. 

“Why aren’t we taking a cab?”

“Because I wanna walk with you.”

Just hail a cab, it takes way less time than--

Oh.

You walked side by side for the remainder of the distance. He did most of the talking, telling you stories about the team. You took notice of the softness in his voice when he talked about Morgan. He wasn’t bitter anymore. 

“--And then Garcia answered the phone.”

“Oh, god, what’d she say?”

“‘Talk dirty to me.’”

“No!”

“Yep!”

“She said that to your boss.”

“Morgan was mortified, you should have seen his face.”

You looked at him while he grinned at the memory. It was the most at peace you’d seen him in… well, a while.

“So… you guys are cool now?”

The peace was replaced with confusion, “What do you mean?”

Your pace faltered, but you kept walking, “Didn’t you guys…? Weren’t you fighting?”

“No? Why would you think that?”

You pursed your lips and furrowed your brows, “No reason.”

Why else would he have been mad at Morgan when I went to visit? You thought, There’s no other reason! Unless… 

Oh--

“We’re here!” Spencer stopped in his tracks, looking up at a large white structure with tall windows and stone carvings decorating the walls. You turned and saw the sign out front that read: “Folger Shakespeare Library.”

“Spencer…” You gaped at the sign, a small, awe-filled smile tugging at your lips.

“I remembered how much you loved Shakespeare in school, I thought you’d get a kick out of this.”

“Spencer, this is… This is wonderful!”

“Good surprise?”

“Great surprise!”

You grabbed him by the arm and tugged him up the front steps as he digs through his pockets for his wallet. Once inside, he bought two tickets for the next show: Midsummer Night’s Dream. Your favorite. It didn’t start for another half hour, so he led you to the reading room.

The room was beautiful, to put it lightly. Three ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The furniture and accents were all done in a dark wood, shelves packed tightly with books. The setting sun shone through the breathtaking stained glass windows. An unlit fireplace rested against the wall. Spencer led you up to the second level, a balcony wrapping around the border of the room. 

“Thank you for today,” you beamed, “I haven’t seen Jamie that happy since…”

“I know the feeling. I haven’t felt this okay since…” His gaze dropped to his feet, trying to swallow the words that came out too soon.

“Since what?”

“Since uh...” He glanced back up to your face, “Since Gideon left the team.”

Spencer never told you he left. Agent Gideon kept tabs on Jamie after his rescue. For the last three years, he got a card in the mail on Christmas and his birthday. He always checked in and asked how he was doing. When you went to visit Spencer at the BAU a few weeks ago, you wanted to say hi to Agent Gideon and thank him for his consideration, but you hadn’t seen him. You thought he was just taking a personal day, he worked too hard anyways from what Spencer told you. 

“Spence, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d care.”

The words were like a spark that shocked your heart awake from a lovely sleep, and now it was upset to be so rudely awoken, “Of course I care! What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t wanna know the reason you’ve been so… off.”

“What do you mean ‘off?’”

“You don’t have to be a profiler to see you haven’t been yourself in… when did Gideon leave?”

He played with a loose thread on the sleeve of his sweater and looked back down at his feet, the toe of his converse nudging at the emerald green carpet, “Couple of months ago.”

“You could have told me.”

“You’ve had your own stuff going on. It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t have to convince yourself that you aren’t having a hard time just because I am. You don’t always have to be the hero.”

“Neither do you, you know.”

“I really am fine.”

“Y/N, he was your dad, you’re allowed to be upset.”

“I am, okay?” You snapped, “I miss him like hell! He was always just one phone call away and now…” One hand carded through your hair as you inhaled deeply, placing your other hand on the banister beside you to steady yourself.

“I’m not going to pretend that our situations are the same because they aren’t, but I’ll tell you the same thing you told me when we were kids.” He placed his hand close to yours on the banister, your fingers almost touching. Almost. “It gets easier, not seeing him every day. But just ‘cuz he wasn’t around doesn’t mean you can’t feel bad.”

You force a smile, “Thanks, Spence.”

“Of course.” He wrapped his arms around you and held you tight. The hug wasn’t particularly emotional. Neither one of you felt like you were about to cry, it just felt nice to be in each other's embrace.

“Show’s starting soon.” He muttered into your ear before pulling away, walking off towards the theater with you following close behind.

Taglist~~~

Lmk if you wanna be added! Some names didn’t work so if you don’t see your name as a tag just dm me a url and I’ll try to fix it

@lawnmoa @ellvswriting @baby-pogue @rottenearly @confused-and-really-hungry @thatsonezesty13 @deni-gonzalez @irjuejjsaa @randomfandomshitposts @bisoner @moonstarrnghtsky @smurfflynn @eldahae​ @t0xicllama​ @undeniablyyou​ @staplernpaper @theweirdobella​ @sammypotato67​ @k-k0129​ @helloniallslovelies​

[isitgintimeyet]

Just a Friend

Hope you enjoy the next chapter of this story. Thanks to you all for reading this. You comments are lovely to read.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta

Previous

AO3

Chapter 5: From Facebook to Friends

When I was a little girl, Uncle Lamb would sometimes take me into university with him. I would creep into the lecture theatre and sit at the back watching him as he enthused about Phoenician trade routes, or long gone military strategies. I didn’t really understand what he was talking about, but I loved it anyway. The passion he had for his subject matter thrilled me.

And once the lecture was over, I would join him in his office and we would squeeze together in an old armchair, drinking hot, sweet tea while he tried to explain the principles of a three thousand year old civilisation in words a seven year old would understand.

The armchair is now in my office at the hospital. It looks more than a bit incongruous amongst the standard NHS furniture. The rich green velvet fabric has faded to a shabby eau de nil colour and years of shuffling bottoms have left a large depression in the seat cushion. But I won’t have it reupholstered. I love it as it is. It’s a great reminder of my wonderful uncle. I sit in it and somehow it comforts me, like a soothing hug.

**********************

I glance at the clock as I walk into my office, paper cup of hot, sweet tea in hand, and head straight for Lamb’s chair. Gratefully, I sink into its depths and take a tentative sip of the steaming liquid before closing my eyes for a moment. The surgery was long; much longer than anticipated—having taken all morning and most of the afternoon, in fact. It had also been far more complicated—my original plans for keyhole surgery had to be changed, but, eventually, we completed the operation successfully. I’m always proud of my theatre team, but never more so than in situations like this.

And now, after hours of concentration, I feel in need of some light relief. I can go home, have a wonderfully reviving shower and then what? I know that Dougal is taking Geillis out for a meal tonight, so she’s not available. Mary and Anna are both working nights this week, so no joy there. Other friends live too far away for an impromptu midweek activity.  I could go to the gym. I should go to the gym. Or… more likely, I’ll go home, have cheese on toast, a glass of wine and watch ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ for the fifteenth time instead.

I reach for my phone to check for messages.  A notification for a Facebook friend request appears on my screen. I very rarely get new friend requests—other than the odd random gentleman hoping, I presume, to make some sort of connection. I always delete immediately.

And, yes, the request is from a gentleman—one Jamie Fraser. The profile picture is definitely Samsonite Jamie, even wearing the Scotland rugby shirt I fingered whilst foraging through his suitcase. I click accept. Why not? I don’t think I have anything too embarrassing on my posts. In fact, I don’t use it very often at all.

Neither, it seems, does Mr. Fraser. His cover photo shows a very youthful bunch of Scottish rugby supporters and his recent timeline seems to comprise mostly of being tagged in photos by Laoghaire Mackenzie. Is it my imagination, or does he have a resigned look on his face on each of their ‘selfies’?

My tea is cool enough to drink now without scalding my tongue. I put my phone down and take a large gulp whilst considering tomorrow’s workload. My job is a series of highs and lows. Today, for example, started as routine, slumped to a worrying low, before peaking at a very relieved high. Tomorrow appears to be an easier day, certainly—a review of patients’ case notes in the morning followed by an outpatient clinic in the afternoon. All follow up patients, and all doing well as far as I know, so tomorrow is shaping up to be a very good day.

I open up my phone again. Facebook messenger is encouraging me to ‘say hi to your new Facebook friend.’  Without thinking, I send a little waving hand emoji to Samsonite Jamie.

I have no sooner put the phone down than it pings. Waving hand returned. I smile. What are we… thirteen years old? Next I’ll be asking him out for an Irn Bru and a bag of chips.

Ping again.  

You owe me…

Shit! The stain on his t-shirt, no doubt. I watch the dots on the screen. Perhaps he’s calculating the cost of a dry cleaner, or a new t-shirt.

You promised me an ice cream.

You up for buying one for me tonight?

I hesitate for a moment. I hope Jamie doesn’t think I’m after him or anything like that. I mean, he’s not really my type. As I’ve said before, I’ve always been attracted to academic, cerebral kind of men like Uncle Lamb, rather than Viking marauders.

And I’ve never subscribed to the idea that men and women can’t be friends. One of my closest friends at university was a man—Joe Abernathy.  If it wasn't for the fact that he is currently three thousand miles away, working in Boston, I would be arranging platonic ice cream outings with him.

So, deciding I have nothing to lose, I type my response.

If you can get to the kiosk by 6:30, it should still be open

A brief pause, then the response.

Great. See you there?

****************

Even at a distance, I recognise him sitting at a table next to the kiosk. No white t-shirt today, it looks like some sort of check lumberjack shirt. I breathe a sigh of relief. Not what I would call ‘first date’ clothing. Which is handy, seeing as I’m wearing ripped jeans and an oversized Aran jumper. I’m clean, presentable and fresh-smelling but definitely not dressed to impress.

He stands up when he sees me and greets me formally with a handshake. His hands are warm and dry—no nervous, sweaty palms here, which is another good sign. His shirt is blue, red and cream flannel and actually quite hideous.

“I hope this ice cream lives up tae ma expectations,” he says with the merest hint of challenge.

I crane my neck and look him straight in the eye. “No doubt at all. Cherry bakewell, is it? Double cone?”

“Aye. With a flake too. Compensation, ye ken.”

He stands aside to allow me to make the purchases. Before accepting the cone, he picks up half a dozen or so paper napkins and stuffs them in the pocket of his jeans.

“I’m prepared fer ye now. Do yer worst, Ms Beauchamp.”

I ignore his clear inference and follow him to a nearby bench.

“I can manage to eat and walk at the same time, you know,” I say in mock indignation.

“Hm,” he replies. “All the evidence sae far suggests the contrary. I need proof afore I believe it.”

There’s a moment of silence as we both focus on our ice creams. I lick neatly all the way around, trying to prevent any rogue drips trickling down the cone. Jamie pulls the flake from his cone and consumes it in two mouthfuls. He looks at me and laughs.

“Caught me. I’m a bit of a bugger fer chocolate,” he mumbles before swallowing.

“Right,” he continues, much more clearly now. “I suggest we get all the boring stuff out of the way. Ye ken, name, age, family, job, blah, blah blah. I’ll go first, if ye like.”

I nod my agreement.

“Sae, I’m James or Jamie Fraser. I’m thirty years old. Since our last conversation I am most definitely single. I live in Glasgow, obviously, but grew up on a farm near Inverness. My parents still run the farm. I have one sister, Jenny, who’s married tae Ian, my childhood friend. I have one nephew—a grand little lad known as Wee Jamie and a wee baby niece, Maggie . And I dinna think it’ll be long afore they’re joined by others. They all live here in Glasgow. My job, weel, I have a business—FraserFood—recipe boxes delivered tae yer door.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of that. ‘From farm to fork.” That’s you, is it?”

He smiles proudly. “Aye, it’s me and ma family. Looks like ma marketing manager is doing a fine job, then.”

“Oh, forgot tae say, after the blah blah, ye have tae tell one confession. Only a wee one, mind.” He takes a large mouthful of his ice cream.

I purse my lips. “Really, and what if I’ve nothing to confess?”

Jamie snorts with laughter and does a funny sort of blink, screwing up his face and closing both eyes. Is he trying to wink? If so, he’s failing miserably. I try to look angelic and sin free. Judging by the look of scepticism on his face, It doesn’t seem to be working.

“Sae, my confession is, dah-dah-daaaah,” he does a fake fanfare, trying to build suspense. “I wanted tae be yer friend on Facebook because I wanted tae see if there were any photos of ye in Barcelona, with all yer...er… accessories.”

I feel myself redden. I’ve just remembered catching Geillis on Facebook the other day at work and I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming next.

“Verra interesting… in particular, the one with ye and six penis shot glasses. How d’ye manage tae get two of them in yer mouth at the same time?”

I inwardly curse Geillis and her desire to live her life through social media.

“Excuse me,” I reply somewhat primly. “I don’t think we’re at the Q and A stage yet.”

“So,” I continue in a lighter tone. “Me. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I’m thirty two and I’m a paediatric  orthopaedic surgeon, here at the children’s hospital. I love my job so much, I can’t begin to tell you. As of two weeks ago, I am thankfully single. I was born in Oxford and moved up here when I was twelve, when my Uncle Lamb became a professor at the university. He brought me up, you know. Raised me when my parents died in a car accident... I… er...I was four at the time.”

I can feel Jamie looking at me, but I can’t raise my eyes. Telling people about my parents never gets any easier, no matter how many times I say those words. I concentrate on picking bits of wafer off my cone and throwing them to the ducks loitering nearby, waiting for some sort of treat.

“So it always was just my uncle and me.” I carry on talking. “Then he died… seven...seven years ago…” I can hear my voice start to crack as I fight back tears. A hand creeps into my vision and I gratefully accept the proffered paper napkin and wipe my face.

“Och, lass.” He says softly.

I clear my throat. “I'm sorry. We were having a nice conversation and then there I go, getting all teary. It’s just, well, we were a team, Uncle Lamb and I… the two musketeers. He was my hero.”

Blowing my nose in a most unladylike way, I toss the napkin into the neighbouring bin.

“And that’s pretty much me. As for a confession, well… I suppose it’s kind of one.”

He raises one eyebrow quizzically, making a better job of that than the whole winking lark, I think.

"Ok, well,  when I had your case, I tried to ring before I emailed you. I called the number in your case… twice. A woman answered and told me I had the wrong number—"

"Laoghaire."

"I know that now. But she obviously knew how to get onto your phone."

"Why did ye no' tell me?" He smiles as he says this. It's not a reprimand.

"I would have but you seemed to be coming to a conclusion anyway. No need to add more fuel to the fire."

"Happen ye're right."

He notices me shivering and gets to his feet. “Aye, there’s a bit of a chill. Fancy a wee walk tae warm up and we can carry on wi’ round two. It’s a quick fire round.”

I stand up and we move away from the pond. The ducks have already lost interest in us since they realise that we’ve nothing more to offer them. It’s pretty quiet in the park now, the cooler evening air seems to have kept people at home. The gravel crunching loudly under the soles of our shoes, I glance down and notice Jamie’s doing a sort of awkward stuttering movement with his feet. He’s clearly trying to match his stride pattern to mine. Which isn’t easy when his must be a good few inches longer than mine. Nice, considerate gesture, though.

“Sae, quick fire questions and answers. Ye can go first,” he says generously.

It only takes me a moment to think of a question that I have been wondering about ever since I explored the contents of his suitcase.

“What were you doing in Barcelona? I mean the contents of your case weren’t really fun-weekend-away stuff.”

“Nah, ye’re right. It wasna a holiday—flying visit only. I was there on business—talking tae a food wholesale company. Serrano ham, chorizo, saffron, that kind of thing,” he explains, a look of excitement on his face. “We’re expanding our range, starting with Spanish influenced recipes. A full three courses ready tae prepare, plus wine delivered straight tae yer door. Dinner party FraserFood style.”

He can’t stop smiling as he talks about these plans. And his hands move animatedly as he continues to elaborate on his new venture. His business is obviously his passion. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t got the desire for a relationship with a girlfriend—FraserFood seems to be his one love. No girl could compete.

He stops talking for a moment. “And here I am, boring ye.”

I shake my head. “Not at all, it’s really interesting.” I don’t have to lie. It’s the truth. My mouth is watering at his description of albondigas and flavoursome chicken and chorizo with cannellini beans. I’m ready to sign up for this delivery service any time.

“Sae, ma turn tae ask a question. Tell me, d’ye like this shirt?”

I try to stifle a laugh. The question is so unexpected and the shirt so awful. Trying to be diplomatic, I search for the right words, evading the actual question. “I’ve only seen you in white tops before, no colours.”

He sighs. “Ye’ve only seen me twice afore... anyway I dinna think ye need tae say any more. I ken ye’re being polite, but ye’re a terrible liar. I can tell by yer face ye dinna like this shirt. Laoghaire hated it, always made me change it. I did wonder if that was jes’ her being difficult. But apparently no’.”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Ye dinna need tae apologise, Claire. Being honest is a good thing, is it no’? And friends should always tell each other the truth. And that’s what I think we’re going tae be, Claire— friends. D’ye no’ agree?”

I crane my neck  and look Jamie straight in the eye. “Yes, I do… friends.”

[monobleamour]

love is not for people like us - part one

HI IM ALIVE🙋🏻‍♀️

A/N: i’m a big fan of historical series and books so I decided to make a story about Harry being a prince and y/n a princess in the 15th- 16th century I guess. ALSO HENRY EDWARD THE 5TH IM DYING, the only one? Yeah. Okay and I might have borrowed some stuff from Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon but they’re from my faves. OKAY BYE HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS s-word!!!!!!!!!!!

summary: Harry has to be king, but the only way to achieve this is by marrying y/n. 

pairing(s): harry styles x reader

word count: 2.5k+

WANT TO ADD THAT I STARTED THIS AS A ONE-SHOT THING BUT THEN MY INSPIRATION LEFT SO I DECIDED TO MAKE THIS A SOME-PARTS-STORY. part1:)

‘’But mother I do not desire to marry this woman. Not that I dislike her, but I do not want to get married. I can do that on my own. I’m a soon to be king.’’ Harry pleased his mother, trying to convince her that he would be fine by his own. Though Anne was already a queen and she knew that no king could command and rule a whole country on his own, they need a queen by their side, and so did Harry. ‘’Harry this is not about you. If you marry her, we’re going to have a more powerful country as well. Think about the profits young man. Love is not for people like us, love is for fools, we are royals. And if you want this country, you’ll want to marry this woman. End of the conversation. I have made my mind and decided what’s best for you and this country.’’ Anne said, sounded a little bit cold to her son, though her heart was breaking a little bit. Even though she was a queen, she wanted him to be happy, but happiness is not in their journal.

Harry’s destination had always been the same. Once he gets married, he’s the king. Since the day he was born, he was going to be the king of England. It was just a matter of time, till he gets married. He knew that he would not marry the one he wanted or will want. He’ll marry a princess, who has the same destination as his. Practically he knows that he’s marrying a country, not the woman. It’s a benefit. The country becomes more powerful, you take over and invade in more countries. Harry didn’t want war. He wanted to have a country so he could make sure everyone is fine, he wanted to put an end in those battles. Peace is what he asked for. And as much he was committed to this country since the day he was born, so much he was committed to Y/n. They had never met each other before, but they had been engaged since they were like 5. Y/n was the princess of Spain, one of Europe’s most powerful countries (I would like to add that if you don’t like Spain or sth, you can put whichever country you want to). She was not like all the other princesses she had ever met though. She was far different from that. She was really beautiful, she was. And also that was something men liked, except for her wealth. But she. She just admired how intelligent she was. She liked reading books, mostly poems so much, sometimes she wished she could be a poet. Y/n pretty much was the opposite of Harry. He desired to be a king, while she hoped she wouldn’t be a queen. She also was pretty much different from the other women. Because everyone believed in men, she believed in herself, she believed in her will and her power. A feminist someone would say. That was because deep down she knew that a king is useless without a queen, while a queen without a king is more powerful, moral of the story. Y/n had never met Harry in her entire life, but she liked to dream about him. She wasn’t thinking how his appearance is, how tall he might be. What colour his eyes were or his hair. She liked to dream about how kind he may be or if he likes to read like her. Maybe he wasn’t a cruel king like past ones, maybe this one was unique. Even though she sometimes liked the idea of Harry, she didn’t allow herself to love him. Not because she knew that royals that fall in love are few, but because she would be taken away. Away from her family and country. She wasn’t like the other ones who hoped one day they’ll marry a king and leave, she liked the idea of herself. In what she wanted to be. She liked to dream, a lot, and for a queen, that is dangerous. Harry never questioned how Y/n would be, because clearly, he didn’t even want it to be. He just wanted a kingdom to himself, to show people that he’s capable of doing something by himself. But even though he didn’t want to get married, that didn’t stop him from flirting. In fact, there was already a girl in his life, a woman he knew he would never marry. Being honest, she was just a maid, he was a king. But he actually felt like he loved her.

‘’Your grace?’’ a woman sounded behind the closed door that was knocked 3 times. At that very moment, Harry knew, he had lost track of time thinking about the whole situation. ‘’Come in.’’ he ordered sitting in the chair next to the desk he had been standing by for 30 possible minutes. ‘’Your grace, there’s a letter for you.’’ the young woman informed him. ‘’Maggie.’’ Harry sighed with a smile in his face. Margaret, or Maggie as Harry preferred to call her, was a maid in the castle. She was Harry’s maid. She was always there for him. Literally, every time and everywhere. As the years went on they kinda became friends, and one thing brought another so, in the end, they became kind of ‘’secret’’ lovers. She wasn’t with someone like most of the maids and the staff was, but she knew Harry was. She knew that Harry would marry one day a princess and they will rule the country together, but she also hated it. Why couldn’t she marry the man she loved, because of what she was. Why did people label other people? Labels are for clothes, not humans. And as Harry had a bright smile in his face as he saw Maggie, she was everything but happy. ‘’Is it true?’’ she asked eyes almost watery. ‘’True what?’’ a little bit confused he replied because he really had no idea what she was talking about. ‘’You’re marrying her, aren’t you?’’ she sadly sighed taking a big breath ‘’it’s not even a question I guess, huh?’’ ‘’Mag.’’ he tried to explain but there was nothing to explain, she knew this would happen so what’s with her now? ‘’Do you want to marry her?’’ she looked at him, just wanting to hear one word. ‘’I have to.’’ ‘’Yet, you didn’t answer my question.’’ ‘’I guess, I still don’t.’’ ‘’Harry, why are you marrying someone you don’t want to? It’s your life you decide. There’s always a second choice. And I know she is yours.’’ ‘’So what’s my first?’’ he knew he had no choice. Either way, in the end, he marries her and England unites with Spain, that’s his destiny. Always have been. ‘’Me, Harry, me. Please, I beg you, don’t marry her.’’ she was begging, her eyes could take it, but her heart no. ‘’Margaret, let me clear this up. I have to marry her, so my country, that I care, will have more power. I have to. It’s what it is. It’s my life, not my choices. They make them for me. You’re just a simple maid nothing more. I will be king, and I need by my side a queen. Not to love her but to rule with her.’’ he said with an emotion that wasn’t angry but neither sad, maybe disappointed probably. ‘’You’re choosing her over me?’’ she was angry she was, she had spent years loving him even though she knew it would never happen, she loved him, and she hoped he loved her. ‘’Not my choice.’’ Harry’s answer was also his final one. Margaret was a nice girl, but she didn’t want to be a fool, she didn’t. ‘’As I said before your Majesty,’’ her mood had completely changed ‘’there’s a letter for you.’’ she gave him the letter, and before he could even speak she stormed out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

As soon as Margaret vanished, Anne appeared. ‘’What’s going on, son?’’ she asked a little bit anxious seeing that her son had kind of turned into pale. ‘’Ugh, a letter came. That.’’ he replied, still sitting on his chair. ‘’What does it say? Is it from Catherine in Spain? When are they sending their daughter? Everything must be perfect, for a princess like her. A queen!’’ Anne seemed to really like the idea of Harry becoming a king, marrying a queen, and England becoming more powerful. Who wouldn’t actually? ‘’I-I still haven’t read it, mother. Let me open it.’’ he did as he said, and even though he didn’t read the letter out loud, Anne already knew that he would confirm her thoughts. ‘’So?’’ she asked, really nervous. ‘’2 days and she’ll be here.’’ Harry said, almost sounded like he wanted to cry. ‘’Great! We have to make everything look great. Harry, you have to look great.’’ ‘’And I will-’’ ‘’Everything Harry! Everything. She will marry you! She holds your whole future! Our future! Your heir! So be careful, please. We need this, we need her.’’ ‘’Yes mother.’’ he said as she left. He really didn’t know what was he supposed to do. But now, he wondered a little bit about her. How does she look? How does she act? What is she like?

Y/n’s carriage was already on its way to England. She had never been to England before so she was a little bit excited to visit the country. It was hard for her to say goodbye to Spain, but it’s her duty as a queen to leave. If only she could live the way she wanted to, things could have been much easier. It was time she arrived at the castle. Everything looked good. Perfect, just like Anne had wanted to. Everyone was waiting for her, the stuff, the royals, everyone. Everyone except Harry. He was still inside, in his room. Only this time he was looking through his window. To admit, this made Anne sort of furious, but in the end, the outcome will be the same, so she didn’t give much attention. Everyone stared as Y/n was stepping out of her carriage. Some people helped her and her ladies, by bringing them closer to the castle. As she was walking by, you could see clearly that she was pure beauty. Her dress was a mix colour of dark orange to light brown and pastel yellow. Everyone wore those colours, and for a princess, those colours should be stunning while she wore them. You couldn’t see her shoes because her dress was so big, that covered most of the floor that surrounded her. She had a necklace full of diamonds, they were shining, she was shining. Her face though was the one that you could just stare forever and adore it. She had those big bambi eyes and that colour of her eyes that suited her perfectly. A big bright smile of her red lips was showing, and it was impressive being honest. Harry couldn’t help but look through his window, opening a little bit that curtain of his. He really admired her. He thought she was beautiful, very beautiful. But he also thought that being a king would be beautiful, surprisingly beautiful. So he went out, to greet her, as he should. As he was walking down, or maybe even running though the stairs, he bumped into Margaret. He just looked at her, and actually tried to say something but he didn’t he just left. He liked Maggie a lot, he did, but he would marry Y/n. He thought that Maggie was one of the many girls that he has fun with, spend his time, but always it comes to end, it usually ends after 2 weeks. Maggie had been with Harry though 2 years. But what’s two years with someone when you’re gonna spend a lifetime with someone else? As he stepped out of the huge door of the castle, he ran immediately to his parents, noticing that they were talking with Y/n. And when he came closer to her, he swore he had never seen a more beautiful girl like her. He felt like he just forgot everything about Maggie, but he didn’t because he was still feeling guilty. And as Harry was really frozen by just looking at her, Y/n was not. ‘’Your Highness’’ she said doing a small curtsey. He was out of words, at a loss of words and really he had no idea what to do. ‘’We-welcome to, ugh, England? Ugh, I, ugh..’’ he had no idea what he should say, and he really did not know why this was happening. ‘’Y/n.’’ she said, introducing herself. ‘’Harry. They call me Harry, it’s actually Henry Edward the 5th but you can call me Harry as well.’’ he sounded upset, yet he was everything but upset. ‘’Great.’’ she said, giving him one of her big smiles and continuing her talk with Anne, going inside the castle.

‘’What was that?’’ a man sounded and Harry turned around to look at him. ‘’What was what?’’ he replied looking at his father, king of England. ‘’You were mesmerized, she had you mesmerized. Got to admit it.’’ Henry smirked to Harry. ‘’What? No. Absolutely no. I just had to come and meet her. She will be my future wife won’t she, and she holds our future. You- you said it.’’ he tried to say clearly, but who was he trying to fool? ‘’Ugh, then, sure I believe you.’’ he said leaving back to the castle, to continue one of the many duties he has.

After a while, Harry was alone in his room per usual, writing. He likes to write a lot. He writes songs and poems, mostly. ‘’Do you want my opinion on her?’’ Maggie appeared from nowhere, but she appeared and she asked. Harry nodded. ‘’She doesn’t look like a queen.’’ she pouted her lips and confessed ‘’ more like a whore to me.’’ ‘’Hey!’’ Harry sightly yelled at her. ‘’You’ve known me for two years, Harry, I don’t get it. You can be king by yourself, why do you need to marry her?’’ her words sounded kind of bittersweet. ‘’I can do it by my own. England, though, can’t.’’ he added ‘’And a king always needs a queen, a real one Maggie. And as much as I care about you, I have to concede that in the end, you could not handle it. You can’t come through being a queen if it’s even achievable.’’ And he left.

Being honest, Harry had fun with Maggie. But that was it, just fun. He didn’t consider marrying her or having a life with her. Not because she was a maid, no. Simply because he knew she was incapable of being a good wife. At the end of the day, a girl like Margaret is just a simple girl, a maid who’s going to get married to a simple boy, but a girl like Y/n is a simple girl as well, who’s going to be queen and marry a simple boy, like Harry who’s going to be king.

[crimeshowtrash]

Second Chances

Chapter 1

Warnings: none

Words: 1.2k

Updates: every Tuesday

That morning began like any other. Well, that was not true. It was a chaotic freakin’ mess. At least it seemed to be, but that was on brand for the Bose family. 

Mira Bose was annoyingly just like her mother. Sarcastic, stubborn, and anal retentive, but cute. However, the most important trait the 5 year old got from her mother was her absolute love of sleep. The girl could fall asleep regardless of what she was doing or where she was (like when she fell asleep while potty training and fell off of the toilet which led to her very first trip to the hospital and a bright pink cast). But for some god forsaken reason, Mira had chosen the day before her mother's first day at her dream job to decide she would develop insomnia. Maya ultimately at 4 o’ clock decided to give her daughter some Benadryl in the hopes of getting at least a 30 minute nap before her first day of work. 

And that was how she wound up here. In an overcrowded elevator at 7:08 am, late for her very first day. That was definitely bound to go over great with her new boss, thought Maya with a grimace on her face. At least her daughter was having a better time she thought, wishing that she herself could have been experiencing a Benadryl induced coma.

The elevator doors opened, and Maya rushed out flattening her burgundy skirt, getting out all the nonexistent wrinkles, as she headed towards the doors which held her future. She could feel prying eyes on her frame as she made her way up the stairs to the Special Agent in Charge’s office, Aaron Hotchner. She knocked on the open door and waited for him to look up.

Aaron stood up and walked around his desk.

“You must be Maya, our new agent”, said Aaron, shaking her hand.

“Yes sir, it is a pleasure to meet you”, replied Maya.

“Now I know you already got all of your paperwork out of the way last week, so let’s head out to meet the rest of the team”, responded Aaron, leading Maya out of his office.

The two walked to the round table where everyone was crowded murmuring about what Maya assumed was the new pig out to slaughter. A silence came over the group as the two got closer.

“Everyone, this is Special Agent Maya Bose. Maya, this is everyone”, introduced Hotch.

“Oh my precious Maya, it is so good to see you again”, said Penelope hugging Maya.

“Lovely to see you as well Pen”, smiled Maya.

“And wait, let me guess. Penny told me all about ya’ll”, said Maya.

Her eyes took in the rest of the team before continuing to say, “This has got to be Penny’s chocolate thunder and god from above Derek Morgan”, Derek smiled and winked at Penelope.

“And you are Ms. Emily boobs Prentiss who loves to both sin and win”, Emily chuckled.

“This must be communications liaison extraordinaire and discount finding queen, Jennifer Jureau”, JJ smiles.

“We can’t forget David Rigatoni Rossi; lover of pasta, cigars, and the finer things in life”, David lets out a boisterous laugh.

“And I’m sorry. Penelope didn’t mention you, you are?” questioned Maya, looking at Spencer.

A look of insult and confusion filled Spencer’s face.

Maya grins at his reaction.

“I’m just kidding. This is the amazing Dr. Spencer Reid. Resident genius on...well everything, including something called physics magic”, said Maya.

A look of relief appears on Spencer's face as the rest of the team chuckles.  

“Oh Hotch. I got distracted, but we have a case”, said JJ.

“How bad is it?”, questioned David.

“Florida”, responded JJ with a grimace.

The team let out a collective sigh which confused Maya. 

“Well, I hope you are ready, Special Agent Bose”, said Hotch as the team sat down while JJ passed around the tablets containing the case files.

“Three trans women, all brunettes in their early 30’s. All had cigarette burns and were brutally sodomized. All were left in or around dumpsters in downtown Miami. And all the women had their...um breasts cut off”, winced JJ.

“Well the trash is a sign of dehumanizing. The unsub clearly views these women as garbage”, said Derek.

“He might have been slighted or rejected by a trans woman or he himself is battling with his own gender identity and views himself as an abomination for feeling this way”, added Maya.

The team all had various looks of respect and reverence on their faces.

“Okay, wheels up in 20”, said Hotch.

***

“Okay, now that you’ve gotten a moment to breathe, tell us about yourself”, asks Emily.

“You just want to know if I think the boobs live up to Penelope’s description”, smirked Maya.

Emily smiles at the new agent.

“Come on mama, tell us a little bit about yourself”, pushed Derek.

“Down boy”, smiled Maya.

“If you must know…my name is Maya, obviously. I was born and raised in Maryland. I married young, and it did not end well at all. But I did receive the best gift ever from that asshole, my daughter Mira. She’s 5 years old and an absolute pain in my ass. But she’s a literal carbon copy of myself, so I’ve got no one to blame. And um a fun fact, caffeine doesn’t work on me so I am looking forward to these long hours”, continued Maya.

“Hotch also has a 5 year old boy, his name is Jack”, said JJ smiling.

“Well if he’s anything like you Hotch, he must be a lot easier to parent”, said Maya.

“He’s pretty great, but Mira can’t be that bad”, replied Hotch, a smile on his face as he talked about Jack.

“When I was potty training her, she fell asleep on the toilet and fell off. She broke her arm so we went to the hospital. She was asking for ice cream, and I said not now but we can pick some up on our way home. She got so upset that when I left to fill out some paperwork she told the nurses I hurt her. And that got CPS and police involved. And CPS still comes around every now and then. Trust me, she can be bad”, said Maya.

Various snorts of laughter escaped the team.

“Well you said she’s just like you so we should be ever so lucky to have you join us”, said Dave.

“I am most definitely a handful, that’s for sure”, replied Maya.

***

Maya sat down across from her boss and handed him a cup of coffee.

“Thanks, you did good today Bose”, said Aaron.

“Oh, I know” said Maya with a grin on her face.

“It’ll be good to have you on the team. We need someone who can joke around and get along with the worst of people”, replied Hotch.

Maya grinned before saying, “I knew my mom was wrong. I am good for something”.

“You know Hotch, you never did ask me what Penelope said to describe you”, said Maya questioningly.

“What did she say?”, asked Hotch.

“She said that you were the strong, silent leader who gets stuff done. Oh, and that you put the Hot in Hotchner. And well...she wasn’t wrong”, said Maya, looking over Hotch and grinning as she winked, before walking back to her seat. Leaving behind a distracted and blushing Hotch, with a slight grin that couldn’t help but escape as he watched Maya walk away.

Taglist: @kathleenjasmine

[simpforfictionalboys]

30 weeks

Summary-Y/n L/n- soon to be Y/n Reid is living a secret. A secret between her and Spencer Reid. Only Her parents and Spencer’s mom know about it because of a psychotic psychopath that is obsessed with

Pairing- Spencer Reid x reader, Spencer Reid x pregnant!reader

Warnings- Swearing

Spencer Reid wanted to do nothing more than to run home as he got off of the plane that came from California. The case there was in the shadow of what had been happening here.

Cat Adams was the reason that he couldn’t be fully happy. That he couldn’t scream to everyone he saw that he had a fiancee- Let alone that you were pregnant with his child.

The team had noticed how sad he started to get whenever he left for more than a couple of days but how his mood increased whenever he left for a couple of minutes on secretive phone calls.

“We will continue tomorrow. Dismissed.” Almost as soon as Hotch said those words Spencer burst out of the seat moving towards the door and to his desk.

“Hey Pretty Boy, we are thinking about going out tonight. Come with?” Derek asked Spencer only for him to brush him off scrambling for his papers so that he could continue with his fiancee.

He had missed you so much, knowing that the small- well 3 hours a night wasn’t small- phone calls that he had with you when he was in California reading to your belly.

“I- I have plans.” He said as he saw a look diminish on his friends face as he constantly declined hanging out with someone he was once so close with, something he hated to do.

And in a way he did have plans. Every single day for the rest of his life he had plans- with you.

“We are going to find her, Spence.”

He knew that they had to fast- he wanted to tell you to everyone to walk around with you- they had to find her before your child was born.

He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

“We always do.” but would it be in time for the baby. Walking over towards the elevator he seemed to have a large grin on his face leaving everyone confused sitting down in the bull pen.

“You okay, Kid? You’ve been distant a lot the past year.” Morgan said as he slipped into the elevator behind Spencer worried about his sudden change in emotion to a lighter one.

His mind shifted back to you at home probably looking at the door waiting for your fiancee to come home.

He was sick of not telling them, he wanted to so badly that he faltered for a second, it wouldn’t be the first time that they had met.

“So what you are saying is that a psychopath is planning on killing me and has pictures of me in his torture chamber.”

Spencer Reid sat in front of you. One of the only cases that was near them only a couple of miles away from the BAU. You were a local med student that seemed to be one of the targets of a serial killers.

“You don’t need to worry, we will find him.”

“I’m not worried about him, I have a knife and the knowledge of how to kill someone hundreds of ways with it. I’m a happy camper. Not to mention that I have a temper. If that bitch wants to try me he can go on ahead.”

Spencer looked over to you in shock at your words and the strength that you had behind them. You had the features of all of the woman that had been found. Not to mention that they flushed out an apartment of his seeing pictures of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

You.

“Well, if you are stationed to protect me, what do you drink, Doctor?”

"I'm great, Derek.”

***

Staring at the door seemed to become a hobby for you it would seem. waiting for Spencer to come home to you.

But no matter what you never stopped worrying. Well you do stop when you hear the door open. Rushing over to where the door was you nearly slammed your body into him.

His hands wrapped around your midsection to the not-so-tiny bump on it before another hand wrapped around the back of your neck pulling you up to him as he kissed you long and softly.

“Your bigger.” If you weren’t 30 weeks pregnant you could almost guarantee that you would have socked him but you blushed at the notion.

“You sure know how to talk to a women, Spencer Reid.”

“It’s not my fault you look so damn good carrying my child, Y/n Reid.” You blushed even more loving whenever he called you by that name. He had been for the past 5 months even before you were pregnant but once you agreed to marry him.

“Be careful, your pregnancy kink is showing, sweetheart.” It was his turn to get flustered with you for once as you mentioned it. He hated whenever you teased him about it.

He muttered against your neck saying, “around this time the baby can hear what we are saying and I would prefer our daughter not to know that her dad has a thing for her being pregnant.”

No matter how many times you have told him that you guys didn’t know for sure it was a girl he was hellbent on it.

As if on que he went down to his knees and kissed your bump.

“Don’t listen to your mom, she doesn’t know what she is talking about.” He kissed it once before you started to laugh missing him so much over the past couple of days. Gripping the shirt once again you pulled him up to you kissing you again.

“Hi.” You giggled as he whispered it against your neck, “Hi.”

“You know how you brought up meeting the team again. You know as-”

“Your fiancee and baby mama?” He groaned as you said it, a grin growing on his face and something else growing at the mention of how our baby was made. He nicked his teeth on the soft part of your neck making you leave out a breathy noise.

“Yes, as my fiancee and baby mama."

“Does that mean I have to learn how to cook? I can’t cook, Spencer! I told you that when we got engaged- hell even on our first date.”

“Sweetie. I’ve already ordered pizza. We wait until Cat is captured and until then we just have ourselves. So that means that-” Kiss on your shoulder “Me-” kiss “and-” kiss “my-” kiss “baby-” kiss “mama-”

"You, Spencer Reid are the love of my life." You laughed as all of a sudden you felt a kiss on your breast as you giggled again, "You seriously are horny right now? The food is coming!"

"Sweetie, we have till seven. Let's make another baby." You barely squeaked out before you were picked up and tugged into your bedroom.

***

"The food must be early." You snuggled in next to Spencer kissing his bare shoulder as he was reading to you and the baby- in Russian.

"I'll go get it." He begrudged left you before kissing you. You sat in Spencer's shirt and a pair of shorts.

"Daddy is coming back soon. I know you are impatient, but daddy is going to go get us some food like a good housewife."

Spencer gave you a glare as you stuck your tongue out at him patting your stomach. As soon as he opened the door it shifted and left you alone in the room as he snuck in the room.

"What the hell are you doing here. You guys need to leave. Now." Spencer was rarely strict but with the protection of his family, he would do whatever it takes.

And standing in front of a group of FBI agents that he had come to befriend for the past 10 years.

Rossi, Hotch, Prentiss, JJ, Garcia, and Morgan.

"Spencer, we aren't leaving."

"Yes, you guys are right now. You guys have to leave." They most likely tracked his phone even though he was very careful about that because of Cat.

"We failed you last time, we aren't going to do it again." Standing in front of him he looked over at Penelope who was shell shocked. They thought that he was using again.

The thing about Penelope is that once she puts her heart to something, then there was no stopping her, even though she was doing the wrong thing.

It made sense to him because of him being happy all of the time after he snuck off to talk to you and being cranky like he had been when he was using but it was because he was missing the both of you.

"Are you using again? Kid, why are you here? This isn't your house. What is this a drug house." He knew that it didn't look good at all but there was no way that he was going to give in. Not when you would be in even more danger.

"I swear to god, you need to leave. If you don't I swear I will quit the BAU." Everyone thought it was the addiction talking when it was actually the concerned, and overprotective, fiancee, and father.

"Spence-" JJ stopped as Spencer felt the door behind him open as he turned around to see you in a baggy shirt- his baggy shirt- with small shorts peeking out underneath you holding your stomach- which was visible in the baggy shirt showing how big you were for being almost 7 months.

"Spence, your son is driv-"

You stopped as you saw the group of people that you had seen just once before- maybe twice but other than that you didn't know them well. But they knew almost everything about you, because of the case that you were in, the one that Spencer fell for you during.

"You are so not the pizza guy." That was one of the first things that you said to your fiancee's friends other than 'so I'm going to die?'

It was almost as if it was on habit for him as he stepped in front of you turning his back to his friends as he tried to convince you to go inside one hand on your stomach as he talked to you while the other was on your arm.

"Please. Please, go inside, Y/n." He looked down at you with pleading eyes as you watched as the people in front of you grew with understanding- the hand on your stomach, the secrets.

"Spencer Reid, let them inside. You are being Paranoid, I am perfectly fine right now. Both of us are, so calm the hell down." You flicked at his chest while trying to give him a serious look even though you knew Spencer couldn't take you seriously even remotely looking that cute.

"You guys should come inside before Spencer gets all pissy again."

"Y/n..." As you started to walk into your apartment a small woman encased you with her arms almost squeezing you to death, but you could tell she was kind so you hugged her back.

"Oh my god. Spencer has a girlfriend. And she is pregnant. Oh god, I am going to faint, what gender is it? Wait you said son! A mini Reid!" You looked at the girl with long curly blonde hair in pigtails and noticed how ecstatic she was about a baby that wasn't even hers.

You saw the others acting about the same to Spencer hugging him unlike the woman to your right- Penelope- who is pretty much crying and she didn't even know you.

"Y/n, this is Hotch, Garcia, Prentiss, JJ, Rossi, and you know Morgan." Oh, you did. The one time that he had met with you and another person was Morgan as he told you what was happening you had never seen any of the others other than in pictures

"Oh, believe me. I know, Derek. Spence doesn't stop talking about you, I'm pretty sure that if we have a boy their first name is going to be Derek."

"Really, Pretty Boy?" Derek moved over to you giving you a hug a smile beaming on his face. "How far along are you? How long have you been together?"

"One year, two months, twenty-seven days, and three hours. She is an estimated 30 weeks."

[goldenpctals]

TRUTH BOOTH, clyde edition 

GENERAL QUESTIONS

1. Please state your full name: Clyde Ephraim Aarons  2. Does your name(s) have any kind of meaning? If so, what is it? I was named after Bonnie & Clyde. My parents were police officers at the time. And Ephraim means ‘being fruitful’. I’m not really sure why my parents gave me that speficic name 3. Do you have any nicknames? Not that I know of. Other than in bed.  4. Where were you born? And in which country? Holmes Chapel, United Kingdom 5. What is your date of birth? May 5, 1996  6. Of course, the following question; what is your Zodiac sign? My zodiac sign is Taurus 7. Do you believe in Zodiac signs? Not really. It does not make any sense to me?  8. Where do you live? Violet Springs, United Kingdom 9. What is your home situation like? (ex. do you live with your family? Your partner etc.?) I live together with my wife and dogs. We have our own apartment 10. Do you have any siblings? No, I’m an only child 11. Do you have any kind of allergies? I do not have any allergies  12. Do you own any pets? If so, what kind of pets are they? My wife has a couple of dogs 13. Why did you apply to St Jude’s? The reason why I applied is because I’d like to persue a career in performing and making music. I love standing infront of a crowd and sharing my passion and story with others, through songs  14. Did you had to go through a lot audition rounds? I was accepted after 1 round  15. What is the current course you’re following? Music. Focused on songwriting 16. If you can switch courses, which one would you switch to and why? Maybe acting? Acting would be pretty interesting?  17. What is your proudest project you’ve done? Fine Line. Especially Treat People With Kindness 18. What is the proudest project that someone’s else has done? Soraya’s latest album, Romance is one of my favorites. Or also Holy by Dallas, such a beautiful song and raw 19. Do you like FanCons? I absolutely love ‘em 20. What do you like about FanCons? Personal interactions with fans  21. What don’t you like about FanCons? Since there are so many of them, I’m not able to meet them all. So, it upsets me that some fans are not able to meet their idols  22. A fan memory that always stuck with you? Can be positive or negative. When I gave away tour tickets to some of the fans. An act of my love towards them  23. Your favorite event so far? I love all the events. The ones that are a bit weird to me are the ones where you have to switch partners? I’m very loyal and to me, it’s odd  24. What kind of event would you like to see in the future? More fundraising concerts 25. Would you recommend St Jude’s to friends, family. etc? Definitely! 

PERSONALITY QUESTIONS

26. What are your positive traits? Ambitious, steady and loving. I think? 27. What are you negative traits? I think that one of my negative traits that I can be over-protective in some kind of way 28. What would other people describe you as? Ask the others? I have no idea 29. What are your pet peeves? People who think that / I / talk slow 30. What makes you happy? Happiness  31. What makes you upset? Bringing up past experiences  32. What is something you love? Performing. Besides my wife, it’s my biggest love and I really don’t want to be do doing anything else 33. What is something you dislike? Disloyalty. Or being vague 34. What are you strengths? How much I’ve grown the last year? I’ve grown a lot and I consider myself strong in any kind of aspect  35. What are you weaknesses? Opening up too much and being scared that people will leave me. I’ve been left alone many times before  36. A misconception people often think of you? That I’m probably still a d*ck 37. Do you have any fears? Death scares me 38. What scares you the most? Death 39. What do you do to entertain yourself? Go for a jog or walk, write music, read a book 40. What is your MBTI? ENFP, I think?  41. How do you deal with stress? Talk to my wife about it. It helps a lot  42. Are you a determined person? Are you a stubborn person? Determind 43. Do you consider yourself selfish? When I have to, yes. It’s important to think about yourself, no matter what others think in that moment  44. Would you like to be different? No. I’m very happy with who I am now 45. Are you more introverted (focused on your inner world) or more extraverted (focused on other people and the outer world)? Extrovert 

ROMANCE QUESTIONS

46. What is your sexual orientation? I consider myself as pansexual 47. Current relationship status? I’m married to Poppy Murry, who is also now known as Aarons. We married in Hawaii in 2020. It’s a priveledge to be married to her  48. When was your first kiss? Probably around 12/13 49. Do you remember your first date? If so, with who was it? What did you do? No idea. Probably snuck out of the house and went to a party? For goodness sake.. 50. Have you ever experienced heart-break? I have  51. Have you ever been in love? (If yes, skip to question 53) I currently am, and yes I have 52. If no, how so? n/a 53. How do you know when you’re in love? When home becomes a person 54. What would be your ideal date? It would be old-fashioned. I love exploring new places and get to know other cultures more 55. What is your perspective on marriage? From a married man’s perspective, it’s wonderful. However, my advice is to not rush into marriage. Divorce is awful. Only marry when the both of you a one hunderd percent commited  56. (only for non-virgins) Are you a sub, dom or switch? Dom. Sometimes a switch 57. What do you think of relationships? When you find the right person, everything just clicks 58. What do you think of one-night stands? In my past, I used to see women a lot. However, now, I’m a loyal man. I don’t do that anymore 59. Are you still a virgin? No, I’m not 60. Most attractive trait in a different person? Be yourself. Don’t put up a facade just to impress someone. Be you 61. What matters most to you when it comes to a relationship? Commitment and equality. It’s important to, whenever you’re both have different views, to find a middle ground 62. Are you comfortable with PDA? Or would you be comfortable with PDA? I love to show off Poppy. So, yes, I’d say that I’m comfortable with PDA 63. Are you more of a type to be asked out or the type to ask the other out? I’d a charmeur, of course I’m the one who asks you out 64. How do you express love to the other? In music and loyalty. All of my feelings are expressed into my songs. I’m pretty much an open book, nowadays  65. Who is your celebrity crush? Jennifer Anniston

GETTING DEEP QUESTIONS

66. Do you regret anything? Yes, a lot 67. Is there something you woule like to re-do? So, start all over again? If I could rewind to my past and do things differently, I would. I have hurted a lot of people and thinking back to it, pains me. I’m sorry to all the ones that faced me and my troubled mind 68. What is something you would never share with anyone? What really happened on the night that my parents were taken from me 69. When was the last time you cried? Why did you cry? I’m not really a crier? If there is something on my mind, I don’t hold it back and I immediately go to my wife or father-in-law to talk about it 70. Most memorable event that happened in your time in St Judes? This could be anything: My time in One Direction is something I’m always grateful for 71. One thing you wish you could do all over? Once again, my past 72. Someone you miss? Elliot. He’s my best friend. I miss my pal 73. Something you wish you could forget? Anything that happened in my first couple of years of St Judes  74. Who has the biggest impact on you? Poppy 75. What is your perspective on love? Is it beautiful? Does it scare you? It used to scare me. But surrounding myself with positive people has helped me a lot  76. What has hurt you in the past that you don’t want others to go through? Losing a parent, or both of them  77. What is something you have gained, something you have lost and something you let go of during the past year? Something I gained? Confidence, happiness and success. Something that I have lost? Attitude. Something I let go of during the past year? Not to worry so much what people think 78. Have you ever lost a friend? do you wish you would still be friends? No 79. Do you have any triggers? What is the history behind these triggers and are they related to any disorders or mental illnesses? Not really. I used to struggle with a pain killer addiction a couple of years ago, and also had anger / violence issues. I went to therpay for this and it’s been years since I’ve ever become so angry.  80. If you could meet your 16 year old self, what would tell them? Well, little Clyde, this is the start of a huge journey for you. Life isn’t going into the direction the way you want it to go and along the way, you lose the two biggest loves of your lifes, your parents, who will be taken from you during a robbery. You are going to find yourself in a deep and dark place that you won’t be able to get out of. Drugs will numb you. Alcohol will help. However, there are people who really care about you and no matter what, you’re going to be ok

RANDOM QUESTION ROUND

81. Summer or Winter? Summer 82. Cats or dogs? Dogs 83. Beach or mountains? Both, I love both  84. Phone calls or texting? Texting  85. Have you ever skipped class? No

[ts1989fanatic]

Taylor Swift is the millennial Bruce Springsteen.

If there were any doubts about this, they should have been dispelled by her latest release: the haunting Folklore, which filters the exact kinds of story-songs Springsteen excels at through Swift’s modern, orchestral-pop aesthetic. The album has been one of the best-received of her career, but then, the response to essentially everything she’s produced since her 2010 album Speak Now has involved critics grudgingly being dragged toward having respect for her skills.

The overlaps between millennial Swift (30 and born in 1989) and baby boomer Springsteen (70 and born in 1949) — both of whom are among the best songwriters alive right now — are considerable beyond their songwriting prowess. But comparisons, by necessity, must start there.

Both musicians love songs about a kind of white Americana that’s never really existed but that the central characters of which feel compelled to chase anyway. They use those songs to tell stories about those people and the places they live. They’re terrifically good at wordplay. Both are fascinated by the ways that adolescence and memories of adolescence continue to have incredible power for adults. Both are amazing at crafting bridges that take already good songs to another level. And both write songs featuring fictional people whose lives are sketched in via tiny, intimate details that stand in for their whole selves.

For example: The opening lines to Springsteen’s “Thunder Road” (“The screen door slams / Mary’s dress waves / Like a vision she dances across the porch / as the radio plays”) tell you everything about that woman and the man observing her.

Similarly, the opening lines of Swift’s “All Too Well” (“I walked through the door with you, the air was cold / but something ‘bout it felt like home somehow and I / left my scarf there at your sister’s house / and you still got it in your drawer even now”) tell you everything about this doomed relationship and the nostalgia both people involved in it still feel, compressed into a tiny little stanza.

Springsteen released “Thunder Road” when he was 25; Swift released “All Too Well” when she was 22. Both songs continue to stand as touchstones for who the artists were at that point in their lives.

But leave this comparison aside for a moment. What’s most interesting about drawing this connection are the ways in which the overlap between Springsteen and Swift’s styles can tell us about how our culture treats art made by men versus art made by women — and art made by baby boomers versus art made by millennials.

Springsteen and Swift each entered the music industry as young wunderkinds with lots to prove. Springsteen’s first album — the loose and rambling Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J. — was released when he was just 23. He had been playing in bands all around New Jersey for most of his teens, and signed a record deal with Columbia Records at 22.

He was expected to become an acoustic folk singer in the vein of Bob Dylan, at a time when the music industry was uniquely preoccupied with finding the “next” Bob Dylan. Springsteen quickly flaunted those expectations, assembling a group of musicians who would go on to be known as the E Street Band, in the name of creating a sound that captured a massive, orchestral blast of rock. Springsteen would finally perfect this sound on his third album, 1975’s Born to Run, and he’s been a global superstar ever since, even decades after reaching his pinnacle with 1984’s Born in the USA.

Swift’s rise was slightly more meteoric. She released her debut album, Taylor Swift, when she was just 16, and it featured songs that she had written as a freshman in high school. Swift broke into the industry via country music, and her country-ish second album, 2008’s Fearless, won her the Grammy for Album of the Year.

Just as Springsteen shirked folk in the name of rock, Swift’s sound quickly shifted away from the girl-with-a-guitar country archetype and more toward pop. By her fourth album, 2012’s Red, she had largely left country music behind.

(A fun game: If you line up Swift and Springsteen’s album releases roughly by how old they were when they recorded them, you’ll find surprisingly similar career trajectories. For instance, Born to Run and Swift’s 2014 album 1989 were released when their respective artists were 25. Both broke the artists through to even wider acclaim than they had before.)

Yet the two artists’ backgrounds are quite different, which may explain the different ways in which they’ve understood American political divides. Springsteen grew up in a blue-collar family in New Jersey, while Swift is the daughter of a former Merrill Lynch stockbroker who could afford to move the entire family to Nashville, Tennessee, when his daughter showed a talent for songwriting.

Springsteen’s songs have always reflected growing up in a world where poverty is just a lost paycheck away, even as he’s become incredibly rich. Swift has no such perspective. Her songs take place largely in a wistful world where money is rarely an object. And the artists came of age in very different political climates, too.

But the political divide has narrowed in recent years. Swift has taken a recent turn toward more political topics — particularly social justice issues involving the mistreatment of women and LGBTQ rights. That turn stems from her struggles to differentiate herself as an artist in an industry that routinely turns young, beautiful women into disposable products, wringing out of them a few years of hit singles and then tossing them aside. Her embrace of the ways her growing sense of (extremely white) feminism helped her attain more artistic control over her image has slowly but surely led to a greater understanding of the yawning disparities inherent to the US. She is more tapped into the ways that power is unequally distributed throughout American society and increasingly speaks out to that effect. (She’s still pretty lousy at confronting class issues, though.)

But even with all of their similarities as songwriters and increasing similarities as explicitly political artists — and even with all of the awards they have won and records they have sold — there’s still a knee-jerk insistence that Swift is either too self-obsessed or too much a creation of the music industry, while Springsteen went from being rock’s heir apparent to an elder statesman with only a few bumps along the way. And the reasons for that disparity go well beyond any artistic differences or similarities they might possess.

The most obvious difference between the reception of Springsteen and Swift is also the most obvious difference between the two of them as people: He is a man, and she is a woman.

Swift didn’t exactly discourage listeners from constantly parsing her lyrics to figure out which of her famous exes she was singing about early in her career; she even hid hints in her liner notes to help fans decode her clues. But the degree to which she was written off, for years, as a fundamentally unserious and self-involved artist reflects the ways in which domestic and romantic concerns are written off as unimportant when women talk about them.

By comparison, Springsteen has so many songs about teenage boys crushing on teenage girls, but few people try to figure out who he’s talking about when he mentions the almost mythical “Mary” in songs throughout his career. Perhaps it’s because he wasn’t dating famous people as a teenager, and perhaps because it’s sadly still too common to think a man singing about an adolescent crush has more artistic merit than a woman doing the same thing.

Even in the wake of Folklore’s release, many corners of the music-discussing internet insist upon talking about the album more in terms of Swift’s male collaborators — namely Aaron Dessner of The National and Justin Vernon (a.k.a. Bon Iver), both indie-rock royalty — than in terms of her own talents, even when, say, Dessner does a whole interview with Pitchfork talking extensively about Swift’s preternatural songwriting talents. The idea that Taylor Swift has somehow been “created” by someone is one that seems to persist, regardless of how much control she has over her own image.

But the ways in which people doubt Swift’s talent, or her control over her image, reflect larger questions about how baby boomers remade pop culture in their image versus how millennials continue to do.

Baby boomers were born into the era of radio’s dominance over American airwaves, and television entered their lives during their childhoods. The presence of these mass media influenced how much pop culture boomers could be exposed to, pushing into hyperdrive the artistic loop of influence becoming creation. American popular art exploded and proliferated as a result.

Whether that explosion led to the rise of rock and pop music or the invention of the cinematic blockbuster, baby boomers took the popular forms their parents adored and accelerated them toward something more raucous and purely entertaining.

The dominant new medium of millennials’ lives was the internet, which arrived when we were still very young. And a major element of internet culture is remix culture. From the earliest days of the “information superhighway,” jokes that mashed up disparate elements of pop culture — now we’d call them memes — were incredibly common, because the central idea of the internet has always been many people iterating on an idea rather than one person releasing that idea into the world.

Inherent to this kind of remixing is the idea of transforming something, often something disreputable, into something else. Thus, many of the greatest millennial artists work in forms that have previously been written off as unworthy — like, say, pop music — because the gatekeepers in those areas weren’t as likely to be aging baby boomers whose taste was ossifying. (This progression is not all that dissimilar from what the boomers did to the popular culture they were born into.)

Millennial artists grew up amid the splintering of the monoculture and, therefore, feel less of an obligation toward it than older generations might. When all you’ve known are niches, it’s better to try to find a niche that appeals to you and explore it as much as possible, then hope enough people come along for the ride.

Swift’s eagerness to collaborate with other artists who really excite her isn’t a uniquely millennial trait: Artists have been doing this since artists have existed. That she is only too happy to spread that credit around (even as her increasingly well-known “voice memos” that show her coming up with the central ideas behind her songs center her authorship first and foremost) is a testament to how millennial artists feel comfortable with both celebrating their influences and revealing how their art gets built, brick by brick, often thanks to the work of other people.

This is not to say that all baby boomer or millennial artists operate exactly the same way as Springsteen or Swift. Both artists write music that is equal parts heartbreaking and fun, evocative, and ephemeral. They’re constantly searching for their version of an America that does not exist, while not forgetting to make sure that we all have some fun in the one that does.

The impulse they share to tell stories about average Americans searching for meaning amid a crumbling world is a natural one for artists in the US. Yet Springsteen has so often been celebrated for doing just that, his rugged vision of a fading nation and talent for making national crises deeply personal treated as authentic and brilliant.

By comparison, Swift is often derided for how she digs into the ways personal apocalypses visit themselves onto the rest of reality, making her something like Springsteen’s inverse. The struggles she faces are deeply rooted in biases against women, the genre of music she operates in, and her generation. It’s worth reexamining the notions that drive this disparity in the two artists’ reception, if nothing else.

Perhaps we take Springsteen more seriously than Swift because he’s a man, or because all the great rockers of his generation have been venerated by time and nostalgia, or because his influences were men like Chuck Berry and Woody Guthrie instead of Shania Twain, Patsy Cline, and a litany of contemporary collaborators. But one of art’s great pleasures is finding the ways in which artists of different generations talk about the same topics across the span of years.

Bruce Springsteen and Taylor Swift craft their impeccable story-songs utilizing the tropes of very different musical genres. But they’re equally good at crafting songs built to both sing loudly on the freeway and accompany a flood of tears in the wake of some new heartache. Different as they might be, Springsteen and Swift are always talking about the same thing — all of the ways that every new day, no matter how promising, carries within it the potential to bring about the end of the world all over again. Until then, though, let’s sing about it.

ts1989fanatic all of that just to Tell us something swifties have known for years, the music industry is sexist and misogynistic DUH!!!

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Jinxed- Part 2

Calum’s so used to fucking up that when a second chance comes his way he’s not sure what to do with it. Demon!Calum. 

CW: Mentions of death. 

Enjoy my masterlist

Support me on kofi. 

No one has my permission to repost this fic, including translations. All rights reserved. Copyright © be-ready-when-i-say-go.

__________________________

Her house is a mess. Dishes have piled up, her laundry is overflowing the basket. She hasn’t returned anyone’s phone call. Her mother has left twenty or so voicemails. Her text notifications are near the hundreds. None of those matter. His notes aren’t slipped under the door. She’s checked every night for one. Like her brain hasn’t computed that he’s actually gone. But he is. There is nothing but that handful of dust. 

When she calls all those old numbers, she gets an automated voice. It tells her that the number she is trying to reach is out of service or has been disconnected. She always sobs on the last word. She is disconnected. Disconnected from a friend. Disconnected from her loved ones because no amount of the phone buzzing and shaking on the table gets her to pick it up. A lifeline has been unplugged. 

Ruby clutches the small jar to her chest most days, or keeps it near. It feels appropriate for all the times Calum would shoot whiskey or hennessey straight out of one of them. Or the time he left a single carnation in one of her mason jars. It was pink, even though she hated pink. The next time he brought white. She carries the little bit of him left in the mason jars he used to always poke fun about. 

She can’t even cry anymore tears. She just sits, curled up in his jacket. She’s starting to lose his scent though. She can smell now is herself mostly. Ruby can’t mess up Calum’s jacket. The least she can do is preserve that. So she peels herself out of, draping it carefully over the edge of her bed and goes to shower. 

She texted her boss the next morning after it happened, after the shock still weighed her down. Ruby explained she’d need to take a couple personal days. Ruby really thought that was all it would take. Like a couple days just to get herself out of the funk. It’s hard to deal with death, but she thinks that she can bolster through. However, everytime she walks into her living room, she stares at the spot he last kneeled and her whole chest shatters. Her lungs can’t expand large enough for hair. She wheezes while tears stream down her face. 

If she could use the sprinkling of his ashes and her tears to sprout him again, she would’ve done so by now. She stands, in that spot, clutching his shirt, praying there’s anything she could do to bring him back. She is by no means, a witch. She tries nevertheless. She prays that anything brings him back. At first she wanted to never know Calum. It would be much easier to never hold onto these memories of falling asleep on him when she just couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. 

The reality though is that she’s happy to have known him. She’s happy to have those random trips for ice cream, even though she knows it’ll make her intestines shiver. If she didn’t have those experiences, what would’ve been the last year and half of her life? Who would she be without the imprint of Calum on her soul? 

____

Her hair is no doubt a mess when she walks into work. She managed to do laundry and put on decent clothes. Her dishes are still not done. She’s yet to take the trash out with all the delivered fast food. But at least she’s taken care of one thing. She was just much too tired to keep her shoulders lifted to properly comb out. Most of the knots are out with her pick and wide tooth comb. 

“Hey stranger,” Tiff says. Her smile is soft, maybe even a little sad. 

“Hey, sorry about being gone for so long.” She can feel the sting behind her eyes now. Fuck, she really thought she had cried enough. How does she even begin to function like her life is normal again? 

“No, no, it’s okay.” Tiff collects Ruby into her arms, combs and all still in her hands. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“He’s gone. I just--I can’t believe it,” Ruby hiccups. 

_____

The weeks pass, blurring into months. Ruby lingers less often on the spot in her living room. She still wears his shirt around the house just for comfort sake. His leather jacket hangs in her closet, now a staple piece even though it’s boxy on her. It’s comfortable. It’s lived in. Even though his cologne is long gone and nothing but the scent of the cleaners is seeped into the garment, she can still feel the lingering of Calum in it. 

She knows he slipped his arms into the same holes. He layered it with a sweatshirt and beanie. There is something of him, his living visage still seeped into the threads that makes her feel better when she wears if, even if she doesn’t need the comfort constantly. 

Ruby keeps up with her dishes now too. Her laundry basket is emptied at least once a week. It hurts less to laugh. She can go about her day easier now. She doesn’t think she’ll ever reach her old normal. But she likes her new normal, the new routine of noticing the small things that Calum used to do that don’t cause her chest to rupture. But she gives a sad smile whenever the thoughts cross her mind. 

Like now, sitting in Kourtney’s car, Ruby is slightly reminded of the times that she and Calum would ride across town, just to try the latest sweet treat. 

“I don’t know how you’ve been single for this long now,” Kourtney laughs from the driver seat. The red light stares down at them and they stare up at it for the moment being. The comment isn’t mostly out of the blue. But their previous conversation about how dating is hard had died down a little. 

Ruby look to her friend through her peripheral. The high ponytail weave still slick and perfectly pinned in place. “I haven’t been single for that long.”

“It’s going on two years now! Ever since your birthday when that creepy guy cornered you at the bar. You broke things off with Darrell, what three just weeks before that?” Kourt risks a glance over. Rubs picks at her nails, the set of extended nails a deep burgundy color. They don’t mention that birthday too much. 

It was brought up once before after Calum’s passing and Ruby broke down into tears. Kourtney and the rest of the girls thought that Ruby and him had been dating and then broken up. But the way she cried and told them that a good friend had passed away, they figured they might be wrong about it. Everyone does their best to dart around the topic. 

Ruby makes sure never to give a name. Part of it feels like a disservice. That she’s silencing him even in death. But the other part knows it’s better this way. That she can’t say his name. Not to anyone. Would she be causing trouble for herself if she does? Would Lucifer come back for her? She’d rather not having the devil himself show up at her door again. Once is more than enough in a lifetime. 

Ruby blinks. It has been two years. Time surely hasn’t slowed. But it doesn’t feel like it’s sped up either. “Well I won’t be taking anymore recommendations from you,” she tsks, sucking her tongue around teeth. 

“You can’t hold Tre over my head forever. I thought she was cool.”

“She’s like the rest of them n--,” She had more to say but Kourtney cuts her off with a wave of her hand, as if she’s heard the guilt trip from Ruby enough already.

“So are we going out for your birthday or not?”

Ruby doesn’t know what she wants to do for her twenty sixth birthday. It feels mundane. It’s not 21 or even her 30’s. Just 26, a tick mark in the calender of her life. Just another day on the wheel. “We could go back,” Ruby offers with a shrug of her shoulders. 

Kourt presses down as the light turns green. “Back to Greenlight? It’s an hour out of town.”

“The music was lit.”

“The drinks were expensive.”

“You’ll have a birthday girl.”

“Why do you want to go back?” Kourtney asks but not without having to tap her brakes to allow for an asshole weaving through the lanes. She flips them the bird. 

Ruby watches, focus blurring on the passing asphalt. She can’t avoid things forever. She can’t hide from what’s happened. Calum’s dead. Though she’s wondered if demon’s can every truly die. Part of her wished she had asked sooner. She wished she had considered what happens when she dies, if she’ll ever cross paths with him again. Should she make some sort of deal with the devil? Calum would probably have her head for something like that. 

“Earth to Ruby!” Kourtney shouts, snapping her fingers near Ruby’s ear. 

“I’m not dead,” Ruby huffs. 

“Why should we hikes our asses all the way to Greenlight? Need to pour one out for them?”

Ruby has to laugh. Calum would not stand for the waste of alcohol in his honor. But it feels appropriate to remember him like that, even if it is wasted whiskey on concrete. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Someone’s gonna have to DD. Because I am not splitting that Uber again. I couldn’t even afford enough drinks for a solid buzz.”

“It won’t be long. But I guess if it’s an hour drive. We better make it worth our while. There’s a waffle joint close by too. Make pretty good breakfast.”

Kourtney parks in front of the mall, lips pursed. “And how would you know that ma’am?”

Keeping her gaze straight ahead, Ruby shrugs. Her lips curve though. The smile slowly etching itself onto her face. “Heard it through the grapevine.”

“Yeah right. Who you fuck that far across town?”

“No one,” Ruby defends. Her offended tone doesn’t last long before her laughter cuts through. It’s shocking that she’s never brought up the night she spent with Calum. But Ruby nows her friends. The would take any amount of scandalous details and run it for miles. 

Kourtney’s nonbelief is clear on her face, especially with the eyeroll. “Yeah and I was born last night.”

The women climb out of the car, laughing. As Ruby slings the purse onto her shoulder, Kourtney leans against the hood of the car. “Was it them? The one that passed away?”

Ruby matches her position. She can trust Kourtney, one of the few that always been more receptive to Ruby’s quiet moments. She’s always been the one that makes sure to keep the things that need to be quiet quiet. So Ruby nods her head. “Just once.”

“You just out here hoeing around and making friends out of them? Only you Ruby. Only you can sleep with someone and be friends wit’ ‘em.”

Ruby closes the car door, walking around the bumper. There’s a small breeze as they walk to the entrance. “It wasn’t supposed to go down like that. We slept together and I thought it was over. But he came into the salon.”

“So it was a guy, huh?”

“Yeah, he came into the salon to see a stylist. We talked for a minute.” Ruby pauses. She can’t admit that Calum turned out to be a giant asshole and a demonic one at that. “He was a bit of an asshole about it. But it was chill. Then on the date with Tre, he happened to be hanging out there too. She was still yelling about getting some ass. We argued and resolved it. Though, things didn’t actually get fix. She just stormed off. He was there. We hung out getting ice cream.”

Kourtney nods. “So you didn’t sleep with him again after that?”

Ruby shakes her head. “No.”

“Was it that bad?”

“Quite the opposite.”

“So why not?” Kourt screeches. 

The mall isn’t too crowded for the moment. Both of them wanted to get out and about early.  It’s only the older people that walk laps with their wristbands and two pound weights. All of them look at Ruby and Kourtney for sudden loud interruption. They are used to the stares from others because their glossy lips, and occasional pop of their gum. They know the hair and the color of their skin makes them an easy target for judgemental stares. 

It’s sometimes exhausting how true the phrase is that there is nothing new under the sun. There is nothing new about the prejudices they face. There is nothing new to the way they are watched, followed around. There is nothing new about losing loved ones. Nothing new about the stories of their lives. There is just new names on the characters they play. 

“Because we became friends,” Ruby answers. 

“You can fuck your friends.” Kourtney throws the 22 inches over her shoulder. Her nails aren’t long. But are a sharp stiletto point and have rhinestones tacked onto them. 

“You shouldn’t though,” Ruby states. 

Kourtney loves Ruby but sometimes wishes she gave more about her life. How to go from fucking a stranger to becoming their friend is a story that others would kill to tell. But Ruby holds it close to her chest. She won’t give the details.  Even if Kourtney tried to push it out of her, it would only be condensed. She’d only ever get the sparks notes version of the truth. “Fine, fine. We’re here for birthday outfits anyway.”

“Why do you need an outfit for my birthday?”

“Because I can’t go to Greenlight raggedy.”

“Your closet is twice the size of mine. You calling me raggedy?”

“Never in a million years, Rubs. Never.”

Ruby purses her lips but says nothing. Their feet carry them down past the anchor stores to a small run boutique. The displays are still neon and fishnets, with a sprinkle of cheetah print bodycon skirts. The shirts are cropped in the stomach but still thick long sleeved. The fashion choices don’t always make sense. As if only the flesh of arms get cold but not a stomach. 

“Are jeans and clear heels look too simple for my birthday?” Ruby asks, the jeans at the first display for her. She owns enough denim to last her the rest of her life if she gains no more weight. 

The question is mostly to herself, a little bit for Kourtney’s response. Kourtney’s already two racks over, thumbing through the previous season’s sequin tops. “No, it’s a very you look. Spice the top up with some glitter maybe. Or some neon?”

Ruby bypasses the denim, finding a blue sequin dress and holds it up. “Kourt, look what I found.”

A small gasp feels the air. “I need it. And I need it now.”

“Your size too.” Ruby dangles the rack from the tops of her fingers, thumbing over the dresses. Birthdays require maximum fun. A dress will have her stressed that her ass is not showing. Though depending on the amount of shots she’s had the stress of not mooning anyone could easily be overcome by the giggling urge to moon someone. She’ll stick to pants though and let the worry reside for another day when she dares a skirt. 

Kourtney takes the dress from the waiting hand and pulls out a red cheetah print top. “Try this?”

“Looks like a dress I have.”

Kourtney watches Ruby glance over the racks. The hangers making a piercing screeching as they scratch with rusted metal over the glossy metal rods that they hang on. Is smart to support her want to go back to Greenlight? Nothing special is really there about the place. It’s popular and crowded, but that’s only because it’s the latest club on the scene and more artists want to play in the club because of it’s blossoming elitist status. But a good time could be had anywhere.

“Are you positive about Greenlight?” Kourtney asks. 

Ruby nods. “As positive as I am black.”

“So hella positive then,” Kourtney laughs. 

It takes one store for them to find the base pieces, a dress for Kourtney and the top for Ruby. It takes three others for the shoes. In the second store, Kourtney finds her heels, black and strappy to neutralize the red glittery bling. And in the last one, Ruby finds a pair of clear heels--on sale. An important caveat for her considering she may not wear the shoes much after her birthday. 

When Ruby gets home, she drops the bag to her couch. She might be crazy to go back to Greenlight. Yes, they are memories there, but who’s to say that she couldn’t build more there. Why should the only ones she has of the place be tainted by a heaviness that could be replaced? 

____

It’s mutually decided that Ruby can’t be the designated driver for her own birthday. She only offered as a way to keep herself on a leash drinking wise. But her group of friends quickly shot that down.  She slips on the gold hoops as Tiff corrals the already tispy group. She can perfectly enjoy a birthday while being sober, or as close to sober as she could realistically be with a shot or two in her. 

Ruby hears the glasses clinking in her living room. The rest of the group has been sipping on fruity wine. It’s cheap, but good. Tiff hands over her tube of buttergloss. “Peachy nudes always pop more with a little bit of gloss. Always.”

Ruby takes it, just taking in the tube of glass, a fair pink. “Noted.”

___

The Greenlight is packed as always. Bodies look like a giant sea, swaying to and fro. Ruby looks over to the corner. Calum’s not there. She didn’t expect him to be there. But she had a fleeting hope. A sliver of it sits in her chest and drops when there’s just a couple talking, leaned in close to each other. Calum would be sitting there, beanie on his head. The look would not be complete without his leather jacket. She suddenly wishes she had it draped over her shoulders.

A whiskey would be in Calum’s hand of course. Maybe he’d wink at her. Maybe he’d just watch her dance with her friends. He’d offer of course to pay for a drink or two, but he’d really only be on the sidelines to let her enjoy the night. At the end of the night, when her world is still swimming with the buzz of her shots, Calum would probably tuck her into bed with water on the nightstand. “No dying on me tonight,” he’d whisper. 

For a fraction of a second, Ruby wishes she had made Calum promise that too. So that she could be angry for his death for him leaving her. But it really wasn’t of his own volition. That was a choice made for him by someone else’s hand.  

“We’ve got a birthday girl!” Tiff shouts, grabbing Ruby’s arm. 

Ruby’s imagined version of Calum disappears as she’s dragged to the bar. It takes her a moment to start reaching for her clutch to grab her ID. The bartender smiles. “And what will she have?” There’s a quick glance at the ID. Ruby thinks it most definitely isn’t long enough to see her age at all. 

“Whiskey. Straight.” The order falls from her lips without her thinking.

Tiff blinks. “Well that’s different than your usual.”

The only thing Ruby does is shrug. She can offer no explanation. It just feels like the right thing to do. The bartender nods and turns. The rest of the girls order shots or fruity drinks strong enough to knock a grown man over. 

The night doesn’t feel too special. Ruby manages to snag a few free drinks for her friends. The music thumps in her bones and the bass shakes her core. The bodies are still moving in mass, a sway. She finds herself looking to that corner again. The couple’s since left and it’s empty. She wonders if that spot feels like wearing Calum’s jacket. 

Telling Kourtney that she’s headed to the bathroom, Ruby sneaks away from the group. She climbs into the high chair, into Calum’s chair. It feels different up here. To watch everyone living their life. To know that someone’s going to home with someone else, to know that they are all in the middle of something—a breakup, trying to break a two year single streak. Whatever the case may be, every single person on that floor has a life headed in some direction. And she gets to watch the intersections. She gets to see how all the webs cross and unravel. 

“I’m very grateful you are a creature of habit. Or finding you would’ve been hell.” 

Ruby’s heart thunders, the veins in her neck thumping clearly behind the skin. She knows that voice anywhere. Even if she’s only heard it the one time in her apartment. She could identify it in a crowd of thousands. “Don’t you have other lives to ruin?”

Lucifer grins. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“That is absolutely rich coming from you. So why the fuck are you here?”

“I’m on a delivery. And I don’t think you’d be too receptive of my other Hunters.”

“To what? Deliver a harsh reminder that you killed one of my best friends? Thanks. Especially on my birthday. Perfect timing. You asshole. You’re such a goddamn asshole.” Ruby slips down from the hair, reaching back up to grab her drink. 

“Just listen for two second,” he hisses. When her hand comes up, he drops the long velvet box into it. “It’s from your friend. He never got around to giving it to you. So I figured I’d be nice. For once.”

“From Calum?”

“Yeah, from him.”

“What is it?”

“Look I’m just delivering the damn thing. I don’t ask questions about what it is. Do you realize that does spoil the whole thing about gift giving?”

“How long has he had it?”

“Again, that is not something I can answer.” 

If it weren’t for the fact that he was delivering something from Calum, she’d smack him. Maybe. It’s not like he’d feel it. Calum didn’t feel the left swing she gave him. Granted, it would be more for the affect, for the spectacle. 

“Apparently it’ll mean something to you. He’s been whining. Enjoy the rest of your day. Drink the spirits for me too.” With that, Lucifer slithers through the crowd. She notes it’s less of a walk and more of a glide. Calum had a swagger to his walk. Never rushed but never slow either. Ruby cracks open the box. 

A gold anklet stares back up at her. A small charm is attached. A mason jar etched into the gold plate with a C and R carved inside as well. Her eyes water. He’s had to have it for a while, holding onto it for some reason, for some sort of occasion. He mentioned getting her a gift. Only to her once. In passing, during Christmas. He said he wanted to give her something to remember him by that wouldn’t be subjected to the erosions all memories face. 

He wasn’t sure what to get though. Wasn’t sure how to give it to her. Sure he’d give her small things--surprising her with candy, or giving her t-shirts that he thought she’d enjoy mostly because of the crazy sayings printed on them. But he wanted to give her something tangible, that would fade to the wear of a machine. 

Ruby looks up back into the crowd. Lucifer’s is long gone. She continues to stare out over the packed dance floor. Will he show back up? And what he meant by Calum was whining? Calum was dead. The dead can’t complain, can’t speak, can’t blink. There is nothing but silence from them, right?

“Ruby! That’s one hell of a piss,” Kourtney laughs. Her eyes are glassy, Ruby notes. Maybe she won’t notice the tears forming in the corner of Ruby’s eyes. 

“Helping another girl,” Ruby lies, tucking the box away. “Zipper got caught.”

“C’mon. We got more shots. We need you.”

Ruby extends the hand not holding the chain. They filter through the crowd, over to the counter. She takes the glass of clear liquor, knocking the glasses together. As the liquid slides down her throat, it burns. What burns more is the thought that Calum might be alive somewhere out there in the depths of Hell.

Ruby crawls back into bed. The gold anklet dances against her skin. The last shot still pounds against her head. But the question would not leave her alone. Could Calum still be alive? She saw the dust. But Calum made her promise that she couldn’t watch. Right now, she wishes she had. She would know for sure, with her own eyes if death had truly ruined her. 

Her computer, even dimmed, still is harsh against her eyes. But she squints and opens a new window of Google, incognito. Like it’s illegal to search questions about demons. If it didn’t hurt to laugh, she’d chuckle at herself. 

Can you kill a demon? 

Ruby waits, blinks her eyes once and Google returns with answers, all in blue. She groans and clicks on the link. There had to be a color for the font that was easier on the eyes in the hangover state filled with curiosity.  

Demon traps, salt circles, holy water, heavenly fire, blades. 

This isn’t actually helping, she huffs. So clicks away from that link and back to the search results. Please work, she begs clicking another link. She skims over the black text. You can’t actually kill a demon. It surely look like Calum had died to her. It felt like he had died. Because if he was still kicking around he’d find a way to find her, to talk to her. 

Unless he couldn’t communicate with her like before. Ruby doesn’t know the first thing about how to communicate with any other spiritual beings. But there’s nary a question that Google can’t at least attempt to answer. 

How do you communicate with the dead? 

Ruby pauses. Should she type in how to summon a demon?

She is trying to summon one, technically. She’ll start there with the dead. To her that is what Calum is. He is dead. A dead friend. No matter the status of his spirit, he is dead to her. There’s seance, alters, crystals. Her brain begins to spin. So she closes the screen and lays back into her purple fuzzy pillows. They can offer some solace from the pounding of too much alcohol and too little water and the sting of tears. Calum can’t still be out there. She can’t handle that. 

___

The leather jacket is overkill. She knows. But staring up at the bookcase of books, she finds warmth in knowing that she is carrying a small part of Calum with her. Titles jump up out at her. Most of them centering around Wicca. She’s intrigued and pulls one down. She thumbs through the pages and holds it into the crook of her elbow. 

The Handbook of Witchcraft slips onto the top of her stack. People pass her by and no one seems to blink an eye. It’s her little secret, her little endeavor. To everyone else though, she is just down an aisle in the bookstore. She is just carrying a stack of books. She is just a patron amongst the fairly quiet calm river of the bookstore. She’s not making a ripple or bothering a soul. She is a nobody taking up space meant to be occupied. 

She settles into the cafe attached inside the store. Her stack is about four high. She might as well get started now. The whirring of machines blurs into the background of her mind. 

“Just starting out I see?” 

Ruby glances up. Another black girl with pink box braids tips her plastic cup at her stack. “Looking for answers,” Ruby says. 

Reaching into her pocket, the young girl finds a pen and takes a napkin from the small stack Ruby grabbed for her muffin. The girl scribbles down the at symbol followed by what looks like a username. “This is my Instagram. Message me if you need help.”

“Thanks.” Ruby smiles. “Like the hair.”

“Gotta get them redone. New in town. Still looking for a stylist.”

Ruby reaches into her purse. She grabs a business card for her and the salon. “I do eyebrows mainly. But the salon I work in is black owned.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“It can be hard out there.”

Ruby knows she’s been at the store too long when the afternoon sun fades into a pastel orange. Packing up the stack, she proceeds to the registers. The cashier looks unphased, pushing their reward card and membership. Ruby’s thankful. Her secret is safer for even a little bit longer, safe even from the cashier, who probably cares nothing about her life to start with. 

___

Ruby laughs at herself walking into IKEA, even though her entire house is completely furnished. Nothing is broken either. She’s still here though. She gets lost every time she walks through the doors. Taking a survey of the shop, she takes a deep breath. Just a small end table. That’s all she needs. She’ll start there. 

It takes an entire half an hour and help from two different employees but she secures the end table she needs. It’s on sale, or there’s some sort of special. The small wooden two tiered table is only 10 bucks, not including the taxes. It’s even small enough for her carry herself to her car. Though several employees offer one the flatbeds to help her walk even easier. Ruby know she could’ve easily gotten one for free, maybe with more characters, more knicks in it.

All the articles she read mentioned that the table wasn’t the important part. There would be more money to spend elsewhere. Is it wrong to want to give Calum the best if he’s still out there? The only thing Ruby can do is just give it a shot. As she slides the large cardboard box into her truck, she pauses. It’s just a shot. 

It would be funny to have an ivory cloth to cover it, Ruby thinks. Though black is more fitting. She settles later on, while in Target, for a Halloween themed one, black with silver trimming. It’s clearly been lingering since the holidays. She’s shocked they haven’t been tossed out yet by the store. It hasn’t been that long since the holiday, though. So maybe it isn’t old enough to be thrown out just yet. 

Calum might be pissed. She can almost hear his voice in her head, deeming worthy of at least something solid back. But Ruby figures he has a small silver streak in himself. Even if he refuses to believe it himself.He’d probably refute it. Tell her she’s the only silver streak in his damnation.

Ruby would then tell him he’s much too harsh on himself. She misses those moments, the bickering even though it’s not real. Twisting the last screw into place, Ruby looks at the gold anklet again. 

He’s been whining. 

Is she insane? Has she finally gone off the deep end to be sitting in her bedroom, screwing together an end table to create an altar? Calum might not even be on the other side. He could all the day dead. He could be really good. 

But why the present tense? Was it false hope, some sort of unresolved sadness or fear  that kept her clinging to any gram of hope? 

 Honestly, it didn’t matter. If she was insane, Ruby would find out soon enough, right? If she was insane to try and communicate with a damned soul, then it wouldn’t work. She’d just have a spare end table and a cool table cloth to help her decorate for the holidays. It wouldn’t be a waste if it all went to shit on her. 

___

“You have to set it up for what you need. You can add traditional elements. But they’re really customizable.” 

“I need it for like,” Ruby starts then stops, readjusting her grip on the thread.

“No, no. I need not know,” Jasmine reprimands. Her eyes are still closed. Her fingers still holding the skin taut. 

Ruby cleans up the underbrow before moving to the top of the bone. “Aren’t their guides for this kind of stuff? Could I go to someone else to do this?”

“I mean you could yes,” Jasmine says. Ruby brushes away the plucked hairs and moves to the right brow. “You’re looking for something maybe more along the lines of a psychic.”

“I don’t know. Everytime I think I can do it, I chicken out.”

“Just sit for a few minutes. Even if the altar isn’t complete just sit in front of it for a few minutes. Smudge it before and after. Besides, you’re not going to get it right on your first try. It’s not about getting it right the first time either. You have to feel it, know what you’re looking for, know when you’ve found it.”

Ruby hums, focused now on the string pulling the right hairs from the roots. When done and the brows outlined, Ruby hands Jasmine the mirror. “What do you think?”

“Holy fuck,” Jasmine gapes. “My brows have never looked this good.”

“I do my best.”

“You fucking slayed it is what you did.” Jasmine turns her head side to side, to make sure it’s not just a trick of the light and angle. The truth is no, her brows look this good for every angle thanks to the talent of Ruby. Jasmine adds a ten dollar tip to the fee. “I’ll be back for sure.”

“Glad you’re happy with them.”

Jasmine grabs a couple of business cards from the display on the front desk. “For friends,” she notes before shouting loudly over her shoulder. “Bye ladies. See y’all later.”

The entire shop responds with a shout too. Ruby leans into the glass front desk. The sidewalks are pretty dead. A couple boys hanging out because of the barber shop next door. There’s a convenience store at the corner of the block, where most people grab snacks for before coming into their hair appointments. Ruby would go there to grab snacks before movie snacks. She managed to sneak out of the salon well before closing sometimes and because of that, she could load up before calling Calum. Never texted. 

The rest of the day is pretty slow. It’s only Tuesday though. The closer to the weekend they get, the busier it becomes. Ruby walks into her apartment. It’s quiet and she thinks about turning on her TV. There’s never anything on, so she lets the silence lingers and gets water instead. The table is still bear in the corner of her bedroom. Just the cloth. Ruby finds the shoebox in the top of her closet. She pulls the only photo she has of Calum. Just him reclining on her couch in a green t-shirt and sweats. 

He’s not even looking at her, too busy browsing her computer. He was trying to prove her wrong about the meaning of carnations. This then took him down the rabbit hole of flora meaning, which he spent twenty minutes reading aloud to her. Ruby has since put it in a gold frame. It fits him. So she sets the frame onto the table, just right in the center. 

Ruby sits in front of it. Just admiring the photo. Her clock ticks in her ear. The water sits on the floor, still in the cup. Ruby lights one of the incenses. Rhodney gave her a good deal on them. He helped her get into this apartment. And she just sits. Eyes closing briefly. This is nice, peaceful. Just her, sinking into the floor, thinking about Calum. She lets the lavender scent settle into her lungs. 

Ruby sits cross legged, mind suspended between the reality that she is in her bedroom and the shallow pool of not having to think about anything. She can just bathe in the memories, his love of chocolate pretzels, the way he always smelled a little like nicotine but mostly like wooden musk of cologne.

Maybe Calum couldn’t communicate with her. Ruby knows in her heart of hearts that Calum would fight heaven and high water to keep in contact with her if he could. This had to be on her to figure out. Ruby couldn’t rely on Calum’s supernatural abilities anymore. This was a fight she’d have to take up on her own. 

There’s a small rumble. She can hear the clink of her glass. She thinks it’s the glass clinking against the floor. But she doesn’t dare open her eyes.  Then her phone rings from the living room. 

“Shit,” she whispers, standing up. She was positive she had turned it on silent. But she can never be sure anymore. It’s only a spam call. She was searching for a new health insurance plan and now the companies don’t leave her alone. 

When Ruby returns to her bedroom, her glass of water is still.

___

“You really need at least 4 people to communicate with spirits. Don’t want to be doing that kind of shit alone,” Jasmine hums. She sucks through her straw, the bottom of it clearly in nothing but air. 

“I don’t really have 3 other people that would be down for that,” Ruby counters. The coffee shop is loud. It’s a shock for how late in the day it is. But for those that need the caffeine, it matters not the time of day for them. 

“Well, now you only need 2 more people,” Jasmine grins, finishing off the last of her scone. 

“You’re going to help me?” Her disbelief is clear in her question. Why would Jasmine potentially be subjecting herself to the unknown for Ruby? It’s probably less unknown for Jasmine than it is unknown for Ruby. 

“Of course.”

“You do know what I’m asking you to do right?”

Jasmine laughs. “Yes, I’m aware.”

Her latest hairstyle are crochet locs. The fake hair has the ends dyed royal blue. Ruby notes that she always has to have a pop of color with her hair. She likes it. The way Jasmine’s always so free to express herself. Ruby does that too, with her hair too, but more so through her nails. She’s not sure what color to get this time. Though every time she goes into the nail salon, her eyes drift to the olive green. The same color of the shirt in the picture. 

“You’ve got time to get your nails done today?” Ruby asks. 

Jasmine looks over the black polish she put on about a week ago. It’s chipped a little. It was a rush job on her part.  “I hadn’t planned too, but sure.”

“My treat,” Ruby adds on. 

“Sold.” 

Knocking on Kourtney’s door, Ruby wonders if she’s already gone for the day. She tried to text before driving over it. Kourt hadn’t responded though by the time they got there. Kourtney keeps her car in the garage, so there’s no way to know. The door cracks open just as Ruby’s phone buzzes in her pocket. “Well this is a surprise,” Kourtney laughs. 

“Kourt this is Jasmine. Jasmine, Kourtney.” The two ladies wave at each other. “Think you can squeeze us in.”

“For you, Rubs, always. No matter how last minute it is.”

Ruby knows that tone, it’s joking but serious. “I promise this won’t be a common occurrence.”

“Oh I know it won’t.”

As the drill buffs over Ruby’s growth, Kourtney clicks her tongue. Her nose and mouth are hidden behind the dusk mask. The raised eyebrow is clear. She’s not buying this pitch, not in the slightest. The fine powder flies under the harsh light of the lamp bent over Ruby’s nails. “You want me to do what now?”

Ruby knows what she’s asking is probably insane. “Just be there. That’s all.”

“We are too black to be fucking with spirits.”

Ruby looks over to Jasmine, who just shrugs. Her gel manicure is freshly cured, though she sits under the nail dryers for her toes. “I mean, I totally get where she’s coming from. But at the same time, if you look at other religions, they do the same thing all the time.”

“Like what?” Kourtney tuts, pulling the drill away from her work. Ruby’s hand is still firm in her grasps. 

“Do you know about orishas?” Jasmine asks. 

“Do I know about what?” 

“They’re deities, gods,” Ruby explains. “I mean, it’s not totally the same. In that belief system people who practice are mounted.”

“Mounted?”

“The deity descends and uses the practitioners physical form, or body, during rituals.” Ruby wants to avoid the term possess. That would only serve to fuel Kourtney’s resistance. 

“Just say possess them. You can say it,” Kourtney huffs. 

“It’s not like the deity stays forever.”

“So, for argument sake, people are mounted by these spirits. And you want to equate that to openly knocking on the supernatural’s door and just ask them to chill out with us until whomever you’re trying to contact shows up. Is that what you’re asking me to do?”

“Well, it’s less about just chilling with spirits than it is trying to directly contact one. But yeah, let’s go with that version,” Ruby returns. 

“You’re fucking insane.” Kourtney’s tone isn’t harsh. It’s not even condescending. She just sounds tired, and maybe even a little flabbergasted. She can see Ruby’s desperate. Kourtney thinks she might be too if a friend just suddenly upped and died. It’s different than when Kourtney’s grandmother died. She had reasons. There was an explanation and a clear peace at the end.. Her grandmother was older, had been teetering on the edge really for a while. She wasn’t deathly ill, just getting up in age. She was starting to forget things easily. She couldn’t do the same things as before. In all honesty, her grandmother’s peaceful slip from temporary slumber to a permanent sleep is the best outcome. 

Kourtney changes the bit on her drill, taking down the length of the old set. “If I become haunted, I’m making friends with the ghostman and getting them to haunt your ass instead. I don’t have the time be fucking haunted, alright? Ain’t no ghost finna pay my bills.”

Ruby looks over to Jasmine. She hadn’t expected that to happen. She thought she’d ask. She’d get told no. Ruby halfway thought Kourtney would shut her down when she started talking about the deities. But to have Kourtney agree--that comes from left field. “Are you high right now?”

“No but I just might hint a blunt after dealing with you.”

The room echoes with laughter. “I’ll even roll it for you,” Ruby offers, her chest still hiccuping with tufts of laughter. 

“Nah, it’ll be haunted or some shit. I’ll roll my own blunts. Thank you.”

___

Jasmine’s friend, who only goes by Ash, settles down last in the circle. He’s a psychic, according to his Instagram. Ruby’s talked to him once face to face. His voice is too deep, too alluring. But he doesn’t carry himself like he takes life too seriously. It made him more inviting. The long hair, it’s always braided back. Ruby can appreciate his humor. His stare can be intense, dark brown keen eyes. They don’t ever miss anything. 

As his hands wrap around Ruby’s, his gaze is stern. His tone is softer. He has no qualms with people getting the answers that they need. But he doesn’t want them to do it for all the wrong reasons.“Are you sure about this?”

Ruby’s not really completely sure. She was never really supposed to talk about Calum. She was supposed to keep all this shit quiet. But if it weren’t for her run at Greenlight, she could be at peace. She doesn’t need constant communication. She just needs to verify. Calum really might be out there. “It’s the only shot I’ve got.”

Ash nods. He can understand that. With the board settled down, Ruby begins. Kourtney keeps flicking her gaze about the small circle. She prays to God she doesn’t wind up haunted because of this shit and she prays Ruby’s not diving into the deep end either. Even though Kourtney is not well versed in how hauntings work, she knows that no matter where Ruby goes these spirits can and probably will follow. 

“I am asking if my friend Calum is still out there,” Ruby starts. Her hands are shaking a little. She can hear the quiver in her own voice. 

It’s silent. Ruby watches, blinking erratically. Does she even want to contact Calum? Should be doing this at all? It could be best to live and let die. Kourtney shifts on the floor. They’re all situated in Ruby’s bedroom, around the small little table that holds a picture. Kourtney thinks this must be the friend, this Calum. 

The lights are off. The room’s already decent temperature wise. But Ruby doesn’t miss the small distinct breeze across her face. It’s easy to think that when presented with this scenario she would be brave. But right now, she can feel her gut leaping. “Oh shit. Did anyone else feel that breeze?”

Jasmine, to the left of Ruby, speaks up. “Can the spirit in this room confirm that you are Ruby’s friend? Gently move a piece on the altar.”

Ruby watches the gold anklet. Even in the flickers of the candle light, it glitters more than the picture frame. She placed the charm upside down. Whether it was on purpose, Ruby can’t say for sure. But a part of her did hope that if she were to have any success that the anklet would be the first thing Calum would reach for. He’d know the significance.  

Nothing happens. Ruby probes whatever might be reaching out to them to move something. The minutes pass and there is nothing still. The charm does not flip over. Another breeze does not come by. There is nothing. Just the rising and falling of four chest in Ruby’s bedroom. Any potential spirits that crossed over are thanked. The circle is closed. The candles are blown out. “Did you feel anything besides the breeze?” Jasmine asks. 

Ruby shakes her head. Sometimes she wishes she hadn’t decided to keep her hair short. The longer the hair, and even the longer the weave, she could’ve hidden her disappointment, the wobble of her chin. “Sometimes, you’re not always successful on your first try,” Ash counters. His voice is soft, much like the touch of his hand on Ruby’s shoulder. 

“Thanks,” Ruby answers. Her voice is thick as it leaves her throat. 

It’s rude, she knows. Ruby shuts herself into the bathroom. The door swings close and clicks with a harsh thud. She only needs a moment. Just a second. Just so the first hot tear can run down her cheek. She was a fool. How could she really believe that this would work? Hope made everyone blind. Everyone could probably see that it would never work. And yet, they had hoped for her that it would work. Yet they had sat in her bedroom like children at a sleepover, playing with spirits. 

 Ruby couldn’t be that mad at them. They were only trying to help her. But did no one think to stop her, to save her from this embarrassment? She sniffles hard, wiping at her cheeks. She’s never really had a flush on her face. But right now, behind the copper tones of brown skin, she can feel the heated flush taking over. Why would he do such a thing to her? She was a fucking fool to believe the gift was actually from Calum. He’s dead. His ashes are still in that godforsaken mini mason jar. There is no bringing him back. 

There’s nothing left of him. His soul was already damned to Lucifer. There was no way he would let anything remain. Ruby would’ve done better to just talk to open air than to try and communicate with Calum. She was just a fucking fool. 

With another harsh sniffle, Ruby opens the door. If her eyes are red, they’ll just have to be red. “Thanks for subjecting yourselves to this. I owe you guys.” She doesn’t hide the quiver that takes over her chest. 

“Rubs,” Kourtney sighs, hugging her friend. Ruby shakes like a dog caught in a thunderstorm in Kourtney’s arms. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

“N-no,” Ruby croaks. “I’ll call if I need you though.”

Kourtney thinks for a moment. She could refuse Ruby’s wishes and have to deal with a crying and pissed Ruby or she could just wait for the phone call. Ruby will probably still be crying if she calls, but at least there won’t be any anger. “I’ll be near my phone.”

As the door creaks close, Ruby locks it, bottom and top locks before sliding down the steel door. Here she is again. On her fucking knees crying over Calum again. She wants to laugh. She really does. It catches between her sobs in ragged coughs. “Fucking of course,” she pants. “Of course.”

She pushes her hands and crawls to the edge of the coffee table. Right where she was when Calum died. “I thought it was only lovers that were supposed to hurt like this.” Her speech is interrupted by sobs. But she continues on. “I thought only lovers were supposed to rip your fucking heart out.”

“They say talking to yourself is a sign of insanity.”

Even though her vision is nothing but a watery field of tears, she knows that pale skin. “Don’t you have some other poor soul to torture? Don’t you have anybody else to fuck over? Haven’t you ruined my fucking life enough?” she shouts. Her hand finds a coaster and lobs it before she can even think, still half hung onto the edge of the coffee table. It requires too much energy to support herself on her elbows. She just hangs her weight into the sturdy piece of furniture. 

“He heard you calling. So I had to answer,” Lucifer returns. 

“You’re such a fucking liar.” Ruby wishes she could smite him. Do anything to him to make him feel the ache in her chest. Would it take a bolt of lightning? Did he hold anything precious to his heart?

“I’m many things.”

“Leave me the fuck alone, God.”

Lucifer fakes a hiss, throwing up a cross with his fingers. “We don’t say His name around me.”

Ruby drags the sleeve of her shirt under her nose. Her tears, though they roll down her face, have stopped stinging her behind her eyes. “That’s a corny ass joke.”

Lucifer shrugs, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Figured I’d give it a shot. See if you’d stop cursing me out.”

“You’re still an asshole. So no, it didn’t work.” Ruby finally pushes up from the coffee table and falls into the legs of the couch. She stares out into the open dining room, at the table pushed up against the wall, right under the window sill. Calum would sit most nights that he stayed over in front of it. He said watching the night relaxed him. But she wonders now if she was watching for Lucifer. If Calum knew all along that he was playing with a fire that would burn him. 

It would hurt more if he just disappeared, Ruby thinks. If Lucifer somehow got him in the middle of the night while she was sleeping and Calum just wasn’t there. If he never showed up with another note under her door. That would hurt more. Not knowing would kill her more than knowing Ruby figures. She probably wouldn’t have noticed it at first. But as the days blended into weeks and the weeks turned into months without any contact from Calum--that would kill her. Slowly and then all at once she’d lose her head. 

“Mind if I sit?” Lucifer asks. 

“And if I say I do. What are you going to do? Kill me?”

“I’d never kill for such a frivolous thing.”

Ruby whips  her head to look at him. “You killed Calum? And for what? Being my friend?”

“I don’t have to explain that to you.”

“No, you do! You do have to explain that to me.”

“I don’t,” Lucifer defends. 

“Oh, but you do, Lucifer.” She’s never uttered his name before. It made him too real if she did. Made Calum’s death too real. But right now, after what just happened, or didn’t happen, he owes her that much. She can say his name. It is not lead on her tongue anymore. 

“Ah, she does remembers my name.”

“I could never forget it.”

“Ruby, I don’t owe you any explanation. I didn’t owe it to Calum to make the trip before or this one. But I’m doing it.”

“What the fuck did he do?” Ruby pushes up from the floor. Her face is tight. She knows her eyes are red. There’s probably snot on the sleeve of her shirt. It doesn’t matter though. She’s going to get these answers. “Tell me. What is so wrong about finding a friend?” She searches his gaze, seeing if he’d crack. 

The only thing Lucifer does is take a step forward to her. There’s still a good foot between them. “If you’re boss gave you a rule, and you broke it, couldn’t you be fired for it?” 

Ruby takes a small step forward. “Depends on how big the rule was.”

“I’ve ruled with an iron fist. And I will always continue to do so.” Lucifer meets her step, but only after his statement crosses his lips. 

No one moves again. There’s only another step between them. “Don’t tell me you have a soft spot? You can’t have a soft spot for the person you killed.”

“Calum isn’t a person.”

“He was to me.” Ruby closes the gap. Finger poking at his chest. “He was as real to me as Kourtney, or Tiff. Or anyone else in this world. He was a person to me and that’s all that matters.”

“We are monsters. Me included,” Lucifer states. “He is nothing more than a hound now. Just like all the rest.”

“And who did that to him? Who did that?” Ruby hates to get loud. But the emotion leaps from her. Her fists are furling at her side. 

Lucifer must admit she’s bolder than he took her for and far less fearful than he thought would happen for something that just tried to summon a demon into their bedroom. Though, anyone trying to do that must not hold much fear to begin with. “I know what I’ve done.”

“And is this supposed to make me feel better? Is this you trying to rectify the situation?”

“No. I can’t fix anything now. What’s done is done.”

Ruby cracks, she can feel her core crumbling. The tears come back. She presses the heel of her hands into the sockets of her eye. “Just tell me what you did. Is he really dead?” She pleads. The tough guy act is exhausting. All she wants to do is cry again, curl into her sheets and let the ache fall over her throat in screeches. 

Lucifer, for just a second, lets himself peer down at her. She stands right under his chest. He can see what Calum meant about how endearing it feels. “The Calum you knew no longer exists. You can’t summon him. His physical form is dust.”

“The whip?”

“Turned over to another owner.”

“They’re temporary to you. They’re nothing,” she gaps. It really ought not be a shock. It is the devil she’s dealing with. She’s not dealing with someone human. But it still shocks her. 

“We’re all nothing. Calum got a second shot at his life. And he fucked it up. Like he always does.”

Ruby shoves Lucifer. Her palms hitting hard into his chest. Lucifer stumbles back half a step but plants his feet to catch himself. “He didn’t. He didn’t do anything wrong!” She can see the pointed tail rising behind him. She sees the flash of fire in Lucifer’s eyes. “Do it. Fucking do it, I dare you.” Now she’s really gone insane. To goad the devil like this. But she doesn’t care. 

It’s a steel resolve that stills Lucifer. It stills even Ruby. “You don’t mean that,” Lucifer taunts. “You couldn’t possibly mean it.” 

“You don’t know what I mean and what I don’t.”

Lucifer grins, lowering the tail. “I do know that what’s left of your precious Calum whines for you. He curses himself for messing things up with you. It’s ironic really. To be subjected to an eternal curse and then curse yourself on top of that.”

Ruby just stares. She’s tired of the circle games. She’s tired of begging. If he’s going to explain himself, then he will. And if he won’t explain himself, he can go right back to the place he came from. So Ruby remains silent. Lucifer blinks at her.

 He says nothing either, waiting for her rebuttal. She’s a smart girl; she’ll have something, Lucifer figures. 

A few more moments go by. “Nothing to say?” Lucifer asks. 

Ruby remains quiet. 

“Did Calum ever tell you he was a Hunter for me? Really the head of them. That’s why I gave him the whip.” Lucifer stops for a moment. She look unphased for the moment. He sees the way she’s biting on the inside of her lip though. “I can’t bring him back,” Lucifer admits. “He still exist. Just not like you knew him as. You can’t bring him back.”

Ruby wants to look away. But she doesn’t. She takes a breathe. “You took everything from him. I hope you know that. I hope you know the destruction you’ve caused, Lucifer. Whatever good he had going on in his life, whether it was damned to you for eternity or not, all that good is gone.”

“It’s like the Big Guy said. All I��m good for it stealing, killing, and destroying. We’ve all got our parts to play. I brought you the anklet because I thought it would get him off my back. He’s relentless when it comes to you. He wanted me to give him updates. Him! Like he runs the fucking place.”

“So, tell me, do you give him updates? Why else would you be here?”

“No, actually, I heard you knocking on my front door with that summoning circle. But I didn’t think the others would take kindly to me showing up.”

Ruby has to laugh. She really does and it escapes her in dry tufts. “Tried to summon a friend and I got a piece of shit instead.”

“Yeah, I’m not the greatest, alright. I know. Just because I took Calum’s status away, just because I stripped him of his physical form doesn’t mean he can’t annoy the shit out of me in Hell.”

“And you can’t undo it? Can’t give him back his human form?”

Lucifer shakes his head. “If The Big Guy himself had to flood the earth to start over, there’s no way He’s giving me more powers than Him. He can’t snap his fingers to undo anything and I can’t snap mine.”

“What rule did Calum break? What the hell did he do deserve that?”

“I told you. Rules have to be followed. That’s that.”

“I can’t ever talk to him again. I can’t ask Calum so I’m asking you. I’m giving you the second shot you don’t fucking deserve.”

This isn’t a second shot, Lucifer thinks. He never gets those. Not that he’s ever deserved them in any capacity ever. But Ruby’s pleading stare is maybe just enough to crack his chest open. “I told him not to get too close. I told him that if he got too close to you it would be his head. You might’ve called me a liar. But others would disagree.”

Ruby sucks in a breath, turning away. Her hands cover her face. But that’s not enough darkness so she closes her eyes behind the fabric. “In my house. In front of me!”

“There’s a reason why he told you not to watch.”

She can picture it all now. There was no sound. But she can see, clear as day, a fistful of Calum’s curl in Lucifer’s fist as Calum’s body slumped away before disappearing. She wonders if his eyes blinked close, if Calum had just enough life in him to finish that action. Or they were probably already closed before the last blow was delivered. Was he thinking of her? Was she Calum’s last thought? 

Lucifer’s voice interrupts her buzzing mind. “The anklet’s actually from him. I found it in his apartment while I was cleaning it out. I had some others keep it safe. I wouldn’t have given it to you, in all honesty. I was going to have it pawned. Needed the cash for some other earthly endeavours. But I could never bring myself to fucking do it. So I gave the boy what he wanted. I gave it to you. His last good deed, he called it.”

“Do me a favor?”

“I’m not a middle man for the two of you. I agreed to give you the anklet and I only agreed to check up on you like once.”

“Just one thing,” Ruby sighs, turning to face Lucifer. 

“Just one.”

“Don’t come back to me. Don’t check up on me. Don’t give him updates.”

“This is going to sound ironic coming from me. But he’s going to raise hell over that.”

“Tell him I told you not too. I want to remember him like he was drinking whiskey way to early in the day and always dawned in the leather jacket. I want to remember him like a friend.”

Lucifer sighs. Calum’s not going to like that. But he nods and says nothing as he exits her apartment. Through the front door this time. For a brief moment, Ruby finally realizes that she never opened the door for Lucifer in the first place. Could he have been the breeze she felt? 

She was just torturing herself. Ruby never considered herself to be a masochist. Pain was never really her thing. But all she was doing was hurting herself. This was just a wound they kept picking the scab off of. It would always bleed if it’s never left alone. It can never clot and create new skin. Even if it leaves a scar, the thicker skin is more protection that busted blood vessels. 

Ruby drags herself to her bedroom. Calum’s picture staring at her as she enters. She walks over, placing the photo face down. She’s gotta let him rest. Let herself rest really. What is she doing besides running herself into the ground. That’s all it is. She picks up the anklet, testing the weight in her hand again. It’s cold against her skin and has never been heavy until now. She sets onto the dresser next to her bed. In the morning she can think about whether or not to bear its weight again. 

____

Lucifer can already imagine the roar that’s going to echo off the walls of his head. But he’s really only the message man, yet again. “Good news and bad news,” Lucifer starts. 

“Bad news first.” His voice is harsher, more of a snarl in this state. Body much too large and too hunched for the man he once portrayed. The fire does like it does everyone, making the skin blister and turn a pinkish red. It’s a shock that anyone can hold out at the eternal flick of the flames like he does. 

“You’re going to regret that. She wants to give you a good memory. Take it.”

“What?”

“Let her go. Let her remember you the way she knew you.”

While Calum would hate to admit Lucifer to right. It might be naive to think that Ruby wouldn’t try everything in her power to see him again. He’s not the man he used to be. He’s not in any position to be seen for what’s beneath it all, beneath the lies. “What’s the good news then?”

“You have a friend in her, even still. You’re lucky.”

He surely doesn’t feel lucky. Trapped here as his body is constantly burned and healed all within the same minute. He surely doesn’t feel lucky knowing that he won’t ever be able to answer a call from Ruby again. But if she’s willing to hold onto his memory, even with all the messed up shit he’s done, than he found something to be lucky about. 

Though it’s never rest that finds his soul, Calum remembers the way she laughs and something like peace stills the moment. It’s a quiet calm that only simmers for a moment before the pain kicks in again. He takes the second of calmness whenever they come because they always bring her with them.

[musingsofawannabewriter]

Can I Be More Than The Person I Have Become?

Here I am again. Once every few months, sometimes years I get that urge to put pen to paper or in this instance finger to keyboard.

When I was little reading my mom’s Jodi Picoult, Danielle Steele or Avon romance novels I felt inspired. I wanted to write a book people would cherish and love. Then I read Purple Hibiscus and then the doubts came.

Purple Hibiscus is one of my favorite books ever and the author Chimamanda is an inspiration to me. But the doubts came because I believed I could never write a book as amazing as Purple Hibiscus, that stirred so many emotions and feelings in me that with each rereading makes me discover something new. It didn’t help that Chimamada is that perfect Igbo first daughter who has a first degree and not one but 2 MA’s and speaks fluent Igbo.

My admiration for her was tinged with a lot of jealousy. I am an Igbo first daughter, that can barely speak/understand Igbo despite growing up in Nigeria most of my life, I only have a BA in Law, I failed spectacularly at a Masters programme that from the start I only applied to because I thought it was expected of me. 

There are so many flaws in myself I could spend hours picking on but won’t for the sake of bringing down the mood of this article/opinion piece. Despite feeling I could never measure up to CNA I still chose literature as my elective in my GCSE’s and WAEC exams. Had an A for both and was the best student in class for the former. But I still felt like a fraud. I understand English, I speak it but the technical rules stump me sometimes. Like the semicolon… No matter how many times I can’t seem to retain when it applies. I suck at writing dialogue because I am always confused where to add the apostrophes and commas. Subject verb agreement, well I stumble my way through and hope for the best which has worked out okay so far.

I used to write in notebooks fervently in Secondary School. I would craft stories which would get passed around different students and their compliments and eagerness to read my words fueled me. I was going to be a writer maybe.. Get my first degree in Law then a Masters in Creative Writing. Maybe after becoming successful I’d be the next Michaela Coel adapting my work to the screen to great critical acclaim.

Well let’s just say reality hit hard, no punches pulled whatsoever. I left my sheltered Nigerian boarding school after graduation to go to the UK full time for my A Levels. First mistake was spending my years pocket money in under 3 months. Second mistake was essentially being mute for my first year of school. I have always been quite reserved and find it hard to talk to people. Going to a full boarding school meant I saw my classmates almost 24/7 so bonding and socialisation was inevitable. Well with A levels only having 3 subjects to study and it being a day school meant I could go a week without speaking to anyone except the lovely lunch ladies in the cafeteria.

If I am being honest I wasn’t used to interacting with white people and felt self conscious about my accent so it was a perfect storm. 

Then the whopper…I have always had a complicated relationship with food. Since I was younger my weight has fluctuated heavily. It didn’t help that my mom was one of those slightly bigger women who decided to become a gym addict and drop all the weight. A lot of her insecurity from being bigger rubbed off on me, directly and indirectly.

Having your mom take you to exercise classes at 13 hurts. Having your mom be so happy to see you lose so much weight because the food at your boarding school sucked hurts. Having people complimenting your mum and asking how you're related to her cuts even deeper. Every stab at my heart at confidence got buried deep. In school, I would restrict my eating by spending breakfasts which I hated asleep in class, would skip a few lunches then binge at dinner times. This had the effect of keeping my weight stable.

Even then my mom still criticised my weight. When I look back at my size 12/14 self in secondary school who was gorgeous, a rage fills me. I was so beautiful but with zero confidence. I hurt so much and wish I could go back in time for a few minutes to tell myself I was worthy of being liked, by others and myself.

Eventually being away from my mom, the safety of my boarding school friends and siblings made it easy to seek solace in food. I was in the UK, I was living in student accommodation and for the first time in my life I had a debit card. I spent hundreds of £s a month in takeaways. Then I spent over £100 on diet pills which made me feel ill. In under a year I went from a size 14 to 24 to my mothers horror and mine. I didn’t know about the body positivity movement or Tess Holliday. I only knew that my mom was angry and sad and worried I would die in my sleep one night.

In almost a decade, that has been one of her mantras when talking to me about my weight. That she can’t bury her child and she’s afraid one night I will sleep and not wake up. In her mind its concern, but the way she says it feels like emotional manipulation.

Reading back there’s a lot of mother bashing going on, but it is not intentional. Some people are besties with their mothers and I prefer a more distant relationship. We will eventually get to the daddy issues but that will take some tears and a while before I can go into that.

I crave the catharsis of writing. The word vomit and jumbled feelings in the pit of my stomach. It helps me see myself as that idealistic 16 year old with a heart full of dreams and hopes. Not the current dried out husk I think I am now. I think of my future in abstract terms.

I don’t see a family, mortgage or dog. I just see myself barely existing. I feel this with a resigned calmness. Then I have my internal spiral of being to shortsighted and hasty in writing my life off at 25. I read tweets about people finding first love in their 30s, going back to school in their 40’s and getting into their careers in their 50s. Then I hear that voice in the far corner of my mind whispering, do I even want to make it to my 40’s…

And I answer back quietly that I really don't want to make it to my 40s. I’ll maybe hold on till my parents die so my mom doesn’t lord it over me that she had to bury her child and not the other way around. But some nights I really don’t want to be alive. Some nights I wish I was never born and just like clockwork the tears start. Those tears that I hold in and the dark thoughts I numb with the stimuli of food, YouTube and now K dramas.

For the past few years, I have made my Other World. This Other World is essentially a parallel universe. In this universe I have no issues with food, I have an incredible metabolism that means I can eat virtually anything without guilt. I make friends my first day of college and join so many student societies and actually participate. I push myself in school and get into my mother’s dream of a Russell Group. I choose LSE though she wishes I chose Queen Mary. I work hard, join the Law Society, meet a lovely British Nigerian with a great background, we date a few years and get married. I get a Masters in Creative Writing and have an amazing blog which gets adapted to a critically acclaimed series and I am fulfilled.

Sometimes my Other World self changes. She is the daughter of millionaires who is a genius, polyglot and fighter of social justice. I can sing, know martial arts and take the movie world by storm. Other times I am just pretty and living a simple but happy life. I know in my heart that these are just fantasies and sometimes I wish I could be like Buffy in that episode of BTVS and stay stuck in that Other World fully. I’m sure you’re thinking about my family who I’d leave behind. My response is I can’t miss them if I never remember I had them.

I am the first daughter, the Ada. My parents though flawed always tell me I am a great role model for my siblings. I am seemingly still a virgin, don’t drink, do drugs or rock the boat too much. And I feel even worse. I feel guilty that with all they have sacrificed that they have been stuck with an average daughter and by upper middle class Nigerian standards, if that even exists, a sub par Ada. I feel defective looking around and seeing others in the peak of their careers, vetting engaged, building houses for their parents. I am still afraid of driving!! I can’t even get that basic skill down.

4 years post LLB, no LLM to at least lessen me not being a lawyer and stuck in a customer service role almost 3 years now. I know I am at fault for not making the right decisions. Not applying for the grad jobs or vacancy schemes in time. Being so down and depressed I wouldn’t leave my room for days and weeks at a time. Failing all my LLM modules, adding back all the weight and more after boot camps with my parents, not having enough savings and having an even worse accent after almost a decade in the UK.

My self-deprecating joke I tell is that my sister is the multi talented one, my brother the smart ambitious one and as my parents say I have a big heart. That essentially my parents would say my thing is having a big heart, like that ever helped anyone build a career. I thought if I couldn’t write then I could maybe study Social Work. That got shot down by my mother and I was persuaded to go into the path of Law for University. I applied for Social Work Schemes and got rejected multiple times over multiple years. I was too scared to sink my own money to self fund a Social Work Masters in case it became another LLM fiasco. SO now I have made Teaching my next career goal. I am resigning myself to it the way Henry the 8ths spouses and mistresses must have whenever he wanted to bed them. Powerless and without a choice. Then I think that’s  false equivalency and my pain could not be on the level of the pain they must have endured.

So many feelings, deep thoughts and memories flow out when I get the writing urge. I will likely never actually share this in full for obvious reasons except maybe anonymously. These few pages have jumped through quite a few time periods and experiences. My thoughts aren’t always linear and that ties in with something else I acknowledge but haven’t been serious about. I legitimately think I have ADHD and/or BPD. Watching the diagnosis episode of Crazy Ex Girlfriend by the amazing Rachel Bloom shone a light on feelings and behaviours I have had for a while. Maybe that’s why from the first episode of the show I was in love. She was stuck in the past, holding onto Josh who represented a time in her life of happiness. She had cutaways to magical musical numbers involving herself and the people around her.

The ADHD comes from following iconic black women on twitter who were outspoken about their diagnosis and bringing focus to how black women were being underdiagnosed. But then I think maybe I want to have ADHD as an excuse for the failures in my life and with the current NHS waiting lists I may not get a formal diagnosis for a while. So for now I manage and exist.

I like being honest in my writing. Exposing those dark parts of myself that I let fester in the recesses of my heart and mind. 

[firesfelt]

afternoon, all ! finally getting my last ( for now... i already have Temptations ) intro up, and hopefully without a rushed ending because i suddenly have to do something lmao. while i’m not Wild about my intro graphics in general ( why does this one lowkey look stretched, for a start... ) but the fact that that ‘o’ is perfectly circling amanda’s eye ? an absolutely accident but *chef’s kiss* nonetheless. i’m writing this up while saving rp icons, so let’s see if i can multitask !!

( amanda seyfried, 30, cis woman, she/her ) AISLING O’CONNOR was seen listening to HAPPY BY LEONA LEWIS on their way to DIETICIAN. AISLING is known to be OPEN-MINDED & UNFORIGVING.

➜ so first thing’s first, aisling is pronounced ‘ash-ling’ ( or ash-lin depending on your accent/whether you drop your ‘g’s or not ) and although it would make my life so much easier when it comes to typing if she did, she really doesn’t take well to anybody calling her ‘ash’ ( i’m up for the challenge though ! give me someone in her life who can finally get away with shortening her name !! she doesn’t tolerate nicknames at all but can we change her ? let’s see ! )

➜ and with a name like aisling o’connor, i’m sure y’all really don’t need three guesses as to where she’s from. she was born in belfast, and is the oldest of six sisters -- all of them blonde, and all of them beautiful ( would it be obnoxious to submit wc’s for all of them ? possibly... will i do it anyway ? perhaps... ) she comes from a very family orientated family, so when her parents wanted to move the family out of ireland due to the conflict at the time, it wasn’t surprising that aisling’s aunt, uncle, and cousins came too, as well as her darling nanna. 

➜ aisling landed in huntsville at the age of six, but you best believe her accent is still just as prominent now as it was while running around belfast. as the oldest sister, she took on a lot of responsibility within the household, helping to raise the little ones with a roll of her eyes a each request, but also while being easily ignored. her parents were in no way neglectful, but with five smaller children to look after, their focus simply wasn’t on aisling.

➜ this meant that aisling fell through the cracks a little, and issues that began to surface as a teenager went unnoticed. while she never actually had a problem with her weight, teenagers can be wildly cruel and the societal pressures of looking a certain way can lead to young minds being warped, so aisling was very aware that she looked different to her peers. she was more... thicc/curvy/buxom, as a way to put it. 

➜ attention might not have been drawn to her body as much if her interests were different. aisling spent her childhood and teenage years in dance classes, drama workshops, and singing lessons, all with the goal of training in musical theatre and going on to become an actress. there was a certain body type that surrounded her, and it wasn’t one she possessed, herself. 

➜ it never became a problem, though, until she did go to college for musical theatre. her parents wanted all six of their girls to go to university, and they promised they’d pay what they could towards it as long as they went. they’d support any course, any major, just please go to university. however, aisling dropped out after two years. teachers, professors, agents, casting teams, they all  had something to say, something to critique, something to jab at, and it lead to aisling’s self-image crumbling to the point of severe unhappiness, and developing an unhealthy relationship with food. constantly being told to drop ten pounds, as one can imagine, had a pretty gnarly effect on her. 

➜ while she knew it would be possible to make it anyway, to prove the industry wrong, to make change, to represent different body types so young girls in the future don’t have to doubt themselves like she did, aisling decided her own mental health was both too fragile to do that, and more valuable than doing that. 

➜ i feel like i’m going on about this a bit too much lmao, so i’m gonna wrap it up a bit: she was able to recover from the disorded eating that formed as a result, and discovered a newfound passion about nutrition, and was able to care about it without obsessing. she really wanted to form new habits around food and body image, and realised that her perspective and beliefs actually went way back to childhood, and it then extended into wanting to help other people. eventually, aisling went back to school and studied to become a dietician, which she now is. she has a special interest in helping young woman recover from disorded eating patterns and develop a healthy relationship with food and their body, and stomping all over diet culture, but she sees all kinds of clients in general. 

➜ so life has obviously taken a very different turn for her, but she’s really kind of,,, okay with that at this point ? it is what it is, and that pathway really didn’t suit her. she didn’t have the skin for the industry --- or maybe the industry shouldn’t require her to have such thick skin, but it’s in the past now.

➜ also, p.s, i really don’t want it to come off like i think that there’s no place for women in theatre that don’t have sutton foster’s body, y’know ? that ain’t it !!!! it’s more,,, the absolutely ridiculousness of the pressure actresses have to look a certain way, esp. in theatre where if you’re not really slim, but you’re not big enough for roles like madame thernadier/tracy turnblad/nadia mcconell/martha dunstock/etc, there’s no place for you ? or people act like there’s no place. also don’t want it to come off bad in that,,, obviously at the end of the day, aisling is a thin woman that’s a bit,,, curvy ? like oh poor thin white woman ? that ain’t it, that isn’t what i’m trying to do jshsbss. d’you get me ? tryin to comment on how the industry can be a bit Shit, without making it out like little white cis women are the ones discriminated against. hopefully y’all get me sjhnbssbs

➜ also, when i was Creating aisling, i was originally going to make her older, and was gonna use keri russell, which is a Fun Time. i absolutely love keri though so don’t be surprise if i pop up with a keri fc later on down the line, lmao. 

➜ in terms of personality, i feel like the two traits i picked for her app are a little, like, contradictory in a way ? but i love characters with conflicting personality traits. she’s very open-minded, easy to talk to, very accepting, etc ( she’s kinda like a therapist in that when you talk to her, she’ll just kind of nod and not show any kind of,, Reaction either way, she’s just Observing until it’s her turn to speak. she’s just taking everything in and Receiving without judgement for the most part ) but when she’s personally hurt, in a way that directly impacts her ( usually related to her family, tbh ) there is,,, no forgiving. she’ll hear you out, and maybe be able to move on from it, but forgiveness for the big, big things is r a r e. 

➜ like how gwen is always sort of,, Faking happiness, i feel like aisling is always sort of chasing happiness ? she always wants to do what’s best for herself, and loves and respects herself deeply, so she’s always making the choices that are more likely to lead to long-term happiness, even if it bloody well hurts in the meantime ---- like giving up acting. 

➜ i feel like while emika is just a loner in general who can’t handle more than fwb situations and one night stands, and gwen doesn’t have the time to form proper relationships with people due to her shift work, aisling is just really, really unlucky in love. like, for whatever reason, things just don’t work out, or turn sour, or just... fall apart. there’s a long line of exes and flings, people she took home to her parents and people she thought it best not to, all of which ending in tears. 

➜ at least she has her bunny rabbits, though. they’ll never let her down. their names are sondheim & shwartz, and they are her pride and joy. 

➜ her family play a massive role in her life, and she doesn’t know any differently and wouldn’t want to. her nanna is, as you can imagine, really quite old at this point, and deteriorating health-wise, but the whole family band together to keep her well and try and keep her mind active.

➜ in terms of connections and plotting, again, i’m really open. i’m willing to give absolutely anything a go and try and work stuff out. i’m also always open to hearing ideas for plots people really want and seeing if any of my characters fit. but for loose ideas for now: failed relationships & exes ( there’s lots of room there ), clients ( definitely don’t have to have issues with food necessarily ! she also sees people for things like dietary restrictions due to allergy or recently diagnosed illness like diabetes or pcos or w/e, pregnancy, folks who just want to create a meal plan that makes their body feel its best, picky eating in kids, etc ! ) people she went to school with, other theatre-y folks to bond with, honestly absolutely anything. 

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

Toughts on this deviantart post?

Found this https://www.deviantart.com/hotwar696/art/Who-is-the-real-Gary-Stu-835695208 it’s pretty bad i think. Or at least misleading. Toughts?

Let’s throw up the image and text for full context

A lot of Conway/Romita fans think that Venom is an awful Gary Stu. Ironically they like the post clone saga Norman Osborn who is not even the same character as the one back the in Conway/Romita days. Despising Harry Osborn when back in the days he simply did not have enough time for him. Also despite what post clone saga stories might have told you he only became a villain because an accident gave him brain damage. Yes, that’s right with the exception of the animated Spider-Man series from 1994 the pre clone saga Norman Osborn was not some inhuman monster who became insane. He was a tragic bussinessman who lost his wife and got brain damage after an explosion to his face. Becoming a villain after an explosion to the face by the way is also the villain origin for Dr. Octopus so yeah Norman Osborn was not a very original villain even before becoming the Gary Stu version of Lex Luthor.Image size

I am going to address every point here, but let me get the most important thing out of the way first.

This is not a valid point to make for two big reasons.

1) The first is that antagonists* do not count as Gary/Marty Stus/Mary Sues.

The function of an antagonists within fiction is to oppose and challenge the protagonists. By having them be extremely powerful, hyper capable, have immense accomplishments and so on, you build them up as a challenge to over come, as someone the protagonist is the underdog in comparison to.

A classic example from manga and anime is Freeza from Dragon Ball. As originally portrayed he can reduce whole planets to dust with a single finger and the true limits of his power are beyond imagining. Had the protagonists all attacked him at once along with all of Freeza’s subordinates they still would’ve lost because he is more powerful and all of them combined. He withstands the most powerful version of the most powerful technique in the series up until that point. 

Were this character the protagonist he’d almost certainly a Marty Stu. But as the antagonist he is a supremely effective challenge for the heroes to over come precisely because he does outstrip them so throughly. 

2) It’s very obvious the OP is reacting against arguments he’s heard from one specific or several specific people on an incredibly narrow topic. That’s fine. But he’s broadbrushing it as though it’s a widely held opinion when it’s at best widely held within a niche within a niche within another niche. 

Like, this is obviously a discussion he’s had at Toonzone or some other similar forum because he references BTAS, Spec Spidey and has drawn both Norman and Venom in their 1994 designs. 

But let’s talk about the broader points made.

- None of that symbiote crap. I don’t disagree that it’s myopic and disingenuous to dismiss symbiotes on principle. Putting aside how they’ve been a staple for over 30 years now (and their recent stories have been very good in fact), it smacks of failing to look beyond your own preferences. There are bad symbiote stories and characters. There are even things that inherently suck on principle within Spider-Man. But the symbiotes are not among them. They are exceptions to the rule and proven that over and over. The person the OP is referncing is entitled to not like them but not to dismiss them on principle. I hate Screwball but I don’t think her concept is inherently shit. I liked her in he Fake Red manga!

- Joker in BTAS was a wuss, Spec cartoon Norman was better. I mean, maybe that’s true. there can be extenuating circumstances applying to both. But the Joke screaming doesn’t make him a wuss. if he was a wuss he wouldn’t have taken on Superman or Batman repeatedly. Norman might have been scared but so full of spite that he wasn’t going to give Vulture the satisfaction.

- He technically killed Spider-Man because he killed Ben Reilly. Well, first of all he was trying to kill Peter. Second of all ben didn’t look stupid. he looked identical to Peter but with blonde hair; how is that stupid? Third of all killing a clone of Spider-Man isn’t technically killing him, if it was Norman would’ve routinely been murdering Spidey clone. Fourth of all the OP is framing this as a grand win for Norman because he got to kill Spidey technically. it is a win for him but not for that reason. Ben sacrificed  himself to save Peter who Norman was really aiming at

- Killing off baby May, apart from being debatable at all due to the presentation of that story, didn’t prevent Peter from maturing. it prevented him from maturing a specific way but it didn’t stop him from maturing period. Dealing with a miscarriage is  an experience that can age a person. Peter went back to ESU to complete his education immediately after that and some years later he became a teacher under JMS’ run. That’s also a totally meta-textual point to make and therefore doesn’t apply to Norman being a Gary Stu. Successfully preventing character development is something you attribute to writers not the characters. 

- I don’t get rh point about Nathanial Gray or Von Strucker

- Yes he was the Kingpin of Europe. How does that make him a Gary Stu? Wison Fisk was the Kingpin of America as were many other characters.

- Yes he was President of the USA but only in an out of continuity story, Earth X (and maybe other ones too). The argumentation of the OP is broken because he is conflating multiple different versions as the same thing. pre-OMD, post-OMD, Spec cartoon, Earth X etc. By this logic Venom would also be a Gary Stu and so would countless other characters. Superman would be a Gary Stu because he is DC’s Jesus but also DC’s Hitler. 

- The next point is a total strawman. Putting aside how in my experience people throw more shade at Norman than is deserved, even Norman fans like myself do not deny BAD stories with the character exist. What’s ironic is that he has chosen the more obvious targets like the Gathering of Five or the Final Chapter. 

Both of those stories are in most respects much worse than Sins Past and the element that makes Sins past bad isn’t even the fact that Norman slept with Gwen. It’s the simple fact that a woman who was clearly not pregnant in the Romita years apparently was and neither she nor MJ seemed to give a shit about the children after they were born. The further irony of his referencing this story is that he’s framed his argument as Silver Age stans are ignoring stuff like Sins Past. the reality is it is Silver/Bronze Age stans who HATE Sins Past more than anyone else in the Spider-Fandom precisely because  it messes with the stuff they stan

His referencing of the Clone Saga is also divorced from context. Everyone worth their salt is aware Norman was never originally intended as the villain of the Clone Saga. That was a late addition, and noticeably a late addition at a time when the Clone Saga stories being told were on the whole actually good!  Norman’s return story was on balance good!  It got a trade paperback in the 1990s when only the most popular stories got such treatment. It is utterly disingenuous to hold the worst of the Clone Saga up as a Norman Osborn story because those were never written with him in mind as the villain. 

Additionally I do not know why he is referencing Maximum Carnage or Superior Spider-Man. Okay, maybe he means the former is a symbiote story as opposed to a Carnage story specifically. But if he’s trying to prove Norman is a gary Stu but Venom is not why would you treat Maximum Carnage as a general symbiote story rather than cite a Venom specific story? And it still wouldn’t explain citing Superior Spider-Man. This is about contrasting Norman and Venom, what did Doc Ock have to do with any of this?

- Citing Morlun is equally confusing. The point the OP is trying to make is that silver/bronze age fans put Norman on a pedestal and look down on Venom. Putting aside how that really misrepresents the situation, why would you cite a villain who is not only NOT a silver/bronze age character but appeared long after Venom and if anything gets more  disdain than Venom does. Old school fans who dislike Venom or symbiotes on principle do not generally like Morlun, if anything they dislike him more  than Venom as they regard mysticism even more inappropriate for Spider-Man than aliens.

- The OP finally cites the Final Chapter but failed to do it at the appropriate point in his rant and also misrepresents it. He’s conflated the bomb implanted into Aunt May’s head in that story with the revelation that she was impersonated by an actress in ASm #400. He’s combined both characters and events. How do you fuck up that badly? The actress died of natural causes and then much later we got the implanted bomb. Norman never  killed the actress, the actress agreed to work with him specifically because she was already dying. Also the guy’s grammar is messed up. I’m pretty sure ‘operated into her’ isn’t a real phrase.

- ‘A chad lady killer’…um…what? Isn’t that term intended to be slang for a kind of James Bond figure? A ‘man’s man’ who has lots of sex with women? It doesn’t mean a man who kills women is a manly. Whether people use the term chad ironically or sincerely the overwhelming majority aren’t going around proclaiming Jack the Ripper as the ultimate real life Chad. 

- The framing of Norman’s relationship with Gwen is misrepresentative of what happened. It pretends like Norman had se with Gwen specifically to get one over on Peter. He didn’t. He wasn’t even aware he was the Goblin at that time, that Peter was Spider-Man and very likely didn’t know Peter had feelings for Gwen as they weren’t dating at that time. Norman had sex with Gwen because they were both vulnerable and had a moment of passion. 

I’d also question his designating Gwen as Peter’s second love interest. I guess that’d be accurate if you are speaking strictly in terms of Peter’s regular girlfriends. But normally love interest means someone the readers are aware is being framed as potential romantic partner for the protagonist. In this sense Liz was the first love interest, Betty was the second and Gwen was the third. 

- WTF does shit was so cash even mean?

Now for the text.

-A lot of Conway/Romita fans think that Venom is an awful Gary Stu. Ironically they like the post clone saga Norman Osborn who is not even the same character as the one back the in Conway/Romita days.

Yeah, there isn’t a lot. The vast majority of Conway/Romita stans do not like post-Clone Saga Norman.

And is he not the same character s he was before.

From a certain POV that’s true. But that’s chiefly because silver Age Norman was usually an amnesic who wasn’t his true self. His Goblin persona in the Silver Age is actually fairly similar to his post-Clone Saga self. The reason for the different presentation is simply a passage of time. Doc Ock in the 1990s wasn’t presented identically to how he was in the silver age just because times had changed. The Joker wasn’t presented the same way in the post-Killing Joke or Death in the Family eras of Batman as he was back in the 1940s.

The core of the character, that this guy was a real nasty, egotistical, sadistic and power hungry monster? No, that was all the same it was just ramped up. Norman’s ‘ghost’ had evolved in the interim between his death and his return too. In a sense his place and framing within the mythos had always evolved with the times. It’s just that when he came back suddenly that wasn’t a metaphorical ghost but a flesh and blood character.

But the same can be said of any successful character over time as I outlined above. Shit Absolute Carnage depicted Carnage in a way that is not identical to how he was initially presented. But it was most definitily an evolution of that.

- “Despising Harry Osborn when back in the days he simply did not have enough time for him.”

Not true. The first time Norman began to remember he was the Goblin he got passive aggressive towards Harry. When he got his powers he was downright mean to him as depicted in ASM #40. But he also never despised Harry either. Norman always loved Harry in a toxic manner, through neglect or abuse. That was true post-Clone Saga. 

In fact the entire reason Norman initiated the Clone Saga was specifically because he wanted revenge for Harry’s death.

And again, the OP is treating this as a wholesale invention of the post-clone saga era when it wasn’t. Norman being an abusive father was introduced long before anyone was thinking about the Clone Saga. It was established in the Child Within circa 1991 IIRC. Later (when the Clone Saga was being planned I think) it was further explored in Spec annual 1994, but that just added to what we already knew from the forrmer story. Shit, this depiction of Harry and Norman’s relationship was showcased in Untold Tales of Spider-Man. That was both set long before the Clone Saga, IIRC written before Norman’s return was decided upon and written by someone who definitely didn’t agree with his return.

Norman never despised Harry, but he was a shitty Dad. He was a shitty Dad in ASm #40. He didn’t just have no time for Harry, he neglected him specifically because he wanted to gain money and thereby gain power.

Even if you do argue that Norman didn’t despise Harry in the silver age but did post-clone saga, so long as that change was organically introduced that makes it fine. better than fine as that’s simply more dramatically enriching than him being a nice guy who happens to not have time for his son.

- “Also despite what post clone saga stories might have told you he only became a villain because an accident gave him brain damage.”

LOL nope.

a) As I just said, even if this was a retcon of the post-Clone Saga era (which it wasn’t) it made Norman a better  character. A man being bad because he got brain damage is a cliche, lazy, over simplistic explanation for his villainy. It’s also arguably less realistic and actually makes the characetr a lesser villain as some surgery and thereby might be able to fix them. In fact you could argue they are in effect a victim of their brain damage and thereby not accountable for their actions. That’s so much less substantive than someone’s life experiences shaping them into a horrible human being. By this author’s wn logic Doc Ock’s origin (pre-Clone Saga I might add) makes him a LESSER villain because it established that he was actually evil because of his life before his accident. that was just the straw that broke the camel’s back, he didn’t just get a knock to the noggin and wound up evil

b) If Norman’s evilness stems from brain damage how come when he was a nice guy in the silver age neither he nor Harry suggested surgery or medication to help heal that damage? That would’ve meant he’d never have been evil again

c) ASm #40 makes it clear he was a piece of shit BEFORE his accident. He was neglecting his son, railroading his partner, stealing his inventions and power hungry before getting brain damage.

d) You could easily argue Norman was always brain damaged the doctors just mistakenly believed his injuries stemmed from the accident

e) Child Within and Spec Annual 1994 established Norman as a psychopath before he got his powers. Both were written before the Clone Saga. Post-Clone Saga stories like Revenge of the Green Goblin merely built upon this, they didn’t wholesale invent it

“Yes, that’s right with the exception of the animated Spider-Man series from 1994 the pre clone saga Norman Osborn was not some inhuman monster who became insane.”

LOL nope again.

First of all, 1994-cartoon Norman WAS fairly sympathetic before becoming the Goblin. In the show he got a loan from Kingpin and was forced to pay off the debt by targeting Spider-Man. Even if he didn’t initially realise Fisk was a criminal when he got the loan, by the time he did realise going to the police would’ve resulted in him losing his son and/or his life. He wouldn’t be the first man to get in deep with the mob after all.

When his inital effort to kill Spider-Man failed he was forced to give Kingpin his company and attempted to get out from this by assasinating Fisk. This backfired hard endangering his son, but Norman risked his life to save Harry. 

His whole character until season 3 was basically defined by being a morally grey character. he loved his son, he was maybe egotistical and a ruthless businessman but the worst things he did were either on Kingpin’s orders or attempts to free himself of a very powerful and very dangerous controlling force in his life. 

Not a nice man, but a far cry from an inhuman monster or an insane person, at least until he was exposed to the Goblin gas.

SECOND of all if you are an inhumane monster how exactly do you then ‘go insane’? Aren’t they functionally the same thing within the context of the dicussion?

It’s also not representative of canonical Norman. Canonical Norman was a psychopath because of his life experiences and possibly hereditary mental illnesses within the family. The Goblin formula by empowering him sent him on an ego trip.

The OP isn’t even using the commonly held misconceptions about Norman Osborn, he’s just using his own very specific ones. Most people mistakenly believe the Goblin formula drove Norman nuts when ASM #40 just claims the accident gave him brain damage. Over time creators decided the formula itself makes the user nuts. 

“He was a tragic bussinessman who lost his wife and got brain damage after an explosion to his face“

a) Unless I am mistaken there was little word paid to Norman’s wife in the Silver Age. And what little we got never presented Norman as being affected by her passing. That was an invention of the 1990s and 2000s; and a very good one at that. 

b) Yes how tragic a businessman he was to have neglected his son, sought power, rail roaded his partner and stolen his inventions. Obviously none of that is bad. he only became bad after an explosion gave him brain damage.

c) Even if he really was a tragic businessman blah blah blah, that is a LESS EFFECTIVE villain and a LESS complex character than the post-clone saga guy we got

“Becoming a villain after an explosion to the face by the way is also the villain origin for Dr. Octopus so yeah Norman Osborn was not a very original villain even before becoming the Gary Stu version of Lex Luthor.”

I’ve already addressed the idiotic criticism that Norman became a Luthor knock off.

The OP is disingenuous on several levels with his other point as well though.

For starters brain damage was never the sum totality of Norman’s origin as a character. Doc Ock was just a guy who was at best maybe a little odd looking due to his arms then had an accident and became evil. that was it.

Not only was Ott far from the first villain with such an origin, but to sit there and say Norman was unoriginal merely because he also took a boom to the face is moronic. Norman’s life before  his accident made him incredibly different to Otto. It made him comparatively more layered and complex next to the likes of Otto or the other rogues because he wasn’t nice initially, he had this strained relationship with his son and above all else he had this internal denial over his failings as a father. THAT shit doesn’t count as part of his origin? ALL that matters is explosion+brain damage=evil?

That’s obviously moving the goal posts to win.

And it’s a self-defeating argument. Silver Age Norman is bad because he is unoriginal (even though functionally he actually was). Okay, in the 1990s and beyond he got a revised origin that was more original. But that’s bad because changed him from his Silver Age self.

Goal posts. They a movin!

Not to mention as I already said DOC OCK’s origin was also changed so his villainy didn’t just stem from a random accident that knocked his noggin.

So Doc Ock sucks too right?

Finally, I say this as someone who likes Norman AND Venom.

I would never call Venom a Gary Stu. I’ve never even SEEN anyone claim Venom was a Gary Stu. BOTH Norman and Venom get under appreciated.

Fuck i wrote like over 10 essays DEFENDING Venom. 

You can pass my comments onto this idiot if you wish.

*Not necesarilly villains as you can have a villain protagonist, see Superior Spider-Man

[nadjastersurveys]

General Womanhood

1. Do you like the color pink? I like every color so I like pink as well

2. How easily do you cry? Lately I’ve been crying a lot hahaha

3. What food do you eat the most of when you’re sad? I tend to lose my appetite when I’m sad. But when I do eat while being sad I go for something unhealthy like most people lol

4. How often do you experience boob sweat? Everytime when I sweat a lot, the boobs leak too lmao

5. What time of month is your time? Like at what time of month is my period in? I don’t know/remember, I don’t track my period which is something I should learn to do

6. How moody are you when you are on your period? I’m not any moodier on my period that I am when I’m not

7. Have you ever thought you were pregnant because your period was late? No

8. Have you ever been on the pill? No 9. Have you ever thought about having children someday? What is your current opinion? I haven’t really thought about that. It’s not something I have to think now anyways lol. I have time

10. Have you ever given birth? If not, would you ever want to? No and i’m not that sure tbh

11. How much do you like decorating for holidays? My family doesn’t do it that much. Nor do I 12. How good of a cook do you consider yourself? I can’t cook 13. What is your favorite thing to cook? ^ 14. Do you prefer cooking, baking, or both equally? Baking is more fun 15. Can you sew? I did that when I was in school but I hated it 16. How feminine do you consider yourself? I don’t know, But I don’t think I’m super feminine 17. Have you ever been told that you are too girly or feminine? No, it’s always the other way around. Like people telling me to be more girly or them saying that girls can’t wear/say things that. It’s really annoying tbh 18. Do you consider yourself a feminist? Yeah 19. How do you define “girl power”? I think it’s just women supporting and appreciating/accepting other women  20. How much of a neat freak are you? I like things to be neat but I wouldn’t say I’m freak about it 21. How you ever wished you were born a male? No 22. Breastfeeding or formula? I don’t know, whichever is better for the baby? 23. What is your opinion of equal pay? I think everyone doing the same job should be paid the same amount and your gender shouldn’t have to do anything with it 24. What is one profession you think needs more women? I’m not sure 25. Are you pro-life or pro-choice? Pro-choice 26. Have you ever experienced any sexism? If so, please explain. I’m sure I have, I just can’t think of any examples 27. Have you ever been called a blabbermouth or a chatterbox? Yeah because sometimes I just can’t shut up

28. What is one thing about women you think most men don’t know? I don’t know 29. Is there anything you dislike about being a woman? Nah, I ike being a female

30. Complete this phrase: I’m so glad I am a woman because ______. we are amazing.

LIFE EXPERIENCES:

31. Did you ever play with Barbie dolls as a child? Yes

32. Have you ever dotted lowercase Js and Is with hearts or smiley faces? As a joke only lol

33. Have you ever been a Girl Scout? Nope, I was never interested in it

34. Have you ever been a ballerina? No but I did other dance styles though

35. Have you ever been a cheerleader? No

36. Were you ever voted as homecoming or prom queen? No

37. Have you ever hosted a sleepover? I’ve had friends stay at our house so yes?

38. Do you belong to a sorority? No

39. Have you ever kept a diary or a journal? Not really

40. At what age did you get your first period? I was 12

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:

41. What is the longest your hair has ever been? Would you ever grow it that long again? This length I have right now is the longest it’s ever been. So a bit past my boobs. I want to cut my hair a bit though

42. Have you had a hairstyle above the eyebrows? Bangs? Yes, when I was like 2

43. What hairstyle do you wear the most? It’s either down or up in a high ponytail

44. Have you ever died your hair? If so, how often? I have but I haven’t done it in a while. I have my natural color now

45. What is the heaviest you remember ever weighing? I’m the heaviest now lol. I’m something like 48kg

46. How muscular are you? Pretty muscular? I don’t know 

47. Do you have any piercings anywhere besides your earlobes? I have my nose pierced. And piercings on my cartilage as well

48. Do you have any tattoos? If you, where are they and what are they of? I don’t

49. Do you like wearing lipstick or lip gloss? If so, how often do you wear them? I’ve never worn lipstick but I’ve worn lip gloss, it makes my lips look yummy lol. Anyway I rarely wear gloss on my lips however

50. How often do you paint your nails? Never

51. Have you ever worn any fake nails? No

52. Have you ever worn fake eyelashes? No, I don’t think they would look good on me

53. How often do you shave or wax your legs? I shave them couple times a week, so like every other 3 days or so. I’ve never waxed them

54. How white are your teeth? Pretty white

55. Have you ever been told that you look like a certain celebrity? No

56. How much do you look like your mother? Lmao I don’t look like her at all. I was adopted from Asia to a European country sooo

57. How much do you look like your father? ^

58. What do you think is your best physical feature? I like my legs and butt, they’re pretty nice haha

59. What do you think is your worst physical feature? I don’t like my smile and eyes

60. How good are you at communicating through facial expressions? I’m not sure

FASHION STYLE: 61. What type of clothing do you own the most of? I own a lot of different t-shirts I guess 62. How big is your closet? It’s pretty small for a walk-in closet 63. Have you ever looked through your closet and though “I have nothing to wear”? Well not like that because I have a quite a lot of clothes but yeah sometimes it’s hard to decide what to wear for that reason 64. What is your favorite fashion brand? I like Nike, Adidas and Fila 65. Do you wear skirts and dresses at all? If so, how often? I never wear skirts. I wear dresses in super formal situations so like once every three years lol 66. What is your dress size? XS or S 67. What is the shortest length of skirts and dresses you are comfortable wearing? I don’t think I would wear a dress that’s not reaching my knee. Or that goes past my knee, so knee length dresses are my style 68. How expensive was your prom dress? I’m not in high school yet, so 69. What is the most expensive piece of clothing you currently own? My winter jacket 70. Do you wear high heels or stilettos at all? If so, how often? No 71. Have you ever worn high heels casually? I haven’t 72. How often do you take an OOTD (outfit of the day) selfie? Never 73. Have you ever worn the exact same outfit from head to toe more than once? Yeah of course

74. How often do you wear a bra when out in public? I always wear it 75. How often do you wear a bra when bumming it at home? Always 76. When you get home from work, how soon does your bra typically come off? I don’t take it off unless I’m showering or changing it lol 77. Have you ever carried a spare bra with you in your purse? No lol 78. Which are you more likely to go without: A bra or panties? A bra, going out without panties would feel super uncomfortable 79. Does it matter to you if your bra and panties match or not? Nah, they pretty much never match 80. What type of underwear do you typically wear? The only type of underwear I wouldn’t wear is lace. The style doesn’t matter to me, the material/fabric does  81. How much of your underwear is white? I think I have couple 82. Have you ever carried a spare pair of underwear with you in your purse? No 83. Do you like eyeshadow? I don’t wear it  84. Do you like mascara? Or that, I don’t wear any makeup 85. How much makeup do you typically wear? I don’t wear it lol 86. Have you every gone out in public without any makeup on? Yes everytime 87. How much jewelry do you typically wear? Just my earrings and my nose ring 88. Is there any kind of jewelry you pretty much always wear? Well yes ^ my piercings 89. Do you carry a purse at all? I don’t own purses, I mostly use tote bags 

90. Do you like tube and halter tops? No

91. Do you like crop tops? I wear them sometimes, yeah 92. Are you comfortable showing off a little cleavage? I wouldn’t say it’s that uncomfortable but I never show cleavage lol especially when I go out in public 93. One-piece swimsuits or bikinis? Either way is fine 94. Does it matter to you if your bikini top matches the bottom? No

WEDDING CRAZE:

95. Have you ever been a bridesmaid? If so, how often? No

96. Do you have any desires to get married? Not yet anyway

97. For how long have you thought about your wedding? I haven’t thought of it

98. How much of your wedding do you have planned out already? I haven’t planned anything

99. Would you rather have a big or a small wedding? Small

100. Would you rather have a lot of bridesmaids or just a couple? Just couple, nothing dramatic lol

101. Would you rather have an indoor or an outdoor wedding? Does the same go for the reception? I guess indoor, the weather is so unpredictable

DATING & RELATIONSHIPS:

102. What is your current relationship status? Single

103. What is the longest relationship you’ve ever had? I’ve never been in a relationship

104. Do you consider yourself a hopeless romantic at all? Nah, I’m not romantic

105. Are you a virgin? If not, which gender did you lose your virginity to? Yes

106. What personality trait are you most attracted to? I people who make me laugh, it’s the best feeling. I also like cool people haha

107. Have you ever been on a blind date? No

108. Has anyone you know ever tried to set you up on a date? No

109. Do you use any dating apps? If so, have they ever worked out for you? Nope

110. Do you kiss on the first date? I haven’t been on a date

111. How often do guys hit on you? Never lol

112. Have women ever hit on you? No

114. Have you ever kissed another woman while sober? If so, did you like it? Well I’m always sober lmao. Anyway, I’ve kissed a girl and I liked it because it was with the right person

115. Have you ever dated another woman? No, or a boy like I said

116. After how long of dating do you typically consider a relationship to be serious? I don’t know

117. Would you rather your lover give you chocolate, flowers, both, or something else? Something else haha, like a hug and a kiss?

118. Are you friends with any of your exes? I don’t have any exes

119. Is sex before marriage wrong? No

ENTERTAINMENT: 120. What celebrity do you most admire and why? Hmm I don’t know who I really admire 121. Do you like romantic comedies? Do you have any favorites? Noooo, I hate them 122. Do you have a favorite romantic movie? Only romantic movies that I liked are Titanic and The Two Faces of January 123. Who is your favorite Disney princess? I like the story of Cinderella but I wouldn’t say she’s my favorite princess. I don’t have one?

124. What is your favorite Disney song? I don’t know 125. Do you watch The Bachelor or The Bachelorette? Nope 126. Have you ever watched Sex & The City? Never 127. Have you ever watched any shows such as Project Runway or America’s Next Top Model? I have seen couple episodes of them both but that’s it 128. Do you like watching any beauty pageants such as Miss America? No 129. Do you like watching the red carpet arrivals before award ceremonies? I don’t watch them 130. Beyonce or Taylor Swift? Beyoncé 131. Oprah Winfrey or Ellen DeGeneres? I used to like Ellen but now I’ve learned some things about her haha, I don’t know that much about Oprah but she seems nice and intelligent?

A PILE OF RANDOMNESS: 132. Are you named after anyone? No 133. How many male friends do you have? I don’t have any close male friends 134. Have you ever been considered the mother of your group of friends? No, the opposite ‘cos I’m the youngest so I’m like the baby lol 135. Have you ever called your friend friends your ‘girlfriends’? No 136. Have you ever called a non-lover a term such as honey, babe, dear, or darling? Yes my friends 137. How many items do you own that are of a floral print design? I don’t think I have any? 138. Have you ever scoffed at something because you thought it wasn’t feminine enough? No lol 139. How healthy do you eat? I eat pretty healthily. Not all the time like I have my “slips” but I’m mainly pretty healthy 140. What is your preferred way to carry a purse: Clutched in your hand, on your elbow, or on your shoulder? On my shoulder 141. Besides you phone, money, wallet, and keys, name five things you always have with you in your purse. Umm nothing else? Bunch of receipts I put to my bag after I bought something and never throw them out? lol

142. Have you ever lost anything inside your purse? No 143. Have you ever used your bra or your cleavage as a purse or a pocket? Just sometimes when my hands are full lol 144. Do you consider shopping a sport No lol 145. Do you shop more in physical walk-in stores or online? Lately online. It’s something I enjoy more actually, even though I like trying on clothes as well 146. What is the most amount of money you remember ever spending in one single shopping trip? I’m not sure actually 147. How often do you have a girls’ night out? Never?

148. Do you prefer coffee or tea? I like both, idk which one I prefer more 149. How polite do you consider yourself? I’m pretty polite 150. Can you do the splits? Yes 151. Do you like doing any yoga? I like stretching but I’ve never done yoga 152. Have you ever been told that you have cute handwriting? Yes

153. How well can you write in cursive? Pretty well I guess, but I prefer print 154. Have you ever successfully been on a diet? I’ve never been on one

155. Do you currently or have you ever belonged to a book club? No 156. Have you ever talked yourself out of a driving ticket by using your looks? I don’t drive 157. Have you ever drunk a non-alcoholic beverage from a wine glass? I don’t remember, I guess not? 158. Do you prefer showers or baths? Showers 159. Have you ever snorted while laughing? Yeah haha 160. How strict are you about manners? I’m not super strict about them