#tales from the roundtable hold

[izar-tarazed]

Ensha moves from his spot late at night—when the Roundtable Hold is asleep—to patrol in silence. The pounding of Master Hewg’s hammer, the ever-present whisper of Roderika’s shy spirits: It has all faded by then. Asleep, everyone, maybe aside from Sir Gideon in his study.

And, more often than not, Izar.

Ensha usually finds her bent over her maps or a book she’s just staring at, not reading; not at this hour. Chin propped in her hands, eyelids heavy, yet she stays where she is. The teacup beside her is usually empty.

He leans against the wall, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence.

She usually does with a sigh. ‟I know. It’s late.”

Neither of them moves for a while, until Izar looks up.

He then signs, You’re tired.

‟Not really.��� She yawns, then scowls at herself. ‟Somewhat. But I should get this done,” and she starts explaining, not convinced herself, what she is working on and why she must finish it.

Ensha listens to her—he always does—, but steps closer regardless, and closes the book or puts ink and quill out of reach before signing: You should rest.

Izar falls silent, her gaze on the table, then on him. She mutters, ‟I can’t sleep anyway.”

You should rest. Simple signs, flowing and swift. Insistent. He waits for her sigh before offering his arm.

She always takes it.

[kennamirzayan]

Roundtable 2: We Are Lady Parts

We Are Lady Parts is a currently-running British sitcom following the formation of and development of a band named Lady Parts made up entirely of Muslim women. Upon its release, the series was met with a positive critical reception and lauded for its complex representations of Muslim women (it passed the Riz test with flying colors). 

For the Roundtable, I analyzed the first episode of the show, titled “Play Something,” which depicts the band’s formation as Amina, a shy PhD student and guitar teacher, meets the struggling band “Lady Parts” and must attempt to overcome her crippling stage fright in order to join. 

How does the series use dual-focus narrative as a strategic storytelling tool beyond heteronormative romantic pairings? 

Beyond heteronormative romantic pairings, this episode employs a dual-focus narrative as a strategy for storytelling in its depictions of Amina and Lady Parts as two disparate yet intrinsically-tied entities. The show “Lady Parts” is a representation and exploration of coming of age for five Muslim women in their twenty-somethings. To borrow from Raymond Knapp in the reading from Robyn Stilwell, the show is “really about” self-assured-ness and confidence that comes from embracing the complexities that contribute to our identities. As such, the show explores this dual-focus narrative by placing Amina’s storyline in conversation with that of Lady Parts. The members of Lady Parts are funny, confident, punk, messy while Amina is painfully shy and struggling to express herself. This dual-focus is introduced in the first episode and continues to be fleshed out throughout the rest of the series. Because of this, the parallelism of the serialized dual-focus narrative of Lady Parts centers the emotional development of its female characters rather than heteronormative romantic pairing. This provides the series with space to flesh out the members of Lady Parts as one body and as individuals alike. 

What are the “inevitable” couplings within the series and how are they accentuated through “cinematic” similarities and contrasts? 

This episode opens on a scene in which Amina and her parents are meeting a potential suitor. It is here that we first see the complexities of her characterization as her parents begin to spill to her suitor and his conservative parents about Amina’s guitar skills and her stage fright which, according to her mother, “induces diarrhea and vomiting”, embarrassing Amina. Over voiceover from Amina, we learn that she has been on a self-motivated quest to find a husband – a quest that, per her admission, has been going “fairly disastrously”; however, through this scene, we are also introduced to her musical ability and personal struggle with performing. The scene concludes with voiceover narration, in which Amina says to the audience, “Little did I know things were about to change”. 

This places Amina’s personal story within that of the preexisting body of Lady Parts and creates an “inevitable” coupling between the two storylines. Immediately following the scene introducing Amina, we are introduced to Lady Parts. The band is seen practicing one of their songs until one of the members, Saira, stops out of frustration, claiming, “We need a lead guitarist”. The group proceeds to discuss the merits of adding a fifth member to the band, eventually deciding to hold auditions for a lead guitarist. 

This recalls and parallels the scene before. Throughout this first episode, “We Are Lady Parts” uses pacing to place the storylines of Amina and Lady Parts in conversation with one another. A scene from one storyline will be followed by a similar scene within the other storyline. This creates a tempo of inevitability which the dual-focus narrative follows until the end of the episode – when Amina and Lady Parts collide. 

How does the series use musical numbers within and beyond the narrative world to replicate fairy tale, backstage, or folk musicals? 

We Are Lady Parts uses its musical numbers to embody the traditions of the backstage musical while subverting it. The music is primarily diegetic and as such it is typically performed by Lady Parts. Through the use of music and performance, the audience is able to become familiarized with Lady Parts’ post-punk “sound”. Additionally, through musical performance, the series further characterizes the dynamics and tensions within the band and the individuals which make it up. Lady Parts doesn’t just fit itself neatly within the catalogue of preexisting backstage musicals, rather it takes influence from the traditional backstage musical while subverting it through its music and characterization. The songs in the show are funny and pointed, and through their punk sentiment, they challenge stereotypes and Western depictions of Muslim women. 

[tina-aumont]

Raïna interview at VoyageLA page.

[Raïna and her horse Quincy]

Dr. Raïna Manuel-Paris has a multicultural background, born of a French father and a Dominican mother. She was raised in France and England until her early 20’s then moved to the US. Fairy tales and Legends were her refuges. They helped her understand the difficulties of her childhood. By the age of twelve, she had read most of the myths and legends of the world. From Ireland and Russia to Arabia. She holds a Ph.D. in Mythological Studies with emphasis in Depth Psychology from PGI.

She also holds a Masters Degree in Film from Columbia U. She taught Magic and Ritual and Myth and Symbol for 15 years at the Art Institute in Santa Monica, where she also offered guided meditations and somatic energy work. Her own spiritual seeking and evolution has taken her from Bali to the sacred shores of Lake Atitlan in the Guatemalan Highlands of the Sierra Madre… She is also adjunct faculty at PGI where she taught a course in Archetypal Patterns in Cinema. She assisted Dr. Lionel Corbett during his Psyche and the Sacred workshop with its ritual aspect. She has also taught at the Relativity School in Downtown LA. She is a published author of non-fiction and scholarly articles: Trauma War and Spiritual Transformation, Journal of Jungian Thought, 2017; The Mother- to-be Dream Book. Warner Books, 2002.) She is also a poet and published one book of poetry with Raven Books as well as several poems in various publications. Her documentary the Bridges of My Father was selected for the short film corner at the Cannes Film Festival in 2009.

[Raïna's husky mix Numen]

Currently, Raïna splits her time between Los Angeles and Ojai, CA. She works with individuals in a process she calls “The Cradle and the Crown,” assisting men and women in coming to alignment body mind and soul, developing deep aliveness as well as careful listening to the whisperings of their soul’s desire. She also uses the Tarot and other oracle tools to help her clients. She is a speaker /lecturer at the Joseph Campbell roundtable on the Tarot: the 22 universal patterns of transformation and on Love: Primal Agent of Change as well as the Myth Salon in LA. She has given numerous lectures at the Philosophical Research Society and taught workshops based on the Cradle and The Crown process. She practices Natural Horsemanship, with her horse Quincy, and also spends time exploring the Ojai valley with her husky mix, Numen. She also plays the ancient frame drum and sings. She is working to complete a novel with archetypal motifs. She also wrote a play with writing partner Susan Kacvinsky: “Seeking Sophia” which had a staged reading in Los Angeles in 2014.

Her work with students, including many veterans, always emphasizes the ways in which one reconnects the Soul of the World, Anima Mundi, with Corpus Mundi, the body of the world, and how to hold the tension between the inner world and the outer world in a way that engages curiosity and compassion. She worked on an online course “Awakening the Magician Within” as well as on her lecture “What Women Want”. Probably the one thing that has been at the core of her life is the understanding that we are all spiritual beings, whether we know it or not, magical beings with a desire for healing and love. And that archetypal stories, and the ancient mysteries of nature, provide a helpful direction towards an authentic relationship with the Self. Having a life with ritual and contemplation is very helpful as well. Soul, she believes, needs Mystery more than Meaning in order to feel the joy of its divinity.

[Raïna Paris]

Has it been a smooth road? A life is not a smooth ride, ever, if you want to actually live. What I learned as a child was so filled with confusion and misunderstanding, judgment, and rage, I became fear-based and so mixed up inside I had to learn to untangle all the different strands of my life and identify them, like the four impossible tasks given to Psyche, There has been many losses and deep grief along the way as well as health challenges. But always the deepest learning comes from all those challenges as well as the wisdom of the body, Re-learning to listen to the instincts and the intuition, trusting the inner guidance which has always been there but that took time to relearn to trust. I had to learn how to live from a place of inner authority as opposed to outer expectations. The mystical tools, like the Tarot, and the wisdom teachings of the ages, have always been beautiful signposts along the way.

We’d love to hear more about your work and what you are currently focused on. What else should we know? I am not someone who likes to teach or talk about something for the sake of talking. I need to come from love in whatever I do. Specially because I was so fear-based, And I also need to know what I am talking about, what I am trying to convey, not only intellectually but in the body and in the heart. I am a scholar, a guide and a poet. And I do not ever talk about a subject however scholarly without implicating myself on a personal level. It’s not something I decided to do, it’s just how I am. I am always trying to live a life that is absolutely personal and authentic to me and at the same time, share my experience with others in the hopes that it might be helpful or useful.

So I go into the places of the In-Between, of liminality. It is the place of dreams, of imagination, and it is also the world of Nature, where the truth lives, at the threshold between this world and the archetypal world, I work with the tarot from an archetypal viewpoint because it is an ancient wisdom tool and I believe it helps give perspective to this crazy road trip called life, which often seems to spiral back to the same places we have experienced before. I also teach a seminar about the Cradle and the Crown process which helps people connect with the power and passion of childhood joy as well as the wisdom of inner authority. Once the weeds of false beliefs get rooted out, I find there is a beautiful way to live in tune with the Self and the world around us.

[Another photo of Raïna and her horse Quincy]

Let’s touch on your thoughts about our city – what do you like the most and least? I love that the city is surrounded by Nature, so close by, from parks and mountains to ocean.

It is a challenging place with just as many opportunities to heal and transform, as there are opportunities to lose oneself.

Raïna Paris interview at VoyageLA on-line magazine published the 20th May 2020. The name of the person who wrote this article or conducted this interview is not listed.

[tarnishedinquirer]

The First Steps

Wouldn't you know it? as soon as I step outside, I start getting answers. Hope they all come as easy to me, but that's too much to hope for.

This character was standing right outside the tomb, as if he was waiting for me. Doesn't take a master inquirer to peg this man as a suspect. Even if I didn't already have a backlog of crimes, I'd start looking for one. This man was born guilty.

The weapon hidden in the back of his belt where he assumed wouldn't notice is a "kunai," a tool favored in the Land of Reeds by both gardeners and assassins. I didn't see any dirt on his gloves, just suspiciously fresh blood. From what I hear, the land has been locked in civil war so long, the grass itself feeds on blood instead of water. Seems exaggerated, but every tale from there is about blood. Not assuming he's a Reedlander, but he still seems very familiar with blood.

The audacity of this man. I don't even have to talk to him for a minute before he all but confesses. "Unfortunately, however, you are maidenless," he says, like he might have something to do with this. He tells me all the things that I'm denied from being maidenless. Runes, an invitation to the "Roundtable Hold." He's practically gloating about how, if I continue to follow the path before me, he's condemned me to certain death.

I'm waiting for him to make his offer, but it doesn't come. Not yet, at least. He must want me to squirm. Well, there's only one way to make me squirm, and his grubby fingers aren't coming anywhere close.

I do manage to get some info out of him. His name is White Mask Varré, and Godrick the Grafted is the owner of that castle up ahead, called Stormveil. The voice makes sure I know how it's spelled.

"The Grafted"? Interesting epithet. Like the "Grafted Scion" at the chapel?

Conclusion 1: The spider at the chapel was a minion of Godric the Grafted. Possibly one of his kids. Why the fuck it looked like that, or why it was there to attack me, is a different series of questions.

Conclusion 2: Varré murdered the maiden. I don't know how, and I don't know why, but the timetable fits, and that blood is less than a day old. I don't think he used the kunai, but it's so poorly concealed, it can't be his main weapon.

Couldn't help but also notice all the burned corpses on crucifixes, or the enormous knight on horseback, but I'm gonna deal with those problems later. Much, much later, if I can avoid it. I'm curious, yes, but I know when I'm punching above my weight class.

((forgive the poor resolution, I had to cut things down to potato quality to keep the recording from fucking up. I'll try bumping it up a little more soon))

[yuzukahibiscus]

のせ様’s (No-se-sama) Documented Events (January 2023)

(Note: This was taken from “Eto-Bun” (えと文) section in January Kageki 2023. Eto-Bun is a section written by a particular sienne in each troupe to share some little stories about them or about their troupe every three months. In this cycle of January-March, Ichinose Kouki is the one writing for Flower Troupe. And I thought, why not drabble and translate a little to see what Hanako* has for us!) *Hanako is her nickname as mentioned in OTOME, a biography of all siennes in Takarazuka.

A little introduction to Ichinose Kouki for those who are unfamiliar with her.

Ichinose Kouki・一之瀬航季

Entered the Revue in 2014 as the 100th class. Her favourite roles include Oswald Vickers for "A Fairy Tale” newcomers’ performance. She was originally going to have a newcomers’ performance lead for “Haikara-san: Here Comes Miss Modern” in 2020 but it was cancelled due to the pandemic. Nevertheless, she went on Yuzuka Rei’s “Lock-On” Episode as a guest to talk about what she learnt from Rei, being Rei’s first “shinko kid” since she became Top Star. Later on in 2022, she starred in the Bow Workshop “Junjou” (or Complete Devotion) alongside with Mihane Ai as her partner. She also previously joined Minami Maito in her CAST side-A and was one of the members of Flor5. She will be performing with Minami Maito in her “One and Only” dinner show, also the final performance for Minami Maito as a Flower Troupe member before transferring to Senka.

Hey everyone! Have you being doing well?

I am Ichinose Kouki who’s here on “Eto-Bun” for the first time! “のせ様’s Documented Events” will be the title of this time’s “Eto-Bun” corner. The parent for titling the name is my douki Honoka (Seino) ✨

Readers like you may think, “Eh!? Isn’t Ichinose’s nickname Hanako”...!

Actually, underclassmen do call me “のせ様”~. Hahaha. In Flower Troupe, we call (OG Marika Yume-san) as “Yume-sama”, (Kazumi-san) as “Shii-sama” and others by adding “-sama” to their nickname... how cool is that✨ I also want to live up cool like that! So when given this opportunity of writing for “Eto-Bun”, I have the strategy to induce the underclassmen to start calling me “のせ様” lol.

In these 3 months, I’ll be updating everyone a lot about the charms and updates of our Flower Troupe friends.

Please look forward ☘️

🌻 Intimidating “KAGEKI”

So now, now. Let’s commemorate this as my first entry!

As I start writing, I researched more about “Eto-Bun”... “Eto-Bun” has been a general corner in “Kageki” from the time of! Showa Year 43 (1968).

“What...half a century ago!?” I was surprised.

For reference, once again I opened up the “KAGEKI”s I have at my home again and when I opened the portrait photo, the thing I immediately saw was...

“Yuzuka-san is so cool! The best!”

“This angle is nice✨“

“Hey! My douki looks great too😍”

And it was so fun reading it that this time I didn’t quite want to turn the next page yet. There’s the roundtable discussion, backstage notes. Sometimes I realised there would be new corners and I familiarised myself in reading several of these (“KAGEKI”) books. And very quickly, time passed. Lol.

Has everyone had such experience before!?

I’d say this is why the charm of “KAGEKI” is intimidating.

🌻 Flower Troupe University・Starts School!

As we’re embracing the New Year in the Grand Theatre, now Flower Troupe’s in the middle of rehearsals, but actually from the start, we were arranged with quite an irregular rehearsal pattern.

To trace back the events, this happened in the next day after meeting day (*shuugobi; the day when rehearsals of performances start). As we entered the rehearsal classroom, it was like entering a school. In front of the large white board, there were long desks and long chairs aside each other. Sensei was in her seat and holding a mic, all was readily prepared...How would this start!? We thought as we stay seated. Then Koyanagi-sensei (*director of “Mayerling”) said this.

"Everyone, have you learned the way of speaking Japanese?😁”

For me, I had Japanese lessons, but was not taught specifically the way of speaking it. Then Koyanagi-sensei continued to say, “even for English, when you are admitted into the overseas drama schools, the first thing is to directly learn about the way of speaking for your mother tongue”.

Oh...! So on that day Koyanagi-sensei prepared for us Flower Troupe members a special “Acting Enhancement Lesson Club”✨! What kind of theatrical troupe is Takarazuka like? What does an actress do? She asked us many of these foundational questions...and then started picking siennes to answer🤣 lol.  Then when it comes to the situational acting class, Aoki Tsukasa was given the role of a rock singer character and Hoshikaze had to play her fan and it was a lot of fun. From the Top-san to the most junior underclassmen we’re all given an opportunity to play this, so it was exciting from start to finish...!

When we Flower Troupe members were having these lessons, it really felt like a framed memory of our school life. In a day of these lessons, (we’d be asked) “What is Takarazuka? What is a musical? What is language/words?” and once again we learnt a lot through this process. It was really interesting knowing all of such things...!!

Koyanagi-sensei said, “Everything is about conveying the “language/words”. That’s why it shouldn’t get too convoluted, but it should be enunciated word by word,” and that’s how Flower Troupe University came to an end☘️

🌻 The healing god appears!

During a weekend in the rehearsal period...

Suddenly, the healing god appeared!!

That week was a challenging time for the underclassmen, having to rehearse for both the musical and the choreography for the show (*Enchantement). Our heads felt like being in a state of sea urchin (*maybe meaning full of spikes, frustrated and headaches...) As I returned home for the week, feeling accomplished like “I’ve done it!”, several people seemed to have discover something...

As I saw the car that passed by, isn’t that Yuzuka-san’s dog Noah! Noah-kun suddenly appeared before us...✨

“Ka...Ka...Kawaii———————♡” (Cute)

Yuzuka-san held Noah-kun’s little hand and stuck its hand out of the car window and started waving it✨ Together with Yuzuka-san’s beautiful hand, we saw Noah-kun’s small hand. What-What-What an angel! As Yuzuka-san and Noah-kun waved their hands, that sent the weariness of the underclassmen away. (Besides, Ichinose is always touched by the beauty of Noah’s fluffy fur and side profile. I want to tell you...more about how touching this is) Yuzuka-san, Noah-kun, thank you for making us healed with happiness♡

I have other Yuzuka-san’s episodes I want to share, but ah~! I’m running out of pages!! Please look forward to the next entry...! This time, I’ve shared fully about the appearance of Noah-kun😁✨

Once again... Everyone, thank you for reading this first entry of my “Eto-Bun” to the end. Since we’re at the start of 2023, I’m so honoured to share with everyone my stories☘️ There’s so much I want to record document about but here I’m up at my 2 pages. From the start of the year, it would be the Flower Troupe performance. I look forward to seeing everyone in the audience.

Everyone, please be happy in 2023!

With love! From “Hanako” “(Ichi)Nose-san”.

[awellboiledicicle]

[heavy sigh]

Just realized Diallos is also Felix’s type.

Which means i instantly went “ok so Rogier/Felix/Diallos, yes”

Brain is just making Felix have three weed smoking boyfriends. Sure, the plot for the au was going to make the Roundtable Hold crew basically a single diplomatic group to negotiate with Morgott re: not killing every tarnished he sees, but like. He doesn’t need to collect people like pokemon to make this happen. Brain why.

I blame the fact that Felix’s attitude about it would be just. “I can [probably] financially support Diallos and Rogier. Morgott is a literal king. I think he’ll be fine.” Yes, he would be the one being blackmailed for having multiple families and just laugh about it bc all his partners know about the others, they just like their space.

Returning to the point though, like. The main problem with Felix liking Diallos too is that the man would never leave the goddamn hold alone enough to progress his storyline. I could have his story progress and just do the [spiderman point] meme with Felix infiltrating Volcano Manor like “hold up” “I can explain--” “The explanation better be ‘i am here to back you up’ and not ‘killing tarnished for a man with the word blasphemy in his name’, Diallos.” “... I’ve not killed anyone.” A frown. “Unlike some of us.” “If I don’t do this, we don’t get access to Lyndell!” “Convenient, then, that you get to do as you will!” “I’m hardly stopping you from doing as you please.” A scowl. “Not like you actually do anything.” “How dare you! The tale of House--” “Hoslow is told in blood, i know. Everyone else’s blood, you mean.” Cue Diallos looking properly pissed off and pushing past Felix to grab an envelope off the table in the drawing room and leaving. Then cut to him having grabbed the letter ordering the death of Juno. Naturally, he can’t do it and wanders to Jarburg. Felix likely wouldn’t do it either, but would be fine with hiding Juno in the Roundtable Hold until he got an audience with Rykard.

Meanwhile i assume to make that work i’ll have to have had Morgott set an impossible task for Felix and the Hold to meet before Margit will let this little ‘diplomatic meeting’ thing to happen. Very “I don’t believe you’re peaceful, nor do i believe that you’re as strong as you say. Bring me the Rune of Praetor Rykard and then you may speak to a diplomat. Maybe.” Which hinges on handing over an unrestored rune shard, which would make mmm no one in the hold happy without the legwork already in place for it to work. But it WOULD gain them an uneasy alliance of sorts with Lyndell, making moving around far easier. Would certainly make oh idk KNOWING ANYTHING about the lands between easier. You know, the land people want to rule. And one would assume that the King of Lyndell being chill with you would be a thing you’d like as Elden Lord.

Idk its late at night and i’m brainstorming

[yellowfingcr]

@izar-tarazed / continued from [ x ]

"Oh! OH! Yes! Yesyesyes! It's exactly The Ballad of Blade And Bitterroot!" Heysel immediately half-shouts, and by all means it is as if lightning had just struck her- she brightens, she wiggles, she points, all together, all quick! For a terrible indecisive moment there is the very real chance that the strength of her excitement might unbalance her off the wall. "I'm so glad you heard of it! It's incredibly real and incredibly good! Oh gods. Um. I'm assuming then that this is a case of someone borrowing a book and, ah, perhaps ending up in a... situation... in which they could no longer can take it back to the Roundtable Hold, given that I've found it in an abandoned shack... but! Yes! It is such a treasure of a story. Dazzling! I can never say no to chivalrous tales of romance myself, and Palma is so dreamy! The way she said- the way she replied- the scene- I shan't! I shan't say anything further lest I spoil you the experience. It will be my utmost pleasure to bring you the book! So maybe we can even chat about it, once you're done..."

Something sly, glittering in her eye, as she looks down at the fellow mage.

"...Though maaaybe you could share where you found the other, with Tala... I am so curious! See, this is where I wish I still could reach my house. The one I lived in before my death. Most of the money I made went into collecting art, and books were no exception, and I'm not ashamed to say that a good part of what I possessed were exactly romances. I would have loved to invite you to take any tome you liked. Especially during blood cult days." An understanding nod. Sort of: the elaborate chain of gestures and looks unfolding after her head tips down communicate that her blood cult meetings are more of a yearly affair.

"You should tell me what your favorite tales are, by the way. I understand that I am talking with a true connoisseur, and I long to expand the horizons of my romantic expertise."

[izar-tarazed]

Izar relaxed when Nepenthe didn’t pursue the topic of the Roundtable Hold and its residents further. Another glance at Ensha; he still remained a little tense, but was no longer rubbing off rust. Instead, he was back to being vigilant, head slightly inclined while he listened to Nepenthe’s words about following battlefields. One finger kept tapping the back of his gauntlet, a small and seemingly absentminded gesture that Izar had come to know as one Ensha made when he was very focused trying to piece something together. When he caught Izar’s gaze, he stopped tapping for a moment and subtly signed, Something about her words is strange. Izar didn’t nod to acknowledge that she had seen the gesture, but twitched her fingers in a way that might have seemed like casual stretching to unsuspecting strangers: Why? Not that she doubted him, but to her, there was nothing strange about the war surgeon’s tale. While Izar herself knew little of war, she still had come across soldiers’ encampments often enough. Those structures weren’t designed to be permanent, and it made sense that the focus of battles and skirmishes would move and shift across the landscape, with those involved in whatever way bound to follow. If anything, she felt sympathy for Nepenthe for such a restless life. Still, she ran Nepenthe’s words through her mind again, looking at them from different angles the way she would look at a cluster of stars, looking for patterns and oddities alike. Then she heard the war surgeon’s next question, apparently kept purposefully vague, and sighed. ‟Why yes, a little more peace would be a blessing for everybody, wouldn’t it?” She bit her lip, shifting her full attention back to the white mask. ‟But it’ll be a hard task to whoever gets to sit on that throne.” She was aware why Nepenthe had brought the topic up. As beautiful and comforting the golden light of grace was, it kept pushing Izar into a direction she wasn’t sure she even wanted to go. ‟We should probably hope that whoever claims the title will have the potential to ensure peace.” Her fingers went back to the hem of her cloak. ‟As well as the desire to do so.”

The Roundtable Hold sounded pretty nice with the way Izar was putting it; a place of respite, of solace, complete with people you could confide in and trust. It had been a long while since Nepenthe had truly known something like that ... but she was no Tarnished, and surely her circumstances left such a blessing out of reach.

She did pick up on the way Izar said leader, though. Taut, clenched-teeth, lilted in a way that indicated discomfort or perhaps unfinished business. Nepenthe could only assume that she was referring to Sir Gideon Ofnir, the allegedly all-knowing. She possessed no way of knowing how accurate that lofty title was - she had her doubts- but being knowledgeable in the Lands Between had a tendency to require a network of spies.

Spies that Nepenthe was quite familiar with... or, at least she had been quite familiar with the one she caught snooping a little too close to the mausoleum entrance; familiarity that started with a dagger between the ribs, and ended with a dying gasp.

... Oof, best not to bring that whole fiasco up.

Relatedly, then, Izar reflected the topic back. A frown tugged at Nepenthe's lips as she thought of how to answer ... she could only assume Varré hadn't told this one anything about what was going on underground, despite their apparent familiarity. "Not... really, no. That is why I came here, to rest," she explained, resting a palm on her knee and moving her thumb in a slow circle, "Battlefields aren't usually designated to a single place. War has to be followed." A beat. "I hope that one day, though, this will change. Perhaps, with the ascension of the next Elden Lord...?"

There was a questioning edge to Nepenthe's voice -- not necessarily asking if Izar had designs for the position, but moreso, what she thought about it in general. It was more or less the basis for all Tarnished returning from across the fog, and usually they had opinions about that.

[whatdoyoumeanitsnotcanon]

Read this one fic and now I can’t stop thinking about the Roundtable Hold functioning as something a little bit more intimate than a general meeting place.

Just.

Tarnished from across the lands coming in and out, desperate for some form of connection and comfort. Most of them hear about Fia, and some of those transient warriors will seek out her embrace. Her touch is fleeting, however, and sooner or later they return to the Lands Between (and the battle. Always the battle.)

The ones who frequent the Hold start growing closer to each other, exchanging tips and tales and touches as they watch the rest of their kind throw themselves upon the flame of ambition and burn until nothing is left. Maybe Gideon knows, watching silently from the sidelines. Maybe he just wonders when his daughter started communicating in a language he does not know, one spoken in hands that linger on shoulders and trail down spines. One spoken in glances and quirked lips, voiced at some unseen signal. One heard in hushed conversations and empty seats at the dinner table that only garner a giggle or an eye roll.

Hewg watches these weary warriors slip into rooms together in twos and threes and mores (still so young, even after all of their trials and tragedies). They finally realized what he knew all along, that they wear shackles just as damning as his own. At least they wore them together.

(Ack, this was just supposed to be a precursor to orgies in the Roundtable Hold and then Feels happened.)

Roundtable Orgies with feels. Whew, don't I love it.

I bet you it was all twunky Rogier's doing. I bet you he started it with this new generation.

Meanwhile, Corrhyn is busy condemning them to Elden Hell or sumn even though he wants it baaad. lmaoo

[justjensenanddean]

Jensen Ackles is so glad he can finally talk about playing Batman in The Long Halloween

Watch EW's Around the Table discussion with the cast and creators of DC's latest animated film about the Dark Knight.

One of the greatest Batman stories of all time is finally coming to the screen. Originally published as a 12-issue comic series by writer Jeph Loeb and artist Tim Sale, Batman: The Long Halloween is a yearlong murder mystery in which Gotham City's organized crime figures keep getting killed on holidays. Though Batman is trying to take down the mafia alongside his allies Commissioner Gordon and District Attorney Harvey Dent, they don't support extrajudicial killings - especially when the witnesses they need to formulate a case against the crime bosses keep ending up among the dead.

Next week Warner Bros. will release Batman: The Long Halloween, Part One, the first of a two-part animated adaptation of the story. EW assembled a roundtable of actors Jensen Ackles (Batman) and Julie Nathanson (Gilda Dent), writer-producer Tim Sheridan, and supervising producer Butch Lukic to discuss their take on the classic tale.

One of the first topics that came up was the fact that The Long Halloween has been in development for years, but it was stalled for a time when Warner Bros. thought Matt Reeves might use the story for his live-action movie The Batman. When that film, starring Robert Pattinson as the Dark Knight, ultimately went a different direction, the animated version was able to proceed. That means those involved are finally able to talk about it - and Ackles is definitely ready to talk about Batman.

You may have seen Ackles dress up as the Dark Knight for Halloween 2019. As many fans wished, the actor is now playing Batman for real - and in one of the character's best story lines, no less.

"I come from a previous film where I voiced Red Hood," Ackles says. "So when I got the call for this, I assumed I would be reprising that role into whatever story these guys were adapting. But then I realized I'd gotten the upgrade! I don't think they even got the whole word 'Batman' out. They were like, 'Bat-' and I was like, yes!"

When it comes to the Halloween getup, Ackles admits, "I couldn't help myself." But it also came together organically.

"I had this wonderful crew person I was working with who hand-made costumes and cosplay stuff," Ackles says. "She didn't even know. She did a Red Hood version for me. She was like, 'I'm gonna do a Batman, would you be my mannequin?' And inside I was like, 'If you only knew!'"

Although the masculine trio of Batman, Dent, and Gordon are at the center of The Long Halloween, this adaptation also centers female characters. Nathanson's Gilda pokes holes in Harvey's heroism, while Catwoman (voiced by the late Naya Rivera) keeps Batman on his toes.

"There's a lot of, well, duality in this particular film," Nathanson says, in a tease to fans who know or suspect where The Long Halloween leads. "But I think the female characters also have their own two sides. I hold that as Gilda, having her own personal space and stuff she's dealing with, and her guardedness because of pain, mixed with her desire to connect with her husband. The women get to play with that duality and that strength as well."

Watch the video above for more. Batman: The Long Halloween, Part One releases digitally and on Blu-ray on June 22, with Part Two following later this summer.

ew.com/movies/jensen-ackles-talks-playing-batman-in-long-halloween/

[izar-tarazed]

"Night-watcher! I have a question for you."

Heysel, perched atop a crumbled wall, swings her legs in the air.

"Do you like reading tales of romance? I ask because I happen to have found a delightful book about a princess and her knightess that is so very sweet and I was thinking, maybe I shouldn't keep this just to myself. Maybe others wish to learn of the hopeful love blossoming through hardship and adventure of regal Isabella and valorous Palma."

Izar glances up, then attaches her telescope back to her belt and steps closer, her eyes lighting up. ‟… oh, wait! Are you telling me you’ve come across The Ballad of Blade And Bitterroot? It’s actually a real book?” She beams. ‟You see, I only know it from a reference in another book I read a while ago—when Tala of the Silken Dawn tells her beloved, in the night before the last battle, that they are just like Isabella and Palma, and she hums that little tune… But I had not yet managed to track that book down! Not even in the Great Library of Raya Lucaria. I did suspect there was at least one copy at the Roundtable Hold, because its section of romance tales is suspiciously well-stocked… yet with this one missing, I was beginning to think it didn’t even exist. Anyway—I’d be more than happy to read that story! I don’t often find the time to read when I’m out adventuring, but… well, there’s those days each month when I feel like I’m setting up my very own blood cult. Then I’m miserable enough to just lie about with pillows and warming stones and lots of sweet tea, and tales of romance are just what I need then.”

[fulgurantfirstborn]

Gwynfor of House Heulwen

Gwynfor's tale is that of a warrior who died in battle, the ultimate honor for a commander who had so unfalteringly served the Dragon Cult of Leyndell. It is there that his tale would have ended if not for Grace, rousing the now Tarnished man from a long slumber and throwing him into a world that is no longer familiar to him. Now, Gwynfor's tale is that of a man picking up the pieces after the Shattering. 

Currently, he resides in Dragonbarrow, taking care of the residents and helping them manage their symptoms of scarlet rot. While he is welcoming to those wandering through, any Tarnished who have partaken in Dragon Communion shall not be tolerated. He will unleash his lightning if he notices the telltale yellow eyes. Any Recusants coming after his hide will be swiftly dealt with as well, sent back to Volcano Manor with their tails between their legs. 

He could seek the title of Elden Lord. He has been invited to the Roundtable Hold. But though he was once a noble leader and still a skillful warrior, Gwynfor no longer wishes to bear the burden of such titles. Treat him as a friend and he shall do the same for you.

[qvid-pro-qvo]

a southern education

rafael barba x female!reader. a series of moments during cases leads barba to learn a common turn of phrase from you, a detective on the squad.

word count: 4559

rating: teen, for endless teasing and the kind of contempt only the south can offer (canon-typical mentions of rape and violence, but frankly a whole lot of fluff, too, as well as an additional warning for the author knowing nothing about how law work besides what law and order tells me). 

-

It was like a different world, when you and Rollins got to chatting.

It was the way your accents got thicker, the way your laughter seemed to echo. There was always an inside joke, always a tease before you got paired off with Fin and Rollins inevitably found Sonny once again, words dripping with something sugary sweet as the two of you parted ways. The others didn’t get it, what you two would get so riled up about, but with you and her, it was like two peas in a pod.

It was just the South in the two of you. And yes, the capital ‘S’ was justified.

The South. Muggy nights and wretched summers and air thick with humidity and the mosquitoes that didn’t even give you a chance. Cicadas yelling as soon as the sun set and sitting out on porches drinking your beer or tooth-achingly sweet tea. Tipping hats and holding doors open and taking your sweet time. It made New York feel that much smaller, just two Southern girls trying to make it.

There were the shitty parts, too. There were the parts that make you and Rollins come to New York in the first place – the realization that women would never make it like men do, the suffocation of trying to fit into a box not made for you. So New York was far from home, but for good reason, and sometimes all of the South you need was hearing Rollins say y’all just as much as you.

Like now, for instance.

The newest case was a weird one, for sure, but at the center of it all was a young boy in the crossfire. Caught between his adoptive parents and the criminal enterprises his biological father was involved with. The squad was waiting for some food, and you, Barba, Carisi, and Amanda were all sitting around the wooden table, using the chairs to move from section of evidence to section of evidence.

“Poor guy just wanted a good home,” you said, looking at one of the pictures of him. It was a sweet photo, and you sighed before pushing the folder away from you. You moved to stand from the table. “Bless his heart.”

It came out of you without thinking, your voice somber, solemn. Rollins just nodded, because she got the gist, but Carisi just turned to look at you like you just grew devil’s horns.

“What does that mean?”

You looked up from the picture and met Carisi’s eyes. His brows were furrowed, and there seemed to be something tense in his shoulders.

“What do you mean?” you asked, looking amongst them. Barba was raising his brow, but his gaze was fixated on his notepad, his pen in his fingers as he scribbled something. “It’s just a saying.”

“Well, because Amanda says it to me sometimes,” Carisi said, and there was a twist to his lips, one you wanted to chuckle at. He looked so… solemn. “And usually she’s being sarcastic. I just don’t think what they did to this little boy is funny, that’s all.”

You glanced back at Amanda, and the two of you shared a look, smiling in that way you shared. She was hiding it behind her hand, and you turned back to the two men, ready to placate.

“Neither do I.” When I was saying that, I meant… that’s really sad, for him, and… y’know. Poor thing. Poor guy.” You lifted your hands, pointing to the picture. “I wasn’t being sarcastic, this kid is… he’s in a shitty situation. It’s kind of a catch-all. It’s about the intention behind it.”

“It’s a Southern thing,” Amanda finished, shrugging a bit. “It just means what you want it to mean.”

That seemed to soothe Carisi’s troubled soul enough, and you smiled at him before lifting completely from your chair, moving to get some more coffee. You asked the table if they wanted anything, and the only response was Barba lifting with you, and the two of you walked towards the coffee maker.

You didn’t mind the lawyer. Sure, the ADA wasn’t always your thing – after all, working with him could feel like you just ran a marathon – but Barba was good at his job and treated you all well.

Plus, if you happened to know your favorite combination of suit, tie, and pocket square that he wore, that was between you and God.

“I could’ve just gotten you something if you wanted, Barba,” you told him. “I know you like your coffee, even the bad stuff here.”

His smile was small, but it felt real enough, and you gave him a returning one, trying to ignore the thrill you got from the way he looked at you.

“You always add too much sugar,” he admitted, and you just rolled your eyes, smirking.

“And you always add too little, so. Maybe one day we’ll meet in the middle.” His little chuckle was cute, and you leaned against the little bar, glancing out the breakroom to where Carisi and Rollins were. “Today I won’t touch it, how ‘bout that?”

“I appreciate it.” He too glanced over to the other room, and you watched as Amanda seemed to explain something to Sonny, her hands circling a little as Sonny just shook his head at her. “So, blessing your heart? A common thing?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you laughed, pouring a couple of cups and sliding one over to him to do as he wished. He just picked it up and sipped at it, the monster, but you added three sugars and stirred it plenty. “Trust me, sympathy isn’t always its message, but like I said. It can mean a little bit of everything.”

Barba just laughed again, shaking his head. “It seems innocuous enough. You’re telling me old women can weaponize blessing someone?”

That made your mouth twitch up, and you finished stirring your coffee with a flick of the plastic straw. With a little smile at him, you reached forward, turning him, getting close. You narrowed your eyes, pursing your lips a little. A once-over, eyes calculating, and he just stared, wide-eyed and brows creeping towards his hairline as you let out a little sound, putting all the condescension into it. And if your accent was a bit strong, well. You let it play.

“Oh, bless your heart. You just don’t understand. The South doesn’t pull punches.”

Your eyes didn’t break from his for a moment, and then you let out a little snort, shaking your head, moving past him. He seemed more than a little confused, and when you looked back he was just watching you, watching the way you walked toward the roundtable once more. You chuckled a little again, gesturing with your head towards Amanda and Carisi. 

“Oh, Northerners. Come on, Mr. Barba. No more blessing hearts today. I have a feeling this’ll be continuing education.”

-

You stood in Liv’s office a few weeks later, the two interrogation rooms on either side of you. In one, the victim, the other, the perp. A classic he-said, she-said, and you found yourself lingering on the perp’s side, watching as Carisi and Fin interrogated him. Their voices came through a little staticky, but you caught every word, your mouth twisting into disgust as you watched him spin a tale of woe.

“I did not do it,” he cried out, and his entire being reeked privilege. It was so easy to watch him pull every card out of the book, and watch the two detectives stand by, unimpressed. If he thought his charm and his smile would woo them, he was sorely mistaken.

“Look, you wanna know the truth, kid?” Carisi said, leaning back in his seat as Fin leaned against the window. Almost as if he knew you were standing by, watching. “We don’t give a rat’s ass who your father is, we don’t give a damn about your GPA. All we care about is what happened that night. So tell us what really happened now, and we won’t have to drag you out of your classes with our lights going.”

You huffed out a laugh at Carisi’s statement, which earned you a fellow lurker. Barba, there next to you. He normally didn’t get the cases this early, but with something like this he liked to hear everything from the beginning.

“Anything of value from him?” he asked, and you shook your head, turning to face him, one eye still on the interrogation.

“Nah, he’s just spinning his wheels. He thinks Daddy’s money can get him out of this bind, like every other one. Hasn’t caught the memo that we’re not that easy.”

Barba smirked, shaking his head. He turned to you, and his gaze lingered on your face, making you straighten a bit as he glanced back to the glass. “We certainly aren’t, detective. You’ll let me know the details later?”

Your brow raised. “Yeah, I can come by, if this isn’t something you’re gonna pass off to Callier. Course, I can fill her in, too.” It’d become an unofficial part of your job description, relaying the updates of the investigations to the D.A.s office when needed, trading off with Carisi. Mainly because the two of you liked going to see the counselor the most, for… different reasons.

Barba’s nod was short, and then he started migrating to the other side, where Liv and Rollins were in talking with the girl.

Suddenly, the whiny voice of the perp caught your attention.

“You can’t do this! My father won’t stand for it, do you hear me?”

Your nose wrinkled, and your little scoff was sharp enough to make Barba turn back, stop in his tracks. “Oh, bless his heart. He just doesn’t get it, does he?”

There was a warm chuckle from the other side of the room that made it your turn to look over, and you watched as Rafael Barba ducked his head, a hand lifting to cover his mouth as he did his best to look innocent.

“What’s so funny, Barba?”

When he glanced your way, the hand on his mouth lifted in surrender, the other sliding into his pocket. “Nothing. I just… think this is part of that continuing education you were talking about, detective.”

Your previous conversation came back to you, all of a sudden, and you watched as he chuckled again and pushed towards the interview room to watch Amanda and Liv.

“Trust me, you haven’t heard the last of it, yet,” you told him, and when he glanced over his shoulder he was smirking.

“I hope not.”

It was your eyes on him now, and you found yourself grinning and ducking your head before it became full-on staring, a warm feeling on your cheeks as Carisi and Fin came back into Liv’s office. You found yourself chuckling to yourself for the rest of the day, thinking about the way he looked while he smiled, at the way he laughed.

You wouldn’t mind seeing that smile more often, you decided.

Wouldn’t mind one bit.

-

The SVU squad room didn’t always leave you with smiles, of course. It was a lot of heartbreak, a lot of pain that circulated through interrogation rooms and interview sessions. A lot of sorrow, sitting in courtrooms and watching strong, powerful victims testify against their assailants.

A lot of pain. But… friends were a bright spot.

And slowly, Barba was becoming that, too.

Your role as the inbetweener was essentially official. More often than not you were accompanying Liv to One Hogan Place, the two of you in his office and trying to talk him into something (and him usually trying to talk the two of you out). A lot of times, you went on your own, making it just you and him standing on either side of his desk, discussing what could and could not be done in the eyes of the law.

It was still work, at that point, too. Because you could give him the details without skipping the important facts, could give it to him straight without hemming and hawing. You could defend your fellow detectives without taking it personally, knowing when wrongs were wrong and when to push.

And if those conversations started stretching longer, and if you found yourself lingering in his offices more and more, well. Amanda had permission to tease you about it in private.

But only in private.

In public, she could only send sly looks, looks you stubbornly avoided by meeting others’ gazes or looking down at your laptop.

Like in that moment, when Barba’s gaze met yours in his office, and the little nod he offered seemed enough to make your heart pound. A glance at Amanda, with her laugh behind her hand and head shaking, told you all you needed to know about how gone you were.

“Detective?”

Your gaze shot back to Rafael. This time his gaze wasn’t one of equals, but one of concern, his head tilted almost a little. And in that moment, you realized that he was asking you a question, that he had been nodding at you to answer…

“Sorry, sorry,” you scrambled, blinking a few times, trying to ignore the way Amanda kicked you under the small round table. “What was the question?”

“You’re the one who visited Miss Stevens last,” he said, pushing from his desk to stand up tall, walk towards you and your friend. “What’s your take?”

The interaction with your witness came back to you, and you grimaced a little at the thought of her taking the stand.

“Bless her heart,” you said, on instinct, shaking your head as you thought about her answers to the simple questions you asked her.

“That bad, huh?” the blonde said with a wince, and you nodded, sighing.

“Unfortunately.”

“What?” Barba’s brow raised with his question, and you realized that while Amanda got the gist, you were leaving the counselor in the dust for once.

Well. How to explain… politely…

You bit your lower lip a moment before speaking. “Miss Stevens is very… kind,” you offered, shrugging, “but her attention span is not the… greatest. A little… naïve, is the word I’d use, I guess.”

After a moment, Barba looked to Amanda, who just smiled sweetly. “I think what Y/N is implying is that, after talking with her, she realized that… uh.”

Nothing from Barba, who just looked between the two of you.

“Is what?”

It wasn’t worth the games anymore, even though the confusion on Barba’s face was hilarious. You turned to nod at Amanda, before leaning back in your chair, sighing.

“She’s, frankly, as dumb as a doornail.” When Southern politeness didn’t work, the next step was brutal honesty. “Which shouldn’t matter, but you put her up there –”

“And any defense attorney worth their salt would have her saying whatever they wanted her to,” Amanda finished. You reached over to pat her hand in thanks, and she just grinned at you, the two of you turning to the lawyer simultaneously. He didn’t answer immediately, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of you. 

“If you prep her really well,” you offered to him, “there’s a chance. But it has to be… really well.” You and your fellow detective stood, and as she moved to the door you just shrugged at the attorney.

“And you have doubt in my abilities to prep well?” Barba shot back, and you grinned at him. For the moment, Amanda was gone, just you and him and some verbal flirting to finish off the day.

You lingered in the doorway, and ignored the sound of Amanda’s foot tapping on the carpet. “I have doubt in her abilities to listen well.”

He just chuckled, shaking his head and letting out a breath. Whatever it took to finish a case. “All right. Well. I’ll figure it out. Thank you, for the extra lesson today. Three ways to use a phrase is… more than I was expecting.”

You chuckled, shaking your head at him, before an idea sprung to mind that made you pause before you turned out of the room.  

“Want me to call her in tomorrow? Bring her down to the precinct?” When he seemed to hestitate, you pushed a little. “She might be more comfortable with me there, and she’s already been to the precinct in one of our interview rooms. Might be best to introduce you at someplace she’s… familiar?”

Maybe you were hallucinating, but Amanda might as well have been on Mars. Because the smile Barba gave? It had to be all for you.

The case ended up finishing strong. Or, almost finishing. The tail end of the case found the two of you jogging out of the courthouse into a rush of cool fall winds, your noses going numb at the feeling as the sun started to set over the skyline.

“She did well,” you praised, hunching your shoulders against the cold. “Should never have doubted you.”

“Couldn’t have done it without New York’s finest,” he admitted, and when you glanced at him the only way to describe it was… mirth.

“Damn straight, counselor.”

Your steps were in time. No other detectives, no other lawyers, just the two of you making your way down to the street and relishing in the feeling of a well-fought battle.

“All that’s left is the jury,” you hummed. “Waiting’s always the hardest part.” 

“We could go grab a drink,” he offered with a little shrug. “Kill some of that time?” 

It was sudden, out of the blue. A moment that you were sure you imagined. “What?” you asked, turning to face him. You expected him to be staring out to the street, or up at the sky, but he was just staring at you, smirk ever-present and adding some sweet seduction to the offer.

“A drink. You, and me.”  

You tried to ignore that butterflies that suddenly took roost in your stomach, and the way your hand hastily went to your hair to make sure the wind wasn’t messing with it too much. “The case isn’t over yet, Barba. Are you sure you want to risk it?”

After a glance around the front steps, he stepped closer to you, smiling. He was wearing that bronze-colored wool coat, and you resisted the urge to reach a hand out, brush off imaginary lint. When he smiled, it was like his eyes lit up, the browns in the coat making the greens shine bright. 

“Then after the case,” he amended. “Once it’s over. Nothing to risk.”

He was serious. He wanted a drink. With you. You had to blink a few times, ducking your gaze to laugh. Amanda would get a kick out of this. Would probably also say that she told you so. “Hope you didn’t just push our luck saying that out loud,” you teased, but his smile didn’t waver when you met his eyes once more. 

“I mean it.”

It was that moment, you supposed. That moment when you looked at him and realized the counselor was looking at you the same way you knew you looked at him.

He was looking at you, and he was smiling, and you couldn’t get enough.

When you nodded, it was short, a little shy, your head ducking again as you pulled your own coat tighter around yourself, your hand tucking your scarf in to keep out the chill.

“Yeah, counselor,” you said. “I’d like that a lot, actually.” 

Then, because you couldn’t help it, you reached forward anyway, let your hand brush something off of his shoulder, flattened out the collar and let your fingers catch on the material. Smiled, as you looked at him.

“It’s a date.” 

-

You loved watching your boyfriend in his element. Because before almost anything else, Rafael Barba was a lawyer. And a damn good one.

The victims, plural, shared some vicious horror stories when they came into the squad room, some stories that they were brave enough to repeat on the stand. Rafael walked them through it, led them to places where they could share all of the details, and prepped them well for the defense’s return volley.

And considering that it was Buchanan, the victory was all the sweeter, especially since the perp was a scumbag who hadn’t wiped the smug look off of his face the whole trial.

Until today, of course. Rafael did his job, and you got the joy of catching his wink as he moved back to his seat, the perp’s words fumbling in his throat as Rafael trapped him in one lie after another. It was like music to your ears, and the sight of Buchanan putting his head in one had was visually just as sweet. 

“It isn’t over yet,” Rafael told you, meeting you at the doors once the jurors filed away, but you just shook your head.

“Not like you to be humble,” you laughed. “Come on, handsome. You know it was a good day.”

You relished in the way his eyes scanned you, the sight of the smirk on his face, the relaxed set of his shoulders.

“Let’s not jinx it. Just. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

You just chuckled, offered a brush of your shoulders to tide the two of you over, and together you started moving out of the courtroom. Only to be stopped by Buchanan, of course, whose voice made your spine stiffen.

“Just a moment, counselor.”

The two of you turned in sync, Buchanan meeting up with you right outside before the hallway. As the three of you stepped out of court, the tension you always felt between the two lawyers seemed heightened. Buchanan’s usual relaxed attitude was gone, replaced by a furrowed brow hestitation as he stepped towards the representative of the people.

“Well, that was quick,” Rafael sighed, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing.

“I want to discuss your offer. Rape Three, on both counts.” 

Rafael’s scoff was sharp.

“After what happened in that courtroom, I think we both know the deal has changed,” Barba shot back, raising a brow at the man in front of him. You couldn’t help the smirk on your face, glancing down to your shoes as Rafael talked to him. “Both counts of Rape Two, served consecutively, and I’ll consider only adding sexual misconduct for the Queens cases if he pleads guilty.”

“You call that a deal?” Buchanan scoffed, and your man just shrugged. “That’s barely a discount.”

Rafael didn’t back down, though, glancing towards the empty pews. “It’s better than two counts of Rape One, which we both know that jury is going to heavily consider. You had your chance for a better deal. It’s my final offer.”

The aghast look on Buchanan’s face was priceless. “Kicking me while I’m down,” Buchanan sneered, and you glanced up in time to see him direct his words at you. “Can you believe this guy? Punishing me for having an off day once in a while.”

It made your skin crawl. You hated the way he looked at you, and you found yourself lifting your chin to meet his gaze head-on.

“Well, bless your heart, Mr. Buchanan,” you told him, oozing fake saccharine from every pore. “Lord knows we all have bad days.” Your smile was tight, and he had the gall to return it.

“Look at that, Barba,” Buchanan said, nodding at you like your words actually meant something. “I think you should take a lesson from the detective here. No one likes a sore winner. Show a little courtesy, for me and my client.”

“My offer is final. Take it or leave it.”

Buchanan’s smile was tight, and he shook his head at the A.D.A. before turning away. “We’ll discuss it later today.”

“Is that a yes?” Barba called after him, and Buchanan visibly sighed, dropping his chin.

“I need to confer with my client,” he called back, and he turned a corner, vanishing in the maze that was the courthouse.

You shivered as he turned the corner, hating that you even thought about smiling at him.

“Suddenly decide to play nice with defense attorneys, cariño?” Rafael asked, his tone light as he watched all of your hatred finally show. You could tell he was teasing, that he knew the taste of your tone as well as any other.

“That, darlin’, was a good ol’ Southern fuck you,” you ground out, and Rafael’s hand lifted to rest on your back, turning you towards the elevator. You glanced toward him, as the two of you walked, and there was something like admiration on his face, a little smile that nowadays made you warm because you knew it was all for you.

“I don’t think anyone else gets you this riled up,” he teased lightly, and your eyes rolled even as your chin lifted. The doors opened, and the two of you were the only ones who got on. “And believe it or not, I could tell just what sentiment you were trying to get across.” When the elevator door closed his hands went to your shoulders, squeezing a little, fingers rubbing into the junction at your neck to work the muscle there.

“But I don’t think Buchanan did,” you laughed, the tension Buchanan always put in your shoulders leaking away as he continued to touch you, pulling you close for a kiss on your cheek before the doors slid open again.

“Eres una bendición,” he whispered to you, walking behind you as the two of you got off, and you turned to smile at him, raising a brow when he used a word you didn’t recognize. He just shook his head, threw a wink your way. “Meet me at my office?”

You chuckled a little, waving your hand, already missing the feeling of his fingers on your skin. “After work, of course.”

“Of course, counselor.”

-

(The sign of a good education was always that the student could put the lessons into practice. And Rafael was nothing but a good student. So in the end, it was meant to happen, and you were just lucky enough to witness it.

A night late night in his office, different paperwork wars being waged. An occasional tease from his desk thrown to your position on his couch, where you had set up shop.

Eventually though, the night wound down as it always did. The two of you sharing the couch, shoes off and feet tangled in the middle as he scribbled where he needed you, and your fingers typed away on your laptop.

The exhaustion was starting to get to you both though, and after your eyes crossed and blurred for the third time, you had to click save and close your laptop.

“I think I’m tapping out,” you groaned, leaning back against the arm of the couch. “Any longer and I’ll go blind from the blue light.”

“Not even midnight, cariño. Don’t tell me you’re giving up now,” Rafael teased, and you kicked his calf at the comment, eyes closing as you settled in, feeling the warmth of him on your legs.

“Unlike someone, I was sitting in a car to watch an apartment at dawn, so I think I have a good excuse.”

“Well, bless your heart,” he returned with a little verve, and your eyes shot open. Widened, as you sat up to stare.

It didn’t sound right in his mouth. His own New Yorker tone, his quick lawyer beat, it made it feel all jumbled up. Not enough oomph to really get the point across. But even as painfully wrong as it was, he said it, and that was what made your mouth stretch into a grin, made you scoot a little closer to him as he flipped through his own file, your laptop set (perhaps a little precariously) on the arm.

“What did you just say, counselor?”

It hit him the moment after you asked. Confusion washing over his features, and then realization, followed by something that looked a little like astonishment.

Maybe horror, but you didn’t hold that against him.

“Rafael,” you laughed. “I think your lessons in the South have ended, and I am the best teacher.”)

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Forty-Two) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of kidnapping. Mentions of death, torture, sexual assault, panic attack, PTSD-- everything Criminal Minds. Talk of sex, BDSM, Dom/sub relationship, etc.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 12469

Timeline: Season 6 Episode 09. A month after part forty-one.

A/N: Hi, my loves. I might be taking a very short break. School is..... it's a lot right now. I think that between school and the way my friends have been getting into my head about Criminal Minsd/Hotch/Thomas, I've just kind of fallen out of love temporarily. I'm finishing up Sense8 rn, and then I'm going to start watching Tales of the City to help revamp my love for Thomas, and in turn Hotch and Criminal Minds. Chapter 43 is going to be a long one, so I just need ya'll to bear with me for a bit as I get to writing it. I love you guys! <3

A week stuck in the house after getting back from Hawai’i was a week too long. All I wanted to do was get back to work and act like nothing happened, because, really, nothing did happen. Yeah, something happened, but it could have been way worse. I handled the situation before it could get bad, and the team found me. As for the only surviving Unsub who took me, Morgan and Emily went to question him after he got out of surgery. They asked him about this website that Foyet had supposedly set up for his fans, but by the time they got the name of it, it was gone, and Garcia couldn’t find anything about it. She searched far and wide, even trying to recover the site itself, but whoever really set it up was good, and they knew how to cover their tracks.

All we knew was how the site operated. According to the Unsub, there were levels of the “membership”. Those who wanted to join Foyet’s little minion club, or whatever the fuck it was, had to start at level one with a misdemeanor. The higher up they wanted to move through the levels, the more intense the crimes got. The third to last level, the one the Unsub and his friends were on, was killing me. Throughout the whole ordeal— from the moment they bid on the task in the level, up until I managed to shoot two of them, they were in contact with the person in charge. He told them where to find me, when to take me, how to do it, where to take me, what to do about the call, but they came to a screeching halt when they were told that they needed to send a piece of me, one at a time, to Hotch and Jack. For a group of criminals who worked through the levels of robbery, rape, child abductions, and animal murder, it was surprising to me that they wouldn’t even try to follow their orders. I mean, they could have at least— Maybe that wasn’t anything to ponder on.

When asked what the last two levels were, however, the Unsub told us that he didn’t know because the bids were hidden from anyone on the lower levels. They had been the first group to make it to the “my” level, no one knew what the last two were. If I had to guess, though, based on what I knew about Foyet and his mission to ruin Hotch’s life, I was going to take a wild guess that the second one was likely hurting Jack— which was already unthinkable— and the first… the first was Hotch.

Foyet liked torturing Hotch. From the stabbings to killing Haley, Foyet enjoyed making Hotch’s life a living hell. Even from the grave, Foyet was doing his best to break down Hotch. He wanted Hotch’s life to fall apart around him, to have him lose everything before he would finally be targeted, too. From what we knew, the only task the Unsubs had with me was sending me off in pieces. That was it. The consideration to do more, the conversations I had overheard, was of their own volition; but it also happened to be their downfall. With Hotch, the task was probably to make it as painful as possible. Honestly, I didn’t want to consider the options after knowing what Foyet had already done.

After the Unsub was out of the hospital, our questioning completed, he was processed, and it was finally out of our hands. When we got home, I practically collapsed in the doorway, catching Jack in my arms as he ran to me for a Superman hug. I had never been more relieved to see him in my life since Foyet took him. I held him in my arms for as long as I could, even when he tried to protest that I was hugging him too tight. I never wanted to let him go. Even when he started asking questions about what happened on our vacation, because something was clearly wrong, I just stayed as still and quiet as possible because I just wanted to hold my son in my arms.

Hotch made me stay home for the week following that while he practically catered to my ever want and need. In a way, I suppose, I was under house arrest. All I was missing was the ankle monitor; and, honestly, it wouldn’t have surprised me if I would have woken up with one on. Hotch was being a little too protective since it happened. While I tried to not blame him because he was obviously still trying to get over the fact that he could have lost me, I just wanted to get back out there and live my life. I wanted to get back into the field; I wanted to see our friends; I wanted to mess around with Morgan and Emily all the time. I didn’t want to feel like a wounded, little lamb.

What happened to me wasn’t even that bad, as I said. All I had were a few cuts and bruises, yet Hotch was acting like my entire body was broken and he needed to do everything for me. He didn’t go to work, he hardly even let me out of my sight. It was like the days following Haley’s death where I watched Hotch and Jack like a hawk because I was afraid that if I let them out of my sight for even a moment, I would never see them again. Hotch probably felt the same way about me this time around… But I really just needed him to take a step back and let me breathe.

When I did get back to work about a month after Hawai’i, it wasn’t an easy transition. All the way to the office, Hotch tried to convince me into reconsidering going back. If it were up to him, I would have been at home for the next nine months or so. But I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be locked up for months on end, sitting around, worrying about Hotch and the rest of the team as they went out to work on hundreds of cases without me. That wasn’t going to happen. I had a life to get back to. I could deal with my trauma outside of work— just like Hotch, who was still going to therapy because of what happened with Foyet while still going to work, too. And if he was just worried about me being pregnant, which I was sure was a factor, then he had to understand that it wasn’t a big deal yet. It was a miracle, of course, but it wasn’t impeding my ability to work just yet.

I just had to keep reminding Hotch that I had been to hell and back a thousand times, and this was just one more thing to add to the shit list. If I could get through all of that, I could get through this. But if Hotch started blowing this all out of proportion and made a big deal out of it, we were going to have problems. I compared it to when he found out the truth about those photos the Fisher King had taken out of my jewelry box, and he promised that he wouldn’t treat me any differently knowing what he knew now. I needed that understanding back. He always told me that he trusted my judgement—if he didn’t, he would have never let me go near that train Elle was being held hostage on in Texas a few years back—so I just needed him to trust me now. I was going to be fine. I was fine.

On Tuesday, after driving into work and getting some reports done, the team gathered in the roundtable room to discuss potential cases. Only, JJ already had a case in mind. Daniel Lanham, a ten year old boy, was reported missing on a camping trip by his father last November… Over a year ago… He was never found. In fact, the case had run so cold, that the police were initially grasping at straws by trying to pin the whole disappearance on the father. However, with no forensic evidence tying him to a crime, they couldn’t arrest him; but now that Daniel’s body had just appeared on the Appalachian Trail, questions were starting to stir and fingers were being pointed again.

I stared at the photo of that boy’s decayed body. He was only ten. How could someone do this to a child—How could someone do this to their own child, if that were really the case. I mean, there were signs of care and remorse with the body that indicated personal attachment that a father could potentially have. Daniel’s body had been wrapped in a plastic bag that was buried underground and covered by elements, all in the name of preserving and protecting the body from weather, animals, natural accelerated decay, etc. But this was an opportunistic crime. Our Unsub, if he was hunting for a victim on the Appalachian Trail, had to sit and wait for the perfect boy to come along. Or if Daniel’s father was responsible, he had to wait until his son was alone with him. Either way, it was an opportunity that arose, not a sophisticated, targeted attack. That was… unless…

“JJ, are there any more missing persons or mysterious deaths on the trail that could be connected to this?” I asked.

“The Rangers contacted me with this case, and they claimed that they’ve never seen anything like it. So, I’m going to assume not. But I’ll check with them when we get on the jet, just in case.”

“It says here that Daniel’s father went back to the trail every month in search for his son?” Hotch questioned, looking through the file. “And then he stopped in March.” He stopped in his tracks as a realization hit him. “Which is about the same time the M.E. estimates Daniel was killed.” He closed his case file. “Y/N, we’ll talk to Mr. Lanham when we arrive at the Park Ranger’s office. JJ, can you have them organize that while we’re on the jet and you’re contacting them about similar cases?”

“Sure,” she answered.

“Prentiss and Morgan, when we get to the trail, you guys should head out to where Daniel Lanham’s body was found in order to get an understanding of this Unsub’s level of mental stability.”

By that, he was alluding to the fact that we weren’t sure if our Unsub was Mr. Lanham or not. If this presented as organized or disorganized, it would help us conclude on way or another, and if there was anything else important out there that they Rangers missed, it might help us build our profile. So, it truly made sense that we would send someone out there. But I wished that it were me. Hotch usually teamed me up with Morgan—or, at times, Morgan and Emily. I wanted to go on the trail with them so bad. But Hotch wanted me to stay back in the Ranger’s office with him in order to question Mr. Lanham, even though that was a small enough task for one of us to do alone.

----

The Park Ranger’s office was more like a large cabin. Actually, that was exactly what it was—and it was similar to Gideon’s cabin, but perhaps twice that size. There was one main office where all of the Rangers had been waiting for our arrival, then there was the lead Ranger’s office to the left, and, lastly, set ahead was a boardroom where we could meet privately if need be. As we walked in, we were immediately told that Mr. Lanham was waiting for us in said boardroom.

While Emily and Morgan turned on their heels to head straight out to the trail as Hotch ordered, Rossi, Reid, and JJ moved to the table in the middle of the room that had a large map taped down to it for us to get our bearings. Reid immediately started building the geographical profile. So, while he was busy with that, and JJ and Rossi were getting caught up with the Ranger’s investigation, Hotch and I headed into the boardroom.

Hotch held the door open for me. I silently thanked him as I headed inside to see Mr. Lanham sitting at a desk, never looking up to acknowledge us. We carefully approached.

“Mr. Lanham, I’m Agent Hotchner, this is Agent Greenaway, and we’re with the Behavior Analysis Unit at the FBI. We’ve been called in to investigate your son’s death.” Hotch pulled a chair out for me. “We need to ask you some questions.” After I sat down, Hotch moved to take a seat in the chair next to me.

Mr. Lanham shrugged, keeping his eyes lowered, his hands in his lap, his leg shaking nervously under the table. All signs that he had issues with authority. Some of them were signs of guilt, but they could also be attributed to his frustration with the FBI questioning him when he thought that everyone had forgotten him as a suspect. I understood why he felt that way. However, it was necessary to ask him these questions in order to confirm or deny if he had any involvement in his son’s death. So far, it was inconclusive.

“You went almost twice a month out to the site where your son disappeared from November to March. And then you stopped going.”

He nodded. “That’s correct.”

“Why? Why stop at the same time he died? Because that looks awfully suspicious to us, Mr. Lanham.”

“I don’t know. Alright? I just—” He let out a heavy sigh as his body slumped in his seat. A sign of defeat rather than guilt. “I had this… feeling that he was gone. And it was taking too much out of me to keep searching. You probably don’t know what that feels like.”

I glanced over at Hotch. When Foyet took Haley and Jack, I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that something terrible was going to happen, and no one was going to be able to stop it. And then Haley died. My suspicions had been confirmed, my heart shattered in my chest, and yet… the anxiety dialed back. I could remember still being hysterical and worried out of my mind because I wasn’t sure if Hotch and Jack were dead; but… Now that we were sitting there and Mr. Lanham had brought up this “feeling” he had, I realized that some part of me that day knew that they were still alive. I still had a sliver of hope that Jack was just hiding, safe and sound in his secret spot, and I had a feeling that Hotch was alright. And I was correct. Hotch was beaten and broken, of course, but he was alive. And my little man was alive. So, I understood that “feeling” Mr. Lanham had referred to.

Hotch moved on. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you used to take Daniel camping every weekend.”

“Yes. His mother had full custody, but she allowed me to see him on the weekends.”

Hotch and I knew that feeling all too well. Haley practically had full custody, but she allowed us to see Jack whenever we were in town; but it was still hard. Co-parenting was hard. I couldn’t imagine how Hotch did it alone all those years.

“So, the night he disappeared, what happened?” I asked. Mr. Lanham didn’t respond because he seemed at a loss for words. Even though he had recited his story a thousand times for local police, state police, Park Rangers, and so on, he couldn’t find the right words anymore. I really couldn’t blame him.

“You set up camp…” Hotch began egging him on once he noticed Mr. Lanham’s hesitancy. “You fell asleep… And then… A man came into your tent?”

“No. No one came into the tent. Daniel got up because he had to use the bathroom. He didn’t wake me up because he was in that phase where he was convinced that he didn’t need his dad protecting him all the time…” He sniffled. “So, I rolled over and I went back to sleep. I should’ve—” His voice cracked behind a sob. “I should’ve gone after him. But I didn’t.”

“Mr—” I began, but he interrupted me.

“I was his hero, and I failed,” Mr. Lanham cried before hiding his face in his hands out of shame.

I recognized the look on his face as he had said it, though. It was the same look Hotch wore for months after Haley died. He was ashamed that he couldn’t have done more to save her, and he failed at being Jack’s superhero when he needed it most.

“I don’t care that you all think I’m guilty. Because I am! I am guilty! I didn’t protect my son when he needed me most.” He looked up at us. “If I could go to prison for that, I would.”

Without a doubt, I knew that there was no way Mr. Lanham hurt his son. That kind of thinking—that sort of regret couldn’t be replicated by any kind of sociopath. No. Only a true grieving father who had been through hell could possibly feel that way. And since I had seen Hotch go through the exact same motions after Haley’s death, I knew that Mr. Lanham was innocent, and that he wasn’t putting any kind of show on for us. He genuinely regretted that night.

But I just couldn’t sit there and keep listening to his distraught cries. The way he was sobbing while blaming himself for something he had no control over only took me back to over a year ago where Hotch practically collapsed in my arms after Haley’s wake, and he pleaded with me about moving houses because he couldn’t stand being in that house anymore. The cries were eerily similar. And the worst part was, that parental regret that Mr. Lanham was starting to rub off on me when it came to Jack, and now the regret was turning into panic with our baby. Fuck.

I stood and saw myself out of the boardroom. Hotch was hot on my heels, likely because he didn’t want to listen to it any longer, either. The superhero thing hit too hard. We were Jack’s superheroes—we always had been—and the day that Foyet killed Haley, we failed him. We couldn’t protect him and his mom practically the one time it mattered most. Before, I used to regret that deeply, of course, but now that there were… other factors involved… I felt all of that ten times harder now, and it made me reflect on what the hell Hotch and I were actually going to do to prevent something like that from happening ever again. I didn’t want it to be Jack or our baby that we would lose next time—No. There would be no next time… This was exactly why I had to get away from Mr. Lanham while he was like that.

Apparently, Emily and Morgan had gotten back from the trail while we were talking to Daniel’s dad. They were standing around the map table in the middle of the office, a marker in Emily’s hand as they told Rossi and Reid everything they found out there. More bodies. And by more, I mean a lot more. Where they went to find Daniel’s burial ground, they ended up finding at least a dozen other bodies that Rangers were working to dig up currently so that they could be identified. So, this just turned serial.

“His name is Tyler Dale. He was the same age as Daniel when he went missing, and he was on a family trip when it happened,” Morgan explained, catching me and Hotch up to date with what everyone else knew.

Reid immediately scurried off with this new information to work on something that was churning in his mind, something that he couldn’t explain to us quite yet or it would ruin his thought process. We all turned to watch him silently work. We knew that whatever it was, it was likely important, and likely to help us. Honestly, if I were to guess, now that I was watching him scan through both Daniel and Tyler’s files a mile a minute, he was probably working on victimology. If he wasn’t, I was going to start. He was the fast reader, but I was the quick spotter. I almost wanted to challenge him one day into seeing who could solve a cold or closed case first—like the Foothpath Killer. Considering I solved that one the fastest, and Gideon was incredibly impressed, I was sure I could win against Spencer Reid.

And then he jumped to his feet with a thought. Okay… So, maybe he would put up a good fight. But I liked a challenge. I kept considering it as Reid set the files out on the map table and started dialing Garcia’s number on the conference phone. I cocked a brow at him. What was it that he found? Or, actually, what was it that he thought he had found?

“Garcia—” Reid began.

“Oh, it’s the boy wonder!” she cheered. “You never call me. It’s so isolating…”

Reid smiled lightly in response. “Sorry. We’ve been a bit busy.”

“I forgive you. I guess.”

Those of us who were standing around chuckled somewhat. Reid immediately turned back to his work when he shook it off, though, so that he could get back to what it was he called her for. “Can you look up the missing persons reports on the trail, specifically young boys between the ages of nine to thirteen.”

“I’m gonna need more than that.”

“The Unsub’s probably in his late thirties to forties, so disregard any cases older than twenty years.”

“What are you doing?” Rossi asked, utterly confused.

Reid hardly acknowledged Rossi when he answered with, “Speeding up the process of identifying those kids.” He grabbed a pen. “Garcia, narrow it down to boys with dark hair only. How many do we have now?”

“Twelve.”

Emily’s eyes widened. “They’ve only found ten bodies so far.”

Reid stood tall. “Yeah, but they’re still looking. It’s entirely possible those other two boys are out there. Garcia, which of those is the oldest case?”

“Um… Victor Dane disappeared when he was ten… and that was…” Garcia paused and gulped. “Oh. Fifteen years ago. They never found out what happened to him, but Rangers at the time suspected that he just happened to get lost.” That was usually their excuse when people went missing out there.

“What time of year was that?”

“October 20th.”

Reid was scribbling notes down on a piece of paper in one of the kids’ files. “What about the other boys? Did they all disappear around that time?”

“Yeah… How did you…”

“Thanks, Garcia.” Reid hung up on her without any consideration, and he stood to face all of us.

As we all huddled around, Reid began explaining how the cogs turning in his head had just come up with a dozen different answers to the problems we were facing. For our profile of the Unsub, we were missing any kind of link between how, when, and why the victims were taken. But Reid figured it out. Now that we had the identity of another kid, he was able to connect some of the dots, but what Garcia told him explained it all clearly to him. Our Unsub was crossing stateliness, which was why no one connected the dots—and he was spending months doing so. To hike the entire trail would take about six months. He was taking his victims in the fall, and we knew from Tyler and Daniel, he was killing the boys in the winter…

He was torturing them for months on end… He got away with it because no one knew that he existed.

I cringed and took a step back and away from the group. I felt Hotch’s eyes following me, so I didn’t let any emotion show that would give away the panic building in my chest. What if Hotch had thought that I just wandered off in Hawai’i? What if he had really been convinced that I left to go back to the Mainland—that I had left him… No one knew that those men who took me existed. No one knew that there were people out there who were so loyal to The Reaper. No one knew that I was a target. I could have died if Hotch didn’t know me so well. I could have died if the team didn’t have enough trust in him and I to know that something was wrong. I could have ended up like those boys that were being dug up in the forest.

I swallowed all of my pain.

----

That night, Hotch forced me to go back to the hotel with him while the team stayed at the Ranger’s office to have a long night of working. I think this move of his had more to do with Hawai’i than anything else. He was worried that I wasn’t better. He thought that I was suppressing any memories or PTSD in order to trick him into thinking that I was alright. And maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t at all okay because every time I closed my eyes, I was terrified that someone else who had seen “Foyet’s website” would come to kill me, Jack, or Hotch. I was dreading a call from home while we were gone on this case that would tell us that someone took our little man from us. Foyet was always cruel. There was no doubt about it. But I never thought that it would get this far after death, after Hotch had bashed his face in to the point he was unrecognizable.

I needed rest desperately. For once, I wasn’t going to argue with Hotch about something related to dictating my life. Because I clearly needed to sleep, but Hotch didn’t, he decided to set up shop at the desk while I rolled into bed, which meant that I could afford to at least close my eyes because someone was keeping watch. Usually, Hotch fell asleep without struggle. If I were wrapped in his arms, it would take only a few minutes before he would completely crash and start snoring in my ear—but I could never fell asleep. If I did, there was a chance someone could take him from me. Something like Hawai’i could happen to him if I weren’t careful. So, I stayed up nearly every night just to ensure no one would come in and take him—or even to make sure that no one was lurking in the house to hurt Jack. But Hotch was staying up now. He was sitting at the desk, looking over the case, facing the door and the window, which was a reassurance to me that meant that no one could sneak up on him now.

So, I relaxed.

After a few minutes, I heard Hotch get up to grab his pajamas and toiletries from his go-bag and head into the bathroom. My eyes followed him until he closed the door.

I curled up on the bed, bringing my knees up ever so slightly towards my chest, and I laid my hands over my stomach. It was so odd… Everything felt normal, but it clearly wasn’t. Between the fact that Hotch was being overprotective and that I was subconsciously protecting my stomach more, it was obvious that I was pregnant; but I wasn’t showing yet, and I technically couldn’t even feel anything yet. It was just knowledge and an unconscious drive to protect something we couldn’t even see or feel. But the strangest part of it all was that I couldn’t wait to have more than that. I couldn’t wait to hold our baby, to see if they got mine or Hotch’s eyes, or what color hair they would end up with. Every second that we wasted just knowing and not seeing was torture. I was just excited to skip the next few months and finally have them in my arms.

Hotch came out of the bathroom, his face washed, teeth brushed, hair combed out of his face, and his suit switched out for his pajamas. When he saw my curled on the bed, he smiled. I smiled back at him. Despite how tense I had been about his protective behavior, I could find myself relaxing and falling in love with him over and over again every time he looked at me like that. It was this sparkle in his eyes that spoke volumes about how much he eternally loved me. And that smile… It was this slight curl at the corner of his lips that ever so slowly turned into a wide, toothy grin the longer he stared at me. It was pure joy. And it was absolutely contagious. I found that every time I spotted that smile growing on his face, I’d start smiling ear to ear, laughing at how cute and silly he was.

Aaron Hotchner… Cute and silly… It was strange to think about that sometimes—how I knew him in that capacity when no one else even got a hint of that side of him. In fact, most people didn’t know that he was capable of smiling. But he was. He was capable of so much, and he was deserving of every happiness in the world. After everything he had been through, I could confidently say he earned eternal bliss.

“You okay?” he asked quietly. He always whispered when he was afraid of disturbing me because he was taken by the way I was just… existing. I wasn’t doing anything special, yet he didn’t want me to move. I could tell that he wanted to remember me like that for a little longer.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?” He moved to sit down at the end of the bed, bringing my feet onto his lap so that he could massage them lightly. I relaxed immediately. When he started rubbing his thumb into the arch of my foot, I rotated somewhat so that I was laying on my back and looking at him.

“What Mr. Lanham said about his son,” I answered. “I’m terrified that something is going to happen to our kid, Aaron. Terrified. We know what’s out there—We know who’s out there. How can we possibly protect them from all the evils out there?”

“We just try our best.”

“Mr. Lanham tried his best. You tried your best. What if I can’t try my best?”

Hotch moved his thumbs to the pads of my feet. “It’s hard, Y/N. I’m not going to lie. All that pain and panic you feel on behalf of Jack is going to be ten times worse now with your own flesh and blood. That doesn’t mean that you love Jack any less—please don’t take it that way. But it is different when they’re your own. So, this anxiety you’re feeling now is entirely valid. Trust me. But it’s a day by day thing. You do your best one day, and then you try even harder the next. That’s all you can do. There’s no point in dwelling on what you could have done better or what horribly thing can potentially happen.”

“And if we fail?”

“We won’t.”

“How do—”

“We won’t,” he said more sternly.

I reached out to squeeze his bicep, since that was all I could reach and reaffirm. Maybe I did understand why he wanted to protect me. Maybe he was just doing his best with me, and he felt that his day to day best wasn’t enough. But it was. Actually, it was more than enough.

“I love you.”

He kissed his way up from my ankle to my hip, slowly moving around until he was hovering over me and I was giggling at the way his kisses tickled to me. I punched at his pecks lightly in a playful attempt to make him stop. But he didn’t. He only smirked and moved to kiss my stomach. I ran my fingers through his hair, encouraging him to stay there because I loved how it felt. I loved thinking to myself that we knew something was there, though we couldn’t see it, yet he had an instinct to still show me every bit of love. Especially there.

“I love you,” he whispered against my stomach.

----

In the morning. Hotch and I woke to a call from the Park Rangers that two kids had just been reported missing on the trail. A boy and a girl. Robert and Ana Copeland. That didn’t match our Unsub’s M.O. at all, but we simply couldn’t take the chance. Knowing that the body count out in the forest was only increasing with every knew hole Rangers were digging out there, it was entirely possible that the Unsub was spiraling. It wasn’t worth ignoring. If it meant potentially saving those kids, we were going to at least look into it. If it turned out that it had nothing to do with our case, it would be passed on to the Rangers and local PD, who could hopefully help the parents seek closure.

Until then, we had to try our best. So, we hurried out of bed and raced to the Ranger’s office. When we got there, JJ was already setting up a search party with the Rangers and local volunteers who found out that the kids went missing and wanted to help. Hotch pulled me to the side before we stepped in.

“You should stay here with Reid, give us some outside geographical help,” he offered.

I cocked a brow at him, scoffed, then walked away. There was no fucking way I was doing that. Fucking ridiculous. “JJ,” I said, tapping her shoulder. She turned to face me. “I’ll take the far East quadrant.” I pointed to her map, signaling to the area of the forest that I was referring to. It happened to be the smallest with the least amount of volunteers to oversee, so I figured that Hotch would at least compromise on that. “And I’ll check out the—"

Hotch suddenly grabbed my bicep a little harder than expected and started pulling me to the board room to talk to me privately. He let go of my arm as I stumbled inside, catching my balance quickly before turning to face him. He was frowning like he was angry with me. My eyes followed him as he locked the door then proceeded to turn all of the blinds up so that they were closed, making it so that no one could see into the room.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked me, crossing his arms over his chest once the room was made private and dark.

I shrugged. “I’m going to go help those kids.”

He shook his head. “I’m benching you.”

“Hotch—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

He was oddly calm. Usually, if I gave him push back like this, he’d try to be a little more demanding— whether it be with his boss or Sir tone. Either would have worked on me, but he was still holding back. Asshole. Just fucking crack. Please. Give me something in response to my pushback. Recognize that I’m fucking with you because I want you back, and just do something! Please!

“You can’t bench me—”

Hotch’s eyes narrowed. “I’m pulling you from the field. You shouldn’t have come back this early. And I don’t want you to get hurt, especially since there are new factors involved.”

I chuckled. So that was what this was about. I wasn’t even showing, and he was already losing his shit. This was exactly why I was scared to tell him I was pregnant in the first place. I knew that this would fucking happen. “That’s bullshit,” I snapped. I just wanted him to fight with me. Was that too much to ask? “You didn’t pull JJ out of the field until she was too pregnant to even walk.”

“That was different.”

“It really fucking isn’t, Aaron! I’m going to go out there and I’m going to help find those kids and our Unsub, and there’s really nothing you can do to stop me right now. If you want to pull me out of the field, then you’re going to have to wait until we get back to the office and tell Strauss exactly why.” I started making my way towards the door. “Until then, I’m going—"

Hotch stepped in my way, making me crash into him slightly, but he didn’t waver. “Sit down and shut up,” Hotch demanded gruffly.

I gulped and instinctively took an obedient seat on the couch. There was the Hotch I knew. I found him in there somehow, which meant that I was right about him holding back on my behalf. He still wanted to be rough with me, I could see it in his eyes; but he was doing everything in his power to not do it because he thought I was fragile. I wasn’t fragile. He knew better than anyone that I wasn’t fragile. Hopefully, all it would take was this one snap and we’d be back in business.

Hotch paced the room for a moment before stopping just in front of me. He roughly pinched my face with one hand to make me look up at him. “You want things to be normal? Fine. Stop being a brat and listen to my orders. You’re staying here with Reid, and that’s the end of it.” He let go of my face.

“Yes, Sir.” I nodded.

His chest fell as he let out a relieved sigh, “Good girl.” He ran his fingers through his hair as he caught his breath, trying to come to terms with what he had just done, and how he thought it was entirely out of line. “Sorry,” he whispered under his breath, ashamed.

I shook my head while standing. “I love you.” I took his face in my hands and kissed him gingerly. “I’m sorry for pushing your buttons.”

He kissed me back. “It’s okay.” He let go of me, and I let go of him, then, within an instant, Hotch was storming off towards the door. “Call me if you and Reid find anything.”

I hesitantly agreed, watching him leave the board room and head out with the team, the Rangers, and all of the volunteers. It was just me and Reid in the Park Ranger’s office now. He glanced over at me, confusion written all over his face, but I just shrugged it off. I didn’t need him asking questions when I was still coming to terms with it myself.

I shook my head, unfolded my arms, and headed to the map table to search it with my eyes and fingers to find anywhere that stood out to me as a good place to hide out for the winter and to keep hostages. Reid was hovering over it with a pen in hand in order to help him pinpoint certain areas. When he saw something, he circled it. The only time I spotted something, I asked him to circle it, too.

Yet, all I could think about was Hotch while I should have been thinking about those kids that were out there, scared out of their wits as a monster did who knew what with them. I should have been focused. We weren’t supposed to let our emotions get in the way, which was a main concern Hotch and I had when we initially started dating. We couldn’t forget our work. We couldn’t let our relationship get in the way of saving lives. And I was trying to remind myself of that while staring at that map, attempting to force my eyes to focus in on something, but I just couldn’t. My mind was elsewhere.

“He’s probably hiding them in a cave,” he continued. I hummed a thoughtless agreement. “Somewhere near water so that he can live off the land.” I agreed again. “And then aliens came down and took them.” I hummed again. “What’s wrong with you?” Reid asked, circling a waterfall on the map. I cocked a brow, knowing that he could sense my confusion without having to look up. “I mean… I don’t want to pry, but something’s off.”

“It’s nothing,” I insisted. I knew that he was referring to how Hotch and I were practically dancing around each other, which wasn’t like us at all— especially since we just went through something which should have only brought us closer.

Reid looked up at me through his eyelashes for a brief moment to get a profile on me. He looked back down. “It makes sense, you know,” he commented while still scribbling on the map. I raised a brow, and he sensed my confusion again, so he continued, “Hotch has lost a lot. More than anyone should have to lose. It’s no surprise that he’s being more careful with you than he ever was with anyone else. He’s had to learn and evolve based on his experiences, and that evolution has brought him to being— for a lack of a better term— a helicopter parent. I don't think he’s necessarily trying to suffocate you, like you think he is. In his mind, he’s reminding himself of everything he could have done differently with Haley that could have saved their relationship and her life, and he’s testing out these new behaviors with you.

They say that a mother’s bond with her child is the strongest connection any two humans can have; but we’re still primal creatures, and the fathers have a tendency to become overbearingly protective once they are aware that their mates are carrying their child. Think of it like a wolf marking its territory. The wolf becomes hostile towards anything or anyone that tries to come near its territory because it’s their safe space and they have an instinct to protect it with their life. Fathers of most species are the same way with the mothers of their children, and humans happen to be the worst about it because we’re more advanced creatures—”

“Reid,” I spoke up, catching his attention, “you’re rambling.”

He chuckled self-consciously. “Sorry… I’m just trying to say that… things aren’t going to go back to normal— for a while, at least. He’s trying to make up for his past mistakes. And after what happened in Hawai’i, you can understand why he’s a little uneasy and a little more protective than you’d like. It might help if both of you, I don’t know… set some rules and boundaries.”

I smirked. “Is that the doctor’s advice?”

He shook his head and looked back down at the map. “It’s your friend’s advice.”

“Thank you, Spencer.” I put a hand on his shoulder.

Suddenly, the walkie talkie on the table started buzzing with static. Mine and Reid’s attention to turn to it just before we heard Morgan’s voice echo through the room with an update from the trail, a really good update, actually. They found the daughter. She was safe with him and Emily, and they were sending her back to the office with a Ranger so that I could question her because they couldn’t find her brother anywhere yet. I picked up the walkie to acknowledge his report.

We waited about thirty minutes after the call from Morgan to see the Copelands come in with JJ from the trail while looking around for their daughter who hadn’t arrived yet. JJ showed them to the boardroom so that they could wait there. When they were sitting down and holding each other anxiously, JJ came over to me and Reid and asked if we would be fine with waiting with the Copelands while she headed back out to the trail to work with the other volunteers who had a million questions for her. I shrugged and insisted that she go. I could handle this while Reid kept looking at the map.

On her way out, JJ ran into Ana and the Ranger that had brought her back. Ana was covered in dirt, her jacket torn up, her hair knotted, her eyes sunken out of exhaustion. I didn’t see any bruises on her, though. In fact, from where I was standing, I didn’t see any sign of any kind of abuse—sexual or otherwise. It made sense. Unfortunately, our Unsub’s type was kids, but he preferred boys. Whatever happened out there in the woods, there was probably a reason that Ana was with us and not Robert. Hopefully, she could give us some answers.

After sitting around for a few minutes, watching as the Copelands held their daughter close and let her cry against them, I decided to go in. Sitting there and watching them was just breaking my heart. All it did was remind me of all the times after Haley’s death when Jack would cling to me for dear life, crying into my shoulder until my shirt was soaked and I needed to change. I had never heard anyone sob in pain like that until that dreadful day when Hotch broke down, and then Jack started having nightmares. The two of them were in pain… They just couldn’t stop sobbing and whimpering. Ana was the same way.

I couldn’t cry like that when they found me in Hawai’i. Part of me knew that if I broke down and sobbed like that, then Hotch would have been in even worse shape than he already was. Besides, I had happy news that offset how I was really feeling. We had this little miracle in our lives now, and all of my focus was being drilled into that instead of remembering the panic I felt when I saw Gene standing just behind Hotch on the beach. I had to remember that in just a few months, there would be another little Hotchner running around—just as we had always joked about—and it distracted me from waking up with nightmares of sitting in that cabin, anticipating the moment they would finally decide to get rid of me.

I couldn’t keep thinking about it. I was sick of sitting around and waiting for something to happen. So, I carefully pushed into the room that the Copelands were sitting in, and I entered with a welcoming, kind smile that would help the scared little girl warm up to me. A thought occurred to me. I was never going to let my children be that terrified. Ever. I dreaded being an overbearing parent, but I knew what was out there, and I knew what I needed to do in order to protect my family. I was going to do whatever it would take. Neither of my kids would ever have to be in Ana or Robert’s shoes. No matter what.

“Hi, Ana.” I held my hand out for her to shake, just a simple way of me building rapport with her while also making her feel more adult and brave than she really was. “My name’s Y/N Greenaway, and I’m with the FBI. I’ve been looking for you and your brother, Robert.” She shook my hand warily. As she let go, I sat down in the seat across from her and crossed my ankles over each other. “Are you up for a few questions?”

Ana nodded shyly, tucking under her mother’s arm as much as possible.

“Cool.” I smiled at her. “What do you remember?”

“I shouldn’t’ve left Robert, but he told me to run. He made me promise to go when he distracted the man.”

“You did the right thing, Ana,” I reassured her, playing along with the dodge of my original question.

“But he still has my brother.”

“You being here because you listened to your brother is going to help us, though. I promise. I need you to tell me about the man who took you if we’re going to find Robert. Can you do that?”

She nodded. “We were in a cave…” she began slowly, pondering her words carefully as she tried to push through the nightmares running through her. I knew what that felt like. “He kept us in a cage with toys. Lots and lots of toys. There were no lights, and he stole Robert’s flashlight to make sure we couldn’t see anything.”

“What about the man, Ana?”

It was great that she was already being so open and talkative, but we knew all of this because Morgan and Emily were already searching for a cave, and the Unsub was probably long gone by now if he knew that Ana had escaped. We needed to know about him specifically in order to build the profile and find him.

“He was dirty,” she answered, “and scary. He was tall and fat. He walked funny and didn’t like to talk—”

“What do you mean by ‘he walked funny’?”

“Like, with a limp…”

“So, he was hurt?”

“I think so. That was why he couldn’t catch me, but he could catch Robert. He always took Robert. Never me. He took Robert at one point, and when he came back, he was crying and shaking, and that was when he told me that I needed to run the next time the man came for him. So, Robert pretended like he had to use the bathroom, and the man left the cage unlocked… Robert pushed him over long enough for me to run.” She started to sob. “I shouldn’t have left him!” She hid her face against her mother’s chest. “I shouldn’t’ve left him!”

I rubbed my hand over her back soothingly. “You did really good, Ana. Thank you.”

There was a knock at the door from Reid, a signal that he needed to talk to me privately. I nodded to him. I had gotten everything I could get out of Ana—at least for right now—and it was probably best just to let her relax and be with her family. I knew that after Hawai’i, all I wanted was to be with our family. I wanted Hotch, Jack, Morgan, Emily, Rossi, Reid, and JJ. I needed their support. I needed to know that they were okay, because if they were, then it gave me every reason—or excuse, depending on how you looked at it—to be okay, too. Ana probably needed that right now, too.

So, I silently stepped out of the room, letting the door fall shut quietly. I crossed my arms over my chest as I looked at Reid. He lifted his phone and turned the screen to face me, at which point I saw an image of a flower I was not at all familiar with, and I really had zero clue as to why he was showing it to me. I shrugged.

Reid looked at the photo again. “Emily and Morgan found his cave.”

“Robert?”

“They’re both gone. But Emily sent me this picture.”

“What is it?”

“It’s called Devil’s Claw.”

“Which is…”

“It helps heal swollen joints. Without it, our Unsub will be in a lot of pain.”

I glanced over my shoulder back into the room where Ana was hugging her parents as tight as she could—the same way Jack would always hug me and Hotch whenever he was upset. A superman hug. I looked back at Reid. “She told me that our Unsub walks with a limp. It’s probably connected.”

“If it’s really that bad that he still walks with a limp while taking this, it means he’s going to need more of it. And fast.”

“Where can you get it?”

“I mean, the flower version, like this, is all over the forest out there. But you can get it in pill or powder form on the black market, if you know where to look.”

“He’s going to head into town with Robert,” I realized. “And if he’s spending all of his time out on the trail, not working… That means he doesn’t have any money.”

“He’s going to sell Robert for drugs.”

I hesitated. “He wouldn’t give Robert away entirely. It goes against his M.O. You’re right, he’s going to sell Robert; but not the way you would think.” I hurried over to the walkie talkie sitting on the table and lifted it towards my mouth, pressing the TALK button as fast as I could. “Hotch.” I let go of the button and waited.

“I’m here,” he answered momentarily.

“Everyone needs to come back. Our Unsub isn’t out there anymore. He’s heading into town.”

And they did come back. It took a bit, but the entire team raced to get back to the Ranger’s office, at which point, we started discussing where the Unsub could have possibly gone, using our extremely loose profile we had. It really wasn’t enough to present to the Rangers or PD, but it was barely enough for us to use to our advantage. Knowing that he would have to get his medicine as fast as possible, we knew that he was going to turn to the black market—but in order to know who was possibly selling anything similar to Devil’s Claw, he had to already have connections in that world. Since we had previously deduced that he had been operating on the trail for at least fifteen years, that meant that he probably hadn’t met many criminals since then, so it had to be beforehand. But how did this pattern not appear sooner? Why hadn’t he started kidnapping children or abusing them sooner?

The simple answer was prison. It would explain why he was stagnant for a while, and why he was so fond of hiding in isolation. Not to mention, he probably met other pedophiles in there. And drug dealers. If he was desperate, he was going to meet with someone he knew and could trust to understand his medical condition, and also someone who would be willing to take time with a child as payment.

So, we called Garcia. We asked her to look for a man with a sexual assault history who was released from prison about sixteen years ago, then missed parole meetings fifteen years ago by going entirely off the grid. One would be shocked by how many men matched that description. So, we asked her to look for someone who had originally been housed near other registered sex offenders before going missing. That did the trick.

His name was Shane Wyland, and he had a long medical history when he was in prison. I mean, sex offenders were top targets inside, but he went to the infirmary more than the average pedophile. When I asked if it had to do with swollen joints, she agreed. She told us that Shane had a condition that made it increasingly difficult to keep moving around, even with the medication he was getting. But, in prison, they didn’t have what he needed. So, he had to get it from his bunk mate, another pedophile who was released around the same time as Shane.

“We need an address for his bunk mate,” Hotch insisted.

“That’s the thing,” Garcia began while still typing in order to get the address to us ASAP, “there are a handful of registered sex offenders who all share the same address.”

“What?” I questioned.

“It’s a cluster,” Emily said. When we all cocked a brow at her, she continued, “Since sex offenders can’t be near parks or school zones, their housing options are limited. Usually, they’ll reach out to their buddies from prison and ask if they know anywhere that will house them. That’s how they all end up with each other.”

Hotch shook his head. He hissed, “Garcia, the address, please.”

“Right. Sorry, sir.” She pressed the ENTER key of her computer as hard as she could, and we all felt our phones buzz.

As they all looked at their phones to take note of the building number and street name, I watched Hotch to see if there was any way he would let me go. They had a whole building to clear. I could be an asset. My time was better spent clearing the building with them than sitting around in the Park Ranger’s office, counting the minutes until the team would return. I really fucking hated feeling useless.

The team started collecting their gear, throwing on vests as fast as they could and putting comms in their ears. I waited for Hotch to tell me one way or the other. But, when I didn’t do anything, he didn’t seem to argue. I figured that if I were to move towards them and start gearing up, too, that was when things would have spiraled. All I could do was shake my head in disappointment and move to take a seat at the table with Reid. He was staying behind in case that lead didn’t pan out, which wasn’t very likely, but it was still a good idea to have back up. But he didn’t need me there. That was a one person job, and we all fucking knew it.

“Hey—” JJ called out, hurrying over to me. She slowed as I turned to face her. “Are you and Hotch alright?”

I peered over her shoulder to see Hotch talking to Morgan about how they were going to narrow down where the Unsub was and how we were going to get to him without letting the kid get hurt or die. I looked back at her. “Hotch is trying to pull me out of the field after this case, and we had a fight about it.”

“Oh…” She looked at her feet, almost like she regretted asking in the first place.

Ever since the bombing case in New York, I stopped opening up to JJ about my relationship with Hotch. She had insisted that she thought that Hotch and I were taking things to fast, and she almost seemed to doubt us. It really wasn’t until our wedding that I saw that she had changed her mind. But that was a little too late. By that point, I didn’t necessarily care about any opinion she had on my relationship. I valued her as a friend and a team member, of course; but… this… I just…

“Well,” she began hesitantly, “I know that you’ll figure it out. The two of you always get through it. I hardly hear about you guys fighting, so I wouldn’t stress over it too much.”

I nodded and shrugged. I mean, she was right, actually—kind of throwing what I just thought back in my face. But still. Hotch and I had always been honest and open with each other, which was why we were so successful. If I just listened to Spence, used my words and tried to level with Hotch, then we could sort all of this out and come to a better conclusion than pulling me out of the field entirely.

When they left without a word to me or Reid, I sat down across from Reid. We sat in silence for nearly thirty minutes as we waited around uselessly. The team let us know when they arrived in the city; and they let us know how they were splitting up. Rossi and Hotch were going to stay outside while Emily and Morgan were going to head inside, and JJ was going to coordinate with the local PD that had just appeared on site. A few minutes later, the comms started buzzing with back-and-forths.

“Hey, Hotch,” Emily said into the comms. “It looks like Robert was in the apartment, and there was a struggle. There’s a chance he could have escaped, which means that Shane and his bunk mate are probably chasing him around right now.”

Hotch responded, “Alright. You and Morgan continue to search the building, I’ll start a perimeter set up out here.”

“Got it.”

The comms went quiet again. I pouted and slumped forward, resting my elbows on my knees. Reid watched me through his lashes like he was trying not to stare at me. I glanced back at him. When our eyes met, he cleared his throat and shuffled around in his seat to make it look like he was keeping busy with the files in front of him. I rolled my eyes.

“You remember when you were shot in the leg and Hotch made you stay at the office during cases?” I asked quietly, moving to pick at the wood table in an attempt to cure my boredom. Reid hummed an agreement. “How did you not go crazy?”

Perhaps that wasn’t the right wording I should have used around him… He was always nervous about his dilaudid problem and the fear that his mother’s schizophrenia could be passed onto him. “Crazy” wasn’t exactly the right term for Spencer Reid. He was our resident genius, and that put a lot of pressure on him, and I wished that he knew that he wasn’t crazy, but I could tell that he thought he was. So, I almost felt bad for the slip up. But Reid genuinely didn’t seem to notice, which was a relief.

Reid crossed his legs, getting himself comfortable, and he looked back up at me with a little more confidence this time around. “I’m not gonna lie, Y/N, it wasn’t fun. None of us are used to sitting at Quantico all day like Garcia is. When Hotch officially benched me after Hankle and getting shot, there were times when I thought I was going crazy. I was extremely anxious while just sitting around all day. And I was killing myself with worry that one of you—or maybe all of you—wouldn’t come home one day… But I had to suck it up and just go with it until I got better because I knew that, ultimately, Hotch was just trying to protect me. Now, he’s just trying to protect you, too. He’d do it for any one of us for any number of reasons. My advice is the same as before. Talk to him, Y/N. And, if that doesn’t work, then just… suck it up and get through the next few months, because no matter how often you argue with him, you’re not going to win. Trust me. I tried.”

“I hate arguing with him, Spencer…”

He nodded. “I know. That’s why it might just be best to let him win this one.”

I lowered my head and leaned back again to focus on kicking the carpet. “Yeah.” Maybe he was right. I mean, maybe I shouldn’t have been taking advice from Spencer Reid, the guy who never had a girlfriend in his life… but his advice was surprisingly nice and welcoming.

“Hotch, we’ve got Robert, but Shane’s gone. We think he might be in the immediate vicinity,” Emily said over the comm again.

I smiled. They got him. They found Ana, and now they had found Robert. Knowing how many cops were crawling around that neighborhood now that Hotch had created that a perimeter, Shane Wyland was probably long gone. There was no way in hell he stuck around long enough to see if he could get Robert back. He likely knew as well as I did that if he managed to escape, he could keep taking other boys like Robert, and he could keep getting away with it. Even now that we knew who we were looking for, the trail was too long for us to track him. He was a ghost in the wind. But none of that necessarily mattered right now. This was technically a win for us. We saved two kids from a monster, and we discovered who that monster was. At least we could keep an eye out for Wyland in the future.

I stood and walked to the boardroom to tell the Courtlands the news. When I told them that their son was alive and well, they jumped to their feet while letting out breaths of relieve, and demanded to see him immediately. I told them that a Ranger would be driving them to the hospital in the city. Within an instant, they were pushing past me, racing to go seek out a Ranger that could take them as soon as possible. I didn’t take offense to that, though. I knew that they were overwhelmed by their joy of knowing that their son was alive, and all they wanted now was to hold him in their arms. It reminded me of Hotch when he found me in Hawai’i.

Hotch…

I sat down on the couch in silence and reflected on what just happened, and what I was inevitably going to say to him. I loved him. I would protect him to every end. In fact, we said as much to each other in our wedding vows a month ago. Maybe Reid was right about not trying to fight all of this, and instead just let Hotch win this time around because it was easier than making a big deal out of it. Inevitably, I was going to get back to work. Probably in about a year or so. And as shitty as that seemed, at least it meant I got to go back. Hotch could have totally insisted that I quit the FBI—though I knew he would never ask me to do that; so, at least he was giving me the chance to still work out of the field. I could live with that for the time being. However, what I needed to discuss with Hotch more than anything was his behavior and how he was going about protecting me, because I really didn’t need him to stifle me through all of this. After being trapped in that cabin in Hawai’i, I never wanted to be trapped anywhere ever again.

When I saw him turn the corner into the office a few hours later after they gave up on looking for Shane Wyland, I nodded sideways towards the doorway I was standing in, letting him know that I needed him to join me. He silently noticed. As the team patted each other on the back and celebrated getting the kid back safe and sound, Hotch quietly and politely excused himself from everyone. They didn’t seem to stop him. Reid saw what was going on, though, and he sent me a supportive smile that let me know I was doing the right thing.

Hotch walked past me into the room, and I closed the door behind him. “Aaron, we need to talk.” I sat down on the couch, but he leaned back against the table with his arms crossed over his chest. He was listening. “I understand that you’re just trying to do what you think is best for me. I know that you think that keeping me locked up in the tower will keep me safe. And I appreciate all of that. I really do. In fact, I love that you want to protect me and take care of me, but you need to realize that at some point, you need to take a step back. That I can’t be babied, Aaron. It’s not in my nature, and we both know that. I can’t have you hovering over my shoulder every second of every day while telling me that I can and can’t do my job. I can do this. It wasn’t unreasonable for me to go out and look for those kids, but it was unreasonable for me to ask to go looking for the Unsub in the city—I know that. I know myself and I know my limits. I’m not going to suddenly break just because I’m pregnant. I’m okay right now.

“When I need to take a step back from the field, I will do so without hesitation or argument; but until then, you need to keep letting me do my job the way I’m supposed to. I just need you to believe in me—"

“If I didn’t believe in you, we wouldn’t have gotten this far.”

“If you believe in me, then just… act like it! Why is it that I always have to go above and beyond to support you and your dreams, but I’m stifled because you’re scared? You believe in me, but you don’t—”

“You have always been able to do what you wanted, Y/N! I have done everything I can to restrain myself from being controlling in every aspect of our lives, despite the fact that it’s all I know. I grew up in a household where my father was controlling, manipulative, and abusive. That was how I learned to become a man, and I always thought that would work because I was young and naïve; but Haley left, and you came along— and you…” He took in a deep breath. “You have always been this wild and free spirit that I knew I couldn’t control, so I wanted to step back and let you thrive because I know you’re capable of so much, Y/N. Do you remember that I wouldn’t even fucking look at you when you joined the team because I was so fucking in love with you that I didn’t know how to stop myself from letting my feelings trump your dreams? But you came waltzing into my office, demanding answers, and the next thing I knew, you were meeting Jack and telling me that you love me. I have had to fight an inner battle every single day since meeting you between screaming from the top of my lungs how much I love you and want to hide you away from the cruelness of this world, and letting you spread your wings and flourish as an agent. You deserve every bit of happiness, and I know that a lot of that comes from your work, so I never want to step on your toes. But you’re my wife, Y/N. I made a vow to you that I would protect you, no matter what. And, you’re right… maybe I’m being more protective with you than I have with anyone in the past, but can you blame me? Dammit, with everything I’ve been through, can you blame me for not wanting to lose you, too?”

His eyes wandered to my stomach as he sat back down. “We’re having a baby, Y/N. I’m not just protecting you anymore, and you’re not just taking care of yourself anymore. What happens if you get shot, hmm? What happens if you get stabbed like Foyet did to me? What happens if you get taken again like in Hawai’i? What happens if I lose you like I lost Kate and Haley? Am I just supposed to pretend like I wouldn’t die without you here? Am I supposed to forget about you and the best few years of my life? Why do I have to pretend like I don’t care just to make you feel better about yourself? Since meeting you, I could never bear the thought of losing you, but now I can’t bear the thought of losing either of you,” he pressed a palm to my stomach. “Aren’t my feelings valid, too? Don’t I get a say in the safety of our child?” He cupped my face with his other hand. “Please don’t make me lose you, too. I won’t live if I lose you.” He sniffled as a tear slid down his cheek. I reached up and carefully wiped it away with my thumb. “I believe in you, Y/N, more than I even believe in myself…” He screwed his eyes shut as the tears started to fall faster. “But I don’t want to lose you because you’re too damn stubborn to just sit out of the field for a few months.” He sniffled again. “Why is it so hard for you to just understand that I love you so much that it hurts to even think about being away from you? Can’t you just accept that I want what’s best for you— I always have— and right now that means keeping you safe from any harm.”

I rested my forehead against his. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Y/N. I just need you to understand that I love you. More than anything.”

I kissed away a tear running down his cheek. “I know, baby.”

“If I didn’t believe in you… I couldn’t have stood before all of our friends and family a month ago, and said, ‘This is the person I can’t bear to lose. This is the one thing in my life I can’t lose.’ That’s what I thought we agreed on…”

He reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in for a hug so that he could hide his face in the crook of my neck. I tangled my fingers in his hair. I hadn’t meant to upset him, but I just needed him to know how I was feeling—but I had never stopped to ask myself how he was feeling, which was incredibly selfish of me.

“How about this,” I began offering carefully, waiting to see if he would stop me, but he didn’t, “when I start to show, I’ll stay back at the office with Garcia.” It wasn’t what I wanted, but if it made him feel better, I was willing to make that compromise.

He sniffled and sat up. We held each other’s faces, searching each other’s eyes, trying to find a reason that we shouldn’t agree to that. But there was no reason not to. If it were up to him, I would be sitting at home for the next few months, but that wasn’t reasonable for me; and if it were up to me, I would be in the field up until the day I was giving birth, but Hotch would never let that happen in a million years. At least, being at Quantico meant that I could still help with the cases and the profiles.

“The office or the house at any given moment,” he negotiated.

I shrugged and nodded.

“Okay.” He leaned in to kiss me before hugging me again, our chins tucked over each other’s shoulders. “I love you.”

I grabbed onto the fabric of his shirt on his back, feeling the way his broad shoulders tensed, and his breathing had slowed. I smiled lightly against him. We were going to be okay. “I love you, too.”

---------

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @desperately-bisexual @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc​ @Braty-angel

[noxshade]

Day 12 & 13: Temple & Light and Darkness

“If nothing else the residents of Gensokyo can respect meditation.  I do appreciate that.”

Byakuren Hijiri spoke to what should have been an empty prayer hall, her voice echoing slightly.  The sun had just set and halfway through her evening recitations, she had sensed someone enter the hall behind her, then wait just beyond the doors until she was finished.  There was a rustling of fabric, and the person walked past where Byakuren still sat, rolling a Myouren Temple relic sutra scroll back onto the ornate vajra rods that secured it.  After finishing, Byakuren looked up to see her visitor.

“I recall my days as a monk, I would never wish to interrupt such a process,” said Miko of the Toyosatomimi.  She stood a respectful distance away, with her hands clasped in front of her in the old aristocratic manner.  Byakuren stood with the sutra scroll and walked to the altar at the back of the hall, replacing the scroll onto its rack.

“I thank you for such respect,” Byakuren said, bowing to the statue of the Buddha behind the altar.  “What brings yet another powerful figure like yourself to our temple?”

“‘Another’?” Miko asked, confused.

“I had a not-so-enlightening conversation with the revered boundary youkai not but a few days ago, after she silently watched me meditate for nearly an hour,” Byakuren answered, but the look of continued confusion on Miko’s face answered itself to Byakuren.  “Ah, you must not have met the esteemed guardian of Gensokyo’s barrier.  Not to worry, I’m sure she is learning everything she possibly can about you before approaching.”

“I see,” Miko commented, shifting uncomfortably in place. “I was wondering if we could speak.”

“Of course, if you first answer how you entered the temple without alerting my disciples.”

“Well, they are all busy alternately performing or neglecting their chores, all too busy to notice a small stone in the graveyard lift as I entered via shukuchi,” Miko explained.

“Ah, Taoist spatial arts, I should have guessed as much,”  Byakuren said as she retrieved incense sticks from a nearby cubby. “What can I help you with today?”

“I just wanted to speak more candidly with you after the symposium,” Miko said, speaking of the religious summit held a few months ago. “I feel we may have gotten off on the wrong foot.”  Byakuren approached and offered the tips of the incense sticks to Miko, with a look of request, and Miko obliged, lighting them with a tap of her index finger and a minor manifestation of Wuxing, second form.  Byakuren nodded appreciatively, and turned to place the incense in the slots on either side of the altar.

“The symposium where you admitted to pretending to practice my faith of Buddhism in order to pacify the population?”  Byakuren asked, her voice holding none of the venom that her words implied. “The roundtable where you admitted  that your political dreams of becoming the immortal ruler of Japan were foiled by that same faith you abused and spread for your own gain?  I wonder why you might think you have offended a Buddhist monk with such a tale?”

“While I won’t dispute the facts of what I did,” Miko winced “There is some additional context I feel you should know.”

“Oh?  Do tell,”  Byakuren set a second cushion down on the floor beside hers, in front of the altar and gestured to it.  Miko bowed slightly, and moved to sit down.  She whipped her cape out from under herself and rotated the sheathed Sword of Seven Stars to lay across her lap as she assumed a proper lotus position.

“In the days when I was born, humans were as much a danger to themselves as youkai were.  I wanted peace, but without power humans could not stand up to the creatures who would devour them, so I looked for a way  to harness enough power to have humans be the masters of their own destinies,” Miko explained as Byakuren nodded along, her eyes closed in contemplation.  “But the most powerful teachings I could find would throw the country into chaos, I needed to find a way to preserve the peace I had hoped to attain.  So I did what I thought was best for, I gave them the teaching of the Buddha, to allow them to live in peace while I worked to free them from the shackles all humans are born into: mortality.”

“I can see your point and can even laud your goals as supremely noble,” Byakuren replied “Even if I will never come to peace with how your resurrection alters the classic lessons of Prince Shōtoku.  Those tales have a very different feeling to them, knowing what we know about you now, Majesty.”  Miko’s face reddened slightly.

“Please, it’s just Miko now,” she said, shifting in place, hands fidgeting on her sword. “I’m literally not the man I once was.”

“And yet propriety demands those of royal blood be addressed by their proper titles,” Byakuren returned.  “I hope you would not think of abandoning your royal titles and the responsibilities that come with such privilege, dear Prince Miko.”

“I would easily accept such titles and positions, if the world was as I left it, but I watched from within my sealed vessel as the world changed and evolved beyond me, and so I contemplated myself and my goals for 1500 years.  And this is who I wish to be now, an administrator and officiant,” Miko said.

“That is acceptable, Administrator,” Byakuren replied, saying the title with as much royal respect as she had ‘prince’, such that in tone, she had barely changed her stance at all.  “But you seem to be under the impression that I hold an ill opinion of you.”  She took a breath.

“Well, I mean, how could you no-” Miko began.

“Please allow me to finish, dear Administrator.”  Miko recomposed herself and allowed Byakuren to continue.  “I know what your aims and goals were better than you think, for I also once followed the teaching of the Buddha without meaning them for a time as well.  By harvesting youkai’s power, I stayed alive and staved off the cruelty of death that had claimed my brother when he was so young, as you sought to do.  But in protecting and understanding youkai as the source of my power, I began to see that they were captives of fate just as much as the humans were.  Spirits bound to a single task, forced to perform their purpose or fade into dust.  I wanted understanding between the two sides, for them to know each other’s pain so that it might be lessened, and it was for this I was sealed away, for in the time before Gensokyo, such an idea was laughable.”  Miko opened her mouth to speak, but Byakuren -eyes still closed- raised her hand and continued.

“No doubt, you see us as a mirrored pair, as so many others do, as avatars of both of those ideas.  The idea is appealing in its symmetry, to see the both of us as a dualistic pair.  The shrewd politician and the naive nun, the two humans who learned magic to live forever, each holding opposite views of what is right for the world.  Human and youkai, light and dark, the followers of the Dharma and Tao, emptiness and the way.”

“But we are these things,” Miko said.  “Are we not?”

“Not to me.  We are all the same. ‘Shiki soku zeku ku soku ze shiki,’” Byakuren recited, and Miko recognized it as the Heart Sutra. “Dualism is an illusion, truth lies in the interdependence, the unity of the existing and of the emptiness-”

“-Though things may seem to be different from one another in the eyes of humanity, their real state is equal,” Miko finished.

“Ah, she does remember her sutras,” Byakuren said, opening her eyes and looking at Miko with a smile on her face.

“I could only recall it thanks to a wise sensei,” Miko replied with the same smile of understanding. “I should be going though, the hour is late.”  She stood up as Byakuren also rose.

“Of course.  Please, if you ever wish to speak with me again, feel free to use the front gate of the temple next time.”

“I will think about it,” Miko said, before walking out the door and slipping beneath a tilted cobblestone in the footpath to the temple.  Byakuren turned to store the two cushions, then left to see what chores still needed doing with her companions.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29772798/chapters/73934670

[clouds-of-wings]

Nihilistic Relativism Infects The Green movement

dgrnewsservice.org/resistance/strategy/nihilistic-relativism-infects-the-green-movement/

Fifty years ago, when Act 250 and other important protections were enacted, environmental organizations believed it was their role to draw lines in the sand beyond which economic interests could not go. They understood that we could not blindly expand industry, business and commerce into the landbase without inevitably degrading it.

But from the mid-1980s on, moneyed interests began co-opting the environmental movement by supporting groups that embraced “market-based” solutions to environmental problems. As environmental NGOs softened their stance against rampant development, we got “green consumerism,” “carbon trading,” “ethical investment,” “smart growth” and other business-friendly steps in place of genuine environmental protection. This form of “environmentalism” has turned corporations into “environmentalists” but failed to protect the natural world.

Were the leaders of those environmental organizations conscious of what they were doing?

Psychologist Robert Lifton’s work offers some insight.  His career focused on examining how ordinary people become involved in projects with horrific consequences. This phenomenon, he explains, emerges from a shared ideology that remains unquestioned – often with a declared higher good or “claim to virtue” justifying it – thereby blinding people to the real-world consequences of their actions. He studied people responsible for atrocities throughout the last century. Expecting to find psychosis and sociopathy prevalent among them, he found something surprising: many were actually nice people. They were well-liked and respected in their communities. They had stable families and were loving parents and grandparents. They weren’t necessarily ideologues nor particularly hate-filled.

What they were was ambitious. Lifton concluded that when one is ambitious in a destructive society, one will participate in that destruction to reap the rewards. His conclusions are a cautionary tale that should alert all of us to look deep within and examine our conduct and motivations. The environmental leaders who espouse “balancing” environmental protections with the need for economic growth are more likely to win major funding, receive invitations to government roundtables, and hold the microphones that shape opinion.