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meet-me-in-the-pouringrain · 2 years ago

Text

The Phoenix and The Rocket

Final Chapter

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Emily Prentiss, at the insistent of her therapist, signs up for a trauma ‘dumping’ site. She never expected that her Dump would connect her back to her old boss and the man she’s been in love with for over ten years.

Also the man she’s absolutely furious at for leaving

This is it y’all thank you for engaging and indulging me ❤️ and of course, thank you to @lonelychicagos for the prompt in the first place.

Read the final chapter below the cut :)

JJ instantly smirks the second Emily walks through the doors. Tara snickers behind her coffee cup.

"Yay" JJ cheers, shaking her fists. "You got laid!"

Emily blanks. "I-What." She stammers. She came in fully prepared to let them all have it for sending her on a needless errand but JJ catches her extremely off guard.

"So who's the guy?" Tara nudges her. "Or girl." She adds as an afterthought.

Dave looks smug as he walks up before Prentiss could reply. Luke, Matt and Spencer are with him, the latter already having the case file, and they're looking at their boss with a mixture of disgust and embarrassment. Emily glances over the faces of the team, wondering how exactly she's gonna tell them that not only has she found their old boss but also fucked him two hours ago, and rolls her eyes.

"Allora come sta?" (So, How is he?) Dave asks, switching to Italian. His demeanour is all smug and giddy.

Emily narrows her eyes while the rest of them look between them like they're watching a tennis match. "Sai?" (You Know?)

"Sí" Dave puts a hand on her shoulder. "Chi pensi che gli abbia dato il tuo numero?" (Who do you think gave him your number?)

Emily tries to be angry but her face gives her away when she smiles and bows her head. "Thank you" She says in return. The team is all waiting eagerly for the gossip and left severely disappointed when she orders them to the conference room.

Aaron fairs no better from the questions when he walks into his new house and finds his son standing at the door. Jack exclaims at the sight of him, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Where have you been?" Jack huffs.

Aaron smirks in amusement. "Uh, I'm the dad here." He tells him, walking off into the house. "Non of your business" He calls over his shoulder before whistling a tune to himself.

Jack watches him go with a face on him, confused. Then realisation settles in.

"Oh gross" He yells, running off. "Dad you could've just said you were with Emily. God." He hollers, running away.

His father laughs at his disgust, picking an apple out of the fruit bowl and settles down, casting his mind to what Emily might be doing right now.

"Who is it? Who is it? Who is it?" Penelope repeats incessantly through the laptop as the Jet zooms in the air. Emily just glares at the Laptop without saying a word. "Rossi, who is it?" Penelope changes her tune, turning to the man.

Dave smirks at Emily, enough to set her on edge, and she shakes her head minutely at him. Thankfully, he listens for once. "Sorry Garcia, I am not at liberty to say."

The girls groan while the boys sigh in relief. It's one thing hearing about the sex lives of the age female team members but your boss too? No thank you.

After the case, they go out for coffee and they talk. Emily tells him everything he's missed with the team, including how Derek's expecting another kid with Savannah and how Spencer got arrested and she grills him on how the hell he would have navigated that. Aaron tells her everything about Jack and their life in Colorado, wincing a little when some of the harder bits came up.

It was essentially the culmination of everything they spoke about online, sans Emily's disguised stories and white lies and Aaron's evasiveness about how the hell he got in those situations.

They're on the same page when one of them mentions that they're done dancing around, that they want this. They move fast, as much as they can when one of them is jetting off over the country every other week, and solidly dating. She comes to his home three weeks into the arrangement and Jack bounces around like a little kid again, calling her 'Miss Emily' and welcomes her enthusiastically. Aaron chooses wisely not to tell Emily that Jack spent 45 minutes trying to look presentable for her.

He hugs her with both, fully functional, arms tightly. "Thank you" He whispers in her ear, making her hug the boy now taller than her tighter. "For making him Aaron again." Jack says, pulling away. Emily couldn't reply save for a tight smile. Aaron snakes up next to them and steals her away from his son.

The team all notice the skip in her step, the lighter paperwork and the glow in her eyes. They speculate who it is, with a betting pool of government agents names appearing, and press Rossi for information on the regular. Spencer overhears a phone call one night on the way back to the hotel room two months in as Emily stands at the vending machine and accidentally eavesdrops.

He grows interested - he has money on a agent from Counter-Terrorism that Emily has had tension with for years - and stays behind the doorway.

"No" Emily shakes her head, fiddling with coins in her hands. "Don't be ridiculous. No-That was Derek's fault not mine." She protests. "He's the one who had the prank war with Spence, remember?"

Spencer's interest piques here and he moves closer. So it must be someone who was here 7 years ago during him and Morgan's prank war. That cuts out his guess but leaves Tara's, Penelope's and Luke's in.

How interesting.

Emily speaks again and he jumps. "Give Jack a kiss for me" Emily says lowly into the phone. Spencer's eyes go wide. "Yes, I know he's 16, Whats your point?" She laughs, crouching for her coca-cola. "I love you too" She says fondly. "I'll call you after the case to debrief, Hotch" She says his name mockingly but it's full of adoration. Spencer's jaw is slack and his eyes are wide as she turns to spot him.

Emily jumps about a foot in the air, spilling coke and dropping her phone. "Spencer!" She exclaims. Her eyes are equally as wide. "How long-?"

"Y-you found Hotch?" Spencer squeaks out, a spark of anger in his chest.

She sighs. "Yes- Look. Don't tell the others." She begs. "He wanted me to keep it a secret, wanted us to be together before he reveals himself to the rest of you."

"You're together?" He asks, the same slow smile falling into his face that occurs whenever there's great news. Emily sighs again and bites her lip, nodding.

"It's still new" She confesses. "No one knows. Only Dave, please"

"I won't." Spencer cuts her off, shaking his head. "I'm happy for you, Emily" He says quietly. She smiles, relived. "Can he come home soon?" He asks.

Now she laughs. "Oh buddy" She pats him on the back. "He's closer than you think." She says coyly. "Besides, you're stuck with me now."

Spencer mock groans so she punches his arm. They hug it out with another promise not to tell before disappearing into their rooms for the night.

It only takes about another month for the team to find out anyway.

That's because when they land from yet another case, Penelope is standing at the elevators with a shell shocked look on her face, staring right at Emily. JJ begins the questioning but Penelope just points at Emily and then to her office and then back at Emily. They all walk into the bullpen, staring up at the office in confusion.

Emily's face breaks into a smile when the figure of a man can be seen at her desk. Spencer sees him next and gasps excitedly while Dave just laughs. JJ clicks onto it first and moves her gaze to Emily. Matt didn't work under Hotch, joining after Emily was made Unit Chief, but knew off him and he nudged Tara, who was the next to realise what's happened and was staring at her friend. Luke leant into Garcia to ask what was going on, only to earn a sharp rebuttal and a weak insult about how she'll never gossip with him back.

Aaron looks up out of the window to spot the team, and he smiled broadly. He left his old office quickly, meeting them halfway.

"Superman returns from his fortress of solitude!" Dave quips as he reaches them.

"Hi" Aaron smiles, looking straight at Emily.

Before anyone can react, he's pulling her to him and kissing her in front of everyone.

She got hurt on this case, a UNSUB knocked her unconscious and nicked her neck with a knife. She hadn't needed stitches or anything, it was not even a lot of blood. But the second Dave told him the update, figuring he needed to know, Aaron was losing his mind. When Emily finally texted him that they had landed, he practically flew out of the door and to his old workspace on autopilot.

It was only when the old security guard greeted him by name that Aaron had realised what he had done so he gingerly made his way up and hid away from the stares of his old subordinates in his old office.

When they pull apart, she's blushing and biting her lip. He scans their faces in amusement : Dave's smug and proud, Spencer is surprised, JJ and Tara look delighted and surprised too, Luke is grinning and Matt is laughing.

Penelope looks two milliseconds away from losing her ever loving shit.

"So, does this mean you're back?" JJ begins, slyly. She smirks at Emily, who turns her head to hide in his neck.

Aaron chuckles, pulling away from her to officially greet everyone. "To the FBI? No" He confirms. "To Virginia? Yes." He pulls Spencer into a hug, smiling when it goes on longer than expected, kisses JJ and Penelope on the cheek and nods when JJ asks is Jack's home too. He greets the others amicably, not having a closer relationship with them and shakes Matt's hand politely.

"So how did-" Penelope bounces, swirling her finger between the two of them. "What happen- I always knew you two had the hots for each other" She finishes on, overjoyed.

Emily ducked her head. "Long story." She said simply, making her partner chuckle. "We're all going out for drinks-" She begins as his arm returns to her waist.

"YES. YES. THIS IS HAPPENING. LETS GO" Penelope finally loses it, making them all break. She whips out her phone. "I'm calling Morgan, He's coming too." She announces, darting off to phone the man.

"How was the case?" Aaron asked as Emily directs them to her office. The team all move to leave, all knowing that not a lot of work will be done. She shuts the door behind her, as they all exit to the bar, and closes the blinds, flipping off Tara's cheeky grin at the last second. Their exit leaves the BAU empty, save for those two.

He sits in front of the desk, feeling weird, as she leans against it.

Emily sucks in a breath. "Oh, I think my PenPal might be getting told all about that later" She shrugs but smirks when he chuckles.

"I'm sure Rocket is looking forward to it, Phoenix" He retorts back.

Emily hums in response and leans down for another kiss. "Now I'm sure someone said something about me being bent over this desk." She involuntarily squeals as he moves quicker than she's ever seen him.

It takes about 2 more months before she's fully moved in with him and Jack, who's very glad she's back around and that she makes his dad happy. It happens one morning as he wakes up to find her and Jack sitting in their pyjamas in the living room, playing on the gaming system. He quickly realised that he wanted every morning like this, with her here. And so he asks her to move in straight away.

"Aaron, Honey" Emily giggles, pausing the game. "All my clothes are here and Sergio's stuff is in the corner" She points. Jack snickers at him, shaking his head. "I've already moved in basically." She tells him softly, pecking his lips. He's left dumbfounded and wondering how two years of retirement left him that rusty.

It takes another 3, almost a year to the day Phoenix first messaged Rocket, before they're married.

He proposes on her birthday in October and they're married in Dave's backyard the week before Christmas. They've wasted enough time and refuse to let more slip by. The team is all there, including Derek. Penelope wrangles Sergio in a bow tie and clings onto him so he doesn't attack Aaron during the wedding. Dave is the officiant, Jack's the best man and JJ's the maid of honour, Derek's a groomsmen with Tara being the other bridesmaid. They employ Jess' daughter Courtney as the flower girl and Hank as the ring bearer with Michael and Henry taking their roles as security very seriously. Spencer reads out a speech he's prepared and Luke and Matt act as waiters for the rest of them due to vague threats from Penelope. The wind perks up just as they're about to kiss for the first time as Husband and Wife, making Emily laugh and blow a raspberry to the sky.

It's small and messy but it's them and there's nothing they would trade it for.

At the end of the night, Penelope unveils one last surprise that has Emily in tears.

A painting of a Phoenix rising from the ashes below her, with a rocket in the distance heading towards her. It's silly and doesn't make sense but hey, if that wasn't their story.

Aaron laughs and states he should have known Penelope would dig to find out while Emily cries. They hang it in their bedroom without a second thought and spend an hour pointing out the little details.

When the novelty of the picture is over, Emily collapses in his arms leaning her back against his torso with a loud, happy sigh. "God" She breathes, staring at the painting. "Who would've though we'd end up here? All thanks to a stupid Trauma Dump website."

Aaron hums, wrapping his arms around her. "Yeah" He agrees absentmindedly. "I love you, Phoenix." He mumbles in her ear.

Emily smiles and cranes her neck to stare up at him. "I love you, Rocket." She replies, smiling broadly.

He leans down and kisses her softly, swallowing anything else she had to say. Outside, The wind brushes gently before ceasing at all and downstairs, Sergio pulls Emily's laptop down by its charging cable. Jack scolds him and scoops him up to leave the house entirely. Emily and Aaron, Phoenix and Rocket, whatever you want to call them are entirely alone but together.

All thanks to some meddling from a force of nature, a 16yr old boy, a menacing cat and a nosy work colleague who's more of a father.

And of course, a stupid website.

tag list : @84hotpockets @serqueljisbon @loriprentiss @velvetblackness @castielryan

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #hotchniss #the phoenix and the rocket #criminal minds fanfiction #agent hotchner #hotch #agent prentiss #hotchniss fanfiction

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year ago

Text

Summit - Chapter 2

He hates that he feels like a kid. Like the little boy who was let down by his parents again and again. His father’s violence and his mother’s apathy, her overcorrection to dealing with the life she’d found herself living, the building blocks for the fortress he’d built around himself.

Aaron's mom comes to see him after years of silence and no contact.

Part 1

-x-

Hi friends!!

Thanks so much for the love on chapter 1! I think Aaron's background is so poorly explored in the show so I really enjoyed writing this. I have also been working on an AU (a 3 or 4 parter I think) where his Dad is alive and they go on a case to his hometown. Lots of angst and feelings and protective Emily in that too!

I really hope you enjoy part two, and please let me know what you think!

-x-

Warnings: Pregnancy (not the main point of it, Emily is just pregnant in this fic, references to child abuse/domestic violence (nothing graphic/detailed.)

Words: 4.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“I do not like green eggs and ham, I do not like them Sam-I-am.”

Emily smiles as she hears Issac giggle next to her, his little face pressed into her chest as she reads to him. They were snuggled in bed together. He was already supposed to have been asleep. Aaron had put him in his own bed a couple of hours ago, but he’d snuck out of his room, his favourite book in hand, and found her in the living room, a smile on his face that she was bowled over by. The same smile that Aaron and Jack had, the one she could never say no to.

She just knew her little girl would be the same, that she’d be wrapped around her little finger from the moment she was born.

“You are meant to be going to sleep, mister,” she says, poking him in his belly, smiling when he giggles again.

“I not tired.”

She hums, suppressing a yawn as she does so, “Momma is,” she says quietly, flipping over the page of the book to carry on reading, “Would you eat them in a box-”

She’s cut off as the door opens, and Aaron walks in, sighing as he pushes his cell phone into his pocket, “I spoke to Sean-” he stops himself when he spots Issac in their bed, and he raises his eyebrow, “I seem to remember putting a certain someone to bed a few hours ago.”

Emily smiles as he walks over and joins them, her eyes searching his face for any kind of hint of how he is feeling. He’d shut down, going silent when Suzanne made it clear why she was here, why she’d broken decades of silence. Emily had asked her to leave, stern and leaving no room for argument as she got up off of the couch, Aaron automatically helping her even though he still hadn’t spoken, as if his instincts to love her, to take care of her, ran so deep he found himself doing it without thinking. She’d walked her mother-in-law to the door, her jaw tight as Suzanne asked her to talk to Aaron, to talk him into helping her. It had taken everything in her not to yell at her there and then, to tell her everything she’d wanted to say ever since she popped back up in their lives, but she knew looking after her husband was her priority.

They hadn’t really had a chance to talk about it. He’d asked to be alone for a while and she’d respected that, knowing she’d want the same if she was in his shoes, and then the boys had come home. They acted like everything was normal, like Aaron’s world hadn’t shifted on its axis, like he hadn’t been let down by a woman he’d thought had stopped doing that half a lifetime ago. Jack was in his room, playing a video game he was obsessed with a strict deadline of when to turn it off and go to sleep, and she knew as soon as Issac was asleep they’d finally be able to talk about it.

She watches as Aaron swallows thickly, his nerves as on edge as they ever got, and she looks down at Issac, “Zaccy?” She fake whispers, smiling conspiratorily when he looks up at her, “Daddy looks like he could do with a hug, huh?”

Aaron barely has a moment to react before Issac throws himself at him, disentangling himself from around Emily and launching himself into his father’s embrace. Aaron chuckles as he wraps his arms around his youngest son, smiling at his wife over his son’s head. He runs his hand up and down his pyjama-covered back and kisses the side of his head.

“Thanks, buddy,” he says, smiling as Issac pulls back to look at him, the eyes he shared with Emily wide and curious as he looks at his father.

“Better?” He asks, fighting a yawn, and Aaron nods as Issac rubs at his eyes whilst he settles further into Aaron’s embrace.

“Much better,” Aaron replies, smiling softly as he looks at Emily, “Now, why doesn’t Mommy finish reading your book and then we’ll get you back to bed.”

Issac nods as he rests his head on Aaron’s chest, and Emily can’t help but smile at the sight of them together, how her little boy settles against her husband, their matching expressions as they look at her expectantly making her heart swell in her chest. She nods as she picks the book back up, the other hand on her bump as the baby shifts around, and she continues to read. Issac only makes it another couple of pages before he’s fast asleep, his cheek squished against Aaron’s shirt. Emily closes the book and smiles wryly at her husband.

“Now we’ll never know if he’d like green eggs and ham in a tree,” she jokes, as if they hadn’t read the book every night for what felt like years, and Aaron chuckles, standing up and making sure Issac is safe against him. “Bring him here so I can give him a kiss,” she says, and Aaron does as he’s asked, rounding the bed and leaning down so Emily can kiss Issac’s forehead, “Good night, sweet boy. I love you.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he says, and she nods in response, smiling softly as she watches them go, concern for Aaron simmering in her belly as he leaves.

Aaron is careful as he lays Issac in his bed, the bedding already in a mess from where he’d climbed out of it earlier on. He smiles as Issac curls up the moment he lays down, his arms wrapping around his favourite toy, a bright green stuffed frog, and he carefully lays the covers over him. He sits on the edge of the bed for a moment and watches his son, basking in the innocence that he and Emily wired so hard to protect. Everything they’d been through separately and together fuelled so many of their decisions as parents, desperate not to repeat their own parent’s mistakes, to make sure their children always knew they were loved.

He leans forward and kisses his son’s forehead, running his fingers through his unruly hair, “I’ll always be here Issac,” he says quietly, “No matter what.”

He gives himself another moment before he leaves the room, blowing out a steady breath as he walks back towards the master bedroom. Emily had been incredibly understanding, loving him in the way he needed by leaving him to wrap his head around his mother walking back into his life only because she wanted something. Re-opening wounds he’d thought had long since healed, scars he hadn’t thought about in years.

He can’t help but smile as he walks back into the bedroom to find Emily sitting exactly where he’d left her, both of her hands pressing into her bump.

“She’s kicking so much, I don’t think I’m going to get any sleep tonight,” she says, smiling softly at him as he walks over, “I can’t wait until she’s here.”

Aaron climbs into bed and wraps an arm around her shoulder. He places his other hand on her belly, smiling when he feels their daughter move around, “Only a couple of weeks to go.”

She hums, resting her head on his shoulder, “If I don’t go overdue again,” she mumbles, scrunching her nose up as she thinks of just how uncomfortable she was at the end of her pregnancy last time. She tilts her head to look up at him, biting her lower lip as her eyes flit over his face, the sadness that had etched into it making her ache, “I’d ask if you’re okay,” she says, resting her hand over his on her bump, “But that’s a stupid question,” he links their fingers together and squeezes, “What did Sean say?”

He sighs, shaking his head before he turns it, pressing his lips to her temple, “She went to see him first, and asked him for money,” he scoffs, “He says he hasn’t heard from her since he said he didn’t have any. He apologised for bringing me up, but he said it was the only way he could get her to leave.”

She smiles tightly at him, anger aimed at her mother-in-law once again climbing up her throat, forcing her to swallow it back so she doesn’t say something she’d later regret, “I’m so sorry honey,” she says, cupping his cheek and making him look at her, running he thumb back and forth over his cheek, his stubble rough against her skin, “You deserve so much better.”

He chuckles humorlessly, as if he doesn’t believe her, and she files it away for another day, knowing now wasn’t the time to have the conversation they’d had countless times before. Both of them convinced they didn’t deserve the other, something that had delayed them from getting together at first.

“I can’t explain it,” he says, shaking his head at himself, “But I think I want to give her the money. But…I don’t know if I could bear to watch her walk away after we give it to her.”

She sighs, well aware that this was likely the road they’d go down. Above all, Aaron was a good man. The best. And he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he knew his mother was struggling.

“Honey-”

“I know it’s technically your money,” he says, and she raises an eyebrow at him, both of them exchanging a soft smile as he nods. It was a conversation they’d had several times over the years. Her trust fund something she considered to be for their family, for them. Something they had used to buy this house. She always chastised him when he called it her money, and it reminded her of the argument they’d had when he first found out just how rich she was, his shock turning into anger he didn’t understand. “Okay, our money. But it feels like the right thing to do.”

“If that’s what you want to do,” she says, smiling softly at him, “Then that’s what we’ll do. But you don’t have to make the decision now.”

He nods, leaning in to stamp a kiss against her lips, “I know. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replies, “So much.”

He kisses her again, the action lost to a smile as the baby moves, and he pulls back, “Do you two need anything?”

She smirks, shrugging nonchalantly before she nods, “Baby says she wants ice cream.”

He chuckles and kisses her again, grateful for a moment of normalcy in what had been a difficult few days. “Ice cream coming right up.”

___

Emily keeps looking back and forth between the entrance of the diner and her phone on the table in front of her, her nerves increasing with each minute that ticks by. She groans as she feels a particularly sharp kick from inside of her and she looks down, placing her hand on her belly that was pressed up against the table.

“Sorry, sweet girl,” she says, “It’s a bit of a squeeze in this booth with both of us.”

She hears the bell above the door ring and she looks up at the door and spots Suzanne walk in. She watches for a moment as the other woman looks around, frowning slightly at the bright pink and white seats, and the slightly tacky decor that Emily and Aaron both got a kick out of. Suzanne spots her and smiles tightly before walking over, slipping into the opposite side of the booth.

“I was surprised to hear from you,” she says as she sits down, placing her purse next to her before she looks at Emily, “Is Aaron here?”

Emily shakes her head, “No. He is not.”

It wasn’t a decision she’d made lightly, but in the few days it had been since Suzanne had come to their home she’d seen the impact it had on Aaron. He was struggling, desperately trying to figure out what he wanted to do, his confusion and sadness covered up with irritation. An old coping mechanism that had meant Derek and Dave had both called her separately to ask what was wrong with him.

She knew ultimately he’d agree to give his mother the money, that he would push past his own pain and hurt to help her. Under it all, all the scowls and scars, he was still just that little boy who wanted his mom. If anyone could understand it, it was Emily.

She knew how it felt to want to be loved in the way she always should have been.

“Does he know you’re here?” Suzanne asks, her eyebrow raised.

Emily shakes her head, “He doesn’t, but he will,” she says, linking her hands on the table in between them, “We don’t keep secrets from each other.”

Suzanne opens her mouth but is interrupted as the waitress comes over.

“Mrs Hotchner,” she says, making both of them look at her, but all of her focus is on Emily, “Look at you, you look just about ready to drop.”

Emily smiles, “Hi Marjorie, just over a week to go now,” she says, well aware of Suzanne’s gaze burning into her.

“That’s so exciting,” Marjorie looks around and seems to realise Emily doesn’t have Aaron or the children with her, “Where are those adorable boys of yours?”

Emily’s eyes flash over to Suzanne for a moment before she looks back at the woman speaking to her, “At home today I’m afraid, so no need to make any of those smiley face pancakes.”

Marjorie smiles at her, “What can I get you instead?”

“Just a sweet tea would be lovely, thanks,” Emily replies, watching as Marjorie turns to Suzanne, who clears her throat before she makes eye contact.

“The same. Please.”

“Two sweet teas coming right up.”

Emily feels awkwardness wash over them as they are left alone again, making the air thick with it.

“So you guys come here often?” Suzanne asks, sounding far too casual for Emily’s liking, as if she hadn’t torn her eldest son down by showing up after so many years of absence.

“Jack and Issac like it,” she says, smiling as she thinks of how they’d spend as many Saturdays here as possible, “They love the pancakes, but they say Aaron’s are a close second.”

Suzanne nods, briefly smiling her thanks as Marjorie places their drinks on the table without comment, clearly having picked up on the tension between them.

“So, if Aaron isn’t here, why are we?” Suzanne asks, she smiles, an edge of bitterness to it that makes Emily’s irritation spike, “He couldn’t bear to tell me himself that his wife won’t give me the money?”

Emily clenches her jaw so tightly she’s surprised she doesn’t feel it pop and she glares at her for a beat longer than necessary, feeling a strange sense of achievement when Suzanne becomes visibly uncomfortable, avoiding her eye contact. She casts another glance at her mother-in-law before she reaches for her purse. She pulls out a folded piece of paper and places it on the table, pushing it towards Suzanne.

“You have two options,” she says, clearing her throat as Suzanne picks up the piece of paper and unfolds it, her eyes going slightly wide as she realises what it is, “The first is you take that cheque,” she shrugs, settling her crossed arms on the top of the bump, “It covers the debt you told us about and you can go back to your life and we can go back to ours.”

Suzanne raises her eyebrows, looking at Emily over the top of the cheque, “No strings attached? Just $40,000?”

Emily bites the inside of her cheek at the way Suzanne has phrased it, the fact she seems unaffected by the implication she wouldn’t have to see her son again. She shakes her head as she responds, “No strings attached. You can just walk away.”

“And my second option?”

“I’ll pay off your debts for you to the bank directly, and then make sure you’re comfortable going forward, as long as you work on a relationship with Aaron, and maybe even eventually the kids.”

Suzanne huffs out a laugh, the cheque still firmly in her hand, “You’re bribing me?”

Emily grits her teeth, “No, I’m giving you two options. One of which is a life with your son. The other is what you came here for.”

Her words hang between them, her accusation clear. Suzanne sighs, “I do love my children.”

“I know you do,” Emily replies quickly, shaking her head at her, “But that’s not enough, in fact, I think it makes it worse. Aaron knows you love him but it still didn’t make you try and keep him in your life.”

“He didn’t try either-”

“He’s your son,” she says, cutting over a defence she didn’t want to hear. She leans forward, well aware they have drawn more attention than she wanted to, “No matter how old he gets, how many kids he has himself, he’s still your son. At some point, the buck stops with you.” On some level, she knows she’s saying what she’s wanted to say to her own mother for years, what she’s stopped Aaron from saying on her behalf. She wants to say more, to tell the woman opposite her exactly what she thinks, but she stops herself, aware that Aaron wouldn’t want her to, “So if you take the money today you can’t contact us again. You can’t come back and ask for more. I won’t let you hurt him any more than you already have,” she hears her voice crack and she gives herself a moment, “If you don’t, if you can prove to me you’d have come back anyway at some point, we can go from there,” she shakes her head, letting one more thought push through, no matter unkind it was, “I think we both know what you’ll go for.”

Suzanne stares at her, her eyes, the ones she’d passed on to Aaron, boring into Emily’s, as if she was trying to read her mind. She eventually laughs humourlessly, “He really landed on his feet when he found you.”

Emily shrugs, “I think it’s the other way around. I always wonder what I did to deserve him,” she smiles as she thinks of him, “He’s an incredible man,” she watches as a smile of pride flashes over Suzanne’s face, “Despite the cards he was dealt.”

Suzanne’s smile slips away and she looks at the cheque again, clearing her throat in a failed attempt to hide the shake to her voice, “I’m glad he found someone like you,” she says, her eyes still fixed on the paper in her hands, “I liked Haley, don’t get me wrong, but I always thought she was wrong for him. He needed someone who knew who he became, not who he was. He’s lucky,” she looks back up at Emily for a moment before she looks back at the cheque, folding it up and slipping it into her purse, “He doesn’t need a reminder of his past, of how I failed him, every time he looks at me.”

Emily sighs, closing her eyes as she shakes her head, “Suzanne-”

“You said it was my choice,” she says as she stands up, crossing her arms over her chest as she does so, as if holding herself together, regret for so many things, but not this, shining in her eyes, “This is what I choose. Look after him.”

“I always do,” Emily replies, “It’s what we do for each other.”

Suzanne nods, her eyes drifting back to Emily’s stomach one last time, “Good luck with the baby.”

Emily smiles tightly, “Thank you.”

She watches as her mother-in-law leaves without looking back and she sighs, covering her face with her hands as she blows out a steady breath.

“Everything okay, Mrs Hotchner?”

She looks up at Marjorie and nods, not sure if she believes herself, and she smiles, “Yes, Marjorie. Everything is fine, can I have the bill please?”

Now she had to figure out how to tell Aaron, how to dash the small amount of hope she knows he’d let bloom.

___

As soon as she’s through the door Jack runs up to her, his arms tight around her, almost knocking her off balance with the force of his affection.

“Hi, Mom!”

“Hi sweetie,” she replies, ruffling his hair as he pulls away, laughing when he grumbles like she knew he would, “How are you?”

“Me, Dad and Zac came up with some new names for baby sister.”

She smiles as she sees her husband appear in view before she turns her attention back to her eldest, “Oh really, what’s on the list today.”

“Zac and I like Winnie, like Winnie the Pooh, but Dad said that wasn’t a good idea.”

She looks back up at her husband, exchanging a knowing look with him as she undoes her jacket and he steps behind her to help her out of it, “Dad really is a spoilsport, huh?”

She can almost hear the way Aaron rolls his eyes before he addresses Jack, “Buddy, go play with your brother we’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

Emily turns to look at her husband as Jack does as he’s asked, calling his little brother’s name as he runs away. “So…Winnie’s on the no list?”

He shakes his head at her and wraps his arms around her, leaning in to stamp a kiss against her lips, “On the maybe list. For middle names,” he replies, he tucks some of her hair behind her ear, pausing for a moment before he carries on, “How was Mom?”

She sighs, leaning forward as best as she can with her bump pressed between them, briefly resting her forehead against his shoulder, “One of these days, it will annoy me that you know me so well.”

He smirks at her, shrugging slightly, “What can I say, it’s my life's work,” he jokes before his smile slips from his place, replaced with the look of a lost little boy that she’d seen too much of this week, “She took the money and left didn’t she?”

Her silence is answer enough, but she follows it up with a nod, “Yes, she did. I’m so sorry honey.”

He sighs, shaking his head at himself for feeling upset when he knew deep down this was how it would end. That her arrival back into his life would be nothing more than a blip, convenient to her because she wanted something.

“It’s okay…” he says, laughing bitterly, “I don’t know what I expected.”

“You expected your Mom to want to be in your life,” she says, pulling back to look at him, cupping his cheek, “And that’s okay.”

He nods, blowing out a steady breath, “I’m sorry you had to deal with all of this,” he says, frowning, “You’re about to have a baby you should be resting.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” she says, smiling softly at him, “Plus, I famously have mommy issues myself,” she shrugs as she pulls a smile out of him, the sight of it making her skin fizz, “This is kind of what I’m made for,” her smile widens when he shakes his head and laughs. “What can I do to help?”

“You’re already doing it,” he assures her, leaning forward to stamp a kiss to her forehead and then her lips, “Just by being you.”

She knows there are more conversations to be had, and that he had a long way to go until he was okay with this, but she was happy with that was a start, “Okay, I’ve been told my whole life that I’m unapologetically myself, so I can do that.”

His response is cut off as Jack calls for them, his voice echoing around the house. Aaron smiles at his wife and puts his arm around her shoulders as they walk towards the living room.

“Just think, it won’t be too long until this house gets even louder.” He quips, making her smile as he says it, her hand pressed into her stomach as they go.

Ava Winnie Hotchner is born five days later, and as Emily watches Aaron tell the boys how to hold their baby sister, she knows they’ll be okay because they had each other, and the family they’d built from scratch.

-x-

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#aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fan fic #aaron x emily #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss

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perseus-veil · 3 months ago

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my thoughts on the veilguard

i finally finished the game last night and my brain is a mess after a long week of work so none of this is gonna be concise and will take jabs at braindead takes but whatever this is my house <33

gonna do this in pros and cons and under the cut if anyone is remotely interested in reading it!!

pros

the writing/story - i don't have a problem with the writing at all. all three acts were banging, especially act 3 where everything becomes more urgent and fast paced. i felt like i was playing a dragon age game, and that didn't change the entire time. - only having three choices carry over didn't make me upset or angry (unlike like some of y'all), and expecting to be able to carry over every choice you made from inquisition was crazy. how many important choices from dragon age 2 carried over into inquisition? not many. i know what choices i made in the past and how it shaped thedas and that's enough for me, i didn't need to go through it all again just for the sake of getting a random codex page or character mention. - i really enjoyed solas and rook's dynamic, especially when it all comes to a head and he traps them in the fade. manipulating and moulding them into someone similar enough to himself to take his place in the prison of regret only for them to escape by themselves (and with varric's help) because unlike solas, they know how to move forward. insane to me. i'm chewing on live wires.

companions - every companion is wonderful and beautifully written. i love how most of the story is based around them, instead of each of them just having one throwaway companion quest that does jack shit for their development. - in my playthrough, i chose treviso over minrathous, so i ended up with a hardened neve. i love that rook has to work hard to prove that they really care about her and her home, and that earning her trust fully is no small feat. it's so cool that she doesn't simply follow rook blindly, and spends a good chunk of time trying to help back home before returning. - also i really loved how regardless of loyalty and depending on your choices, some of your companions can still die. choosing between harding and davrin took me back to mass effect 1 where you have to save either kaidan or ashley, and inquisition where you have to choose between hawke and a warden, which i thought was so cool. i ended up choosing harding, as she's been there since the beginning. it makes sense to me for her to be the first to fall. very fitting, loved it.

romance - i romanced lucanis for my first playthrough. not having much content didn't bother me, as it made sense story wise. he's been in an underwater prison for a year, tortured and tormented, so naturally he's gonna be slow to trust anyone, and like a hardened neve, you have to work to earn it. and in the end, it's so worth it.

animations/art style - i know i've said it before but the facial animations aren't that bad. even then, i don't really care because mass effect andromeda is one of my all time favourite games and the animations in that are still. not great. veilguard's animations don't have shit on the disaster that was andromeda when it came out lmaoo - bioware have a habit of reinventing the wheel and changing art styles with every dragon age game, but i do really like veilguard's style. it was never gonna look like inquisition, a game that's Ten Years Old, so idk what some of y'all were expecting. i don't care that it looks a lil cartoony, it's nice to look at.

environment/locations - we finally got to fuckigng go to kal sharok. i know it wasn't for long or that much but!! it was enough <33 - every location is visually stunning, i could've spent hours just wandering around aimlessly looking at everything and taking pretty pictures. next time i plan to turn most of the ui off to take it all in. - i also don't get the hate for that lil purple tinge to everything, especially in arlathan forest. it's pretty. what the fuck are you talking about.

combat - i LOVED the combat system in this one. i had to play on pc (which i don't normally do) and i chose the easiest difficulty because i'm mostly here for the story, but the combat was so fun and engaging, and i enjoyed having to actually pay attention to it as opposed to just holding down a button to attack and not needing to worry about much else. - also the combo opportunities with companions was s o cool to play around with. we blowin everyone up to absolute shit babeyy

cons

(i don't actually have many cons so i'm just gonna bang em all out here) - i really hated how they literally nuked the south. i'm not mad about the lack of choices carrying over, but i am a little mad about the fact that every decision i made over three games turned out to be all for nothing. why did they do that. hello. i'm ignoring it <33 - i do really love how they included the option of having a trans or non binary rook, but characters actually saying 'non-binary' in game sounded. strange?? like it just doesn't fit in a fantasy setting because it's a real-life modern thing?? idk this one isn't a big deal i don't mind so much. also my gender is Whatever so don't come at me - while i don't want my companions threatening to kill each other all the time, i do miss having more conflict. there were plenty of opportunities for that, like with bellara and taash's banter regarding artifacts and the lords' 'dalish advisor'. you can't have such a diverse group of people and not have some type of conflict, it just doesn't seem natural otherwise.

anyway that's it i'm not gonna say anything else because i don't want the deranged girlies coming after me <33

#dragon age: the veilguard #datv spoilers #not looking forward to the response on this one if there's any #i love the game so s o much and that's all that matters to me

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pageandpanel · 1 year ago

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(originally posted @ Page and Panel on wordpress)

Per my last post, everyone knows it’s been a while since I’ve posted regularly here. But I’m working on getting back at it so where better than with my Marvel Read Through.

But first a correction: In my first Marvel post, I claimed that it contained the first three years of continuity. Well, that was a lie. I’ve been reading these comics in chunks of around 20-30 issues at a time and I thought I could reasonably cram 20 issues of continuity into a single post and still have it be readable. That was also a lie. Instead of 20, I ended up covering only six comics. But once I came to my senses, I forgot to go back and change my intro. You think I proofread these posts before I send them out into the world? Absolutely not. We write like college English majors submitting a paper 15 minutes before the deadline or we don’t write at all!

That being said, we are starting off in July of 1962, Almost a full year since Fantastic Four #1 was published. Marvel won’t churn out the volume of comics we see today for another several years and we’re lucky if we see one or two comics a month, let alone a dozen titles a week. I also want to get better about doing credits in this. For now we mostly just see the team of Stan Lee and Jack Kirby at the head of every book. But, we have letterers and inkers to acknowledge and after this post, I think, we’re going to see a mix up on some creative teams. Best to get into the habit now.

The Incredible Hulk

The Incredible Hulk #2 (published July 1962; story by Stan Lee, art by Jack Kirby; letters by Artie Simek, inks by Steve Ditko) opens with Hulk wandering aimlessly through a swamp, headed for a small town. A sheriff spots him and alerts everyone to take shelter and calls back up. A bunch of sheriffs try to take Hulk down, but obviously fail.

Thankfully, Rick Jones arrives on scene and is able to calm Hulk down and lead him away, apparently using the earliest known version of Natasha’s weirdo “lullaby” from Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015). How it evolved into *sexy voice* “The sun’s gettin’ real low…” or whatever, is beyond me. And I can’t relive that awful movie or that shoe-horned in fanfic relationship again, so let’s just move on.

Jones manages to coax Hulk to safety and the next morning he’s back to being regular Bruce Banner. Bruce begs Rick to just leave him because he knows he’ll never be able to control the Hulk. Rick refuses to abandon him though. There’s a lot of guilt here and Rick clearly blames himself, as the accident that created the Hulk was during Bruce’s attempt to save Rick’s life. So, I guess they’re just trauma bonded forever. That seems healthy.

We cut away from the emo-est boys of 1962 because, elsewhere, a spaceship has landed. These aliens are aptly named The Toad Men.

They have come seeking the “most brilliant scientific mind on Earth.” And that just so happens to be Bruce Banner. Though, we also have the same claim made by Reed Richards and Hank Pym, so I’m curious what metrics everyone is using. Can we get a proper rubric and a ranking system for this? In a few decades we’ll get periodically updated lists from Marvel on who the smartest people in the universe are, but these three tend to stick somewhere close to the top. Anyway, the Toad Men are here to decide if the smartest man on the planet is enough to resist their planned invasion of Earth. They find Banner and Jones in the Hulk Cave that Banner has set up to contain himself at night. The two are captured and taken aboard the Toad Men’s ship.

The leader of the Toad Men, Torrak, spills their whole plan to Banner and Jones and claims that because they have mastered the magic of magnetism, they cannot be defeated. Magneto is calling from 1963 and he says hands off my schtick. Banner refuses to talk and, because he’s of no use to them, Torrak ejects Rick Jones from the ship in a plastic tube back to Earth. Smart idea to tell a guy your whole plan and then send him home for help, I guess.

On the ground, the US Military has decided to use the classic soft touch both the Hulk and the Military are known for. By launching missiles at an unknown ship and bringing it to crash down in the desert. I’m glad even in the 60s, the US Military was known for being incredibly diplomatic and never following the orders of an absolute blowhard who wants to shoot first and question later….

The ship comes down and because it’s daytime back on earth, the Hulk is gone, leaving Banner in the wreckage. The Toad Men have tunneled underground to escape, leaving behind a scene doesn’t look great for our hero. Ross has Banner arrested for treason because he’s too busy nursing a personal grudge and inferiority complex to ask whether or not he was on the ship willingly. And while Betty Ross tries to plead for Banner’s release, more ships appear in the sky. The Toad King has taken over Earth’s airwaves to announce the incoming invasion. Using magnets, the Toad Men will pull the Moon closer to the planet and unless the people of earth surrender, they will let the moon crash into Earth and kill everyone. Not a great use of a planets’ resources or even really a sustainable invasion, but I guess live your life.

That night, Bruce Banner watches the sun go down and laments what has become of him in, honestly, some of my favorite panels in any of these comics so far.

As the Hulk, he’s able to escape prison and goes hunting for Ross. He ends up at their house where he startles Betty. Ross calls in some soldiers and a tank to the stand-off basically happening in his living room. Hulk escapes with Betty in one of the absolute funniest panels ever. (Ya’ll, Jack Kirby came to play on this book)

Hulk escapes the fight, kidnapping Betty and taking her back to his lap. Betty demands to know why Hulk hates them so much. And Hulk responds with basically “You keep trying to kill me obviously I hate you!” Rick tries to reason with Hulk but fails. Thankfully the sun rises and Hulk becomes Bruce once more.

With the Toad Men’s fleet still hovering over the Earth, Bruce realizes he must use the Gamma Gun he’s created on them. Suspense builds, as no one knows how Gamma will react with magnets! Bruce readies the gun while Rick holds back the soldiers. Thankfully it works and Bruce is declared a hero and cleared of treason. No one seems to question why they followed the Hulk to Bruce’s lap or why the Hulk is gone or how Bruce got out of prison. But at least the Moon isn’t going to crash into the Earth anymore so we’ll take the Ws where we can get them. The only person who suspects the Bruce/Hulk connection is Thunderbolt Ross, but he’s an asshole anyway. And no one really has to worry about the Toad Men because, unlike the Skrulls, we’ll never see this alien race again.

Fantastic Four

Once again, we get a main player in the Marvel Universe introduced SUPER early in Fantastic Four continuity. Fantastic Four #5 (July 1962; story by Stan lee, art by Jack Kirby, inks by Joe Sinnott, colors by Stan Goldberg, letters by Artie Simek) gives us the glorious introduction to Doctor Doom! And on a full splash page, no less.

We’ll get to him in a minute. For now he’s just going to hang out with his pet vulture and play Fantastic Four Barbies TM.

Reed, Sue, Johnny, and Ben are chilling at the Baxter Building, as they do when they’re waiting for the story to get going. Johnny is reading an in universe copy of The Incredible Hulk, which is a really cool way to advertise your new book and I actually really do love it. Even if it does break continuity a little in a few issues.

Johnny harasses Ben a little, even though Ben is simply trying to enjoy his morning tea. The fight like they always do and it ends with a comic book on fire. Always the parents of the group, Reed and Sue pull them apart before they can actually fight each other. Classic FF opening shenanigans.

Reed Richards into rope play? More likely than you think. 😏

Suddenly, the lights go out in the Baxter Building despite being connected to a generator. A net drops over the entire building. 🚨ASBESTOS WATCH🚨 Johnny remarks that he cannot burn through it because it’s made of Asbestos. Seriously hope Johnny got in on those law suits and/or the smartest man in the universe helps get him some fresh lungs in a decade or two. Anyway, it’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Enter Doctor Doom! Who has apparently decided it’s time to stop playing with his action figures and come deal with the real Fantastic Four. From his helicopter, he calls out to them and Reed immediately recognizes the voice.

Cue flashback:

Victor Von Doom and Reed Richards were college roommates. But Doom’s interest in sorcery proved to be his downfall. During an experiment to communicate with the dead, Doom sets off an explosion and is expelled from school. More on that eventually.

For now, Doom demands to take Sue as a hostage and she agrees. Once she’s on his ship, he binds her and then demands the rest of the FF board the ship and promise not to attack him. It seems like he probably could have just bound them all up to ensure that no one had their fingers cross, but whatever. It’s his party and we’re all just invited along for the ride. He does put them in a cage though, and takes them to his castle.

This is where we find out that Doctor Doom has invented Time Travel, thus beginning a long and storied history of Time Fuckary in the Marvel Universe. His plan is to send them on a quest in pirate times to procure Blackbeard’s treasure for him. Why can’t he just rob a bank? Good question. Couldn’t tell you.

But in order to save Sue, the rest of the team must agree to this. They go back in time and land in a port where two pirates are conveniently arguing over a pile of period appropriate costumes and fake beards. Ben scares the men away and the three of them suit up to blend in, I guess.

Why do they have wigs and fake beards? Good question. Why does Ben conveniently get black hair and a black beard? Isn’t he getting super into character for a thing they don’t actually want to do? I know what you’re thinking. And trust me, we’ll get there. I promise the pay off is everything you want it to be and more.

Yeah. Ben Grimm was Blackbeard all along. I love comics.

After the fight, they acquire Blackbeard’s treasure and Reed points out that they only agreed to give Doom the chest, not the treasure inside. And that is technically correct, the best kind of correct. So they quickly exchange the riches for chains.

Ben, reveling in his new-found fame, announces that he will not be returning with Reed and Johnny. He claims that there is nothing for him in their time, but at least here he’s made something of himself. To ensure that the other two can’t drag him back to their home time, he orders his crew to soak Johnny with water and wraps Richard in a sail. While he’s preparing to set his two friends loose on the open sea in a lifeboat, a cyclone hits the ship and destroys it. Thus Reed, Johnny, Ben, and the treasure chest all wash ashore.

A time portal opens above them and they are all brought back to the present along with the treasure chest. Doom explains that the reason he couldn’t simply rob a bank is because the treasure contains gems enchanted by Merlin that will make him invincible. When he opens the chest to find nothing but chains, Ben attacks. His punch destroy’s Doom’s armor, revealing that he was nothing more than a robot all along. I can’t believe we got Doombots on Doom’s first appearance. Again, I love comics.

Doom appears on a screen from another part of the castle where he still has Sue Storm hostage. But she’s not going down without a fight. Turning invisible, she manages to short circuit Doom’s control panel and cause an explosion. She escapes and reunites with the rest of the team. Reed, because he’s definitely in the top three ranking of smartest men on Earth, says it’s not worth trying to capture Doom who very likely has traps set up all around his castle. So the Fantastic Four escape through an alligator infested mote in an absolutely nonsense way that prove to me that neither Stan Lee nor Johnny Storm understand how fire works.

Regardless, the team escapes. And once they’re safely out of the castle, Johnny sets it on fire. Because apparently he’s fully trying to murder Doom. Which, I get it. But it kinda goes against the hero code we know and love where heroes don’t actually kill the bad guys. That’s anti-hero territory and we’re a long way off from Frank Castle, still.

The team watches Doom blast out of the castle with a jetpack. We’ll be see him again very soon and for the rest of continuity.

Amazing Spider-Man

Okay technically this is Amazing Fantasy #15 (August 1962; story by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko, art by Steve Ditko, colors by Stan Goldberg, letters by Artie Simek) but it’s the first appearance of Spider-Man and the only issue of Amazing Fantasy I’m going to read so it’s basically Amazing Spider-Man #0. Everyone knows this origin story. We’ve seen Uncle Ben bleed out in the streets almost as many times as we’ve seen Martha Wayne’s pearls artfully break and scatter in a Gotham alleyway. But here it is, one more time, for the sake of continuity

Peter Parker is an unassuming high school student. He’s an outcast an deemed a “professional wall flower” by his peers. We open with a group of kids talking about going to a dance they would never in a million years invite Peter to. And I know we’re supposed to think these kids are mean and they’re bullying poor Pete. But let’s be honest, Steve Ditko can’t draw teenagers and Peter looks like a 40 year old divorced math teacher. I wouldn’t want to invite him to the dance either.

And it makes sense that Peter is 40 because Aunt May and Uncle Ben are like 110. Seriously Ditko? Why are they so old? Where did you learn to draw people of varying ages? I don’t love Ditko’s art in this as much as I’ve enjoyed Kirby’s on everything else. But he’s really going to shine when he gets to Doctor Strange so I’m holding out for those issues and hoping he’s learned how to draw someone in their late 20s/early 30s by then.

Peter lives with his only living relatives, Aunt May and Uncle Ben. They’re poor but happy and peter is well loved. We don’t learn yet what happened to his parents or how he ended up with his Aunt and Uncle, but that’s not important right now.

Instead of going to dances with teenagers, 40 year old divorced math teacher getting his groove back attends demonstrations of radioactive rays. While watching the demonstration, Peter doesn’t notice a spider drop down onto him until it’s too late. This is literally my worst nightmare I would simply cease to exist.

Peter handles it a little better than I would, though. The spider dies and, feeling a little lightheaded, Peter leaves the demonstration early. Nothing out of the ordinary there…

Side note: Steve Ditko also can’t draw spiders. Can Steve Ditko just not draw? Something to think about.

On his way home he almost gets hit by a car and when he goes to jump out of the way, he discovers that he can jump much further than he thought. He plays around with his powers for a bit, testing their limits and possibilities. He’s strong, he’s fast, he can climb walls. Does whatever a spider can, etc etc. You know the drill.

Later, using his new powers, Peter enters a wrestling match as the “Masked Marvel” and win’s $100. After the match, he is greeted by a TV producer and invited to join him in show business, like you do. Put a pin in that. Because now it’s time for a comic book style make-over montage. Peter goes home to make himself a costume. Project Runway, look out. It’s actually a pretty cool black and red suit. If you’ve seen one Spider-Man costume, you’ve seen them all. This one has the web-wings that don’t make it into every version but still look pretty cool here.

He also makes himself a batch of what he calls web fluid. No real explanation as to how or what it’s made of. But when you’re a 40 year old divorced math teacher with an interest in radiation, you’ve probably got a lot of stuff laying around to whip something up.

Later, Spider-Man has become a celebrity wrestler. One night he goes back stage to see guards chasing a thief and gives them the most fateful “Not my problem, I just work here” in history. Because as fate would have it, a few days later Spider-Man learns that his uncle has been killed by a burglar. Peter puts on his costume and chases the man to an empty warehouse. A fight ensures, the man pulls a gun that peter blasts with web. When he sees the man’s face, Peter realizes that this is not just any burglar, though. It is the same thief Spider-Man let escape.

Peter leaves the burglar wrapped in web for the police to find and goes home to ponder exactly what great responsibility comes with this great power. And that’s the last we’ll see of him for a while. Amazing Spider-Man #1 comes out in March of 63–a year in real time, several recap blog posts from now in my time.

Journey Into Mystery

That brings us to our last first appearance of a new hero for a while: Journey into Mystery #83 (August 1962; story by Stan Lee and Larry Lieber, art by Jack Kirby, inks by Joe Sinnott, colors by Stan Goldberg, and letters by Artie Simek) introduces us to… Donald Blake? No, that can’t be right. The story promised Thor and the Stone Men from Saturn! So, if you’re only familiar with Thor from the movies live I was, and had never really dipped into Thor comics written before a certain point, it was pretty surprising to find that Thor also used to have an alter-ego. In my head, Thor is just Thor. I read a lot of Walt Simonson’s Thor run from the 80s, Jason Aaron’s run from the last decade, and I had known about Blake in passing, but mostly through modern stuff addressing prior retcons. I didn’t realize that for the first several years of being a character, Thor was basically just a costume worn by Donald Blake, and not the other what around. And, yeah, it’s a little more complicated than a costume, but still.

The story opens with our introduction to Donald Blake, a doctor from the US who uses a cane to walk, on vacation in Norway. Conveniently also visiting Norway, are a bunch of rock aliens from Saturn (who kinda look like Ben Grimm painted green. Maybe Ben should go be on Saturn for a while?). Blake overhears a fisherman telling locals about the rock monsters, but no one seems to believe him. Blake decides to go look for himself and, sure enough, rock aliens. He steps on a twig while attempting to run away from the aliens. Obviously the aliens hear it and chase after him. And I’m just going to say it here, Donald Blake is not in the running for smartest scientist in the world. Reed, Hank, and Bruce can all rest easy knowing they’re definitely top three for the time being.

Blake runs for the hills–literally. He loses his cane and takes shelter in a cave. Unfortunately, the exit is blocked off so he’s basically trapped. Until! Magically a secret door opens to a chamber with a fresh new walking stick just lying on a pedestal. *Cardi B Voice* That’s suspicious. That’s weird. Not quite smartest man on earth smart, but smarter than your average bear smart, Blake decides to try to use the cane as a lever to move the boulder blocking his exit. When that doesn’t work, he slams the stick against the boulder out of frustration. There’s a flash of lightning and the stick becomes a hammer. Blake has been transformed into the Norse God of Thunder: Thor.

Weird, huh?

I do like that we get a quick rundown of all of Thor’s powers as Blake slowly works them out for himself. He is super strong, meaning he can lift the boulder out of his way. He can also summon storms and he figures out that if the hammer is throne, it immediately comes back to him. Which does lead to a funny contradiction that Stan Lee will start correcting in future issues.

If he’s not holding the hammer, he goes back to being Blake immediately sometimes. However, if he throws it, he can stay in Thor Form long enough for it to come back to him? Stan Lee will literally give us a countdown timer for how long he can be Thor without the Hammer in his hand later. Thor’s powers as they relate to how close Blake is to the hammer is never consistent despite Stan’s best efforts and it’s so funny to me.

Now that he has super-powers Blake AKA Thor can go out and face the aliens, whose fleet of ships has shown up in Earth’s atmosphere. Thor attacks the aliens and breaks through all of their defenses, including an incredibly named Mechano-Monster. No match for the awesome might of Thor, they flee. Thor changes back into Dr. Bake and is fully ignored by the soldiers who come looking for the invaders.

Journey into Mystery #84 (September 1962; story by Larry Lieber, art by Jack Kirby, inks by Dick Ayers, colors by Stan Goldberg, and letters by Artie Simek) is where Mystery sort of becomes our anti-communist book. More on that when we unpack. But for now, it’s also our first appearance of Jane Nelson… I mean Foster. Yeah, Nelson doesn’t really have the same ring to it. I’m glad they circled back on that one.

Blake returns home from his trip to Europe and learns that a revolution has broken out against a Communist ruler in San Diablo. As a result, several American doctors agree to go and help, Blake among them. Obviously this is a problem for our evil Communist dictator (and kinda racist caricature), known as The Executioner. And he for sure cam by that name honestly, as we’ll see in a minute. His goal is to keep the peasants too sick and weak to overthrow his government. Which, yeah, that’s definitely what an evil dictator would do.

The other thing an evil dictator would do is send fighter jets to drop bombs on the ship carrying those doctors. Thankfully, Blake is on board. He turns into Thor and smashes the bombs out of the sky. There’s a lot of running back and forth and trying to make sure it’s clear that no one has realized that Blake is Thor despite how often Blake disappears right when Thor arrives which is actually pretty funny.

Despite The Executioner’s best efforts, the boat makes land at San Diablo and the doctors and medical staff come ashore to help the sick and injured civilians.

I was actually surprised to see the on-page display of the Executioner’s firing squad as he demonstrates to his soldier what their fate will be if they do not stop Blake and the other doctors from doing what they came to do. Even without seeing the blood and guts, this was a little brutal for an area that I mostly associate with extreme ✨camp✨.

When their team is attacked again, Thor tries to fight off the soldiers. Eventually, they capture Jane and force Thor to retreat.

I do love that we get an editor’s note user manual for Mjolnir. We’ll get a lot more of these attempts to make his powers make sense because Stan Lee can’t just leave it as “it’s magic, get over it.”

Appearing as Donald Blake, Thor arrives at the Executioner’s base to demand the release of Jane Foster. Obviously, not one for following orders, The Executioner takes Blakes walking stick and orders him to the firing squad. In another “smarter than your average bear” moment, Blake challenges the dictator to fight him man to man. Laughable considering how frail Blake looks. However, Blake manages to get the walking stick away from the Executioner and transform himself into Thor once more.

The storm Thor creates washes away the soldiers as they shout out exactly what we can see happening on the page. This is a writing tick that I so closely associate with Stan Lee that I was a little surprised to only see him listed as the editor on this story. It’s definitely my least favorite thing about a lot of Silver Age comics.

While Thor is fighting off the communist soldiers, democratic forces arrive with aid, causing the communists to flee the fight. Seeing his military in shambles, The Executioner decides now is as good a time as any to cut and run. He steals a bunch of gold and tries to flee. But the communist army catches him and sentence him to his own firing squad for being a traitor. Naturally, the communists realize that the Americans have been their true friends all along and the war comes to an end. Interesting.

In the last few panels of the story, we are assured that no one has connected the Thor/Blake dots yet. And Jane laments that Blake will never be as brave or handsome as The Mighty Thor. So we have our third female character who still kinda only exists to be a potential love interest for our super smart hero man.

There’s a lot to unpack here.

The Hulk Is My Surprise Favorite Comic?

I hadn’t really expected Hulk to be my favorite book of the era, but after two issues it really is shaping up to take that trophy. Jack Kirby is pulling from a lot of old EC horror comics for influence here and I love it. At this point in continuity, Hulk is much more a monster comic than a superhero comic and that has to be a lot of Kirby’s doing. If you read a little about him, you’ll find that he created a lot of the famous monsters in the Marvel Universe and it kinda feels like Hulk was always supposed to fit the horror genre.

This book is also where you really get to see Kirby draw with emotion. The “camera” gets up close and personal in a way that just doesn’t happen in Fantastic Four. There are so many panels of Bruce’s horror and despair that come through so intensely. There’s also more exploration with color in this book than any other. And it’s a little hard to talk about color when I’m reading digital copies where the color and inking have been redone completely. But, there’s just a different pallet at work here. And if you dig into superhero color theory you’ll learn a lot about how heroes mostly get colored with primary colors. Lots blues and reds, specifically. And villains get secondary colors, i.e. green.

I’m just really surprised by how drawn into this book I am, when I’ve never really cared much for Hulk stories.

Aliens and Space-Exploration

We’re getting a lot of Alien invasion stories. I think that’s just a really common plot line for serialized stories in this time period. For some historical contest, we’re in the second decade of the Soviet vs US space race. most of these comics are being published just a year after the first human spaceflight. And we’re still seven years from the first man on the moon. I’m sure there was a lot of anxiety around what exactly was out there, in a space that only a very special and highly trained (despite what the Fantastic Four may think) few could go.

I also think it’s so interesting that we’re at a point where we’re about to start seeing some recycled villains, specifically in the Fantastic Four, but we have several alien invasions and no repeat invaders. In fact, none of the aliens we have seen so far will have any staying power except the Skrulls, which will eventually become a Whole Thing.

Anti-Communist Propaganda

Thor being the HARD anti-communist propaganda book is certainly a choice. I read ahead on Marvel Wiki just to see if San Diablo ever gets mentioned again and apparently it becomes a US-backed democratic state and in 1985 we’ll get a story about Captain America vs a native San Diablan who wants to fund a revolution to overthrow the American created government in his home country. Curious to see how that story is treated, and how two decades will change the way we view American interventionism. Right now, we’re still a little deep in Vietnam for some reflection.

I also didn’t really expect these books to be SO propaganda heavy in such a cringy way. And I probably should have. Stan Lee has never exactly been an iconoclast. But knowing about Kirby’s backstory and Ditko’s personal politics, it will be interesting to see how that comes through in later books.

#the incredible hulk #fantastic four #tales to astonish #spiderman #journey into mystery #marvel comics #the marvel method

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iviarellereads · 4 months ago

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A Swiftly Tilting Planet, Chapter 11 All these I place

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index for the Time Quintet, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

In which we continue the ableism, and the info dump, without a whole lot of real climax.

Charles comes to his senses on the star-watching rock with Gaudior again. Gaudior explains that the wind drew him out of Chuck, after he was institutionalized after all.(1) Charles asks if the visions of a fight on a cliff are real, and Gaudior asks what real even means, when it comes to this.

The wind tells them to hurry, there's not even time to tie Charles to Gaudior again. The journey is hard, and they land in a Projection from the Echthroi first. They see men with gas masks and guns, and flee before they can determine if the men can see them, though they're still in the Projection for now.

Meg shivered. Within the kythe she saw the star-watching rock and a golden summer’s day. There were two people on the rock, a young woman, and a young man—or a boy? She was not sure, because there was something wrong with the boy. But from their dress she was positive that it was the time of the Civil War—around 1865.(2)

Going Within is agony, this time, because Matthew is disabled from the waist down after a horse riding accident. He's in deep and unrequited love with Zillah, who he's meeting on the star watching rock, having asked a friend to wheel him out. She asks him what's wrong, and he says, something's happened to Bran. They were always closer than most twins, but after the accident, Matt feels it was Bran who brought him back to life, and now they share a kything connection.

Matt and Zillah talk about their families' closeness for a bit, then Zillah asks if Matt's told his family about Bran. Matt says they don't understand the connection, so he'd rather not freak them out.

A week later, they receive confirmation that Bran was wounded, and will "be invalided home."(3) Mrs. Maddox is relieved he's alive, and he'll come home with no worse than a bad leg. Matt, to himself, believes it is worse than just that, as Bran's been shutting him out of their connection, cutting himself off.

Mr. Maddox is glad that Bran will be able to make the store Maddox and Son. Matt notices the unspoken part: that it's never "and Sons", and never will be. He's dedicated to his writing, but it still hurts to be excluded. Most of a page is spent describing the store, the house behind it, and the name they gave the house: Merioneth, in honour of a cousin in Wales.

Then Gwen asks what Matt's lost in thought about, and he lies that he's plotting another book. The family turns to cooing over his stories and his successes, but Matt warns them gently that Bran will need their support when he gets home. And of course, when Bran arrives, he was right.

About three months after that, Matt sends word to Zillah to meet him at the rock again. This time he wheels himself out, though it's exhausting work. Zillah asks after Bran, and Matt says he's still not improved. Zillah thinks he just needs more time, but Matt says he's had nothing but time, what Matt thinks Bran needs is to open up and talk.

Zillah shares that Bran asked her to return the engagement ring, because he doesn't want to burden her as a husband. She asks how she can help Bran. Matt just tells how Bran wouldn't take him riding, blaming his leg despite that it should have healed well enough by now to be tolerable.(4)

On that note, Matt tangents into seeing Gwen and Jack O'Keefe, the hired hand, making out in the stable. Matt is uncomfortable with Jack, as he scorns anything that's not physically perfect, and he's cruel about it. But, he's brimming with life, while Gwen's home life is two brothers who are both disabled in one way or another, so Jack makes an enticing escape.

One evening, Mr. Maddox tells Bran he should take up the Welsh lessons Matt and Zillah still attend. Bran is dismissive about it. Matt distracts by suggesting how Gwen's cheekbones make her look "more Indian than Welsh", but Mr. Maddox says Mrs. Maddox is ashamed of the Indigenous heritage in their line, and besides, black hair and blue eyes are quite common among the Welsh, as well as (with a pointed look at Bran) a strong work ethic.

That night, Matt confronts Bran about shutting him and Zillah out. Bran asks Matt not to be impatient with him, too, their father's bad enough. Matt agrees, that's their Papa. Bran says he's not made to be a storekeeper. The war(5) confirmed his love of travel and adventure, he just… doesn't like the killing, and he's not sure one comes without the other. Still, Matt is hopeful, as this is the best conversation they've had since Bran's return.

Later, Matt is writing, when Bran comes to him, and finally, really opens up. He thought he was going to fight a noble war, but there's nothing noble about the carnage he witnessed. Finally, Bran's heart's wound lets loose, and he weeps with his twin. When he's done, they confirm their reconnection, but declares his intent to go to Patagonia with their cousin, to see about that Welsh colony. Matt is sad, because he surely can't go with his disability, even if Bran's is minor enough to allow him, and they'd wanted to go together. But, Bran promises to share everything he can with Matt, so he can help inspire more stories. Matt reminds Bran that he should tell Zillah as well, since she still wears his ring.

That night, the families dine together, and talk about the Welsh expedition. Bran declares his intent to go, and reminds them that Dr. Llawcae suggested a warmer climate would do him good. Mr. Maddox asks if he couldn't go to Georgia for that, but Bran reminds him where he was injured. Mrs. Maddox doesn't want her son going so far away so soon after getting him back.

Bran supports his case by saying how much he relates, in a way, to Madoc, leaving his homeland because of a ghastly war between men who should be brothers to each other. The fathers approve of his memory of a specific passage, in the original Welsh no less, from a poem about it.

Zillah, finally, confronts him about leaving. Her father protests, she's only seventeen, she can't get married. She says plenty of women are married at seventeen, mothers even, and she still wants to be Bran's wife. Her father says after Bran is settled there a year or two, to be sure of his situation and her safety.

Instead, Gwen is sent with Bran, after Mr. Maddox catches her smooching Jack. Gwen and Zillah bond over neither having control of her own life and choices before they leave.

While the journey is still underway, Matt relays to Zillah about their progress, and how Bran sends his love. Matt remembers "the old Indian verses" about Madoc's descendants.

“It’s beautiful,” Zillah said, “but I don’t really know what it means.” “It’s not to be taken literally. The Indians believed that as long as there was one blue-eyed child in each generation, all would be well.” “But it wasn’t, was it? They’ve been long gone from around here.” “I think it was a bigger all-rightness than just for their tribe.(6) Anyhow, both you and Gwen have at least a drop of Indian blood, and you both have the blue eyes of the song.” “So, in a way,” Zillah said dreamily, “we’re the last of the People of the Wind. Unless—” Matthew smiled at her. “I think you’re meant to have a black-haired, blue-eyed baby.” “When?” Zillah demanded. “Bran’s a world away from me. And I’ll be old and white-haired and wrinkled before Papa realizes I’m grown up and lets me go.”

Matthew's work starts really taking off, and his father finally acknowledges it as real work and helps him set up an unused room as a study with a better lap desk that he can use and look out at the forest.

At midsummer, letters start to arrive back from Bran, and he sends Matthew the most vivid accounts that he can, as promised, on top of their connection. Bran tells of a Richard Llawcae, who from description we can assume descended from Ritchie after he went back to Wales with Zylle. And, he describes Gwen's attraction to Gedder, much the same as she was to Jack. But, Gedder worries Bran. He's too ambitious and lordly and misogynist. Still, it's odd how Gwen and Zillie and Zillah look so alike. Bran misses his Zillah so much more when he sees how Zillie behaves and is ordered about.

That winter is hard on Matt. He's writing his book about Madoc and Gwydyr, but the cold seems inescapable as he's forced to think about brother fighting brother all the way back to Cain and Abel. Zillah is a comfort to him, though he's sure somehow that Vespugia is the next place to watch.

Bran sends word of the first death in the colony: a child who climbed up a cliff they shouldn't have. Rich was the greatest comfort to the mother, and Matt comments how much Rich loves Gwen, as he knows from observing to some uncertain degree through Bran.

Matt catches a bad cold, and is heavily weakened. He doesn't leave the study anymore, but he wrote a few more stories and started keeping the funds in a safe there. When he's too tired to write, he sleeps, and dreams of Charles who dreams of everything else.

Zillah and Matt renew their campaign to convince her father to let her go to Vespugia with Bran as Matt realizes that time is short, and she's needed there, soon. Alas, he will not be moved. As winter gives way to spring, Matt gives her the money from his books since she doesn't have her father's support. He's already bought the ticket for the ship that leaves in four days.

Dr. Llawcae is furious when she leaves without telling him. He complains shoutingly at the elder Maddoxes. When he comes to check Matt's heart after, he says he supposes Matt is well pleased about it. Matt just says Zillah and Bran should be together, they love each other so. And, Dr. Llawcae could go visit them, he's due a vacation after all these years. Dr. Llawcae isn't convinced.

Summer comes slowly, and Matt watches tensions build in the Welsh colony through Bran while he waits for Zillah to arrive. Gedder's favourite place is up on the cliff, overlooking the colony he wants to rule. One day, he and Rich quarrel up there, and Gedder falls to his death, the conflict on the cliff that's been so foreshadowed.

Matt finally gets a letter from Bran with more detail. Nobody blames Rich, not even Zillie, but Rich felt he couldn't stay. Bran says Gwen wants to go home, so Rich will take her.(7) Matt muses that his father will have a partner in the store at last, it can be Maddox and Llawcae instead of Maddox and Son.

Another verse of the song, about righting the ancient wrong, and the way being long, but blue shining through. A coughing fit hits Matt, and then things go dark, with a terrible smell.

Meg wakes from the kythe, worried for Matthew, though he's been dead at least two hundred years. She wonders what happened to him, and to Charles. She goes downstairs, where everyone's still up, and asks the twins to get her a cup of bouillon before she asks Mrs. O'Keefe what she remembers, and if Zillah really did get to Vespugia. Sandy maintains that the past is fixed, the only way you can affect time is the present shaping the future. But, Meg insists she needs to know who Branzillo's ancestors were because of the Might-Have-Been.

At all this, Mrs. O'Keefe tells them to stop talking and take her to Chuck, and quickly.

=====

(1) I don't particularly want to have seen it, but I also… don't like that it just happened off screen, taken for granted that it was the only way to get Charles to let go. (2) Well, they're finally in the right time period. Just in time for the penultimate chapter and the climax, of course. (3) Such a charming (derogatory) turn of phrase, no matter how historically accurate it is. (4) That's not really how chronic injuries work, though. Like, it's true that within the narrative it's not a matter of the leg itself, it's the psychological issue, the PTSD or whatever you want to call it. But, that's also not how injuries always work. (5) The war they keep referring to is probably the US civil war, given the reference to freeing slaves (and, at least Bran was on the historically correct side and acknowledges what that war was really about) and the reluctance to go to Georgia. It was historically a war that left a lot of PTSD behind it which is why people keep blaming things like the rise of modern ghost stories on it. (6) Flames. Flames, on the side of my face. (7) It's not entirely clear why this is slower than the letter, given how mail actually worked back then.

#madeleine l'engle #time quintet #a swiftly tilting planet #meg murry #gaudior #charles wallace murry #matthew maddox #zillah llawcae #mrs maddox (ttq 1800s)#mr maddox (ttq 1800s)#gwen maddox #mr llawcae (ttq 1800s)#sandy murry #mrs murry #mrs o'keefe

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dreamonseems · 3 years ago

Text

First Meeting

Pairing: Jack Harlow X Reader

- I kinda rushed the proof reading so hopefully it's ok🙈

Part 2

Since the Instagram live situation you did as you promised you DM'd him your number. You guys been texting and calling daily Non-Stop, after some time You and Jack finally decided to go on a date. Your nervous as hell it has been a long time since you went on a date, let alone had a relationship with anybody. You have put your career first above anything else and you know so has Jack.

The date ended up going amazing, you found yourself falling for him even more as time went by. But your afraid of falling in love with him your heart has been broken so many times in the past. It almost feels like you have a scar there that can't be mended, but your willing to try. Deep down you still believe there is someone out there who will love you for who you are, and maybe that person is Jack.

《Ding》

your thoughts are cut short once you hear your message notifications go off.

Jack 🤤💓

'Hi pretty lady I hope your having a good day. I really miss you.'

'just giving you a heads up a article come out about us. I'll send it to you I'll call you once I get home.'

'I'm doing radio interview today most likely they might ask about us.'

Clicking the link he sent and there in the front page is you, and Jack in one of your dates. He has his arm around you and your both laughing while your enjoying a nice dinner.

The headline states

'Jack Harlow and Y/N Y/LN dating after flirting on Instagram live'

Oh fuck, you were hoping that you guys could keep this on the down low. Until it became more serious at least, that's why you were always so careful when you guys went on dates. You want this relationship to feel real and not have the pressure of Society on you. Not only that but now your freaking out because you don't know what Jack will say in the interview. Most likely he won't say anything but there is a part of you that kinda wants him to confirm the romance between you two. You decide to tuin and listen.

The radio host starts "hes back today give it up for the one and only Jack Harlow!"

"Glad to be back, glad to be back!"

"You just came out with your new album your going on tour soon big things are happening for you."

"Yeah man it's pretty crazy last time I was here I was just a up coming artist, now I made it haha feels pretty good."

"See I told everyone I was like this kid is something special and look where you are now."

"Haha thanks it means alot I still can't believe it I wake everyday just grateful on how lucky I am."

"Talking about luck your a lucky guy to spark interest in the eyes of someone like Y/N Y/LN, how that happen man?"

"Haha I had a feeling this might have been brought up."

"Well you know how it is people want to know."

"I mean that's my girl."

"So it's official than yall are together."

Jack laughs and he's thinking to himself why is he even talking about this right now. Usually he doesn't like to talk about personal things he likes to keep his private life private. But there is something about Y/N that makes him want to shout out to the world that she belongs to him and him her.

"Haha well we are getting there."

The host laughs "My boy your blushing I think he's in love."

"Don't do me like that haha."

"It's true he's all red he in love you heard it here folks Jack Harlow is in love."

"I mean can you blame me shes pretty amazing."

"Yeah we've had her on before she a good girl and very beautiful."

" shes the whole package smart, funny, creative, and yeah insanely gorgeous."

"Do I hear wedding bells"

"What haha we taking our time with this all people need to know right now is that's my girl so I'm off the market"

You find yourself blushing after listening to that you can't believe that he actually said that. Love fuck I'm so in love with man it's crazy. You can't wait for him to call and tell him how you feel and make this official.

#jack harlow #fanfiction #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x you #jackman thomas harlow

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spencermyangel · 2 years ago

Note

Part 2 of Spencer being Hotch and Emily's son.

CW - CSA, self-harm, bullying mention

Gary Micheals didn’t exist in the old timeline but in this timeline.

Part 1

Hotch returned home after a long day at work and softly walked towards the nursery where he heard Emily softly singing a lullaby. He rounded the corner, a smile appearing on his face at the sight in front of him. Jack lay on a few blankets, playing with his toys as Emily cradled baby Spencer in her arms.

“How was work?” Emily asked in a hushed tone when she noticed Hotch standing in the doorway.

“Calm, just a paperwork day.”

“Okay. Let me know if you guys need anything, though.”

Emily had decided to take a few years off, until Spencer started school. She had missed raising Spencer the first time around and she didn’t want to give up this opportunity. She still consulted on cases from home occasionally.

3 years

Emily watched her precious baby boy sit in the corner reading a book. Emily knew that things in Spencer’s personality would likely not be different. She worried though, Spencer hadn’t spoken yet. Of course, Emily knew Spencer had autism. But, she realized she didn’t really know how it had affected Spencer as a child, she had never thought to ask. Spencer was already reading chapter books, but couldn’t speak.

It was also around this time she noticed Spencer had started squinting at things that were further away, the television for example.

“Aaron,” Emily said one evening when Hotch returned home, “I think Spencer needs glasses.”

“I guess we’ll have to take him to get tested, I’ll make an appointment.”

Hotch was worried about the appointment. He was unsure of how it would go with Spencer not being able to talk and his other needs. But, fortunately the optometrist was understanding and very patient with Spencer, and the appointment went smoothly.

On the way home though, Hotch noticed Spencer was acting off.

“Are you okay, Spencer?” Hotch asked, glancing at his son. Who stared forward as he adjusted his new round glasses.

Spencer shrugged and continued to stare ahead.

“You want to tell me what's wrong? Maybe I could help?”

Spencer considered this, before reaching into his bag that held different tools for him to use. He pulled out his communication book, flipping through the pages. He eventually landed on a picture of his half-brother, Jack. He pointed to it and then his new glasses.

“You’re worried about what Jack will think of your new glasses?” Hotch guessed, giving his son a reassuring smile when he nodded. “You don’t have to worry about that, Spence. I’m sure Jack will love them and think they’re cool.”

Spencer giggled at this, his nose wrinkling as he did. It was funny to him, the thought of being considered cool. Hotch shook his head fondly at his son, and continued the drive home.

A few hours later, the front door opened and Jack came running in.

“Spencer!” he shouted out, as he ran through the house, “you’ll never guess what happened toda-”

Jack cut himself off at the sight of his younger brother, new round glasses perched on his nose. Jack, always empathetic, saw the nervous look on his brother’s face and immediately knew what he was feeling.

“I like your glasses, Spence,” he said. Spencer looked up at him with wide eyes, “they’re awesome,” Jack continued, “like, Harry Potter!”

At that Spencer beamed at him. Harry Potter was something both of the brothers loved.

“You want to go watch? And I’ll tell you all about school today,” Jack offered. Spencer nodded and took his older brother’s hand as they walked over to the television.

7 years old

“Dad, do I have to go to school today?” Spencer asked Hotch as he was driven to school.

Hotch sighed. Spencer liked school, to learn. But, Hotch knew Spencer was picked on and didn’t really have friends. They had tried to solve the problem, even moving him to a different school, but it didn't help.

“Spencer, I know it’s hard when you’re different. Kids tease yo-”

“That’s not why,” Spencer cut Hotch off.

Hotch furrowed his brows, “then, why?”

Spencer hesitated, fidgeting with his hands, “I keep having weird dreams.”

“About what?”

“Sometimes they're nice. A woman reading to me or cuddling me,” Spencer paused, “but other times they’re scary. The same women chasing me around or screaming at me. Sometimes there's a scary man in them. He hurts me.”

Hotch’s breath caught in his throat. Him and Emily had discussed when they would tell Spencer about his other life and what had happened, but it was way too soon.

“Baby,” Hotch took Spencer in his arms, “you know what? How about today we have a dad and Spencer day?”

Spencer’s eyes lit up and he excitedly nodded.

“And, Spencer? I want you to tell me when you have these dreams, okay?” Hotch requested, unable to keep the worry out of his voice.

“Okay, Dad,” Spencer answered.

10 years old

Hotch peered into Spencer’s room. He watched his young son with concern. A year ago, Spencer had started high school. Ever since then he had become even more quiet and reserved. His nightmares had started up again and he had even begun wetting the bed.

He worried if Spencer's dreams of his past life were becoming more persistent but Spencer still told him whenever he had these dreams and they hadn’t reduced or increased. Hotch also knew Spencer was still bullied, but luckily there was a teacher who seemed to look out for Spencer. His English teacher, Mr. Michaels.

Hotch didn’t know what was wrong, but he decided he would keep an extra eye on Spencer.

“Hey, kid!” Morgan called over from where he, Jack, Henry, and JJ were playing baseball, “you want to play?”

Spencer looked up from his book and shook his head.

“One second,” Morgan told the others and jogged over to Spencer.

“What you reading, pretty boy?” Morgan asked.

“The Outsider’s,” Spencer answered, stopping from chewing on his chewy necklace for a second.

As Spencer flipped the page, the sleeve of his button up he had on under his sweater vest fell down his arm slightly. Morgan caught a glimpse of gold flash.

“Woah,” Morgan took Spencer’s arm in his, Spencer flinching slightly as he did so, “where did you get this?” Morgan admired the vintage style watch; it was gorgeous, with engravings on it. It was obviously expensive, “Did your dad get you that?” he asked in a joking tone. He knew how Hotch tended to spoil Spencer.

Spencer pulled his arm away and quickly pulled his sleeve down, covering the watch.

“No,” he answered, “I- um, I found it.”

Morgan furrowed his brow and watched Spencer with confused eyes. With his stuttering and nervousness, it almost seemed like Spencer was lying. But why would he lie about where he got the watch from? It’s not like he would have stolen it. Morgan decided to let it go for the time being. He ruffled Spencer’s hair and ran back over to finish playing baseball.

Later that night, Morgan went to go say goodnight to Spencer, before talking and having drinks with Hotch and Emily. But as he went to leave the room he spotted the watch on Spencer’s desk. But this time, his heart sank. Just below the face of the watch, with two birds on either side was an engraving in beautiful cursive.

Spencer

Morgan subtly grabbed the watch and went into the hallway, his mind racing. He remembered how Hotch had told him about some of the worries he had about Spencer. Wetting the bed, nightmares, trouble eating, being even more uncomfortable than usual with touch, and now an expensive gift that Spencer had lied about.

Morgan clenched the watch in his hands, as he tried to hold back tears. Memories of himself at thirteen flooded his brain. He had to tell Hotch.

Morgan slowly walked into Hotch and Emily’s living room, dreading what he had to tell them.

Hotch turned, his eyes immediately filled with alarm at the somber expression on Morgan’s face.

“Morgan, what’s wrong?” he asked, placing his glass on the coffee table.

“I think I know what’s wrong with Spencer,” Morgan simply said, holding his hand out with the gift in it.

Hotch took the watch in confusion, “what is this?”

Emily also peered at the watch with confusion on her face.

“Spencer told me he found it. He obviously lied.” Morgan pointed to the engraving of Spencer’s name.

Hotch’s eyes flashed up to meet Morgan’s. “And?”

“Come on, Hotch. Think about it. The bed wetting, the nightmares… this gift. We know these signs.”

Realization seemed to hit Hotch and Emily at exactly the same moment.

“No,” Emily gasped as Hotch became very quiet.

All three sat on the couch. Hotch held Emily as she stared into the distance, tears silently streaming down her face.

“We promised,” Hotch finally spoke, “we promised we would protect him, give him a good childhood. We failed.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Morgan told him, “you can’t be blaming yourself. Spencer is going to need you so badly. He’ll heal, it will take time, but he’ll heal.”

Morgan looked at his two friends crying, his own tears slowly making their way down his cheeks as well.

“Baby,” Hotch started one day, “I need to ask you a few questions, and I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that?”

Spencer looked up from the puzzle they were working on and nodded.

“Spencer, have any of your teachers or any of my friends ever made you uncomfortable in any way?”

At this Spencer froze and didn’t answer. His only movement was fiddling with a puzzle piece.

“You promised me you’d be honest.”

Spencer slowly nodded his head, avoiding his father’s eyes.

“Have they ever done anything… inappropriate with you?”

Spencer again didn’t answer, he curled in on himself and softly began to sniffle.

“Can you tell me who it was?” Hotch asked, over the lump in his throat.

At this Spencer frantically shook his head.

“Why not?”

“I promised to keep it a secret. He told me too,” Spencer whispered, tears shing on his cheeks.

Hotch’s heart clenched, “Well, I’m your father and I say you don’t have too. I need you to tell me, Spence. Please,” he almost begged.

At the desperation in his father’s voice, Spencer softly mumbled two words.

“Mr. Michaels.”

“Why would you do this to yourself, Spencer,” Morgan asked, pain in his voice as he held the young boy’s wrist in his hand. There were cuts littering it, the most prominent one right over where his watch used to lay.

Spencer blinked back tears, staring at the cuts, “deserve it,” he muttered.

“Why would you think that?”

Spencer let out a sob, his shoulder’s shaking, “I’m dirty. I deserve it.”

Morgan’s heart shattered at the self-hatred in the young boy’s voice. “No, Spencer. You’re not in any way dirty and you do not deserve this.”

“I am,” Spencer continued to cry, “Why would this happen if I wasn’t?”

Morgan knew, of course, what Spencer was speaking of. He, himself, had wrestled with these same thoughts over the years.

“Can I tell you something?”

Spencer quieted his sobbing and nodded.

“When I was thirteen, I played on a football team. The coach would treat me like his son, do lots of extra stuff for me. Sometimes he would even give me gifts,” Morgan started to explain, “he did these things so he could do something to me, and I wouldn’t say anything.”

Spencer rocked back and forth. He blinked at Morgan.

“He did the same thing to me, that Mr. Michaels did to you,” Morgan softly told Spencer. “So I understand how you feel, kid, I really do. I felt the same way, I used to feel dirty and broken. But I know now I’m not. It’s not my fault what happened to me and I didn’t do anything to deserve it. And you didn’t either. You’re not dirty or broken.”

At his last sentence, Spencer once again began sobbing. This time he turned to Morgan, who held him tightly as the young boy cried into his shoulder.

Age 12

Aaron and Emily watched with pride from the seats in Spencer and Jack’s highschool auditorium as both of their son’s walked across to accept their diploma.

“Who would have thought my 12 year old brother would be graduating with me?” Jack had remarked on the way there, much to the amusement of Emily and Hotch.

They of course knew some of the things to expect from Spencer’s childhood, but others were a complete surprise. They expected much of the same for his teenhood and young adulthood. Spencer had already been accepted to Caltech, and was already planning all the PhD’s he wanted to get.

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#criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #autistic spencer reid #emily prentiss #hotchniss

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expectingtofly · 4 years ago

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finally free, they drive

day 1 of @thiscastielhasflown and i's follower celebration

prompt: diners/roadtrip

Twenty-four years ago in Mankato, Minnesota, Dean killed a wendigo with a bottle of Jack and a lighter. He told Cas this, how the flames lit the inside of the cave and his dad had to drag him out because he suddenly couldn’t move, how he stayed silent for a week even though his dad begged him to speak.

Seventeen years ago, in Monte Vista, Colorado, Dean burned the bones of a malevolent spirit that sliced a gash through his chest before he could swing an iron crowbar through her foggy figure. As he and Cas passed by the cemetery where he and his dad had dug up her remains, he could almost picture himself standing between the tombstones, his dad tossing him the lighter. Do the honors.

In Evanston, Wyoming, he and Cas stopped to eat at a diner that looked vaguely familiar. As they sat down at a booth in the back, waitress handing them their menus, it hit him.

“Pretty sure Sam and I went through here before.” He couldn’t remember what they'd been hunting. “Years ago. After dad. You know. Passed.”

And Cas was silent a moment before replying, "I wish I’d known you then."

Then he declared he wanted the French onion soup from the specials of the day, like he hadn’t just spoken Dean's thoughts aloud in his uncanny way of knowing exactly what Dean wished for before Dean knew it himself.

Sometimes, while passing semi-trailer trucks on the freeway, when the setting sun glinted off the metal partition between west and east-headed traffic, he wondered what life would’ve been like if he knew Cas when he was twenty-six. When he was so lonely, his chest felt like a vise at night, and he slipped out of mildewed motel rooms to gasp in chilly night air. When he sought out crowded bars because accidental nudges and jostles were substitutes for caresses.

What might’ve changed if he'd known Cas when he was twenty-two, when Sam left for college and Dad left with a cutting, Don't look for me. If, confronted with an angel then, he would’ve been able to believe in good things, if he would've kissed him to not feel so alone.

The radio played Dolly Parton at a diner in Des Moines, a young couple sat at the counter, Cas stacked small containers of strawberry jelly and orange marmalade into a tower, and Dean imagined sitting across from him when he was nineteen. But then Cas looked up at him triumphantly over perfectly balanced preserves, and the what-if's dissolved in a growing warmth in his chest. Cas had been right after all. Good things did happen.

They drove without a destination now that they didn’t need one, changing course frequently, turning off exits to follow signs for roadside attractions, homestyle meals, and scenic overlooks.

Prairie and forest, coast and desert. He'd traveled these roads before, but he was paying attention now. Everything looked different with Cas sitting by his side, when every glance to his right revealed Cas already looking at him.

Re-heated diner leftovers and slices of pie for breakfast, crumbs on the bed, brown bags in the backseat, lunch breaks at rest stops, sitting on the hood to unwrap grease-stained burger wrappers, kept warm from the sun coming through the car’s windows.

Baby had been his home for years. He'd learned her nooks, her curves, how best to settle on the benchseat and tuck his jacket against the door to wake without a crick in his neck.

Moving into the bunker, he'd claimed a room, made a space for every item he owned: a hook for every weapon, a box for every photo, a hanger for every jacket. The concrete walls and sterile bathrooms meant order, control.

He used to be afraid that if he let one item fall out of place, he'd lose his grip on the delicate thread which held him together.

Crackling radio in Omaha, searching for a station. Cassette-tapes pulled out of a box that he hadn’t rifled through since a time when angels were still a myth, god didn’t exist, and death was always close, but not someone they knew by name. Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica. Then, out of Cas' pocket, his own “Top 13 Zepp Traxxs,” which he was surprised to learn Cas still kept, the words on the label faded.

“It was a gift,” Cas said, tucking the cassette into the deck and turning up the volume.

Busy diners where their food took ages to come to their table and Dean doodled on napkins to pass the time. Stuffed them into his pocket and forgot until he pulled them out while looking for change to pay for gas. A tiny Impala, a sun with dashes for rays, sigils, tiny flowers which Cas had added to the corners.

An argument on I-70 and sixty-two miles of tense silence. "If you don't speak to me, I can't understand," Cas said, voice quiet under the whir of tires on the road.

Dean changed lanes, watched a tarp flap over the bed of a pick-up truck. "I don't know how," he admitted.

Cas let out a breath that sounded like relief. "We'll learn."

He learned Cas liked brightly colored shirts labeled with the names of locations they visited, oversized because tight sleeves made him itch. He learned that the strangely named items on diner menus had backstories that owners behind counters were all too eager to share when Cas prompted them. He learned Cas hovered in doorways as if he was waiting to be invited inside, learned Cas knew every upbeat song playing over the radio in gas stations, had nightmares too, could stay silent for seventy miles then speak a thought aloud that left Dean stunned for seventy more.

He taught Cas how to pass the time on roads that stretched to the horizon. Name a movie for every letter of the alphabet. Name three items you'd take to a deserted island. Name everyone we've lost along the way—he didn't mean to begin talking about them, but they seemed closer than ever before on the open road, under a vast, cloudless sky. The wind whisked their names from their mouths, and Dean liked the idea of them still existing, here, around them.

A map open on his lap, Cas circled every town they stopped at, traced their route with a red pen. Folded and unfolded the page until the creases made the snaking lines nearly illegible. "I want to remember," he told Dean, and Dean traced the creases to feel their route under his finger. The steering wheel was warm under his palms, the diner floors sticky under his boots, the motel sheets stiff when he pulled them back from the headboard, and he told Cas, "Pinch me," in the dark of an eighty-dollar-a-night room. Cas touched his face and kissed him instead.

The rocky coast off of Oregon delighted Cas. He rolled up his pant legs, clutched Dean's hand as they walked unsteadily over the slippery rocks to step into the Pacific Ocean. The wind whipped his hair over his face and he pushed back the strands, grinning back at Dean. Sometimes at night, when Cas slept curled into him, Dean looked at the photo he'd taken of him and wished he had a place of their own to frame it.

Long phone calls to family and friends who told them to take their time, do not disturb signs hung on motel doorknobs, winding backroads and detours. He grew out his hair and told Cas he needed a cut. Cas twisted his fingers through the strands, and mused, "I like it." Dean kept it and noticed the strands curled at the ends.

A sign on the highway in Ohio read, "Hell is Real." He still had nightmares. As cornfields passed, Cas recounted seeing his soul for the first time, and sometimes Dean imagined he remembered the safety of Cas' wings as he pulled him out of the depths of Hades.

Cas got sick in Idaho, complained, voice echoing in the toilet bowl, "I told you that diner was not sanitary." Dean rubbed his back and told him he'd write a scathing review. In West Virginia, over a pile of spilled salt and stale fries that were probably nuked behind the counter, Cas told him he loved him. It wasn't for the first time, but his breath still caught in his throat.

They ate fried okra in Oklahoma City, beignets in New Orleans, and Dean requested Earth Angel on a jukebox in a vinyl and chrome diner in Wisconsin. Slid into the booth to press against Cas' side and watch him fill out postcards. Did you know dinosaurs once roamed where the Rockies now stand? Don't know when we'll be back. We bought new cassettes to add to the collection and I convinced Dean to let me choose the music. Still so much we haven't seen.

The magic fingers bed at the King's Court Motel cost four quarters for fifteen minutes—three more than when he was younger, he griped to Cas. The vibrating massage didn't seem quite as relaxing as he remembered, but maybe he was just used to more magical fingers—this he accompanied with an exaggerated wink which made Cas roll his eyes.

The Impala broke down on Route 66, and the asphalt radiated heat as he ducked under the hood. Cas hovered at his side and he realized he didn't have the tools to fix her.

They ate lunch at a mom-and-pop’s restaurant as they waited for the mechanic to finish, and Cas gave him the pickle from his sandwich. "I'm sorry I never asked you to stay," Dean told him and wished he'd said it earlier. "I never wanted you to leave."

Cas gave him a sad smile. "It's in the past." He tapped his foot against Dean's under the table, and Dean hooked his ankle with his foot.

Cas parted the curtains in every motel they slept in, tilted his face to the sun beaming through the windshield, urged Dean to stop for a cardboard sign reading Fresh Strawberries $2. Reruns of The Three Stooges made Dean laugh until he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes, had to catch his breath. This happiness didn't seem so fragile, this time. When they turned on the TV tomorrow night three hundred miles away, The Three Stooges would play into the morning, and when he told Cas he loved him, Cas would say it back.

Crossing over rippling water or curving through wooded land, he and Cas spoke a cabin in the woods, a house on the coast, a home. Dean's head filled with the future instead of the past. Every mile that passed under their tires brought them closer to this dream—or so he thought, until he stopped at a red light, and Cas took his hand, and he realized home sat beside him now.

In a diner in Arkansas, Cas read from a menu, plastic corners curling, and commented, "No matter where we go, every place serves an iceberg wedge salad."

Dean replied, "I think I'm ready to stop driving."

He didn't know where they'd park the Impala for good, but he pictured somewhere with windows, patches of sunlight on the floor. The details didn't matter so much, though, not so long as he had Cas.

"For you to me are the only one," he sang over Robert Plant, glancing at Cas as he turned up the radio, wind whistling through the open windows, road humming under their feet. Happiness, no more be sad, happiness, I'm glad.

#j&kcreatorfest #rambleoncas #shelikestv #user-brooke #userdori #userstarry #tearsofgrace #destiel fic #just some fluff #bc i love the idea of dean and cas taking a long roadtrip after s15 #to bond and work thru stuff #<3 #established dean/cas #expectingtofly writes

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philhoffman · 2 years ago

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This week’s Monday Philm was a very special one — Love Liza (2002), with the commentary track featuring PSH, his brother/writer Gordy Hoffman, and director Todd Louiso. I’ve been digging commentaries lately and this is the one I was most excited about, and I doubt another one could ever make me laugh and cry so much.

This is probably my most personal and complicated PSH film. The last time I watched Love Liza as a Monday Philm was the hardest one ever. It was the anniversary of Phil’s death and my last unseen PSH feature film performance. I saved it for last because I knew it would be special, and it was, and it’s become part of the painful and raw and emotional blur of that whole week.

The only time I’ve seen Liza between then and now was on Phil’s birthday in July — I had a PSH mini-marathon with a friend, got home in the middle of the night, made pancakes for myself, and watched it alone in the kitchen at 2 am. I believe there is no better viewing experience for this movie — it cemented in my mind that this is a personal film. As Phil said, theater is communal, but cinema “is just for you.” Love Liza and everything it represents — artistically, personally — is so close to my heart I can’t imagine trying to explain it yet, still.

That being said, the commentary track is fucking brilliant and illuminating (and hilarious). So much goes into every film that the audience may never know, and hearing a few of the core creators (who are close friends and brothers) discuss their baby like this, just hanging out, is the coolest thing in the world. I absorbed so much more about the film, Wilson’s arc, how Phil viewed him and other characters in the story.

Just a few highlights from my literal four pages of notes:

I don’t think I’ve ever heard Gordy’s voice before but wow — it’s different than Phil’s, a bit lower and slower, but their patterns and intonations are EXACTLY the same. Phil has such a unique inflection on certain words so it was trippy hearing Gordy speak in an identical way. The jumps, their whispers. Siblings!!!

Phil loved the basketball scene lmao: “It’s like in the middle of this suicide, gas-huffing movie, this guy just doesn’t know how to play basketball.”

It’s very special and hard and moving and comforting to hear Phil talk about grief and how Wilson experiences loss and navigates it, which he does throughout the commentary. “Of course [his grief] is gonna be too much... If something like this happens and if someone loves a person that it happened to as much as Wilson loves Liza, his grief is going to be too much.”

Phil broke a car and accidentally cut himself on a broken window and lost his voice and nearly got hypothermia and almost caught on fire during this month-long shoot. King!

In the middle of the movie, Phil’s cell phone rings (it has the dreamiest, most relaxing ringtone I’ve ever heard?) and a few minutes later he says it was Mimi calling: "[That was] actually my girlfriend, who’s eight months pregnant. And she’s in New York and she’s awesome and beautiful and I miss her a lot, so I’m just saying this right now to like completely immortalize it on this DVD, how excited I am. It’s just like, the most exciting thing in the world.” They must’ve filmed this in early 2003 — Phil became a dad when Cooper was born a few weeks later ❤️

The way PSH puts his hand(s) on his face in many of his performances is one of his most recognizable gestures but I really thought about it tonight. The way he’s putting all of himself out there, to be vulnerable and raw and captured on film for everyone, and his instinct is to hide himself, even in that small way, to cover his face and take a moment for himself/the character before letting us back in.

There’s a short transition between scenes where no one really says anything but you can hear Phil softly breathing, a lot like the start of Jack Goes Boating, which is always the sweetest sound cue. Then he says “sPoOky.”

Every time they mentioned another actor in the film, Phil was like “they were great they were so nice I had a crush they were a sweetheart <3″

He told Todd he wouldn’t film the final scene more than twice.

Seriously cannot overstate how much fun this was. “No more new PSH movies” is something that’s been heavy on my mind lately, but this track was like spending two hours hanging out with Phil and his buddies, watching a brand new film. It wasn’t a press junket or an interview or anything public — just him being himself, doing the funny voices he used with his friends, his humor, making fun of himself one minute and offering honest artistic insights the next, all his different laughs and wheezes. “I’m chewing on a coffee stirrer... 'cuz I’m so nervous telling you about my mooovie!” Just when I think it’s impossible to love him more, I realize I’m twice as in love with him than the moment before.

It makes me that much sadder, too. Hanging out with this side of him, thinking about the loss his family and friends still experience every day, not being able to shoot the shit and laugh their asses off with him anymore. So many people have had that awful, painful, Phil-sized hole in their hearts for almost nine years and counting. But, I don’t think any of us who are lucky enough to know Phil in any way would trade it for anything.

At the very end of the DVD, Gordy says you can email him if you want to read the screenplay, he’ll send it to you. Then Phil says, “And if you wanna just come over and hang out with us, and talk about it some more, we’re at www...” and bursts out laughing <3

#tldr I laughed I cried I had many epiphanies...#monday philm #love liza #philip seymour hoffman #psh #*#they talk abt when Wilson smashes the window and Todd says he doesn't like watching that bc he was worried Phil was gonna get hurt #and Phil says 'oh‚ I'm okay though! :)' and cracks up with this deep free laugh #my love my love my love my love

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pallasperilous · 4 years ago

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Fifty Ways to Lose Your Lover

{on AO3} “Despair” Studio Draft 09/18/20 DO NOT DISTRIBUTE INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT. (CONT.) CASTIEL is verging on tears, joy and sorrow fighting for dominance. He knows what he’s about to say will be enough to summon THE EMPTY to claim him forever. DEAN is still struggling to process, but a terrible understanding is beginning to dawn on his face. CASTIEL ...I love you. DEAN (tearfully) I love you, too... ...buddy CASTIEL (Sighs grimly.)

> “Despair” Studio Draft 09/19/20 DO NOT DISTRIBUTE INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT. (CONT.) CASTIEL ...I love you. DEAN (meaningfully) I know.

Haha sorry dude I’ve just always wanted to say that CASTIEL opens the door for THE EMPTY and wordlessly walks into the sweet embrace of OBLIVION. > “Despair” Studio Draft 09/20/20 DO NOT DISTRIBUTE INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT. (CONT.) CASTIEL ...I love you.

DEAN Cass, man...I...how long have you felt this way?

CASTIEL Maybe...season 6? But I would’ve... (He pauses, overcome with emotion, then steadies himself to meet Dean’s gaze.) But I would’ve totally dicked down by mid-season 4.

DEAN Are you...are you fucking kidding me? That’s twelve seasons, Cass!! Network length seasons!

CASTIEL I didn’t think you could possibly reciprocate –

DEAN I had DESPERATION SEX with KETCH, Cass. ARTHUR KETCH. I had to get a TETANUS BOOSTER after that shit! What the FUCK!

The pounding at the DOOR abruptly ceases.

THE EMPTY (O.S.) Hey, so, this is getting weird, I think I’m gonna take off.

CASTIEL Wait, no–

> “Despair” Studio Draft 09/21/20 DO NOT DISTRIBUTE INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT. (CONT.) CASTIEL ...I love you.

DEAN (tearfully) Bazinga.

CASTIEL opens the door and hurls DEAN into the glistening maw of THE EMPTY. > “Despair” Studio Draft 09/22/20 DO NOT DISTRIBUTE INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT. (CONT.)

CASTIEL ...I love you.

DEAN (tearfully) I love you, too.

BILLIE (O.S.) (Muffled, through DOOR) Pay up, bitch!

THE EMPTY (O.S.) Fuck!! BILLIE (O.S.) There’s an ATM twenty minutes from here up 281. I’ll wait.

THE EMPTY (O.S.) Uggggggh you suck. > “Despair” Studio Draft 09/23/20 DO NOT DISTRIBUTE INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT. (CONT.)

CASTIEL ...I love you.

DEAN I love you, too.

CASTIEL Oh.

DEAN ...what?

CASTIEL Uh. Wow. I just...didn’t anticipate this. I’m...not sure what to say. I kind of thought the EMPTY would, you know, take me. Before you could say anything back.

DEAN Huh. Good job on the wards, I guess.

CASTIEL Thank you.

A beat.

CASTIEL (nervous laugh) I really thought the EMPTY would have taken me by now.

DEAN Do you want me to check on her, or...?

CASTIEL If you wouldn’t mind. I just worry.

THE EMPTY (Opening door) Haha I’m fine guys, this is hilarious. Seriously Castiel, I’m super flattered that you think I could come up with anything worse than dating an unemployed closeted dude in his forties who’s obsessed with Zeppelin and lives with his adult brother in a basement in rural Kansas, LMAOOOO enjoy couple’s therapy, bitch > “Despair” Studio Draft 09/24/20 DO NOT DISTRIBUTE INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT. (CONT.)

CASTIEL ...I love you.

DEAN (tearfully) I love you, too. CASTIEL I mean that I love you in a romantic way. Just to be clear. DEAN No, I get it. Same. CASTIEL Sexually also. I mean, probably? Not super clear on that one, but I’m open to experimentation. DEAN I am ready to explore that with you at whatever pace and in whatever way is comfortable for all involved. CASTIEL Just making sure we’re on the same page, here: this is a homosexual declaration of romantic love. DEAN Yep. Super gay. ...queer? CASTIEL No, I like queer. It’s inclusive. DEAN An umbrella term, yeah. Reclaimed and shit. CASTIEL Because, while we’re both male-presenting, and I don’t want to diminish the significance of that, I’ve got a whole potential genderfluid situation going on, maybe also on the ace spectrum, and you’re...do you prefer bi, or pan, or...? DEAN Bi works. But, you know, 2020 style. CASTIEL Right, so meaning you experience attraction to more than one gender, not just two binary genders. DEAN (finger guns) Bingo. CASTIEL This has been a very helpful conversation. DEAN Yeah. I’m so happy we finally got to talk about this stuff, man. CASTIEL So am- THE EMPTY bursts through the door, seizes CASTIEL, and vanishes again. DEAN sighs.

> “Despair” Studio Draft 09/25/20 DO NOT DISTRIBUTE INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT. (CONT.)

CASTIEL ...I love you.

DEAN Don’t do this, Cass.

CASTIEL Yeet!

CASTIEL throws DEAN against the far wall as THE EMPTY pushes through the door.

THE EMPTY Yeet?? C’mon man, this is my last scene. I don’t even have a line, I’m just a fucking special effect. Throw me a bone here.

CASTIEL I apologize. Let’s go again.

THE EMPTY Thank you.

CASTIEL (clears throat) Yoink me, Void Daddy.

THE EMPTY Oh my god. > “Despair” Studio Draft 09/25/20 #2 DO NOT DISTRIBUTE INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT. (CONT.)

CASTIEL ...I love you.

DEAN Nice try, Chuck. Now let him go.

CHUCK appears, looking miffed. CASTIEL suddenly relaxes, like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

CHUCK Shit. How did you figure it out?

DEAN Cass and I hooked up all the way back in 9x06, man.

CHUCK Wh...no you didn’t! The crew just lost the light but had to wrap the sequence!

CASTIEL That’s exactly what we wanted you to think. We’ve been together ever since.

DEAN We had a vow renewal ceremony last month when we legally adopted Jack.

CASTIEL It was very moving.

CHUCK This is insane. You can’t do this! I control everything that happens in this universe!

DEAN Becky taught us about coda fics, Chuck. And that was all the opening we needed.

CASTIEL Dean. It’s time.

DEAN I’m ready.

CHUCK Wh...what are you doing?

CASTIEL Your power only extends to shots that make it to air, Chuck.

CHUCK (glancing at watch) No. NO.

CASTIEL That was a very long speech you had me deliver. Almost enough to take us to end credits. And then on to another show entirely.

CHUCK I think it’s OUTPOST. I haven’t...I haven’t even watched it.

DEAN Jack likes it okay.

CHUCK (sputtering) You bastards. You may try to fuck with me between eps, but whatever happens to me still has to fit logically with the situation at the beginning of the next episode!

DEAN Ah, yes. Tell me, who’s writing the next episode, Cass?

CASTIEL (with sinister resolve) Bucklemming.

The blood drains from CHUCK’s face.

DEAN Then I’d say...

CASTIEL shakes his ANGEL BLADE out into his hand.

DEAN ...Sky’s the limit. SMASH CUT TO CREDITS. {on AO3}

#spn fanfic #spn crack #destiel #spn15x18 #spn s15 spoilers #spn bts #spn fixit #this is how I die #pallasperilous fic #pallasperilous crack #spelling it Cass hurt me more than I can say

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whoacanada · 4 years ago

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Zimbits - Bartender!Jack + NHL!Bitty AU

Prompt: Retired NHL player Jack Zimmermann takes ownership of a sports bar in Pittsburgh and accidentally falls for the Penguins’ (closeted) new left winger.

A/N - just the start, I’d like to get around to more of this; the basic idea was an It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia AU, but I couldn’t manage to make everyone that terrible so Jack owns and operates a gay sports bar and starts crushing on one of his patrons.

“Can’t believe you’ve owned this place since ’89.” Jack coughs, waving the dust away from his face. “Did you ever come back after we moved home?”

It’d be disingenuous to say Jack had been expecting anything other than cigars and whiskey when his father had invited him on a trip down to Pittsburgh to see Mario and glad-hand some Penguins sponsors. In fact, he’d kind of been looking forward to sulking and getting shit-faced, not limping around a condemned building dodging roaches and rats.

“It was an investment opportunity. That was the trend back then, famous athletes buying up restaurants and clubs — I had big plans for this building. Then your mother got pregnant and I realized I didn’t really give two shits about running a nightclub.”

“Realized you were pretty lazy, huh?”

As Bob laughs, Jack picks at the peeling, lacquered bartop, trying not to imagine how many decades of grime he’s just collecting under his nail, the situation made even more disgusting in such close proximity to the glittering gold championship ring his father had insisted he wear to their lunch meeting with the Penguins front-office suits. Jack flicks the gunk away as Bob levels him with a weighty look, hands braced in the air as if outlining a play and not offering a tour of a cobweb-filled dive.

“Here’s my thought,” Bob says. “The bar. It’s yours.”

Jack leans against the counter, taking some weight off his braced leg, and asks, “What’s mine?”

“This place,” Bob gestures around the room. “The whole building. It’s just sitting here, empty, the bar, the liquor license, there’s apartments and office space upstairs, we’d just need to do some renovations and —“

Jack can’t help himself. He barks a laugh and says, “I’m not moving to Pittsburgh.”

“How many times have you and I talked about opening a sports bar? I’d wanted to get this place fixed up so it’d be ready when you retired, but since the final — you could make it a gay bar, even, if you wanted!” Bob says quickly, offering another awkward olive branch. “A gay sports bar. I wouldn’t care.”

“A gay sports bar. In Pittsburgh,” Jack echoes, reaching for a chirp to defend himself, but he closes him mouth as he realizes a sports bar run by a Zimmermann might not be a terrible investment idea. “The building needs a ton of work,” Jack settles. “I just saw a rat.”

“That was a mouse,” Bob dismisses, not bothering to look at the rat still clearly in view. “Nothing that can’t be fixed. Got a dollar?”

Jack pats his pockets, finds a spare looney and hands it over. Bob doesn’t hesitate, pulling an envelope out of his back pocket to exchange for the coin.

“Congratulations. You are now the proud owner of,” Bob looks around helplessly. “I actually don’t know what they call this place now. A Bar?”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Jack swallows against the tightness in his throat, holding the deed carefully in his hands. “Thanks, Dad.”

Bob brings Jack in for a loose hug and they both ignore the soft squeaking coming from the backroom.

Five Years Later

There’s a man examining the announcement board in the vestibule, and Jack knows that posture: the forward hip cant, thick thighs, a small but definite bubble butt — guy’s a hockey player, and he has been for some time.

“Hey. Hi.”

Blondie spins around at Jack’s address. Not quite startled, but something close enough that Jack feels a twinge of guilt. “You interested in playing in our beer league? You look like you might know your way around a rink.”

The man quickly looks at his chest, as if expecting to find something displayed, but relaxes immediately. Jack fights a grin, he was once old hat at wandering into public spaces decked out in identifiable team merch.

“Bitty.” The man squares up to offer his hand; his accent is warm and distinctly southern, not at all what Jack was expecting. “You can call me Bitty.”

“Oh, with a nickname like that, you have to play, now, no excuses,” Jack gives Bitty’s arm a firm shake, surprised at how complementary his grip is; not just an overcompensating bro who’s walked into the wrong club.

“If only I had the time,” Bitty placates wryly. “Is this place new?”

“Been here a few years, but not long. How about you? Are you ‘new’? In town, I mean.”

“Moved for work,” Bitty’s smile is timid, eyes darting around the room looking for other patrons, up at the memorabilia and the various pennants. “First year. Slowly learning the area.”

Jack doesn’t miss the way Bitty’s eyes linger on the Pride flag draped from the second floor railing, but Bitty doesn’t mention it, and Jack isn’t in the business of prying.

“Let me be the first to welcome you to The Bar.”

“I saw that outside, do you not have a name?”

“We weren’t creative. The owner didn’t realize he was filling in the wrong line on the business license so we are literally called ‘The Bar’.”

“That’s actually pretty solid,” Bitty laughs, the sound lifting Jack’s mood easily. “I’ll have to make sure I come back and patron your establishment at a reasonable hour.”

“What you aren’t interested at getting sloshed before noon?”

Bitty laughs, and Jack is enough of an adult to recognize he’s got a tiny bit of a crush.

______

True to form, Bitty slowly becomes a feature of Jack’s early afternoons. The first few weeks, he does little more than quietly purchase a single domestic beer before tucking himself away in a corner booth, hunched over his phone, ball cap pulled low for discretion. Jack gives him space, and aside from a few curious regulars, Bitty is little more than another closeted young man seeking quiet sanctuary.

That is, until, hockey kicks up and Mario hooks Jack up with season tickets beside the bench. It’d taken time for Jack to get comfortable with being in an arena again, especially without the ability to step onto the ice himself, but he’s acclimated and learned to appreciate his new lot in life. He can be happy for his success and mourn the end of his career with equal measure.

(Doesn’t hurt he still gets asked for autographs on the regular.)

Bittle, the new forward traded out of Columbus, spins to whip the puck between Lundqvist’s thighs and the score is 3-2 with a minute left in the third. Jack stands to cheer with the crowd as Bittle’s pulled into a celly with his line mates, and the new angle gives Jack a good look at the man’s sunny face, complete with a familiar, bright smile and missing canine. Jack’s heart leaps into his throat when he realizes Bittle is ‘Bitty’, and Jack can’t help but cheer louder.

________

After the game, Jack does his homework. Pulls up stats pages and articles on Eric Bittle. Looking to link the quiet hottie from his bar with the energetic man he saw tonight on the ice. If Jack wasn’t in love before, he absolutely is after watching highlights from Bittle’s time in Columbus.

The next time Jack finds Bitty slipping into the bar, probably between practice and a good nap, Jack makes his move; filling a pint glass, wedging an orange slice on the rim, and adjusting his shirt before striding to the corner booth as easily as one can with a titanium femur.

“On the house,” Jack says, setting down the glass gently. “Choice goal, Tuesday. Great bounce.”

Bitty’s grateful smile falters, turning into something guarded.

“What goal?” Bitty asks, voice steady, and Jack’s immediately alerted to his misstep. Jack casts a careful eye around the room and doesn’t find anyone watching, kicking himself for not thinking this through. He’s used to playing this game with guys who aren’t quite comfortable, who might be visiting with the wrong people, but he hasn’t had to do the closeted-pro-athlete dance in a while.

“You know, I must have been mistaken.”

“Happens all the time. Very sweet of you, though.” Bitty apologizes and pushes away the beer, but Jack waves him off. It’s the least Jack can do for calling the guy out.

“I should have known,” Jack tries to recover. “You’ve still got all your chiclets. But, between you and me, Bittle’s a spitfire, eh? Crazy soft hands. I’d like to meet him someday.”

Jack whistles low, rapping his knuckles on the table before turning back to the bar, moving slowly enough he catches the way Bitty’s cheeks flare pink at the compliment.

About thirty minutes later, Jack, half focused on counting down the till, nearly misses Bitty’s exit. He looks up to offer a parting wave, and Bitty returns the gesture, flashing a shy, incomplete smile; one canine missing on the left side.

________

“Anything new to report? Sales look good, think you might be able to take some time off and visit your poor parents?”

Jack slides open a window to let some air into his bedroom, not for the first time wishing he’d taken the chance to tear out a wall and convert a corner of the top floor into a balcony. There’s still time — his father never seems to wary of giving Jack renovation loans — but Jack loves his condo and hates the idea of relocating again, even temporarily.

“New distillery opened, cut a deal on some local gin. We’re working on drink specials, if you have any ideas for names I’m open,” Jack eases onto the windowsill and looks down at the line of people waiting to get into the bar. “And I met someone. Think he might be a hockey player.”

“No shit? Beer-league?”

“NHL.” Jack corrects, an edge of caution in his tone he knows his father won’t misinterpret. “Started coming around a few months ago, gave me a fake name. Went to a game last week, scored right in front of me.”

“Well, you going to tell me who or am I going to have to guess?”

“He’s keeping to himself,” Jack holds the curtain steady to catch sight of a particularly flashy person in a glittering teal gown, texting Holster to snag a photo for the bar’s Instagram. “Don’t go hunting.”

“Well, if he needs any help you let me know.”

“What could you do?”

“I don’t know. Talk to . . . someone. I guess.”

“I’ll keep that under advisement.” Jack placates, smiling at the saucy photo Ransom texts back immediately of Holster lifting their favorite Drag Race runner-up above his head like something out of Dirty Dancing.

“So.”

“Mmm?”

“Does this mean you’ve got a little boyfriend, again?”

Jack leans out over the railing and tries to see if the universe has blessed him with a sighting of his favorite new Left Winger. Sadly, it’s Saturday evening and the Penguins are in Dallas, so no Eric tonight.

“Working on it.” Jack offers, rapping his knuckles lightly against the window sill and trying not to think about the way Bittle’s face lights up when he sees that Jack is working. “Think I might really have a shot at something.”

“Well, you know what Wayne always says.”

“I do,” Jack breathes, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, taking in his one-of-a-kind view of the city. “I’ll let you know how it goes. Once he gets back.”

“ — You know, I’ve got the game on right now. I bet you $1000 I can tell who you’ve got the hots for. You have a specific type — ”

“Papa.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

“But it’s the kid we just got from the Blue Jackets, isn’t it. Bittle? You always like the fast ones — ”

“Goodnight, Papa.”

#bar au #jack zimmermann #NHL!Bitty #zimbits #Zimmermann #retired Jack #zimbits fic #look I wrote a thing #it's only been forever #my fic #my stuff #omgcp #check please

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winterscaptain · 4 years ago

Text

players.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: it's loving haley hotchner hours!! hope you enjoy :) as always, let me know what you think!

words: 1.3k warnings: none

summary: “what is that unforgettable line?” - samuel beckett. au!november 2008

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

“Has Aaron ever told you how we met?”

“I know you two met in high school, but that’s about the extent of it.”

Haley laughs and puts her drink down. “You’re in for a real treat, then. Come with me.”

It’s one of those afternoons in which Aaron’s taken Jack to go have some fun for a little while, leaving you and Haley at the house. It’s been nice to rest while your shoulder slowly knits together again, nice to chat and channel surf. Really, it’s been nice to have a friend at all.

She leads you to the garage, where built-ins support stacked boxes all the way to the rafters. There’s so much stuff. A few boxes are on the floor, packed with a few George Washington University sweatshirts, a law textbook, and a few framed photos of Jack.

You’d hazard a guess that’s close to the last box Aaron has here.

Haley bypasses it in favor of a more aged box on the back. She becomes you over and unearths it, opening it. You are by no means prepared for what awaits you.

The box is full of faded framed photos and stacked scrapbooks, some with Haley’s handwriting on the front and others with typeset. Haley pulls one scrapbook in particular, the pages warped with age and stuffed with various momentos.

“This is the first one I ever made, starting the spring of my freshman year of high school. Aaron shows up…” She flips through the pages. They crackle under her fingers. “...here.”

She turns the book and you take it in your hand, balancing the bottom while she bears the weight. As always, her thoughtful conscientiousness almost brings a smile to your face.

In the scrapbook, little polaroids litter one side, while the other has a playbill cover. A “Players” page is pasted in, with two names left uncovered by doodles.

Haley Renee Brooks

Aaron Hotchner

One of the photos catches your eye. “Is that…?”

“Aaron in tights and a pirate hat? Yes.”

This is gold.

You bring the book closer to you and flip through it carefully with Haley’s help, finding more evidence of Aaron’s brief stint as a thespian. He’s undeniably adorable as a teenager. He looks different, of course, but between the hair and the eyes -

And that smile

You recognize the man you’ve come to know.

Haley, of course, is also adorable. The mid-eighties look cute on her. She looks mostly the same as she does now. Her jawline is more defined, the beginnings of smile lines starting to form around her eyes and mouth, but those are only indicators of the twenty-five years between the photo and the woman before you.

“If you tell him I showed you this, no I didn’t.”

You laugh, passing the book back to her. “Scout’s Honor. Total silence. I will, however, require copies of these for blackmail purposes.”

She rolls her eyes. “Over my dead body, darling.”

You look around for a moment before asking. “So… what exactly does that have to do with how you met?”

“I prefer the way he tells it,” she says, “because when I tell it I look like I’m padding my ego, but…”

Her blue eyes wander as she tells you about the boy who landed in the wrong classroom on August 20th, 1985 at 2:13pm, as if she’s seeing it as she’s telling the story. Maybe she is.

The nameless senior was tall, lanky, and looked rather brittle. He hadn’t grown into his limbs yet and there’s a hawkish look in his eye. He met Haley’s curious gaze. She smiled at him.

It’s only a moment before the boy leaves for the right classroom.

“He had the building number wrong. It’s no surprise, really. Our schedules were copied by hand, as copy machines were expensive. The guidance counselor’s handwriting was nearly illegible, but it sealed our fates.”

She goes on to tell you that the boy came back the next day, enrolled in the class for the duration of the semester.

“He then, bravely, became the worst third pirate in the history of theatre just to impress me.” She pauses, a little pensive. “He told me a couple of years ago that the day came into the wrong classroom was the same day he knew he was going to marry me.”

The admission brings a flush to her cheeks and a fond smile to her lips. You can see the affection written all over her as she recalls the memory. She shakes her head and puts the scrapbook back, closing the box and leading you out of the garage.

“We started dating when the show closed. It was silly, of course, and very high school, as relationships went. We only kept going because he was so close for college - just over the bridge into the district.”

You follow her back into the house. “Did you guys ever break up?”

She snorts. “All the time.”

That makes you laugh. You can hardly picture it.

“I’m sure you can imagine how rational and reasonable I was at sixteen,” she says, her voice full of jest. “I put him through hell, but Aaron was always impossibly patient with me, even and especially when I didn’t deserve it.”

“Really?”

“Really. I know he’s probably...not that way at work, but even through all of this -” she gestures vaguely to the air around you and you know she means the divorce. “- he’s always been that way with me.”

You’ve seen Hotch at home now more than a few times and it’s been illuminating to see the changes in him as he crosses the threshold. Reconciling those differences in him, knowing Haley better, it all paints a layered, detailed portrait of someone you already care about.

Haley catches your attention again when she speaks. “I’m glad he has people watching out for him.” There’s a strange, almost sad, smile on her face. “He gets lonely.”

+++

When Aaron pulls up in the driveway, you and Haley are stuck watching whatever movie you landed on when you got to talking, too attached to give it up.

The door opens and Aaron sets Jack on his feet, helping him with the tiny zipper on his coat before attending to his own.

“How was your day, boys?” Haley gets up and goes to the kitchen, where you know a little tupperware full of cut fruit waits for Jack.

You offer him a little wave as he catches sight of you and processes your presence. Hey.

“Well,” he says. “How was your day, Jack? Want to tell Mom about it?”

The pass-off is funny to you, but you suspect Aaron doesn’t want to oversell it.

“So fun!” He runs and jumps onto the couch as Haley rounds the corner.

Her eyes are bright, animated, when she asks, “What did you and Daddy do?” She sits next to her son, her feet pulled under her as she leans on the back of the couch.

As Jack relays the events of the afternoon, there’s an odd moment when Aaron catches himself. He reaches down to ruffle Haley’s hair, but freezes with his hand outstretched. You can see the wheels turning in his head and you almost feel bad for catching him at all.

HIs hand closes and he shoves it into his pocket before he sits down in the armchair beside your end of the couch with a sigh. You pretend to be completely focused on Jack, so as to not embarrass him.

“So,” he asks you. You turn. “How was your day?”

There’s a moment where you share a little look, maybe even a laugh.

“Good. My day was good.”

“Good.”

+++

tagging: @missdowntonabbey @criminalsmarts @qvid-pro-qvo @hurricanejjareau @prentisswrites @forgottenword @deagibs @ssahotchnerr @unicorn-bitch @capricorngf @duchesschameleon @mrs-dr-reid @teamhappyme @averyhotchner @reidingmelodies @ambicaos @kelstark @genevievedarcygranger @mandylove1000 @starsandasteroids @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @iconicc @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @itsalwaysb33nyou @hqtchner @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @mac99martin @ssahotchner99 @jhiddles03 @nuvoleincielo @rqgnarok @reidyoulikeabook @schlooper @ssagube @lexieshuntingsstuff @ohhersheybars @marvelousmsmaggie @whosscruffylooking @teachingpanda @panhoeofmanyfandoms @anxious-enby @yougottalovefandoms @saspencereid @insideafictionaluniverse @lumoshotch @chvngbin @mxrcury-styles @enchantingwastelandexpert @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @joanofarkansass @luciilferss @quillvine @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @writefasttalkevenfaster @yougottalovefandoms @this-broken-band-girl @pinkdiamond1016 @suranne-doesstuff

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #tali talks cm #tali writes fanfiction #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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chocolatecakecas · 4 years ago

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Honesty: Season 13 Destiel Fic Part 8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 9 Part 10

or read on ao3

There's a scream.

Dean bolts from his room, feet pounding as he goes. He sees another figure in the dim glow of the hall.

Their eyes meet, hesitating for a moment, before entering the room and stopping in front of the crib.

Dean' vision fills with a tiny body, writhing uncomfortably, as wails force their way from his throat.

Fear drops, hard, in the pit of Dean's stomach.

Without a moments hesitation, he's bouncing Jack in his arms, attempting to sooth him.

His eyes dart to the clock on the wall. 4:56am. That can't be right, Jack has only been having the one bottle at 2:30 am, now. He has been for weeks. And even, then he's never-

(read the rest under the cut)

Jack's wails echo off the walls.

Dean finds Cas' eyes in the dark.

He's staring at Jack in shock, and hurriedly glances up at Dean, eyes swimming with terror and uncertainty.

Right. Even though he's been back for months, Cas has never had to raise a baby before, and he's gotten used to the routine with no unexpected surprises. Dean's terrified, but he can't image what Cas is feeling.

So Dean moves. Check the obvious first.

He crosses to the changing table, quickly disposing of Jack's diaper. Cas follows.

Dean sighs when it does nothing to quiet the kid's screams.

It wasn't the diaper, he definitely isn't hungry.

Was it a nightmar-wait can babies even get nightmar-

Focus Winchester. What could it b-of course, why didn't he think of this first?

It's because you're shit at this, his mind easily supplies.

A cold feeling washes over him.

God, could he be more stu-

"Dean"? Cas calls desperately, ripping him from his thoughts.

Dean quickly recovers, and places his hand on Jack's forehead.

He's warm, but is he actually warmer than usual?

Dean tries to get his brain to recall how Jack's normal body temperature feels, but he's drawing a complete blank.

Fuck

Dean feels the fear twist again as it crawls its way up his throat.

It washes over him in waves, but he can't do anything to stop it.

He has no idea what to do.

He's standing with a child wailing against his chest, a child who's life depends on Dean's ability to know what to do. And Cas is looking at him, terrified, waiting on Dean for instruction.

Dean suddenly can't control his breathing.

He's powerless.

Tears threaten to spill from his eyes and h-

"-Dean? Was his forehead warm? Did he have a fever"? Cas asks anxiously as he braces a hand on Dean's shoulder, searching his face for answers.

The warmth of Cas' palm pulls him back to reality.

Cas always knows what he nee-no now's not the time.

Dean swallows.

"No-well I mean I don't think he feels warmer than normal-at least as far as I can tell? But there's a thermom-"

"-oh wait, there's no there's no need-here let me" Cas trails off, as if he surprised himself and carefully takes Jack from Dean's arms.

He watches as he softly places his hand on Jack's forehead.

Then it hits him

Angel. Duh

He can read Jack's actual temperature with his palm, or figure out what's wrong with the touch of his fingers.

And they're both standing here like idiots, paralyzed by fear, when Cas is a friggin angel.

But in his defense, the kid has got him out of his scared out of his mind.

Dean trails his gaze up to Cas' face, watching his eyes closed in concentration, waiting for his mojo to do it's thing.

Sometimes, Dean forgets what Cas really is. Of course he knows that he's an angel, but like-he's Cas.

Yes, he's a badass, who's millions of years old, and could kill someone with the tap of his finger, Dean's well aware.

But when he's standing in front of you in a rumpled, purple sweater, a pair of sweatpants and his dorky bee pun socks, of all things, it's kinda hard not to forget.

Cas is just so human now. This change has been slowly happening over the years, but ever since he got back it's like the Cas he first stabbed in that barn, doesn't exist anymore.

Which isn't a bad thing at all, it just makes everything a little more confusing.

Which is why he's kinda been avoiding him ever sin-

What the hell is he doing? He needs to focus on Jack, what if h-

"His temperature is 101.1 I've read that babies his age can have a resting temperature as high as 100.3, but since he's only half human?" Cas' voice startles him out of his thoughts.

Jack is still wailing in his arms, as Cas bounces him from side to side. He's looking at Dean expectantly, waiting for his input. Dean can still see the worry clear on his features.

Taking a deep breath, he regains some control of his breathing.

Just a little fever. This, Dean can handle.

"Yeah that's a little high. We should change him into something lighter, see if that cools him down a bit? Then if not we can give him some baby Motrin, and go from there?” Dean suggests.

Then they're both moving. Cas placing Jack on the changing table, while Dean grabs some lighter pjs from the dresser.

Dean hovers as Cas, expertly switches out Jack clothes. He murmurs to Jack in his signature low, rumbling tone, and manages to get to calm him a bit.

Cas is getting good at this. It's like it's second nature to him now. He really has become an amazing Dad. In fact, he's so damn good with Jack, it makes Dean's stomach flip every time Cas pulls a laugh from him or manages to sing him back to sleep.

He watches as Cas slowly rocks Jack in his arms, humming under his breath.

And Dean is sent spiraling as soon as he recognizes the tune.

Lullabye.

By Billy Joel.

And yeah of course he's heard Cas sing this to Jack hundreds of times before, he does this every night, but Dean hasn't been around to hear it since that morning. Before he listened.

The morning they haven't spoken about at all. Cas never asked, and Dean-well Dean didn't exactly bring it up.

But now he's singing Billy fucking Joel, right in front of him.

And if Dean thought he was freaking out before, it's nothing compared to the crisis he's currently having.

It's not like he's actively been avoiding the subject, he jus--

"Oh" Cas gasps, pausing Dean's spiral.

His eyes instantly find their way back to Cas.

Cas has stopped in his tracks, peering down at Jack's now sniffling face.

Then he presses a soft kiss to his forehead, smiling to himself as he pulls away.

Jack's sniffling stops as Cas looks back at Dean with a soft smile.

"I don't know why I didn't do it sooner. I could have just taken away his fever with my grace, but I guess fear got the better of me".

Mojo, of course. Why the hell didn't either of them think of healing Jack, especially since they already both had the "duh angel" moment 10 minutes ago.

God this kids really gonna be the death of them, turing them into complete idiots only 8 months in.

"You and me both pal" Dean manages to respond with a strained laugh.

As soon as they’re sure Jack is asleep, they stand for a moment, hovering over the crib.

Dean pretends not to notice the way his heart races when Cas' arm brushes against his.

"Well looks like we can write about the kid's first fever in the baby book now, and about how it turned us into a couple of morons" Dean whispers in an attempt at a joke.

Beside him Cas hums in agreement with a soft chuckle, and they both head out of Jack's room.

Dean needs some water, or better yet, some coffee. He's definitely not sleeping after the heart attack he just had.

As he makes his way to the kitchen, he notices Cas is following.

Something drops low in the pit of Dean's stomach.

Again, it's not like he has been completely avoiding Cas since that morning. They still hang out during the day, take care of Jack together, talk during the odd hours of the night, and they even have movie nights on Thursdays.

But it's different now. It's quieter, and there's an awkwardness to it that they both refuse to address.

It's like there's always something looming over them, just waiting to crush them.

And it's not like Dean doesn't want to talk about it, of course he does, but he just can't, he's not ready.

As he starts up the coffee maker, Cas drops into his usual seat, picking up his book where he left off. His head is resting in the palm of his hand, as he lazily flips through the pages, foot bouncing absentmindedly.

Looking just so completely human.

Which is the other issue.

Cas has always been a wildcard when it comes to emotions, and it's not like they ever sat down and had a conversation about what he does and doesn't feel.

So Dean always just assumed he experienced emotions, but like, subdued. Like Cas knew what he was feeling, he could name the feeling, but it didn't emotionally affect or sway him the way it did with humans.

And now Dean has no idea what to think, because he's sitting in the kitchen looking like he's been a functioning human being his entire life, and not a celestial warrior of God.

Which just makes everything harder, he just doesn't know what to do.

Dean pours his cup with a trembling hand, then with a heavy sigh, he grips the counter tightly, grounding himself.

Because Dean heard that mixtape.

He listened to it twice that morning, and he's lost count of how many times since.

He's memorized the songs, he's analyzed every lyric. It's all he's thought about every single day for two weeks.

And he knows what he heard.

His breathing quickens as anxiety washes over him, and he once again does nothing to stop it.

Which means that Cas understood the intention behind giving a mixtape.

Which means he understood the meaning behind the tape Dean had given him over a year ago.

He knows that Cas knows. He knows that's why Cas gave him one in return.

And logically, Dean knows he's right about all of this, but there's a part of him that still doesn't believe it's true.

Part of him still thinks he's just overthinking it. That Cas just gave it to him as a nice gesture and the songs had no deeper meaning behind them.

Because Dean can't let himself want Cas, and he can't hope that Cas might want him.

He knows he isn't worthy of him, that Cas deserves so much better. That he would just be a disappointment, and he'd screw everything up.

Because why would Cas ever want, a fuck up like hi-

"-Dean, are you alright" Cas' voice rips through his thoughts.

Dean swallows and dares a glance up.

He's met with wild hair, that stupid head tilt, and wide blue eyes, swimming with concern.

Cas

Dean's stomach flips and suddenly his mouth is moving before he can stop it.

"Cas I've gotta talk to you"

Cas tenses, hands clenching into fists, as the concern on his features is replaced with fear.

Great, one second in he's already fucked up.

Dean peers down as if his socked feet are the most interesting thing in the world, while trying to tame his increasing anxiety.

He takes a shuttering breath.

"I-I listened to the tape...." he trails off, mouth suddenly dry. He sneaks a glance up, to gage Cas' reaction.

And Cas goes white as a sheet, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"Ye-yeah, I uh, liked it" Dean lamely tacks on, mentally cursing himself ("I liked it", seriously Winchester? That's what you went with?)

He watches as Cas' face goes through twelve different emotions, until landing on one Dean can't decipher.

"Oh.....well I'm glad you enjoyed it" Cas chokes out.

And in that moment, Dean doesn't know what comes over him. Maybe it's the way Cas looked at him, maybe it's the lingering adrenaline from Jack's fever scare, or maybe it's his complete lack of sleep.

But suddenly he's pacing around the kitchen, unable to shut up

"Yeah- I uh, well I actually listened to it a couple time-well more than a couple. I stopped keeping track after twenty"

He braves another glance at Cas who's frozen in fear at the table, so Dean continues before he loses his nerve. Hands flying, pointedly facing away from Cas.

"And I couldn't help but um, notice that a lot of the songs had a common theme? And I just never thou-"

"-Dean" Cas tries to interject, but Dean keeps going.

"-when I-when I gave you that mixtape last year, I never thought that you understo-and now you just gave me one, with all those songs and I can't help but think that you-that you might-that those songs might-I think you chose them for a reason-a specific reaso-"

"-Dean"

"-the same reason I di-and if I'm wrong then-fuck man, you can smite me right here, right now if I'm wrong-which I probably am. I'm probably just overthinking this whole thing and making myself look like an idiot. I'm probably just making a big deal out of nothing, like I alwa- "

"Dean, you're right"

"-always do, like I'm doing right now actually, acting like a dumba-"

Dean stalls, words catching in his throat.

Wait did Cas jus-no he must have heard him wr-

"Dean, you're right" Cas repeats behind him, voice trembling.

Dean's back is to him, as he grips the cool metal of the kitchen island again, refusing to turn around.

His heart races when he hears the scrape of a chair behind him.

"You're right, about wh-about why I made that tape, with those songs. I chos-I chose them for a reason" Cas continues, voice wavering.

Dean's thoughts are buzzing around his skull, he can't fully process what Cas' words.

Because Dean thinks he knows what he's trying to say.

But he can't possibly mean t-

"-I'm sorry, I-I have no idea what I was thinking. It was insane to give you that, when I know I can't-and now I've gone and ruined everything-"

Wait, he can't mean that. Dean just heard him wrong he can't hav-

But something, hope, he recognizes, pulls deep within him, and he grips the counter tighter. Maybe he did hear him right, may-.

No, Dean has to be sure first. He has to know for sure.

So Dean finds his voice.

"Cas, I-I think I know what you're trying to say bu-but I need you to say it. I need to be sure that I understand you, because I don't think I can handl-I just......." Dean trails off, voice breaking.

They stand in silence, and Dean's pretty sure Cas can hear his heart pounding against his chest.

His stomach drops, ice rushing through his veins.

Dean was wrong.

God of course he was wrong, and now Cas hates him. He's managed to fuck up the only friendship he's ever had, all because he can't just store his crap.

But no he has to be selfish and want Cas, and fuck u-

"I love you"

Dean's brain short circuits.

No-he can't have. No Dean heard that wrong, he's just tired an-

"-I do and, again I'm sorry, I truly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, but I love you Dean and I can't help it-"

Oh.

And without thinking, Dean moves.

"-And I know this ruins everything especially since I know you can't- that you don't-but I'm so-"

Dean grips Cas around the waist, as he smashes their lips together, effectively cutting Cas off.

Their teeth clank and their noses bump, but Dean doesn't care.

CasCasCasCasCasCasCasCas, is all his mind can supply.

Dean reluctantly pulls away, hands craddeling Cas's face, who's hands have somehow found their way around Dean's waist.

Dean stares down at him, unable to look away.

His hair is sticking up in every direction, blue eyes blown wide brimming with unspilled tears, lips parted in shock.

Cas.

"-Dean, what, why did yo..." Cas trails off, voice breaking.

And then it hits him.

Dean just kissed Cas. Dean just kissed his best friend because he said he loved him.

Cas said that he loved him. Cas loves Dean.

And Dean, loves him too.

God, he loves Cas.

"Because I do too- "Dean starts, voice breaking.

He looks into Cas' eyes, seeing the small sliver of hope behind them, and takes a shuttering breath.

"I love you. Damnit Cas, I've loved you for so long and I-"

"Me too Dean, I have for years, but I never dreamed that you- that you’d ever, return that feeling an-" Cas stops with a sob.

Dean shushes him, gently wiping some of Cas' tears away with his thumb.

He feels like he's floating.

They’re really standing in the kitchen with Cas' hands tightly gripping the back of his shirt.

A watery laugh rips past Dean's throat.

"God what a couple of dumbasses, huh? Could have done this years ago, all that wasted time" Dean says in disbelief.

"Yes, we have been a pair of dumbasses, for years it would seem. But that's okay, because we can have it now, right?” Cas asks, uncertainty clear in his voice.

Cas still doesn’t believe this is really happening, and Dean can’t say he blames him.

“Of course we can Cas” Dean responds with complete certainty, looking into his eyes.

He needs Cas to know that this is what Dean wants, he needs him to understand that it’s all Dean has wanted, for years. He is not going to screw this up.

And it must have worked because Cas is practically glowing. There's tear tracks on his cheeks, but his eyes are bright and shining with pure joy, a gummy smile on his lips.

God, I love him, I really love him, Dean thinks to himself.

Of course there's a long conversation to be had, and even longer conversations to come, because nothing is ever really this simple.

But Dean can't bring himself to care, because all of his focus is on the man in front of him. The man he's loved in silence for years. The man who loves him back.

Because for the first time in his life, Dean is going to let himself want. And what he wants, is Cas.

"Well....we better get started then" Cas quips with a smile, all traces of uncertainty gone (which definitely doesn't make Dean's stomach flip).

And with that, Cas' hands make their way to his neck, as he pulls him into another kiss.

And by God, it's the best damn kiss of Dean's life.

Because it feels like home, like this is where Dean’s meant to be.

So he easily melts into Cas' touch letting the love and warmth wash over him, soaking in every bit of Cas he can get.

And if in the morning, Sam finds them with their hands clasped across the kitchen table, as they take turns feeding Jack spoonfuls of applesauce.

Well, that's none of his business.

Tag list:

@wormstacheangel @smiledean @shelikestv @chaoticdean @midnightwings-deancas @jellydeans @sunshine-jack @archervale @wikiangela @organicpurplepants

@bbcalamity @tkdwolf2012 @doemons-blog @rolling-stoned-girl @skylerkernaghan @shadowywerewolfqueen @the-cookie-navy @martymar1963 @thelahatiel @thefantasyfiend @castielle-deanna @aestheticflyer26

@multi-fandom-imagine @x-mypeopleskillsarerusty-x @wellofwoes @becky-srs @multi-fandom-dark-lord @perfectkoaladream @castiel-for-lunch @it--hurts--to--become @bowtiesandneckerchiefs @dakiaty @feraldean @teamfreebees @keshetcas @hrh-princess-bea

(as always please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!💛)

#if it was unclear the mixtape fic WAS a part of this fic!!! and it is important to this part!!!#i literally dont know where this came from like i did not plan on doing this at all and yet...#✨but healing grace forehead kiss✨#look i let them be happy for once!!!(i mean they suffered in the beginning but like still happy!)#so this turned out extremely long i have no idea what happened i hope it makes sense #i started baby jack truthing and then it morphed into this and i just-well i hope you like it #destiel fic #baby!jack #dean winchester #castiel #jack kline #bec writes #baby jack truthing #destiel #casdean #deancas #season 13 #dadstiel #dad!dean

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