#this is longer than the situation merits but i think it's interesting to consider all the angles from which this man is a fuckup

[unpretty]

he has no grounds whatsoever. he's tried to create grounds by getting the board to create a new ordinance, and then got mad when the ordinance didn't functionally ban food trucks. the core of his argument is "it's not fair when i have to pay property tax and the other guy doesn't", and also "the town should support local businesses that support them with tax dollars and create jobs". he thought purchasing the property outright was going to save him money, but it turns out you still have to pay taxes and keeping a restaurant property up to code is fucking expensive and he's clearly bitter about it.

he vastly overestimates local government's control over property taxes and how much they get. our local government gets a tiny percentage of property tax. they get all of the food truck permit fee. it shakes out to basically the same amount, but for a building they have to provide actual services and infrastructure. all a truck needs is parking, which is provided by the other local businesses that pay property tax and want a taco truck there. this may be less true in other areas, such as cities that impose their own taxes on local businesses or have any traffic whatsoever, but here it's a nonfactor. it's unclear why he thinks anyone buys that he's a job creator when his only employee is his teenage daughter that is the only one behind the counter making any food every time i've gone in.

some companies who lease out retail spaces will have agreements that they will only lease to one sandwich place, one taco place, one smoke shop, etc etc. this is called an exclusive use clause and is not relevant here (and is also the source of the question of whether a hot dog is a sandwich, iirc). literally no amount of offering the same food will change anything. he is next door to a pizza place that sells subs significantly more popular than his. he's just pissy because he thought he'd bought a turnkey business and instead he bought a restaurant. which is expensive. and failing.

i mean, realistically, he's blaming food trucks because they're the only thing that's new since he bought the sub shop and fucked it up. it was never good, it was always at about the tier of a food stall at a minigolf place, but they had a limited menu and closed in winter and that kept expenses low enough to thrive on cheap deli cold cuts and soft serve. he looked at that and thought 'oh these guys lack ambition, i can do better than that' and immediately jacked up the prices and added a bunch of premade frozen shit to the menu that his daughter consistently leaves in the fryer too long. whenever it comes up in conversation, all anyone talks about is how the subs are all bread. the only way to get a decent ratio is to order the sandwich with the most different varieties of meat. he can't bring himself to blame the pizza place because the old owners never had a problem with them. the food trucks are the only scapegoat he has left to pretend he's not the problem.

lately a taco truck has been parking near the dollar store with the best tacos i've had outside of LA. this works out really great for everyone with taste but the guy with the lunch sub place has been getting really mad about it and won't stop filing complaints even though the truck has all its permits in order and has permission by the property owners to park there (because they also want good tacos). he keeps insisting the truck is stealing his business but local officials keep reminding him that he doesn't sell tacos and the truck doesn't sell subs. finally the sub guy posted his revised 2025 menu on facebook and it now includes a 'taco sub' which is just pre-seasoned ground beef on a sub bun with american cheese.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Could I request the same but with

Jamil, Duece, Azul and Jade? 👉👈 😶

(I Love how you did Floyd❤❤ it was so sweet uwu)

Azul Ashengrotto:

Well, Azul can’t lie and say the first thing he thought about was how he might benefit from being a power couple with you. Magicless folk weren’t generally on his radar for business but he’s sure with your advice, he could probably wrangle in a few ideas that could return him a hefty profit. You can see the gears turning in his head and almost want to ask if he expects a dowry from your parents before dating but you bite your tongue, wanting the positive response first before teasing him. To Azul there are other options to weigh, like your personalities and how well you got along, and of course whether or not he could foresee a future with you. He seems to think on it a moment longer than your anxiety likes but you’re relieved when he reaches his hand out to you, telling you that it’s a deal and you’ll have to strike the terms of the contract up a little later (Note to self: make sure Azul is aware this is a real relationship and not a business deal).

Deuce Spade:

Deuce is such a genuine person, his feelings always written across his face, so you’re not surprised that you can practically read every thought as you confessed to him. He started off looking quite serious but by the end he was a flustered mess, contemplating his response; you’re a little nervous that he’s trying to find the words to let you down easy but you’d have to accept it no matter what. You’re just as stunned as he is when he suddenly reached out to pull you into a hug, telling you (a little too loudly) that the merit of a person wasn’t based on whether they had magic or not. He found you to be a wonderful person regardless and he was happy to return his feelings, looking quite proud that he got all of that out with skipping a beat (though he begins to sweat when you stay in close proximity after your hug).

Jade Leech:

Jade is much like Floyd where he’s already claimed you as his, you just weren’t aware of it yet. He was quite interested in you overall, especially as a magicless human as it meant you lived an even more different life than him. He might have a few questions here and there but they’re never quite malicious, at least not towards you. He thinks you’re cute and endearing, cupping your face mid-sentence to interrupt the more self-deprecating part of your confession. He doesn’t want such a beautiful moment to be marred by your insecurities so he makes it clear, in his own way, that he’s quite fond of you and that that’s nothing to sneeze at. When you regain your ability to speak you finally spit out the words that he wants to hear, Jade giving a sharp smile as he tells you he’s been waiting quite a long time to hear those words from you.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil had to wonder if it’d be easier to love someone who didn’t have magic. He’d certainly have a leg up on them… And you continued to show your awe of his magical skills every day, since he was quite talented and did well in his classes. It’s almost an ego stroke to have a lover like that but he does take a step back, wondering if the realities of his own situation would allow for him to properly care for someone. A relationship was a commitment but he already had one of those, an unwilling one but one that had to be fulfilled; he doesn’t quite turn you down but he does let you know that it wouldn’t be easy to date someone like him. You don’t seem put off at all, the natural glow radiating off your successful confession making Jamil’s heart skip a few beats. Considering not just anyone could do such a thing to him… maybe you were more magical than you thought.  

[fungi-maestro]

What do you think of the 2005 Question mini? I understand it's a bit controversial among the Question die-hards.

I definitely have mixed feelings, which I think I'll put under a read more bc this got longer than expected.... Whoops.

Okay. So. I think it's valuable in the sense that it kinda sets up how Vic is often written post-2005 (hyperviolent & mystical), and I think it dips back into the Ditko-era "be totally convinced what you are doing is right, even if you're burying people alive in cement with a backhoe" mentality, which can be kind of fascinating in combination with the magic stuff.

At the same time, though, I wouldn't consider it "in character" exactly. It's one of those oddball runs. I guess it's closest to The Deaths of Vic Sage in terms of content and character choices (which, depending on how you feel about that, you may or may not like), and isn't what I would consider to be a "here, this is a cool DC character. Check it out!" kind of story. Like. Can you imagine giving someone the 2005 run and saying "yeah this guy has an amazing inner battle and I think he's totally fascinating as a study of how morals can twist as you experience more and more grey situations". I think I would get some strange looks.

That all being said, I think there's a certain point where it gets kind of hysterical watching Vic Sage, high out of his mind, run around Metropolis seeing ghosts. There is something fun about that. The Question has always been a character that played with reality and what could be considered "objective truths", so drugs are nothing new. It's cool to see how an extremely subjective view can influence what a person does in a situation where the answer might not be black and white (although to be totally honest, I think he overreacts severely in the 2005 run.... But I'll get to that in a minute.)

One thing that I'm totally sure about on the story is the plot point about Vic and Lois going to journalism school together and having some kind of tension. Unlike Lois, though, I don't think the poems Vic wrote were about her. I honestly think they were about him. They're almost entirely about finding the hidden side of someone, and seeing secrets that they don't want others to see. They don't read as someone publishing poetry about their crush, they read as self exploration through poetry. I think Vic's shame about Lois thinking they were about her shouldn't have been an unrequited love thing, and I definitely don't think it should have influenced Vic's decision making to the point that he decides that killing willy nilly is totally justified, especially if you think about other times he's killed for love (like in the first Question Quarterly). It wasn't the kind of reaction you would expect from him given the situation. I do think it was an interesting detail, though, regardless of the romance issues. Not even going to get into what Superman might have thought about hearing that poetry and then running out to find the writer reenacting Bob the Builder with gore.

I think that my favorite thing about the run was seeing Vic literally walk in two worlds. You get the social aspect of him not fitting in with his peers while also being seperate entirely from heroes (although I wish they'd shown this more), while also literally having a split in the art to show how divided his thinking is. It's a cool way to showcase how the character is a little different from the version of him in, say, Mysterious Suspense, where a black and white character is literally portrayed in black and white (which, while maybe not an intentional choice, I believe has artistic merit for who the character is and what he embodied). Plus, I think the parts where you see how he sees the world (at least, how he sees it while on powerful psychedelics) are really visually interesting. I <3 bright colors.

Overall, I think it's okay. It's a weird one, and it belongs in the ranks with Frank Miller's Batman comic, PAX, TDOVS, Trinity of Sin, that one 9/11 thing that I don't remember the name of, but I think it's worth a read if you already have a solid understanding of the character and want to see an interesting portrayal. If we rank the 80s run as a 10/10 and PAX as a 1/10, I would put 2005 at a solid 6.

[pazodetrasalba]

Put to the test

Dear Caroline:

A fact that never fails to fascinate me when I read some of your posts is how differently our auto-pilot a prioris seem to lead us when thinking about the same situations. Case in point is this post about standardized testing (which, btw, is definitely not a thing here is Spain. I learned about it from a Simpsons episode). Your very utilitarian reaction to the dream is to question utility, whereas what came to my mind was something like 'But of course! The teacher has the duty of striving to improve his student's outcomes, with complete disregard for those of his non-students. It goes with the moral obligations of his job, and all the more so because the allocation is not based on intelligence/merit/virtue of the pupils.'

Then again, you are an incredibly smart person and have been so since youth, which means that at the very list try to explore and reason your position, as it is likely to be more correct than mine in issues you know more about (by which I mean the economics of this, if it can be disentangled from the ethics). The paper you quote is unfortunately no longer available, but I imagine it just quantified some percentage in which (some) teachers apparently managed to improve their students' outcomes. I did find this, though.

The situation you present does make me think about the typical, 'biting the bullet' mind experiments. If we were to somehow be able to make a calculation and indeed find out that our teaching efforts are "edging out other students for zero-sum things", would we have the moral obligation to teach worse? How many effective zero-sum issues are we talking about here?

Besides, it would be interesting to consider how much does effectively education bring to the table, as our natural (society's and mine) tendency is to overvalue it, perhaps. Just yesterday I was listening to a podcast with economist Greg Clark on genetics and social mobility that left me rather shocked, and which would nullify most of the effects we attribute to schooling. If you haven't heard it, I think you would find it interesting.

Going back to dreams, my latest ones tend to be, like this one of yours, rather prosaic, or at least, the ones I remember. When I was young, I used to sleep with a notebook so that I could write down my weird oniric stories before I forgot them. I especially liked the ones in which I could fly, and trying to detail exactly the feelings, mechanics and physical (?) impressions of dream-flight, which in my case tends to feel like swimming through particularly unresistant water.

Quote:

Manuel was sent to Harvard, where he developed a profound contempt for American culture. 'The Americans,' he would say, 'brush their teeth before kissing and remember a page to answer a question.

Warren Eyster, The Goblins of Eros

[ellsbclls]

" wow... you look... you look amazing. " for peter please? i love love love ur writing btw!

NOTE: This... ended up so embarrassingly long... i don't even know what the word count is, but i can bet it's a good 20%-30% longer than the average blurb.

WARNINGS: cursing, quirky🤪 mentions of drug use, implied making out (but can be perceived as sex, dear god please don’t perceive it as sex though), and some good ol’ fashion stark!ready x peter parker banter

They say, "never meet your heroes." Well, Peter wished he had adhered to that warning before he ended up here — a lanky, overdressed thumb towering high above the roof of the Avenger's Compound.

A semi-annual assembly of New York City's finest heroes that had little to do with their civic duties, and much to do with their inhibitions, and just how much alcohol it would take to release them — but there was one glaring problem.

Peter didn't drink.

He never saw the allure, especially when it came at such a high risk. He'd convinced himself that he refrained for the sake of Aunt May, the only remaining part of his family who put her life on the line to ensure his safety and overall well-being — the Spider-Man reveal already took some getting used to, he didn't need to add drunken night expenditures to her overnight fretting. Yet, when Flash's 'End of the Year' party had been raided by the police, a small part of him found joy in knowing he needn't fear the police or their breathalyzer test, even if he was deemed Pussy Parker for the remainder of that summer.

Even if he wanted to instill some liquid courage into himself, he hadn't the basic courage to let himself be vulnerable like that, in front of all the adults that made up the Avengers. Mr.Stark had already commented on his only suit, and how small he looked as it swamped his form, and the entire altercation made him wish the roof would just open up and swallow him whole.

Bullies, you'd call them.

There they were, New York's finest Defender's, huddled around the Mastrangelo like it couldn't put their entire life savings to shame, hosting a rousing game of beer pong upon its marble exterior. Your father was lucky your mother was still in Milan, tying up loose ends on a new line of bullshit you didn't concern yourself with. You just counted the days until she returned home, and you could soak up every ounce of her nurturing presence.

God, did you miss her.

It’s not like your father wasn’t just as nurturing, competitively so, to a point were you almost felt smothered — but you were too alike. In spaces where you both held too stubborn, your mother was there to mediate, and with ceaseless barrages of dry humor came her firm, unwavering severity, proving her love with candid remarks instead of jesting quips.

“Oh, free intern!” He dragged you from your nostalgic supercut with your endearing nickname, coaxing a fierce glare from your hues. “Run down to that place on 7th street and get some beer? And not that Miller Coor’s Bud bullshit, the upper echelon on Sigma Delta Nu delicacies.”

Jesus Christ.

You had caught glimpses of his argument with Steve, complaining about how stupid it would be to pour anything top shelf into a red solo cup — blasphemous really — but you didn’t expect him to do anything more than concede.

"Father of the year, everybody." You clapped just above your head, prompting the remaining company to join you. "I think you're forgetting that I'm not twenty-one."

"First and foremost, I know I am," Tony counters your triumphant grin with a sarcastic one. "Which is how I know that your fake ID says 21."

"Stark, it's fine. I can grab the beer," You thanked God and her impeccable timing once Steve interrupted, settling himself between the two of you with outstretched palms. "I could use the fresh air anyway."

You mimicked Steve's stance, cocking your brows toward your father. "See? Problem solved. Now leave me alone."

Losing interest in the company exponentially, you started to retreat, but groaned once your father's voice pierced the air again. "Nuh-uh-uh, Rogers. Why? So you can go to the nearest GNC and snort a container of protein powder? I don't think so."

You retreat to the furthest recesses of your mind as Tony and Steve bicker back and forth about honesty and friendly competition. Steve wouldn't know how to bump a rail if the U.S Army assembled a thorough, interactive training course on it, and his age quadrupled the life expectancy of most snow-packed socialites. Yet, on the other hand, you were shocked that your father even knew what a GNC was — ultimately, you were riled from your thoughts by an irksome realization.

"Are you fucking- Why can't old man Jenkins do it?" you gestured wildly toward the enhanced super soldier in question, blind to the obvious offense scrawled across his features. You seldom took your opulent lineage for granted, but when situations such as these presented themself, a selfish corner of your mind wondered what it would be like to have a run-of-the mill, cheesy-pun equipped, golf short wearing father. "You'd rather risk your daughter's own safety, and the sanctity of her criminal record, for a stupid game of beer pong?"

Natasha's incredulous laughter chimed between your incessant back and forth, spurred by the uncanny resemblance you and your father shared between every aspect imaginable — your dry wit just so happened to be in the spotlight.

"Yes," He didn't bother to meet your glare, already familiar with its scorching beam against the side of his face "Yes I would."

Hues practically rolled into the back of your skull, exaggerating your every move to a thespian level to make it clear, to even the boniest of heads, that you didn't take pleasure in this task. You were so excited to finally unwind at this event — slam down the sugary mocktail your Uncle Thor always "forgot" to order virgin, dangle your feet over the shallow end of the pool, maybe even shoot a few low jests at Bucky if there wasn't a carnal gleam in his eyes.

Your thrilling plans were now put on hold just to support your father's mid-life crisis.

"I know, I know." He tried to repeat the name of the wine stop n’ shop, only for you to wave him off. He wasn’t wrong — you had been abusing your fake ID in that very stop n’ shop for years, though you’ve recently come to the conclusion that the cashier was far more interested in your chest than your credentials. "If I get arrested, I'm bring you down with me. I'll tell Business Insider that FRIDAY's just one, big elaborate ruse for the underground Fake ID business you have on the side. They'll eat it up like-"

"Love you, honey! I'll venmo you!" He butt in, sending you off with a wave of his fingers.

You flipped him off, shouting an earnest 'I love you' in return. There was no denying that you loved each other, some would even argue that he loved you more than he loved himself — you just chose to show it in your own, eccentric way.

Mere seconds into your newfound task, you stopped dead in your tracks. You could make out that bed of chestnut locks anywhere.

"Parker?" Swiftly surveying his frumpy attire, you struggled to stifle the upward tilt of your lips. Even as he stood uncomfortably before you, visibly seconds away from crawling out of his own skin, he still managed to be the sweet, endearing Peter you knew and loved. "God, I didn't even realize that was you."

You didn't have the heart to tell him that you caught one fleeting glimpse of him at the very beginning of the festivities and thought he was a part of the catering company, nor did you feel a need to disclose the snide remark you whispered into your father's ear about the miserable staff. There was no sense in kicking a dead horse while it was already down.

His gaze weighed heavy against your frame, though, bolstered by an overwhelming intensity that forced you to wonder if he could read your mind. Though, if you could tap into his thoughts, you'd be shocked to find a reflection of your own — bewilderment, adoration, the tell-tale signs of a burgeoning crush, and the myriad of excuses that disputed them.

He could only manage to stumble over his words, complimenting you with sentiments that could never amount to the emotions welling in his chest. "Wow... you look... you look amazing."

And you couldn't argue, not with the way you were pampered hours prior. Mercier had smothered your hair in this honey-infused serum that made your curls bounce to life with each step, and the custom Jacquemus silhouette you were sporting hugged every ample curve enticingly so. You felt like a million bucks, and you probably cost that much give or take, so why deny it?

Peter, on the other hand — Well, he was very lucky that he was so cute, and his jawline could probably cut Vision's infinity stone straight out of his skull. It almost made up for the tragic shape of his suit, and just how tragically out of place it was at this event.

"You look, um-" Softness tugged at the corner of your eyes as they crinkled dotingly. "You look very cute."

"That was a very convincing half-truth." He chuckled, a subtle pink hue blooming over the valleys of his cheeks."

"Oh, so a part of you knows you're cute." You teased, enjoying the way the pink hue grew deeper.

"Oh! Oh, no... No, I mean, kind of? On the scale of confident perspectives, I think-uh-cute... Cute is on the lower end? And you know what? My Aunt May-"

"Peter, you wanna get out of here?" You interrupted him, hoping to save him from all the words he had yet to stumble over. "And then immediately come back?"

"Yeah," He vigorously nodded his head, despite being equally as confused. "Yeah, I'd like that a lot."

"Come," You offered your hand, a small gesture the two of you have woven into your complicated relationship. 

You'd tend to straddle a very thin line between friendship and something more, reaping all the warm, tentative affections of newfound lovers without explicitly considering yourselves so. The both of you, for as brilliant as your merits show, continued to convince yourselves that the hand holding, the comfortable silences, the mornings plastered against each other's sides, were simply happenstance. Despite the increasing willingness of each encounter, you'd only ever chalk it up to chance. So when you offered your hand out to him, he took it in stride — because the two of you would indulge in every ounce of attention you could get your hands on, at least until one of you inevitably came to your senses and found someone worth your time.

Your fingers were firmly intertwined as you led him to the roof’s exit, tugging him down the staircase and through the vacant halls of the top floor just in time to catch the elevator. You found no reason to keep his hand hostage once you were inside, so you begrudgingly retracted yours. You swore you could hear a pitiful huff come from his side of the elevator, but you chalked it up to wishful thinking. 

Now it was just you and Peter, left to your own devices, and roughly ninety-two floors away from your destination. Just enough time to do what you were aching to do.

“Peter,” You murmured, and his gaze flickered to your own without a moment of hesitation, drenched in a hopeful haze you failed to decipher.

“Y/N?” He echoed, tilting his body toward your own.

“You look...” You paused, unsure of which word accurately portrayed your thoughts. ”insane.”

“I know.” He whined. You tried to stifle the giggle that bubbled at his hopeless demeanor, brows furrowed together as he squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders slumped impossible low.

“It’s a good thing you have such a charitable friend.” And you made light work of his suit jacket, the air suddenly rapt with a thick air of electricity as you worked the offending article off his shoulders, haphazardly tossing it on the ground. Protests formed on the tip of his tongue, but he opted to swallow them in return for your help, going slack when you ran your fingers through his meticulously gelled hair.

Though he embodied the vision of a suave, debonair socialite alarmingly well, with his carefully quaffed locks, nothing suited him as well as the pillowy, fawn tendrils that made up his soft curls. You needed them back, needed a reminder of your sweet, darling boy, and patience was never your strong suit. 

You wondered if he was in need of the same reminder, seeing as he’d let you manhandle him without so much as a hum of discontent.

All done. Only a few revisions, and he was a completely different boy. Clad in a crisp, white shirt, sans its horrifying grey counterpart, you rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and unbuttoned the top three discs. The fabric was taut against his impressive set of muscles, leaving little to the imagination with each sweeping roll of his arms. You’d pat yourself on the back, but you were too busy drooling all over your work.

“Is- Is this good?” He broke the silence with a tentative query, peering back at you through his lashes.

"Yeah,” You voice came out strangled at best, distracted by the flurry of butterflies ravaging your stomach. There was something about this moment — maybe it was the glint of tenderness ridding his gaze, or your tight proximity, or maybe it was fate, finally persuading you to topple over that dangerous line — but regardless, you decided it was now or never. “but there's still something missing," 

“My jacket?” He breathlessly queried. His eyes frantically searched your face, like he couldn’t settle on just one feature to admire.

“No, no...” You breathed back, cautiously inching closer, until there was only a sliver of space separating your chests. "You need to loosen up, Parker."

“And what- What do you suggest I do?” His gaze flickered down to your lips shamelessly, and returned just as quickly. 

“Do you trust me?” 

“I’ve trusted you this far.”

“Good,” You sighed, your breath fanning over his lips before you greedily chased its warmth, kissing him with such feather-light pressure, it almost felt like a dream — a thrilling, delicate dream. You had to tear yourself from his lips before you delved even deeper, hoping to find a mirror image of your relief, your satisfaction, in his own features. However, before your eyes even fluttered open, his palms swept under the curve of your jaw, and coaxed your mouth back to his, instantly qualming any of your fears as you both melted into the exchange. He tasted of spearmint, and cherries, and something so intoxicatingly him that you could barely restrain yourself.

You wanted him, God, did you want him, and for the first time, someone wanted you just as much, without an ounce of greed to it — He wanted you for you.

The remaining seconds of the elevator ride were filled with fervent kisses, and wandering hands, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck while his bunched the silky fabric of your dress. It was all smitten, indulgent brushes of your lips until the elevator dinged, and the doors opened up to reveal the fashionably late, dynamic duo —Sam Wilson and James Buchanan Barnes.

Their expressions were nothing short of priceless, one complexion green while the other ran pale at the sight of your interwoven limbs. You tried to open your mouth before they could comment, but you were far too late, buried in a booming wall of—

"This is a public space! You are defiling a public space!"

"I can't do this— I'm gonna take the stairs."

Their voices weaved into a messy, irritated harmony of disbelief, managing to still complement each other despite their varying levels of urgency.

An idea, a selfish, evil idea, popped into your head, and you enacted it before you could even unravel yourself from Peter’s hold.

"You just reminded me, I was about to text you! My dad needs a couple cases of Yuengling.” You gestured for Peter to press on the “Open Door” button, and by the time he started clicking the prompt, you’d already fetched your wallet, fishing your card out for Sam. “They probably have some at the corner store, but he’ll throw up if he finds out he was drinking alcohol from the corner store, so you’re gonna have to walk down to that market on Seventh.” You could feel Peter’s perplexed gaze gnaw at your shoulder, but you persisted in your impish pursuits, shoving the AmEx into his hand. 

“Chop chop, lover boys!” You hastily snapped your fingers in his direction, and yelled just loud enough to make sure Bucky accompanied him, parsing their punishment out evenly. 

Served them right, encroaching on such a perfect moment. 

Bucky’s groan echoed through the stairwell, followed by a childish stomp of combat boots, and you were pleased enough to shoo Peter’s hand away, pressing the “Close Door” button.

Sometimes it was nice being Tony Stark’s daughter — less backtalk from the sovereign throne of comebackdom.

“I thought you said we were getting out of here.” His brows were pinched together, the most adorable little frown forming between them.

“Oh, we most certainly are,” You replied, pressing the button for your floor. You could tell that the pieces weren’t clicking all the way, and you proceeded to spell it out for him, dropping a chaste kiss to the spot just below his ear. “We’re gonna go to my room. And then we’re gonna go right back to the party when we’re done.”

“When we’re done?” He mused, voice wavering beneath the soft caress of your lips, scattering even more tentative kisses down the column of his neck.

“When we’re done.” You parroted back, meeting his downward gaze through your lashes.”I think you still have some loosening up to do.”

[theevilthatismokke]

hey there! i wondered what are your thoughts on akane and how the destroying no.1 yorishiro would affect him? because i had been thinking of how it might've been the final blow considering how much he dodged death😭

Hey there yourself!

Sorry for the late reply... my original response was going to be longer but it got deleted...

Anyway... you see, I think it could go either way- I can easily see Akane living after the destruction of No. 1's yorishiro, but I could just as easily see him dying. Both possibilities have their merit.

If it was just about the fact that Akane's been severely injuried I... honestly wouldn't bat an eye at it. After all, he survived getting stabbed through the chest:

And between the Severance and the chapter where he, Teru and Nene go out, I think only one day passed, two at most.

He looks fine physically, so I don't think he requires much time to heal when he's in his supernatural form. So, if he died after the destruction of No. 1's yorishiro seal, as a consequence of his wounds, it would have to be done in less than a day.

(On a side note, I don't know if he still has his clock with him. Last we saw it, Hakubo took it away from him. But then, Natsuhiko knocked him out and took him to his boundary. So... does Hakubo still have Akane's clock? Did Natsuhiko take it from him? If Natsuhiko took it from him, did he keep it or did he give it back to Akane's unconscious self? If Akane doesn't have his clock with him anymore, does that mean he's stuck in his supernatural form, or does it automatically turn him into human again? Much to think about.)

That said, I think we should address the elephant in the room:

We don't know why Akane was choosen by Kako and Mirai to be one of them.

Was he destined to die young like Nene is? What role does he have in this whole Seven Mysteries business?

I ask this not only due to chapter's 95 reveal about Nene's death being linked to the Seven Mysteries, but also because... well, as I see it, Akane and Nene share a few similarities and story beats.

Akane, like Nene did in the beginning, has constantly tried to change himself into what he believes would be his crush's ideal lover.

And, although he's can be very rude and prickly, I believe Akane is a rather kind boy at his core. His rigid, and perhaps, unforgiving sense of justice, added to the rage he feels towards supernaturals because he belives them to be uncaring and apathetic to life, make me think he's a person who cares a lot.

Even his patience and persistence towards Aoi (and even Teru!) can mirror Nene's own devotion towards Hanako at times, moreso when we consider how similar Aoi and Hanako are (and also Teru).

Akane and Nene have significant similarities and we should pay attention to that, is all I'm saying.

But back to the question at hand, whether Akane 'dies' or not, I don't think it would be last we would see of him, or even the end permanently. This is a manga that deals a lot with the afterlife and ghosts, after all.

So, I think it would be more interesting to think where Akane's character would be headed, if he did 'die' or was in danger of dying.

There are a few ways I could see it going, but basically, I think Aoi could be involved in further developments.

If... Akane died, or was in danger of dying an early death, I think Aoi would try to bring him back.

Like, it could almost be a repeat of the Orpheus/Eurydice parallel we got with them in previous chapters, but this time, Aoi would take the role of Orpheus, and Akane, the role of Eurydice.

It... wouldn't surprise me if Aidairo did that role reversal, keeping in mind that their full names are Akane Aoi and Aoi Akane. Their names reflecting their situation... would be such an Aidairo thing to do, they're cheeky like that.

Besides, Aoi has often been compared to Hanako, so I wouldn't be surprised if she... went to some extremes to save Akane. Even in AUs she's often compared to the supernaturals, a human with similar dispositions.

I mean... in the Ghost AU she became a fairy and part of the staff, in the Monster Nursery Kamome she was a monster, she's been compared more than once to Hanako and supernarturals in general... The parallels are there, it's only a question if they 'll be explored further and if they'll become more literal or not.

Also, there's this from the latest AU:

The fear is real, but at least they look cute

So, it could lead to Aoi whether becoming, or simply behaving like Hanako and the other Seven Mysteries (you know, going horrifying extremes to save her beloved).

This... would tie, I think, into what believe Akane's future development could be headed. Which is, his strict belief that all supernaturals are evil and don't value life would be challenged in the form of the person he loves most.

Other than that... I don't know, maybe Akane could turn into a full supernatural this time... maybe Teru will be the one to become a supernatural. Teru will probably be involved with Akane's development too.

Another possibility is the use of the Clock Keepers' time powers to... rewind time, in case something happens to Akane.

In short, I... don't think you need to worry too much about Akane? Whether he dies or not, I'm pretty sure we're still gonna see plenty of him and... even if he does die, there's a chance it won't be permanent. At very least, I expect him and Aoi to remain together, regardless of what happens.

Besides, I think that, given Aidairo's definition of JSHK as a "heartwarming toilet comedy", I don't think Akane will have a sad end.

(somehow I also talked a lot about what I think can happen to Aoi but... the characters in this story are so connected I don't think I could talk where someone's character arc is headed without talking about another character)

And... I don't think we'll see the Clock Keepers until chapter 100. So... I think you can stay relaxed about Akane's fate until next year's...March?

We'll probably see Akane and Aoi in this month's chapter, though, judging by the promo drawing and chapter number.

I hope I managed to answer you question...

[scolopendress-tag]

I said I'd make a post detailing my kid Asra working for Lucio theory in this post so here it is! 

So Let's get STARDED.

So! To start off, how it began. We do know when Asra and Muriel were kids, Lucio came to them each seperately with a deal.

Essentially: work for me, or I'll hurt your friend.

This was the sentiment he repeated for both of them. So, not wanting the other to be harmed, they both agree - unaware of the other's deal.

For Muriel, it was playing heel/excecutioner at the coleseium. For Asra, it was doing... Well, we never know, aside from he worked under Lucio. But that's what we are here to discuss in any case.

Continued under the read more, for the sake of people's dashes.

Now presumably, if I got my timeline right, Asra at this time would've been around 12 or 13. We don't know much about how Asra was when he was younger, other than that he has certainly changed.

It's also worth noting that it's not amiss to say they were both also still homeless at the time, and the hut hadn't come into the play until after.

Asra was still living on the streets.

This all isn't overly important for any of my claims later, but perhaps someone else could make something of it. It does provide us with some framing for the situation as a whole, though.

Now onto Asra's time under Lucio. I don't know that we have any indication of how long it was, but presumably at least a year if not more.

We do also know that Lucio knew who Asra was. Both in that he knew Aisha and Salim had a kid, and that he knew Asra was said kid.

This is bring this up because we know Aisha and Salim were incredibly talented, and likely incredibly powerful. Lucio wouldn't settle for any run of the mill magician or alchemist for the work he needed. So he must've had some idea that Asra may take after that power as well.

To top it off, he also interacted and talked with the dock kids he also used, (two of which would actually later become palace guards,) and seeing as this is seemingly how he learned of Muriel, it's not off to think that this is also how he heard of Asra again to start. The kids knew of Asra's magic, and roughly where he was, and could've even continued talking about both Muriel and Asra to Lucio for unknown amounts of time.

So now Lucio knows that the kid of his two powerful practitioners of magic is not only still around, but taking after them as well.

If Muriel's intimidating size and physical power are what drew Lucio to him, why wouldn't Asra's considerable metaphysical power and talents draw Lucio in as well?

We know how much Lucio loves power, and that he has an interest in magic because of it, as mentioned in the main story. (no ss sorry... If you have one send so I can add. )

Plus, homeless kid in a vulnerable spot. Easy pickings.

That's what I think this whole thing was about, really. It's all power. Though Asra likely didn't have the full scope of power he does in the current game, he was probably still considerably talented, and was only getting better.

What Lucio specifically probably wanted from Asra then was either to be taught how to use that power, to use Asra for things that required it, and/or use his power for entertainment akin to how he used Muriel.

I think out of these however, using him for his power was most likely. Why? (And teaching him now, more on that further down)

(Sorry for bad quality lmao it's a small image. Also thanks to @8-bit-space for showing these to me like months ago. As you can see I can't stop thinking abt it)

These are screenshots from the old prologue. While they're not canon any more, there's reason to believe they still hold merit as to how Lucio feels about Asra.

Two things to me are major here. First is the "powerful potent magic," and how it's the "real deal," equating to a large part of how he views Asra yet again tying back to a heavy interest in his power. Now, you could argue this relates to using his powers in the palace during the plague, but the second point stands out even more to me.

"The one who broke him for me?"

What this implies to me is that Lucio could never quite get all the way through to Asra or control him when he was younger, and he's been dying to do so. He wanted Asra broken, presumably so that he'll become essentially a tool for him to use for his skill and not put up a fight- something Asra likely did as a child.

Because it seems that Lucio for the most part relied on control through fear when it came to Asra, threatening to hurt Muriel, lying to him about how he executed his parents, likely other things as well. But things seem to point to that never quite working like he had hoped.

This could allude to this as well. Though "impossible" is something Asra's been called a few times, namely also by Julian, there's no reason to assume Lucio wasn't also including his work with him as a kid in "always". Impossible to hate could be his draw to Asra for his power, his talent, his skills, the prospect of which I'm sure Lucio found practically mouthwatering. Impossible to love could be his stubbornness or reluctance to do what Lucio wants, always pushing against him or being hard to deal with, both as a kid and during the plague.

And lines like this, where he calls him a coward. I find it hard to relate this to the plague ritual as he was for the most part willingly helping with that, so it could be resenment for when Asra eventually ran off as a kid, unwilling to put up with him any longer, or his reluctance to do certain things for him then in general.

We know, and it has even been mentioned by a character within the canon, that Asra can be incredibly stubborn, to back that up. Plus, he could've been even harder to work with then both being a kid and as I mentioned earlier he has changed from how he was then, so he could've had more spunk to him or such.

This also easily means that what Lucio was trying to get Asra to do then was something Asra was quite obviously opposed to. Being used for his power is already degrading enough, but there could be more to it.

You'll notice in the post that was linked at the top (the reason I'm writing this) I mentioned pushing Asra to his physical limits and magical extremes. This could be one of the reasons for a push back.

If Lucio was having Asra do things for him involving magic, it's not out of pocket to assume he'd practically run him into the ground- I'm sure he really wouldve loved testing the limits of what Asra could REALLY do.

Wether it be huge expendure of power all at once, or tons of smaller things one after the other, it would absolutely take it's toll. We are shown a few times that using magic can exhaust someone, and I don't remember if this is shown in canon ever (tell me if so!) but pushing it even further could definitely lead to other things such as passing out, (Or nosebleeds, for the aesthetic,) alongside likely being incredibly painful and draining, both mentally and physically.

Basically, abusing his powers and the body that commanded them. It's also possible that the stubborness to work with Lucio could also be partially percieved because of this- Lucio taking Asra's literal physical inability to continue as defiance.

Another reason for push back from Asra would be making him do morally compromising things. This is a little more vague, but intimidation is a common headcanon I see for what Lucio made Asra do, and that could tie in here. Other things could be meddling in things and business he shouldn't, but again, it's a vague thing. Make of it what you will. Fucked up stuff all around.

[EDIT - TEACHING LUCIO]

(THANK YOU @tea-tye for showing me these, and credits to @hangedman-magician for the video they came from!!!!!!!)

...I cannot BELIEVE I forgot this, I KNEW I was missing something. Especially when I was fairly certain I remember Lucio being obsessed with the idea of magic. SO, MOVING ON,

There's not terribly much to pick apart here as it's rather direct- Asra saying he has in fact tried to teach Lucio magic. So in my eyes this solidifies that this was a component of Asra's time under Lucio. I still think my points about Lucio treatment (pushing Asra to his limits) stand, as well.

This can also tie in the stubborness mentioned as, well, can you imagine teaching Lucio? Asra backs this up by saying nothing he has ever said stuck with Lucio, and you know how Lucio gets when things don't go his way. He would've blamed his inability to learn on Asra, likely.

Looking to other quotes mentioned: the 'broke him' line still rings to me like he was trying to use Asra in other ways, and the 'coward' line could go either way from refusing to teach Lucio certain things, or refusing to do certain things for Lucio when he was merely being used. The "impossible" line could also go for others, as trying to teach someone like Lucio would've undoubtedly caused some head butting.

This is certainly really exciting and interesting to me as it gives a more complete picture on the exact situation at hand here. I still stay by my reasoning for Lucio simply using Asra as well on top of being taught because it seems highly likely that Lucio would've been too impatient to learn to do certain things himself, and like I said as well, I don't doubt he also just wanted to see what Asra was REALLY capable of. Something he could've saw as a tantalizing insight into the kind of power he could aquire of this kid would just... work with him.

NOW we have a MUCH clearer answer as to what exactly Asra was likely doing under Lucio, or at this point, almost certainly doing. It's a sad picture for Asra of course, but with this you can draw some interesting points as to how he could've been affected by this, as I'm sure it would've left some kind of imprint on him.

Sure it may not have been as traumatic as what Muriel went through, but when you look at it, it's hard to say it DIDN'T leave it's scars. If we consider all the points presented in this post truth we have:

A 12/13 yo homeless child, threatened with his friend's life to work for the Count that he knew was the one responsible for orphaning him and making him homeless in the first place.

Said child believing his parents are still alive, and as we see in Travel at Night, could very likely still be trying to find them. In a situation like Asra's that glimmer of hope probably was a big deal in helping him push on. This may also be a reason he agreed on top of Muriel's safety.

While working under the count, he is told that his parents were executed, no doubt devastating. The manner in which this was mentioned is up for debate, and could affect exactly how it was taken. Options could be Lucio joking or bragging about it (treating it as trivial or an accomplishment), or using it to threaten Asra, (as in I killed your parents, I'll kill you too,) both would work when it comes to controlling by fear.

It is also mentioned that Lucio told him the reason for his parents execution is that they messed up his gold arm, so Asra also has the knowledge that his parents were killed over something so unbelievably trivial.

Being used as a source of power and nothing else, both for teaching and pure work/entertainment, all for the man who killed his parents, day after day.

Being pushed to physically painful and mentally draining limits, expending so much energy that he completely exhausts himself, day after day.

Likely taking all sorts of verbal abuse from Lucio, day after day.

Like mentioned earlier, it seems clear that Lucio wanted to break Asra, so some other form of trying to chip away at his psyche to make him more convenient for Lucio is likely as well.

Those points alone, to yet again a CHILD no less, seem more than enough to cause some traumatic impact, and depending on certain specifics of what exactly went on during that time, it could be worse. I may make a post looking into the long lasting effects of this on Asra, I may not. It would mostly be headcanon regardless. If you want to add your hc relating to this situation though, I'll gladly reblog it!

And now that we are closing out, it's time to revise my summary. So, without further ado, THIS is what I think was going on during this time.

Lucio knows of Asras existence and parentage.

Lucio learns Asra is around and that he's got power.

Lucio LOVES power, so he threatens Asra into working for him.

Lucio uses Asra for his power and to be taught how to use it for himself.

While using Asra for his knowledge and power, runs him into the ground by pushing his limits to physical and magical degrees, possibly even moral.

Asra pushes back against a lot of this, or is at least percieved to, frustrating Lucio.

Lucio does what he can to try and control Asra even more, primarily via fear, but can't seem to crack him.

Eventually it's too much, and Asra leaves. Likely when the plague hit like Muriel, but it's possible it could've been somewhat sooner. Lucio is PISSED, because he wanted that magical power all to himself.

Less related, I can see Lucio trying to brush it off and pretending to be fine with it, excuse being "he was too difficult to work with, anyways," or something.

...And then... years later, as far as Lucio sees it, Asra comes crawling back- and he's tamed down to a degree! He's actually working with him. Lucio might not know what or who did it, but Asra is finally broke for him, and I'm sure he was absolutely ecstatic to have that power back in his hands- and more than ever before.

Think of all of this as you would like!

At the end this is all still speculative, so definitely feel free to make your own points or say if you feel any different abt anything- expansions or counters on this theory/headcanon welcome!

And if you also have any other screenshots or info not here that could add to the theory or change the outlook of certain things definitely add them!!! I feel like I'm missing stuff for sure, and my memory has probably muddled some things (hopefully I didn't get anything wrong, though.)

And @asrascherry thanks for the offer in helping word my hcs also! I forgot to say that. This one is just so long I wouldve felt bad bringing it all to you 😔 it's probably still messy as a result but I tried lmao (worried it's repetitive or unclear 😬)

Uh yeah! That's mostly it for NOW.

+All the love to Asra for going through so much I'm so sorry bb,,

Thanks for reading!

[spencers-renaissance]

I found my way home

Summary: After Spencer tells Hotch about his recent autism diagnosis, he expects that to be the end of it. Somehow, though, it keeps coming up, and Hotch keeps proving himself to be the best father figure he could have asked for. 

Tags: autistic spencer, protective hotch, hurt/comfort, fluff, paternal hotch, team as family

TW: mentions of ableism, one small instance of ableism & homophobia 

Pairing: Gen 

Word Count: 4.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

This was borne from my conversations with @criminalmindsvibez about the lack of autistic spencer fics and her amazing headcanons. While I'm not autistic, Emily is, and helped me to portray Spencer's autism as accurately as possible. That said, please feel free to correct me on anything I got wrong :)

Spencer had made an effort to get into work even earlier than usual today. He’d ridden the metro through the city, dipping his hand into his messenger bag every few minutes to compulsively check that the slim letter he’d received in the post the other day is still in the front pocket where he’d safely placed it that morning. He brushes his fingers over the paper once more as he enters the near-empty bullpen, the letter cool from the winter air.

It’s still so surreal to him that this is where he works. After years of dreaming of working for the FBI he’s finally here, and even though it’s been his place of work for almost two months now, he’s still not used to it. The warm offices are a nice reprieve from the wintry December wind, and he can feel himself relaxing as he heads to his desk. Leaving his coat and messenger bag on his chair, he pulls the letter out of the front pocket and runs his index finger along the edge. He finds himself biting his bottom lip as he tries to work up the courage to go and see Hotch. 

Sucking in a deep breath, he marches determinedly up to Hotch’s office, entering as soon as his knocks are answered. 

“Reid,” Hotch says pleasantly as he takes a seat opposite his desk, realising belatedly that he probably should have waited until he was invited. “You’re in early. What can I do for you?”

Nervously, Spencer hands him the letter he’d couriered across the city so carefully. He’d taken care to open it neatly with his letter opener but the return address on the back has been stamped at a crooked angle, and it bothers him every time he notices it. He can’t stop looking at it now as he taps his fingers anxiously against his leg in the pattern of the Fibonacci sequence, a safe and familiar reassurance played out by his nervous fingers. He watches apprehensively as Hotch pulls the letter out of the envelope, unfolding it and skimming his eyes down the page, taking in the news Spencer’s been so anxious to share with him.

Diagnosis: Asperger’s Syndrome

God, it had been a long process. He’d had to seek out a doctor in DC who diagnosed adults, paid for all the consultations and diagnostics himself — his insurance certainly wouldn’t cover it, not that he’d feel comfortable using his cushy FBI insurance for something so personal anyway — and the whole process had taken far longer than he’d expected. Finally, though, the envelope had arrived in the mail, and he officially had a diagnosis. 

Of course, he’d had his suspicions for years, especially after one of his professors during his second PhD had casually asked whether he’d ever been tested, planting a seed in his brain that led to many late nights in the library, reading all the literature available to him. It’s why he’d found it strange that it had felt so validating to finally receive that letter in the post. But it had.

The label made sense, and now that he had a diagnosis from a medical professional he felt comfortable to share it with others; he’d been far too paranoid about being questioned, not being believed or lectured about the evils of self-diagnosis no matter how he was confident in himself. He didn’t tend to be an insecure or self-conscious person, but after years of bullying and trauma surrounding what he now knew for sure to be his autistic traits, he couldn’t help but feel almost protective of his affirming label. 

Now though, it’s an irrefutable statement. Dr Spencer Reid has autism, and the first person he wants to tell is Hotch.

“I had no idea you were getting tested, Reid,” Hotch says, a hint of surprise bleeding into his voice. “Is there any specific reason you wanted to share this with me?”

“Well… I felt like someone on the team should know,” Spencer starts carefully, afraid to give too much of himself away, “and I thought that someone in a leadership position was the best option. Gideon has never been very… supportive of my autistic traits or behaviour, so I thought that you— that you would be the best option.” He feels awkward, fidgeting in his chair as he watches Hotch’s serious face and kind eyes absorb the information. 

“That trust in me means a lot, Reid,” he says, a rare smile making its way onto his face. In that moment, Spencer knows he made the right decision. “How can I make things easier for you? Is there anything you need me to be doing differently?”

“Uh—” He hadn’t really been anticipating that question and it catches him off guard: he’d predicted a quick nod of acknowledgement, a request to photocopy the letter so it can be put on file followed by a swift dismissal, but the letter is now sitting on his side of the desk: clearly, Hotch intends on keeping this between them. This is far from what he expected.

“Why don’t you start by telling me about autism and how it might affect your work?” Hotch corrects himself, recognising quickly Spencer’s need for specifics. “I’ll admit I don’t know much beyond some probably rather unhelpful stereotypes.”

Spencer nods. He can answer that question. “As everyone knows I often go off on tangents,” he begins, “and that’s because my special interests — or hyperfixations — often coincide with our work, so I know a lot about the topics we’re investigating. If I do that, just redirect me to the case and I’ll be fine. It’s also really hard for me to have to present myself in a certain way all the time. Vocal stims and gestures are the most satisfying to me but I often have to mask them, which I’ve never been very good at anyway, and it’s fairly exhausting. That’s why I often excuse myself; I go to the bathroom or a secluded hallway and stim on my own. My doctor also told me I tend to overcompensate in social situations and over-perform emotion. Those are the basics, I guess, but it’s a very complex disorder and since it makes up me as a human being, I can’t exactly explain all of it in one conversation.”

“No, that’s fine, Reid, you’ve given me a good picture of what to expect, thank you.” Hotch smiles at him, fondness in the crinkles around his eyes and the softness invading his usually stern expression. “First of all, you never have to feel like you need to excuse yourself to stim. Do you think it would be helpful if we told the rest of the team so they know what to expect? I’m assuming vocal stims are saying certain words or making sounds…?”

Spencer nods. 

“Okay, so if you needed to do that we could just continue the conversation while you get it out of your system. Gestures certainly wouldn’t be a problem. How do you feel about that?”

He hadn’t really considered telling the rest of the team but it seemed sort of intimidating, like he’d be opening a vulnerable side of himself to people he didn’t even know that well. On the other hand, they’d all been so understanding of his quirks and odd behaviour so far without even knowing the reason behind it. He’d never once been made to feel the way he used to at school, forced to either pretend to be someone else completely or be isolated and ostracised. 

He settles for, “I’ll think about it.” 

“That’s fine. There’s no pressure,” Hotch assures him. “I’m very happy you told me, Reid. I hope you know you can come and talk to me about anything, whether it’s about this or something completely different.”

Spencer leaves his office with the letter back in his hands, no notes or copies having been made, feeling almost elated. Never in a million years would he have expected that to go so well. 

⭐️

He doesn’t really expect it to come up again. He’d told Hotch so that he could understand him a bit better, and also because Hotch had quickly assumed a protective, almost paternal role in his life and he wanted to share the piece of news with him whether he was leading his department or not. That was supposed to be it, though, he didn't think anything would materially change, especially since he decided not to tell the team about the diagnosis just yet.

But almost immediately after he’d told Hotch his diagnosis, his rambles began to be gently redirected back to the case, sometimes without him even noticing. He wasn’t rudely cut off by anyone anymore, Hotch always steering him back on course before anyone else can jump in and hurt Spencer’s feelings. It’s so… kind that it almost feels foreign, and he finds himself gravitating towards the older man more and more, sitting next to him on every jet journey and staying glued to his side during cases. 

His newfound protectiveness over Spencer is only demonstrated more clearly a few months after their conversation in Hotch’s office when they’re on their way to New Mexico for a case. The second he spots that the murder victims had all been found with different Fitzgerald quotes scrawled on sheets of paper found in their own personal notebooks, ripped out and left for investigating officers to find, he launches into an info-dump to rival info-dumps. 

He can’t help that literature is a special interest of his, made all the more intense by the fond childhood memories of reading to his mother in her bed. Fitzgerald had been her favourite author of the Modern Era, and he’d spent hours analysing significant passages in his novels as a child, so he starts explaining the literary merit of each of the quotes left at the crime scenes. 

Apparently, he doesn’t hear the first two times Hotch tries to direct him back on topic, but he hears it when Gideon shouts, “Spencer! Long and unnecessary tangents are not conducive to actually solving these cases. Get back on topic. Now.” He’s loud enough to briefly knock him back several decades to memories of his father screaming at his mother’s schizophrenic babbling, when she’d become convinced that the villains of her favourite novels were trying to break into the house.

Spencer stops mid-sentence and stares at Gideon, who is staring right back. Everyone’s watching the two awkwardly, but the short moment of silence is quickly broken by Hotch. “There is absolutely no need to be that rude, Jason,” he says disapprovingly, while he lays a hand on Spencer’s arm in a light, absent-minded sort of touch. “Reid may have been off-topic but he deserves respect just like everyone else on this team. Nobody needs to be shouted at like that.” He directs his attention back to Spencer. “Why don’t you tell us how those Fitzgerald quotes could help us solve the case, Reid?” 

He gives him an encouraging look, and when he looks around the jet, everyone else is, too. Carefully, he starts speaking again, a little afraid of being cut off again, but after a few sentences of relevant explanation he regains his momentum. It’s more than a little vindicating when it’s his ��unnecessary tangent’ that ends up being the key to cracking the case. 

⭐️

Soon after Hotch’s split from Haley, he approaches Spencer one evening when they’re the only two left at the office with a dinner invitation. Within the hour, they walk into a nice, low-key Italian place in the city and take a seat in the far corner of the restaurant. 

“Is everything okay?” Spencer asks a little uncertainly, confused as to why his boss is suddenly taking him for dinner. 

“I had this idea almost as soon as you told me about your autism,” Hotch explains, knowing by now that preambles and niceties only frustrate Spencer instead of setting him at ease. “I wanted to take you out for dinner every week to try and give you a space to ramble about all your special interests and not feel like you have to mask around everyone. But when I was with Haley, all my personal time was obviously spent with her and Jack. Now, I have the time to dedicate to you and all the incredible knowledge you’re hoarding in that brain of yours.”

“Really?” Spencer asks excitedly. The idea of uninhibited space to talk about the recent knowledge he’s acquired and not have to feel insecure or worry about performing social skills he doesn’t see the point of is everything he’s ever wished for, and something so wonderful being provided by Hotch only makes it better. 

“Really.”

Spencer wastes no time. He dives right in. “I was just watching a documentary the other day about volcanoes and their ability to trigger lightning storms with their voltage,” he begins. “Basically, magma rises toward the volcano’s surface, its water rapidly turns to vapor, which shatters the molten rock into tiny particles and creates charged particles. When the ash plume erupts into the atmosphere, the densely packed particles collide, driven by momentum. Friction then affects their electrons, becoming electrically charged. Positively and negatively charged electrons separate in the ash plume which creates a charge imbalance that builds an electric charge strong enough to trigger a lightning storm.” 

“That’s incredible.”

“I know,” Spencer says excitedly. “If the ash plume rises high enough in the atmosphere ice forms, and when ice, hail, and supercooled liquid droplets collide, the rates of lightning explode, it’s crazy.”

They’re briefly interrupted by a waitress taking their orders, but as soon as she leaves, Hotch gets him to jump back in. “What about that lecture you attended last week… the literature of 18th Century England or something?”

“19th Century English Lit, yeah!” He’s so eager to finally share this with somebody who will genuinely listen to him, and he can’t help it when his arms start to flap excitedly. Remembering where he is, he doesn’t try to mask it, pin his arms to his sides and simply deal with and suppress the innate urge to stim, he lets his body do what it wants to. Instead of eliciting a strange, sideways look, Hotch just smiles fondly.  

“The lecturer had this fascinating theory on Dickens. I’ve always seen him as a pretty straight forward author of picaresque fiction, obviously combined with facets of melodrama. And it’s common knowledge that he was inspired by the novel of sensibility, of course. But I’d never thought about the stylistic and lexical choices in his works beyond standard analysis, and this lecturer went on a deep dive into his use of collocation and it opened my eyes…”

He spends the whole evening stimming to his heart’s content while detailing every current interest of his to Hotch, who simply listened intently while eating his meal slowly, dragging out the meal for as long as Spencer needed. “Let me give you a lift home,” Hotch insists after footing the bill, leading him out into the warm evening air.

“Oh, I don’t mind taking the metro,” he replies truthfully. 

“I know. But it would make me feel better to drop you home safely. It’s late and seeing you into your apartment building would give me peace of mind.”

“Sure,” Spencer agrees happily, he’s still buzzing from such a nice evening and the least he can do for Hotch is let him rest easy tonight, so he climbs into the passenger side of his car. A few minutes into the car ride home, he realises he should probably actually verbalise just how much he enjoyed dinner. “Thank you, Hotch. I don’t think anybody’s ever done something so nice for me before.”

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” Hotch replies, smiling even though he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. Spencer very much likes it when Hotch uses his first name, and he’d been doing it all evening. He doesn’t really understand why it feels so nice, just that it makes him feel… special, maybe.

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he repeats, before freezing as he realises what he’s said. He’s got so used to not masking all evening, he’s not in the right rhythm and mindset to suppress the urge to repeat Hotch’s words. He’s been so nice the whole evening, the last thing Spencer wants is for Hotch to think he’s mocking him. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hotch reassures him, tapping his arm lightly as he smiles encouragingly. 

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he says again, repeating it a few times in relief before the itch is satisfied. He really does have the best boss/friend in the whole world. There’s no doubt about that. 

⭐️

Rossi’s initial reaction to Spencer had admittedly been a bit rocky, and having Hotch undeniably on his side was the only thing that made those first few months bearable. He never let them go off on their own; never put Spencer in a position where he’d have to be alone with him. Gradually, though, Rossi adjusted to his quirks and he became almost as protective of Spencer as Hotch.

That doesn’t bode well for the local sheriff when they’re on a case in North Carolina. He’s been prickly since they arrived, being as stubborn and uncooperative as possible, slowing down their progress on actually solving the case, and Spencer’s noticed him being a little extra rude to him in particular. It doesn’t massively bother him — it’s not exactly like someone’s aversion to him is a novel concept — but he can feel some sort of tension coming from the others. It happens a lot more now that they know about his autism and are more aware of themselves and others.

He tries to ignore it the best he can; he puts his head down and focuses on the geographical profile, going wherever he’s sent. Besides, the sooner they solve this case the sooner they can get out of North Carolina and back to DC. On their third day on the case, he’s working quietly in their designated corner of the police department alongside Hotch and Rossi while the others are out investigating in various different places. It’s a nice environment, and even though both men are his superiors, he feels more relaxed in their company than in anybody else’s.

It’s a relatively pleasant morning — considering the whole trying to catch a brutal serial killer thing — until they need to ask the sheriff a question. He saunters over, a tense and angry expression on his face, and Spencer can’t help but feel a little off, the confusing tension in the air that Spencer can’t quite identify making him anxious in his inability to properly decipher it. “Gentlemen,” he says, already frustrated. Spencer suspects it’s a pride thing; not many police departments like being shown up enough to have the FBI called in.

Eager to know the answer to their question, Spencer’s the one to jump in and ask. “Sheriff, we were just wondering whether the town gets much traffic from the local university or—”

He’s cut off by the sneering, towering man. “I’m not taking any questions from your kind,” he says aggressively. 

“I’m sorry?” Spencer squeaks as Rossi and Hotch both prepare to say something in response.

The sheriff cuts them off before they can get their likely diplomatic and calming words out. “Homo retards aren’t welcome around here.”

“Hey!” Rossi shouts as he leaps out of the chair, grabbing him by the collar as he’s helped by the element of surprise. “You don’t fucking talk to Spencer like that, you hear me? Weak, cowardly men like you—”

“Dave,” Hotch says placatingly, putting a hand on his shoulder and diffusing the situation. “Listen, Sheriff, we are only here to help you. But if you can’t respect my agents then we’re going to have a problem. Either you’re civil to Dr Reid, or I’m reporting you to the NC Sheriff’s Association. You hear me?”

The sheriff’s pride is clearly wounded, but he at least nods before giving them all a scornful look and walking away. 

“We didn’t even get to ask the question,” Spencer says anxiously, suddenly feeling out of his depth, like he can’t quite get enough air. 

“Dave, try and get an answer,” Hotch directs, taking charge of the situation. “Spencer, come with me.” He takes him into a secluded hallway for a little privacy, sitting him down on the cool linoleum before sinking down next to him. “You’re okay.”

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Spencer whispers over and over to himself as he rocks backwards and forwards, trying desperately to self-soothe.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Hotch asks. He’s been in enough of these situations with Spencer to know he’s usually in two very different headspaces: he either longingly craves the grounding touch of a hug or a hand on his back, or he needs complete space. He’s also learned that asking outright is the only way to get an direct answer. 

“Yes,” Spencer replies, before repeating it over and over again as he’s wrapped up in Hotch’s arms, head pressed against his chest, his hand pressing gently against the back of Spencer’s head. He starts to calm down as he manages to breathe to the heat of Hotch’s calm, steady heartbeat, the comforting touch of someone he trusts with his life also helping to bring him back down to earth. A good ten minutes after the altercation with the sheriff, he’s feeling much better and brings his head out of it’s safe cocoon between Hotch’s chest and hand. 

“Come on,” Hotch says kindly. “Let’s get back to the case, yeah? You can just sit and work quietly until you’re ready to hold a proper conversation again. How does that sound?”

Spencer nods tiredly, knowing that work will perk him back up again, and being surrounded by his team will make him feel safe, asshole sheriff or not.

⭐️

Over the years Hotch helps him through any hurdles that come his way, learning the exact nuances of Spencer’s characteristics and requirements, making sure to accommodate him in every way possible.

He brings an extra, super-soft sweater in his go-bag in case Spencer ever forgets his and needs something gentle on his skin but tight enough to make him feel secure. He buys him stimming toys, dropping them on Spencer’s desk before he even arrives at work and lets him use his office whenever the lights and noise of the bullpen get too much, drawing the blinds and giving him the space he needs. Rossi doesn’t even question it anymore when Hotch shows up with a stack of paperwork and moves into his office for the morning. 

It wasn’t until Hotch made a concerted effort to make his life easier that Spencer realised how hard it had been fighting through life on his own. So when he realises Hotch’s birthday is coming up, he decides he wants to show his gratitude. It’s never been easy for him to express emotions, especially since he’s never really found it rude when people don’t thank him, but he knows that for most neurotypical people, appreciation is important. 

So he talks it over with Derek and on Hotch’s birthday, he comes into work to see Spencer waiting in his office with balloons, a cake, a card, and a present. He’d spent hours trying to find the right words to explain how he feels, to find the right words to show Hotch just how much everything he’s done for him means, but eventually he’d settled on something simple:

Caroline B Cooney wrote: “I found my family. I found the right thing to do. I found my way home.” 

I found all of these things when I joined the BAU, but more specifically when I walked into your office, hands shaking, clasping a letter I’d been waiting for all my life. Thank you. 

Hotch reads it with tears in his eyes before taking in the cake, a classic birthday cake Spencer had bought at the store, the words “Happy Birthday Dad” written in blue icing. He didn’t really understand why the cake had stood out to him, or why he associated the word ‘dad’ with someone who wasn’t related to him at all, but he’d trusted his gut and with Derek’s cheerleading, he’d bought it. 

“Oh, Spencer,” Hotch says tearfully. “Can I hug you?”

Feeling only mildly uncomfortable at the visible display of emotion Spencer doesn’t know what to do with, he nods and steps into Hotch’s comforting embrace. “This means the world to me,” Hotch murmurs quietly as he stands, hugging Spencer for as long as the younger man can stand it. 

Spencer’s still not completely sure why he’s managed to make him so emotional, but at least he can trust that it’s a good thing, that Hotch is happy and pleased and reassured. And if he can make him feel even a smidgen as happy as Hotch has made Spencer over the years, well. He’ll consider his long and boring trip into the city to buy the cake, present and card worth it.

Quick Note: Spencer is diagnosed with Asperger’s because that part of the fic is set in 2005. These days he would be diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD)

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii

[traincat]

I feel like I've read a ton, but I'm honestly still pretty new to comics rn. That being said... What is one more day? Ik we don't like it and it happened a while ago, but that's about it [,=

Time for Spider-Man History With Traincat: Highly Controversial Storylines! And that feeling is totally normal with comics with huge canons -- you can read a ton and still have some fairly big blindspots in your understanding of the total picture. That being said, this is kind of a big one, both in terms of Spider-Man history/canon and in terms of how Spider-Man fandom functions. I would say probably no other storyline has had quite as much impact on how the fandom views and interacts with the source material as One More Day/Brand New Day. It's been the Wild West out here ever since it happened. (Which was in 2007, so like, yes, fairly long ago, especially when you look at how Spider-Man canon has evolved since, but in the grand scheme of things, also kind of recent. One More Day is not old enough to rent a car.)

So when people talk about Spider-Man's One More Day, they're usually actually talking about two related arcs: One More Day and Brand New Day. For the sake of simplicity, I'm going to be covering both. For the sake of transparency, I am going to admit that I think One More Day, as a self-contained story, is good, actually. This is controversial! I admit that! But I stand by my stupid opinions on this blog, for some reason. I think One More Day when you examine it on its own, by which I mean you ignore the decade and a half worth of canon that came after it, as a Spider-Man story and as a PeterMJ-centric story holds up under scrutiny and that people who don't like it don't like complicated love stories and might actually throw their own mothers under buses. No offense to the OMD haters. Little bit of offense to the OMD haters. Brand New Day, which is the continuation of One More Day, on the other hand -- largely bad. Very largely bad.

But let's backtrack. One More Day is a four issue crossover storyline that takes place directly after Civil War, during which Iron Man and Captain America got divorced and divvied up the superhero community and Spider-Man made some startlingly bad decisions and made a fugitive out of himself and his family in a manner that got Aunt May shot, and Spider-Man: Back in Black (Amazing Spider-Man #539–543) which examines Peter's actions immediately after Aunt May is shot and ends with him humiliating the Kingpin in front of an entire prison. One More Day consists of Amazing Spider-Man #544 -> Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man #24 -> Sensational Spider-Man v2 #41 -> Amazing Spider-Man #545. In One More Day, Aunt May is dying, all of Peter's efforts to save her have thus far failed, and, consumed by guilt, he is rapidly running out of time. Approached by Mephisto, a literal demon from hell, Peter is offered a deal: Aunt May will live -- and Peter's identity, which was previously revealed to the world at large during Civil War, will once again be hidden from the memories of all but a select few -- if Peter trades him his marriage to Mary Jane. Peter and Mary Jane struggle with this, but eventually both agree to the deal. The clock strikes twelve, the deal is done, and Peter and Mary Jane's marriage fades into history.

(ASM #545) A reasonably simple premise for a story that caused so many problems -- most, I would argue, not actually the original story's fault. So obviously, this was an unpopular move -- Peter and Mary Jane had for a long time been a fan favorite Marvel couple, and in a fictional universe where most relationships are doomed as soon as they begin, the enduring Spider-Marriage was sacred ground. And then, with a snap of its fingers, it was gone: Peter wakes up in Aunt May's house, no longer married, with Mary Jane out of the picture. (She would not return to the book on any sort of consistent basis for over 50 issues.) In the wake of One More Day began Brand New Day, which is basically what it sounds like: a promised "brand new day" of "exciting" Spider-Man content and a publishing schedule where Amazing Spider-Man came out three times a month. (Which sounds good on paper but I think in practice caused more problems than it created good storylines.) Peter, newly single again, had new love interests! And also Harry Osborn was alive again for some reason! I generally like Harry's post-BND stories so that part's fine with me.

But overall? Brand New Day is a mess. It knows it wants to tread new and exciting ground with Peter -- tell new stories! ensnare new readers! make them fork out for a book three times a month. -- but it doesn't know what those stories should be. Readers who were invested in Peter and Mary Jane's relationship -- a major facet of Spider-Man comics for decades at that point -- felt rightfully betrayed that the marriage could be so easily traded in and that Mary Jane herself, perhaps the second most important figure in Spider-Man comics after Peter, could be tossed aside. From a personal point of view, I think Brand New Day fails in large part because it abandons what has always made Spider-Man such a compelling series, and that's the mix of Peter's personal life with his vigilante life. BND sees Peter with new friends, new jobs, new love interests, etc -- it is very much a brand new day! But it isn't a better day compared to the stories that came before it. I do like some post-BND stories, especially American Son (ASM #595-599) and Grim Hunt (ASM #634-637), but compared to pre-BND where I think the majority of canon is good, it's a very lacking body of work that is hurt by the way it divorced itself from the PeterMJ marriage as Spider-Man's central relationship.

"But Traincat, I thought you said you liked One More Day?" Yeaaaaah. I do. This is why I keep saying I like One More Day on its own merits, and not on the merits of the stories it opened the doors for. I like a good romantic tragedy in fiction, and the way Peter and Mary Jane's final scene in One More Day plays out is beautiful. I like the idea of Peter caught in this impossible situation, being asked to choose between two women he loves more than his own life. A really common criticism I see leveled against One More Day is that Peter should have chosen his relationship with Mary Jane over May's life, which is -- okay, I think it's weird that people keep insisting on this, not in the least because by asking Peter to sacrifice his aunt's life they're essentially demanding he commit a callous, out of character act in order to further his own interests. It's also weird because the thing is, Peter already chose Mary Jane over May -- that's what gets them into this situation. It's literally in the scene where May is shot:

(ASM #538) When the gun goes off, Peter's spider-sense kicks in, and he covers Mary Jane, leaving May in the path of the bullet. He does choose Mary Jane over May, regardless of whether he realized what he was doing. And that's why he can't make that choice a second time. His actions in One More Day do make sense for him as a character, whether or not any individual reader likes them, and Mary Jane's actions make sense, too -- after all, she's the one who ultimately tells Mephisto that they agree to the deal when Peter can't bring himself to voice it.

A lot of people also like to nitpick One More Day by going, well, why could (x) or (y) with life saving powers save Aunt May which is like -- yeah, I guess, but if we're going to ask that about this specific comic book near death setup, you kind of have to do it with every single one, and I'm not going to stake every single moment of comic book drama on whether or not that gold kid from the X-Men was busy at the time. Comics are soap operas in flimsy paper form: serialized longform storytelling that relies heavily on melodrama. Sometimes you have to go with things. Sometimes you sell your marriage to the devil. Stuff happens. That in and of itself doesn't make One More Day a bad story -- and while some people blame the Spider-Marriage's dissolution entirely on One More Day, I think that's a little shortsighted when you look at the history of Spider-Man since the turn of the century. It's clear -- and Marvel themselves have been perhaps a little too open about this -- that Marvel in the past few decades has had trouble with the direction they want to take Spider-Man. They WANTED Spider-Man to appeal to a distinctly youthful audience that they didn't think they were actually reaching -- understandable, considering that Marvel nearly went bankrupt around 2000 and was saved by Ultimate Spider-Man, an out of main continuity series which retold Spider-Man from the beginning and focused heavily on Peter as a teen -- but the problem was Spider-Man in the main continuity was at that point in canon a happily married man who was pushing the dreaded 30 whether or not they wanted to admit that. This is also why Marvel has continually pivoted away from Spider-Man having kids, because they feared that making him a dad would age him too much and make him unrelatable to their coveted audience of Teens. (This is also why almost every new Spider-Man property, especially the live action movies, perpetually stick him back into high school, despite that occupying a very small slice of 616 canon.) So around the year 2000, they started trying things in relation to the Spider-Marriage, which was viewed as a major problem -- after all, what's more adult than being married and liking your wife. First, they had Mary Jane presumed dead. Then, they had Mary Jane and Peter separate. Then, when Mary Jane and Peter had only recently gotten back together, One More Day struck. If One More Day specifically hadn't gone the way it had, it's pretty clear that the Spider-Marriage was going to go one way or another -- it's a little bit of a shame it happened when it did, because OMD is the end of J Michael Straczynski's run, and JMS wrote a really beautiful Peter and MJ relationship. But Marvel as a company and especially editor in chief at the time Joe Quesada viewed Peter and Mary Jane's relationship as a major problem in how they wanted to portray Spider-Man and thought that striking the relationship from the books would allow them more freedom in their portrayal of him as younger and more relatable to their Desired Audience of people who I guess really wanted to see Peter sleep with characters who weren't Mary Jane.

(ASM #546. Younger! Fresher! Less attached! Kissing random women in the club!)

The problem with One More Day has always been in the follow through -- from the content of Brand New Day to the pacing of events to the fact that Marvel withheld key information for such a long time that it allowed misinformation to thrive. After all, what does it MEAN to trade Peter and Mary Jane's marriage to the devil? It altered the events of canon in Peter and the majority of other characters' memories so that the marriage didn't exist, but it left people wondering -- did the relationship as they remembered it existed? How much of Spider-Man canon was altered? And the answers didn't come for over 100 issues of Amazing Spider-Man. One Moment In Time or OMIT (Amazing Spider-Man #638-641), which revealed that while Peter and Mary Jane never got married in the altered canon they did continue their long committed relationship up until just after Civil War, was published in 2010, so essentially readers were hung out to dry without answers for three years. That's a long time to string people along, but not as long as it took Marvel to confirm that the popular fan theory that Mary Jane retained her memories of the original timeline as part of her own deal with Mephisto was also true, which happened this year. I would say, at least from my perspective, a lot of the frustration doesn't come from the individual One More Day storyline so much as how Marvel has continually dragged out the aftermath, using the promise of a Spider-Marriage return to keep fans on the hook. Which is why One More Day continually comes up in discussion of current Spider-Man, because Spencer's run has relied very heavily on imagery from that period with a serious question of whether or not there actually was going to be payoff, something which is still up in the air.

This has been Spider-Man History With Traincat, brought to you by anonymice like you.

[writing-with-olive]

Shelving a WIP

(Alt title: I just shelved a WIP I've been working on for almost three years, and I learned some valuable things from the process so ima share them).

Disclaimer that I'm a writer that works on pretty much one WIP at any given time, and if it's two, one of the WIPs are going to be in the brainstorming/worldbuilding stages at a maximum. The things I've learned are from that perspective, and there might be aspects that are different if you have multiple WIPs, some of them more dormant than others.

1 - It's gonna be okay.

I'm starting out with this one because I've always found it terrifying when I see other people shelving their work, because if the people who have experience are doing it, I might do this, and how could I ever give up on this book baby I'm putting so much time and effort and love into? And yeah. That's scary. But once you've outgrown a work, sometimes the best thing you can do is to move onto new things. It doesn't negate all the hard work you've put in, and it certainly doesn't make you a faker. Remember - almost everyone who's established themselves as an author has shelved works, and they've still made it.

(how to shelve a project, and more detailed stuff below the cut)

2 - How to know when it's time to shelve a WIP

This can vary a lot, but there's three major reasons that have occurred with the works I've shelved (three, all of which I'd worked on for at least six months, many more that had shorter life spans).

The first is a lack of interest. If working on a WIP starts to consistently feel like a chore, and I'm having a harder and harder time feeling for the characters and the world, something's not right. Sometimes this can come from burnout from other aspects of life, but sometimes it's just that I lost passion in the work. Writing's supposed to be fun, and once it's not, it's time to figure out what's up, and sometimes that means trying something new.

Another reason is just outgrowing a work. As I'm writing, the concepts and the story start to feel more juvenile. Some of this can be fixed with editing, but some of it’s baked into the bones of the story. Working it out would mean completely changing the story. Eventually continuing a work feels like being trapped in a younger version of yourself rather than pushing forward.

The final reason (and it can be kinda devastating so I have a section on this farther down) is the realization that a story is not going to help you achieve your writing goals, or worse, will even hinder them. This one won't be as applicable to everyone as the other two as everyone's writing goals vary, but if your goal is to eventually get published/make a job as an author, you may be confronted with this.

3 - How to shelve a work if you've lost interest or outgrown it

The thing about both of these scenarios is that it's a slow progression. If you've identified that you're declining in your attachment to it, you're probably approaching the ability to set it aside and move onto other projects.

One of the first steps is evaluate what is making you stick with it. If you haven't yet shelved it, there's bound to be a reason. Sometimes it's one that holds a lot of merit, and may constitute just taking a break, or in some cases pushing through. Other times, it's not really a great reason, and coming to terms with that is an emotional step to put the work aside.

If you can't bring yourself to move on because it feels like quitting, even though it feels like it's the best decision, find a goal to work toward. That goal will be something much smaller than publishing the work, but it will still help give a sense of completeness. For example, finishing the draft, or even just the act you're on. Sometimes, seeing an end point can be detaching enough that you just... shelve it. Other times, you get to the end point, and decide: is this the end for the WIP, or have I regained enough interest that I actually want to go farther? Both are equally good decisions.

I have found that it's often like a sudden decision that comes after a long period of questioning. I might go for weeks thinking should I or should I not? Over and over and over. Then one day, I just decide to stop working on it, and that's that. It's just the moment when the last of my active emotional attachment finally dissolves.

4 - How to shelve a work when you realize it's not going to help you achieve your goals

This was the situation I was in when I shelved my no-longer-current WIP, which I intended to traditionally publish. It was a sort of assassin-y story and there were elements of it that were loosely based off of Natasha Romanoff's story (Marvel), though not enough by any stretch that it could be considered fanfic. Then the Black Widow movie came out, and apparently Marvel had the exact same idea I had, and suddenly, it looked like my story was a huge rip-off of that one. As it was, huge swaths of the story overlapped. All of this meant that not only was publishing my WIP a long shot because it was a YA sci-fi, but also it was competing with the mega-company that is Marvel/Disney. The chances of even getting an agent plummeted, and then there was the fact that if I did get one, and I got published, I would be basically throwing away my debut because of diminishing returns, and because anyone who read my book would also be in the target audience for Marvel, and would almost certainly see the similarities and write my story off for a rip-off. Not a great situation to be in.

So the first thing to do? Give yourself permission to feel all the big emotions that come with this kind of heartbreak. It hurts really bad, and it's okay to experience that.

Next thing. Evaluate. Is this it for the story, or is there anything else you can do with it? I can't publish it as a book, but there's nothing stopping me from posting it online and still sharing it with people.

Figure out what the end point is going to be. It could be finishing the story even though it doesn't accomplish what you originally set out to do (though this is something to do if it will genuinely bring you joy, not because you feel like it's something you owe). It could be doing something like the other scenario and finding a more artificial "finish point" to still get a sense of closure and accomplishment from the WIP.

5 - The freedom that comes from shelving a work

The obvious thing is that if you weren't enjoying what you weren't enjoying what you were writing before, you're done!

Shelving a work is an open space to work on whatever you want. Whatever makes you happy, you can do it. The starting stages of a WIP are always the most exhilarating, and this is where we all return whenever we pick up a new project.

Another thing. No matter what, you've learned something new over the course of your last project. Maybe it was a ton (that was the case for me - I am a completely different writer than I was before I started it), maybe it was one aspect of character or structure or voice. But you get to go into your next project with that new knowledge.

[cljenvs3000w22]

History and Nature

“There is no peculiar merit in ancient things, but there is merit in integrity, and integrity entails the keeping together of the parts of any whole, and if these parts are scattered throughout time, then the maintenance of integrity entails a knowledge, a memory, of ancient things. …. To think, feel or act as though the past is done with, is equivalent to believing that a railway station through which our train has just passed, only existed for as long as our train was in it.” (Edward Hyams, Chapter 7, The Gifts of Interpretation)

This quote was very interesting. I read through it multiple times, and each time I found something new to unpack. The beauty of a quote such as this is that every person will have their own variation of what it means to them, and it may resonate with them in different ways. This is very present in nature interpretation. We are all finding our own meaning in the things around us in nature (how we perceive the world), just as though we are finding our own meaning within the things we read.

The picture below is a photo I took of my favourite walking trail near my house. It has special meaning to me and reminds me of past adventures I have had with friends and family, but to you it may just be a picture of a trail on a nice day (or it may remind you of one of your own memories from your past).

In order to unpack this quote, I must first indicate that this is my interpretation of the quote. My understanding of Hyams quote is that there is only merit or significance to historical objects and things because of the story told behind these things. The integrity upheld by telling the story of (or remembering) historical artifacts is what gives them merit; hence, “there is merit in integrity”. When he continues to say that integrity means keeping the part of the whole together, he may be talking about the fact that us remembering is what maintains this integrity. Our very knowledge on the subject is what gives these ancient things, or memories merit and significance. This is depicted through “maintenance of integrity entails a knowledge, a memory, of ancient things”.

The second part of the quote is a bit trickier, in my opinion, to unpack, but I think the idea is that if we forget about the past and discard it as though it is over and done with (that it no longer has significance), then that is the same as believing that “a railway station through which our train has just passed, only existed for as long as our train was in it”.

An equivalent to explain this quote would be perhaps that to ignore events that occurred in the past, to ignore our own history, would be to repeat our mistakes. In a more simplified sense, if I did not remember every stupid thing I did throughout my life, I would not grow and learn from these experiences. In a large-scale example, the world right now is at a crossroads with which direction it can choose to go considering the world’s current climate change situation. We can learn from the mistakes we know we have made and try to redeem ourselves from the mess we have created, or we can choose not to have integrity and no longer learn from our past.

Understanding and remembering the past is important in moving forward and creating a better situation than those before us. This doesn’t just pertain to nature, but everything, including world wars, attempted genocides, or mass-casualty events. We must remember what has happened in order to make sure that mistakes do not get repeated. I am sure we have all heard our high school history teacher say those very words, but they are quite true, as is shown in Edward Hyams quote.

Thank you all for reading. Hope everyone is having a good week so far.

Cora

[sonnetthebard]

On Losing One’s Head

Or, in other words, my entry to @shipwreckedcomedy‘s fanfiction contest. I have had a really fun time reading the works of Washington Irving to prep for this, and it’s only made me more excited for this series. Even though I know in a modern adaptation it may be changed I’m sticking to a lot of the facts that Irving gives us about the Headless Horseman. Thank you to everyone on here who gave me ideas/ inspiration/ let me rant to you for a bit while I figured this out. It took a bit longer than I had anticipated, but I’m really happy with it. This is probably so far from canon, but I got a prompt from the wonderful ‘S’ anon on here and I had to write it. Enjoy!

Genre: Comedy/ Fluff/ Mystery/ A Pinch of Angst

Words: 4249

TL;DR: Ichabod Crane tries to unravel a bit of the Headless Horseman’s past in order to try and figure out where his head might be. 

TW: Minor bullying, Mentions of war, mentions of PTSD, mentions of decapitation

__________________________________________________________

Ichabod Crane navigated the hallways of the school, eyes trained on his feet. He normally wouldn’t allow himself to walk with such a closed posture- it exposed him for how nervous he was (which was, contrary to popular belief, a more recent development in his personality). This town had put him a bit on edge. This town and his roommate, who was as inexplicable as he was persistent, and happened to be the reason he was allowing himself to walk with such a closed posture. He had a series of questions to ask his roommate at the forefront of his mind, and he’d spent a majority of the day figuring out how to word them so that he didn’t sound completely heartless. He didn’t want anything or anyone distracting him, because the talk he was about to have was very important- well, he thought it was anyways. It was important to him. His roommate seemed like a good person, and he really did want to help him (though it seemed like his roommate was doing more ‘helping’ at the moment than Ichabod was). 

Ichabod’s roommate was, of course, the infamous Headless Horseman. It had certainly made his life interesting- especially given that he was only just settling into this new town and his new position. He was just navigating his new life, and now on top of that, he was also trying to find his friend’s head. So far, no luck on that front. He hadn’t had a lot of luck on many fronts. It didn’t seem like his colleagues were particularly fond of him- especially not Douffe Martling or Brom Bones and his cronies. He wasn’t quite sure what it was with Martling other than perhaps a naturally uptight attitude, but he could at least venture a guess on why Brom Bones didn’t like him. It seemed they both had their eyes set on the same woman- which was another front on which Ichabod had not been very lucky. Katrina Van Tassel, the woman his heart had decided to set on, did not seem to reciprocate his affections in the slightest. Mind you Ichabod also found her incredibly hard to read. She was confident and smart, and one could interpret nearly everything she did as flirtatious. But you also got the overwhelming sense when interacting with her that she was not flirting in the slightest. 

Ichabod needed to stop distracting himself, he thought, as pleasant of a distraction as Kat was. He was on a roll. He was trying to get back to his room in a timely matter because (and I cannot emphasize this enough) this conversation was important. It was also a conversation that his friend would prefer to keep confidential, so he needed to get back to his room and have it before anyone could decide to tag along. He wasn’t the only person in Sleepy Hollow who wanted to help the Headless Horseman find his head. In fact, he had many supporters. But this particular conversation was delicate. Ichabod intended to ask how precisely his new friend had come about losing his head. Ichabod believed that perhaps even though this head wasn’t the Horseman’s original one, it may be able to help with some of his memories- physical memories, that was. It would likely be a hard conversation, Ichabod considered. Losing one’s head seemed like it would be traumatic. Remembering that feeling wouldn’t be pleasant for his friend. He would eventually need to share the necessary details with those who were intent on helping him and his friend, but perhaps the Horseman might feel slightly more comfortable having the initial conversation privately where he could express his emotions without judgement- if, of course, he had any. It was more of a precaution. 

Ichabod found himself so consumed in his thoughts that he neglected to notice a foot extended in front of him. He was looking at his feet. He really should have seen it. But he was in a state not uncommon to him where the world within his head had taken precedence over the world outside of it. Ichabod tumbled to the ground with a thud, and it was not long until a roaring chorus of laughter resounded above him. He did not even need to look up to know precisely who he had encountered and what had happened. He did the courtesy of looking up anyways- though it was probably only feeding their egos to see the embarrassment flush on his face. As Ichabod had suspected, the figures of Brom Bones and his three usual companions Tripp, Cal and Blair loomed above him, their bodies racking with every laugh. Ichabod sighed, fixing his glasses and trying not to pay them much mind. The more upset he got with them and their shenanigans, the more satisfied they would be with their results (which meant that they’d be inclined to throw something else his way). He stood, brushing himself off and starting back on his way. Before he could get very far, though, he felt a strong grip on his arm pulling him back. Even once he had stopped walking, it didn’t let go. It seemed Brom wasn’t through terrorizing him yet. 

“Where are you going?” The strapping Brom Bones smirked. It was a smirk Ichabod was all too familiar with, and one that he had very much hoped he wouldn’t be seeing. Brom was holding him up intentionally. He knew Ichabod didn’t want to be there. “You look like you’re in a hurry.”

“Well-” Ichabod started before being cut off.

“You going to try to pick up Katrina?” Tripp teased, pouting and cooing mockingly at the mention of the woman Ichabod had taken a liking took. He sighed as all four men found amusement in that and erupting into laughter again. 

“What? No!” Ichabod blushed.

“Ichabod and Kat, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-” Cal and Blair cooed before Brom raised a hand to signal for them to stop. 

“That’s enough, guys.” Brom told them, trying not to show how much that bothered him. There was only just a hint of jealousy in his tone, but it was enough for the boys to know they’d gone too far. He seemed to size up Ichabod again, before letting go of Ichabod’s arm. Ichabod sighed in relief, thinking that he was finally free... until Brom wrapped an arm around him in a seemingly friendly gesture, putting on his smug smirk again. Ichabod seized up a bit. He was not too fond of physical contact at the best of times, but especially not from Brom Bones. It took everything in him not to scowl. “So if you’re not going to see Kat... what’s the rush getting out of here?”

 “I’m going to have a talk with the Horseman.” Ichabod told him plainly, hoping that was enough to get him out of this. Whatever Brom Bones had against Ichabod, the feeling was entirely mutual.  

“But don’t you, like, live with him?” Cal pointed out. 

“You could literally talk to him any time.” Tripp nodded. 

“Yes, but I’ve spent all day planning this conversation.” Ichabod sighed. There were very few people Ichabod knew who would understand his situation, and these men were most certainly not among them. “I have to do it soon before I forget what I was going to say.”

“It’s just a conversation, man!” Tripp laughed. 

“It’s not just any conversation.” Ichabod told him, getting an idea. “It’s about his head.”

“You’re still on that, are you?” Brom rolled his eyes, letting him go. He knew he didn’t need to hold Ichabod there anymore. Not only did Blair, Tripp and Cal have him surrounded, but... now Ichabod felt socially obligated to stay. Brom Bones was a lot smarter than he let on (at least socially). Most bullies were. 

“Well... yes. I’d like to help him find it.” Ichabod shrugged. 

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Brom warned him in what Ichabod might almost consider to be a genuine tone. He hand a hand through his hair subconsciously, and Blair reached forward once he was done to fix a strand that had fallen in Brom’s face. Brom gave him a clap on the back as a silent ‘thank you’. Ichabod had always found those four men to be strangely close. “Listen, bud... he’s been missing his head a long time.”

“Since before we were born.” Blair added. 

“It’s not like you’re just going to waltz in and find it.” Brom sighed. “This head probably isn’t going to know anything.”

“We don’t know that.” Ichabod countered. “We’ve finally got people taking the search for his head seriously, and I think we’re making good progress!”

“Right... you keep telling yourself that.” Brom rolled his eyes. “Alright, guys, let him go.”

“But you said-” Tripp furrowed his brows. 

“He’s doing enough damage himself.” Brom sighed. The boys cleared a path for Ichabod, and he meekly started to walk away. He felt oddly embarrassed, or ashamed, about what he was doing. He tried to shake it off, but Brom had successfully gotten under his skin and he knew it. Brom chuckled, almost gloating. “Have fun, dork!”

“Thank you?” Ichabod tried, unsure as to how he was supposed to respond to that. 

Ichabod made his way out of the school (but not without a cold glare from Douffe). Perhaps what Brom Bones had said had some merit. His headless friend had been missing his head for a long time. Did Ichabod really think things were magically going to go better this time around? He wasn’t even dealing with the original head. He couldn’t expect to find anything new. But then again... Ichabod himself had also posed a good point. They did seem to be making progress. And how were they supposed to know if his head could ever be found until they tried? No, Brom was wrong. Brom was wrong a lot of the time, but especially about this. He walked down the streets of the town, head down but significantly more aware of his surroundings. He’d learned his lesson- at least for now. His room was within walking distance from the school. In this town, just about everything was within walking distance. He exchanged nods of acknowledgement with a few people on the street, a smile or two. Luckily, he was running into people who knew better than to bother him when he was like this. People like Judy, Rip Jr., Verla, or Matilda. Verla and Matilda probably didn’t want to talk to him anyway. But Judy had given him a nice smile, and it had raised his spirits. It’s funny how small things could do that. 

“Ichabod!” A light voice called out from behind him. Ichabod pivoted, recognizing it instantly. For anyone else, Ichabod would have simply waved, continuing on his way. But this wasn’t anyone. This was Katrina. Ichabod smiled softly upon finding that he was right. It was a dopey sort of grin commonly found in people when they saw the person that brightened their lives. “You’re out early!”

“School ended half an hour ago.” Ichabod furrowed his brows, confused by her implication. 

“Oh, I know.” Kat clarified. “You usually stay a bit longer, though.”

“Oh.” Ichabod nodded. And that was when it hit him: he had absolutely no idea how to respond to that. He’d always been a little socially awkward- especially when he was under as much pressure as he was with Kat. He bit his lip, trying to think of what to say next. Luckily, Kat took care of that for him. 

“Any particular reason you’re out so soon?” Kat asked, finally catching up with him. She kept walking as if silently asking him to walk with her, or maybe telling him it was okay for him to continue on his way. That she would follow. Either way, it was a great comfort to Ichabod.

“I thought of a few questions to ask the Horseman.” Ichabod told her. 

“What kinds of questions?” Kat asked. Ichabod could tell she wasn’t teasing him. She was genuinely interested. But there was also an air of amusement to her that was undeniable, and admittedly rather attractive to Ichabod. It made him feel like she genuinely enjoyed his company. A light blush covered his cheeks.

“Well... I was hoping to ask him about how exactly he lost his head.” Ichabod admitted. “See if maybe his history might be able to help us figure out where to look in the present.”

“That’s a really good idea! Maybe this head will know!” Kat hummed in agreement. “I’ve always wondered about what happened... People say he was a Hessian soldier. You know, during the revolution.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with the concept of Hessian soldiers.” Ichabod hummed. “German regiments for hire, if you will, employed by the British to fight in the Revolutionary War. Do you really think he’s a Hessian?”

“That’s what the lore says.” Kat shrugged, smirking. 

“All the more reason for me to talk to him about this alone.” Ichabod decided. He blushed again, not having meant to think aloud like that. “Sorry, I-”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” Kat assured him. “He’s probably not going to want a lot of people around if you’re talking about... you know, war. It should be just you and him.”

“I’m glad you understand.” Ichabod sighed softly in relief. 

“I don’t like to talk about war anyways.” Kat admitted. “I don’t... I mean...”

“I understand.” Ichabod hummed sympathetically. No one liked talking about war. But on top of that, he knew Kat was very against slaughter of any kind. “Have you thought about how to approach it if he has... you know, PTSD?” Kat asked. “It’s pretty common in soldiers, even if this isn’t his original head.”

“I... haven’t.” Ichabod admitted. “I did work out how to ask the in a way that I think will be the least upsetting or offensive.”

“That’s a good first step.” Kat encouraged him. “Just... respect his boundaries. Give him the space and time he needs to answer- if he can answer. Don’t pressure him if he can’t.”

“Right.” Ichabod nodded, taking mental note of those things. “Thank you, Kat.”

“No problem.” Kat smiled softly. It was smiles like those that made appearances in Ichabod’s dreams as he rested his head. She had, Ichabod thought, the most beautiful smile in the world. It was so kind. They approached the inn, and Kat sighed. “Well, this is your stop.”

“It is...” Ichabod chuckled semi-nervously. He stopped, shifting his weight awkwardly on his feet. She had him so nervous that he couldn’t quite stand still. 

“Good luck, Ichabod.” Kat smirked. Ichabod blushed. It seemed that nearly everything Katrina did, intentional or not, made him blush. 

“Thank you!” Ichabod called after her, watching for a few moments as she continued down the street. 

Ichabod sighed, imagining very briefly what their family would look like. He imagined they would be a very handsome family (though the children would get their looks from their mother- he was of the opinion that he was a bit homely). He snapped himself out of it before he could go too far down that rabbit hole. He wondered for a moment if it was weird that he was already thinking that way about a woman he hadn’t even worked up the nerve to ask out. It likely was. But his heart tended pine after things and his mind did no helping, running wild with even the smallest of fantasies. When he was a child, a teacher once told him that his appetite for the fanciful was unsurpassable. He was now rather more a man of reason than he was then, where he was willing to believe just about everything he heard. But his mind did still run wild with whims about more everyday pleasures. Rational joys, like love, romance, and food. Mostly food, until Katrina came along. For a man his size, he had a surprising appetite...

“Hey, Ichabod!” Someone called. Ichabod snapped his head, looking for where it was coming from. Oh. It was Judy again. He waved. “Do you need me to call Lucretia to get you a new key?”

“What?” Ichabod blinked. 

“You’ve been standing there for a while.” Judy pointed out. “Did you lose your key?”

“Oh...” Ichabod blushed. He pulled out his keys, holding them up. “I’m fine!”

“Okay! Just wanted to be sure!” Judy chuckled, going back to her own business.

“Thank you!” Ichabod called after her. It was lovely that she cared. He quickly and carefully opened the door to his room. He saw his friend the horseman busy at work taking a tray of what appeared to be either muffins or cupcakes out of a microwave oven he’d been gifted by the family of one of his students. The room smelled wonderful. “Hello...”

“Oh, hey Ichabod!” The Horseman turned, his- or, rather, her (for now)- hair splaying out behind her in a fan-like motion. She gave him a brief smile before busying herself with her work again. Ichabod liked this head on the Horseman. “I hope you don’t mind, but while you were out I thought you might be hungry when you got home, so... I made some carrot cake muffins.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Ichabod sighed contentedly. So long as she didn’t burn the room down, he had no objections to food. 

“We just have to let those sit for a bit.” The Horseman muttered, removing the last of the muffins from the pan. “There! I’ve got a cream cheese icing in the fridge for when they cool if you want.”

“Lovely.” Ichabod chuckled. 

“How was your day at school?” The Horseman asked. 

“Good.” Ichabod told her, sighing and taking a seat on his bed. The mention of school had reminded him of why he had left school so promptly in the first place. She seemed to be in such a good mood... he hated to ruin it. “Would you... I have a few questions.”

“Oh... sure.” The Horseman shrugged, sitting down on the small chaise in the corner of the room. “What is it?”

“I... know this isn’t your body.” Ichabod bit his lip. “But... do you remember anything about it?”

“I... don’t know. I think, a bit.” The Horseman considered. 

“Do you think you might remember how you lost it?” Ichabod asked carefully. Well, that wasn’t what he’d planned on saying. He winced. “Your head, I mean. Do you remember how...”

“I... can try to.” The Horseman offered. "I don't know what I'll be able to get, though... I don't have the eyes, ears or mind of the original body"

“You could still find something.” Ichabod reasoned. 

“Just give me a moment.” The Horseman nodded, sighing. She closed her eyes for a moment, head in her hands. 

Ichabod gave her space and silence to think. Each new head the Horseman donned seemed to unveil a bit more about his personality. He hadn’t thought to ask about any memories before because it didn’t seem entirely logical to assume that any head other than his own would hold them. But... he’d gotten the idea at school today that maybe the body had a few memories of its own. Like a physical memory. It was silly. And it might lead to nothing. But the chance that it might amount to something was too much for Ichabod to pass us. He was a man of science. And with science comes experimentation. It’s how humanity evolves and grows. This was an experiment that might prove fruitless but was still necessary. Because like many experiments, you can never be certain of what you’re going to find until you conduct it. After a moment, the Horseman raised her head and opened her eyes. 

“Anything?” Ichabod asked cautiously. 

“Not much.” The Horseman shook her head. 

“Not much is better than nothing.” Ichabod blinked, pleasantly surprised. “What did you remember?”

“Well... I don’t have anything visual or auditory... because like I said, those are kind of gone...” The Horseman warned him. “But I can remember... I think the body was fighting. I mean, obviously it was on horseback. That’s how it got its name. But... I think it was holding a gun of some sort. Maybe a musket?”

“Interesting... so perhaps you were a soldier...” Ichabod hypothesized. “Anything else?” 

“Well... you’re not gonna like this.” The Horseman chuckled nervously. She clearly didn’t like it either. “I don’t think this body’s head was cut off.”

“What?” Ichabod blinked. 

“From what I got, it felt more like the head was ripped off. Or blown off. I’m kinda leaning towards it being blown off...” The Horseman winced. 

“With a gun?” Ichabod asked cautiously. 

“I’m thinking something a bit bigger than a bullet.” The Horseman shook her head. “I don’t know what, though.”

“Well, a cannonball would be too big...” Ichabod thought aloud. 

“You know what, I don’t think it would.” The Horseman snapped her fingers. An almost cartoonish ‘lightbulb moment' look graced her features. 

“A cannonball?” Ichabod gulped. 

Well... she was right. he didn’t like that. Because if his friend had lost his head to a cannonball, the odds of it being in good shape were slim. He certainly hoped that this Headless Helper, as he’d named her, was wrong. That maybe the head had been cut clean off. Or that if it hadn’t, it was at least in usable shape. Mind you, he realized, his friend was certainly not around by any natural means, and it was wrong to assume that his head would have been preserved by any natural means either. This entire situation was unlike anything Ichabod had ever been through. It was terrifying... and absolutely thrilling. Ichabod had always imagined himself playing hero, and though these circumstances were odd ones, he was finally living that reality in a way. But back to the matter at hand... perhaps he now had more clues to his Headless friend’s identity.

“I’m sorry...” The Horseman winced. “I know that’s probably not what you wanted to hear.”

“Actually, it really helps. Very useful information.” Ichabod assured her. “This is the closest we’ve gotten to finding out who the Horseman is. Thank you.”

“I’m just happy I could help.” The Horseman smiled shyly. 

“Are you okay?” Ichabod asked carefully. 

“I think so.” The Horseman shrugged. “I just... I feel bad for this guy. What he went through sucks.”

“Yes it does.” Ichabod hummed sympathetically. 

“I mean, I guess it was a quick death.” The Horseman reasoned. “I just... wow.”

“I’m sorry for-” Ichabod started. 

“No. Don’t be. I really want this guy to find his head.”  The Horseman cut him off. “I’m fine.”

“As long as you’re sure.” Ichabod nodded, not wanting to push. There was a moment of silence between them. “You know, it’s okay not to be.”

“What?” The Horseman blinked, confused. 

“It’s okay not to be fine.” Ichabod told her. “And if you’re not, or you need anything... I’m here.”

“Thank you.” The Horseman sighed. There was another moment of silence. Ichabod didn’t know what else to say. "I think the muffins have probably cooled enough for us to try. Want one?”

“I would love one.” Ichabod nodded getting up, walking to his desk, and pulling out his notebook. 

And so Ichabod Crane took some rather detailed notes on his findings, however scarce, and his new hypotheses about where they might find his friend’s head. While he did this, he snacked on one (or two, or three) of the Headless Helper’s muffins- which were exceptional. Especially for the grade of the oven they’d been baked in. This head had a knack for knowing precisely what Ichabod needed and providing it to him. The other heads he’d encountered... not so much. It was a finicky business working with his headless friend because with every new head he changed fairly drastically- almost as if he were an entirely different person. What a mess Ichabod had gotten himself wrapped up in... Truly, he’d only come to Sleepy Hollow to teach science. Teaching was his passion, and he was very much enjoying his job in Sleepy Hollow. But his mind had always wandered towards the inexplicable, and that was a term that more than aptly described his friend the Horseman. 

In a sense, Ichabod felt that maybe that had been the true reason he was drawn to this little town. That perhaps a higher purpose did exist in his life than simply to teach. He had always thought teaching was his calling, but perhaps it was simply a step on the journey that was meant to be his life. Or a vessel, he supposed, for it was teaching that had brought him to where he was. Whatever the case may be, Ichabod knew that what he was doing in helping the Horseman felt right. He wasn’t usually a man to trust pure gut instinct, but this was different. This felt like the start of something. Ichabod hoped that it was a good something. He would hate to be on the wrong side of history. The Headless Horseman had been a beloved legend for so long, and Ichabod felt it in his bones that he was now building onto that legend. That was a scary prospect. Because if he made a wrong move, all that he was building could crumble as quickly and as easily as a Jenga tower and leave him buried under the weight of his failure, the villain of a story he had never intended to be written into. 

[violet-t-9]

Different perspectives (episode 131)

I’ve seen a lot of people saying how choosing Trent to ally with would be a horrible idea, and I 100% believe it too. However, I think we need to see how that is a valid option to consider from the cast’s perspective (and Matt clearly prepared for it to be at least a possibility, especially given the bit at the end where he showed the two minis). 

Suggesting letting Trent in on their plan is not as unwise as many make it out to be. Sure it has very, very high risk, but M9 is just looking at all their options based on the information they are given and it’s worth considering.

1. The city will consume literally everything if they fail to stop the TT.

- Obviously, Trent is bad, but is Trent as bad as the end of the world though? (Well, that is still a bit debatable...) Sometimes, you got to work with your worst enemies to save the world, it’s just how it goes.

- M9 sought help from A LOT of people who they were not supposed to trust, and so far it has been working out. Not saying it would have worked out with Trent, but it is a valid option to consider. They worked with: Lucien and TT, Vess DeRogna, and to a lesser extent, Astrid/Eadwulf, Essek, etc. This is not their first rodeo guys. Obviously imo Trent is more horrible than any of the above mentioned, but like I understand why it would be an option.

- I have a hard time believing that Trent, who probably has some intelligence of some kind, would want the world to end, so even if he obviously will try to undermine M9 at some point I think it would be after the city is no longer the immediate threat (if they convince him of the gravity of the situation).

2. There is a high chance that they can persuade Trent to help, and Trent may come with extra people and more power.

- Sure Trent may be chaotic evil but even that kind of person would want self-preservation and also knowledge/power. If the M9 played it well I have no doubt Trent would join them. He wants to get close/monitor/get rid of M9 especially Caleb, he wants to know what they are doing and is certainly going to be interested in the city. So the chances of Trent going is... well, honestly, high. I don’t think he would just give up control over the situation. If he doesn’t go and sends others instead then working with Trent wouldn’t even be a concern now would it? Working with Astrid and Eadwulf doesn’t seem too bad.

- From a meta perspective Matt probably doesn’t want to play a lot of NPCs, but from a game perspective it makes sense that Trent would have more people to send. This is really a world-ending all-hands-on-deck situation. Yes this may not be the correct kind of help, but it is an option to consider - especially since they are trying to get Trent killed/kill Trent as a bonus anyways.

3. Trent will 100% double-cross them, or try to kill Caleb, or get tempted by the city, or all of the above; but consider, they can also use it against Trent.

- If Trent double-crosses them, M9 would at least expect it to happen and would see it coming. Especially if Trent already follows them and plans to pursue them anyways - then forming an “alliance” would give them an advantage. They would have to deal with Trent anyways. Sure Trent will probably choose a time when the city is no longer a threat and when they are vulnerable, but it would not come as a surprise. Trent could very well try to get Caleb/other members killed, but they would also be trying to get Trent killed. If Trent got tempted by the city, well all the better if he ends up like Vess DeRogna or if his mind got consumed by a hundred screaming voices. 

- Now, since they are definitely not working with Trent, Trent could still be lying in wait to ambush them when they return, vulnerable and exhausted from the city business, and they may still have to fight him at their weakest anyways. So really, the confrontation is bound to happen. 

- As for Caleb, he IS the one person who knows how absolutely horrible Trent is. The fact that he is even entertaining this idea means it must have some merit. He has shown that he is willing to face his trauma if it will benefit the party/others/himself in some way (things that he considers “bigger than himself”), and of course “allying” with Trent would be an opportunity for a lot of things (namely, killing Trent, catching him off guard and slipping the collar on, learning more information, finding some things against Trent) that Caleb is interested in. 

- Also a bit unrelated, but they also had kind of a similar conversation regarding working with the Assembly before the Sanatorium, and decided to try reaching out to Astrid anyways. They also decided to work with the TT, which some would argue was a horrible, horrible idea, but they lost things as well as gained things in those interactions. High risk, high reward. Even though in this case, the risk might be too high, it is still worth M9′s discussion.

4. They didn’t just immediately get all the relevant information - the options changed throughout the episode.

- They didn’t always have to choose between Trent and Essek, there WAS a slim chance that they could have some semblance of both - which would actually be beneficial in its own ways, if played correctly. Obviously it carries a lot of risk, but everything they do have risks. It failed because of the failed persuasion check, and I’m glad it failed, but the potential benefits still exist.

- They asked Astrid precisely to confirm Trent’s level of interest, and dropped the idea soon after because Trent turned out to be REAL invested in terminating them as a threat and less in the “curiosity”/“wanting conversation” stage now. After the messaging, they quickly decided that associating with Trent wouldn’t be worth it.  

Now for the list of cons against working with Trent: I don’t even think I need to list them, just typing his name so many times already made me feel revolted. He is dangerous, unpredictable, and he is as untrustworthy as it gets. Also he is just a horrible presence to be around (Lucien/TT are such nice companions  in comparison, just in my humble opinion) everybody especially Caleb, and Essek is 100% valid in not wanting to work with Trent. Please don’t send me anything to argue about why working with Trent would be a horrible idea - I agree, I’m not arguing against that at all.

I know that it can seem like the choice between two potential allies should be obvious, but it is a nuanced situation (see above), and Essek is one person, who is at similar levels as M9, whom they still are not sure they trust completely - and have good reason not to (but they obviously do trust him, because they tell him everything and choose him as soon as they have confirmation about Trent’s intentions). All I’m saying is it is good for M9 to weigh their options, even if the choice may seem “obvious” to some of us. Personally I’m really glad that we don’t need to see Trent being even in proximity of them, but there were merits to either option and I think it was nice to see the options explored.

TL;DR: Trent is horrible and I’m so thankful they didn’t “ally” with him but M9 did have many valid reasons to consider, talk about and explore that option. It is NOT M9 being unwise or idiotic (at least not any more than normal). In fact, I think it was great and careful planning on their part that they took time to consider all the options - even though this option is pretty terrible in many people’s opinions (including some of their own and my own).

This is the cast’s game and they can decide how they want to play. If they want to take the time to discuss all the options available to them and the potential pros/cons, I consider that thorough exploration of the story on their part. The fact that they can have such discussions shows how detailed and complicated Matt’s world and characters are. I, for one, love those moments when they lay out their options and weigh the risks and benefits and would never consider M9 any lesser for addressing these options.

[askhubertvonvestra]

Which Genshin Impact Vision (elemental abilities) would fit the Black Eagles?

It’s strange, but I do believe this will vary from those elements used by Benders. I imagine it’s due to the perceived facets of the elements that go beyond a simple definition.

Bernadetta von Varley: Dendro. There may be an insightfulness typically associated with those in possession of this Vision that one may not see in Bernadetta at a glance, given her isolated nature. However, I would argue that she is able to find perceive more than others might on account of her prolonged time spent alone with the ability to reflect in peace. She often brings a unique perspective to matters that one might not have considered otherwise, and I do believe that warrants the interest of a being claiming to rule wisdom. As well, the abilities provided by this Vision would cater to her interests in the most unusual plants, I should think. Poisonous creatures would likely strike her as adorable.

Caspar von Bergliez: Pyro. Largely on account of his fearlessness in the face of a challenge, he would make a natural choice for the Lady of Fire to bestow her Vision upon. Not that he would require it, of course. His passion and fervor are more than sufficient without supposedly divine intervention. It is also rather fitting that Pyro can easily interact with every other variety of Vision within this realm. I’ve not met anyone yet who can’t find a way to collaborate with Caspar, despite his boundless enthusiasm that some may find overwhelming. His friendship with Linhardt has shown how adaptable and accommodating he can be of people who, on the surface, appear as his very opposite.

Dorothea Arnault: Anemo. A free spirit is a defining characteristic of Dorothea’s, and I’m certain the being overseeing these Visions would recognize that swiftly. His decision not to smother his people with oppressive rule and permit them worship if they so choose would also resonate with her, no doubt. The talents of Anemo are not as immediately apparent as more combative and responsive Visions, yet the capacity it does have is undeniable should one care to notice. With Dorothea’s own talents concealed behind her showmanship for those who gloss over her based on assumptions, only to later realize their mistake, Anemo is a promising reflection of her character.

Edelgard von Hresvelg: Cryo. The power of prismatic ice, applied in any manner of protection or devastating attacks, is a perfect parallel to Her Majesty’s own considerable strength. Tsaritsa, Archon of Cryo, is one who may also understand the decisions that Lady Edelgard has had to make for the better of humanity. Hers is a compassionate heart that she was forced to harden in the name of her people, so that peace may truly be secured and not merely pretended at by false gods and greedy nobles. Of course, her propensity for powerful strikes for staggering physical damage does support the elemental reactions of this Vision neatly.

Ferdinand von Aegir: Pyro. Similarly to Caspar, he brings a formidable drive to whatever task he undertakes that would presumably still appeal to the entity associated with this vision. His temper would likely draw in the Lady of Fire as well, given her reputation, but one should expect a self-proclaimed god to be so short-sighted. In particular, his ability to change as a situation demands complements the elemental reactions for Pyro. Large damage in a single blow, steady damage as determined by surrounding events, or even a shield to guard allies... Yes, the versatility of Pyro suits Ferdinand quite well.

Hubert von Vestra: Geo. For this realm, Geo seems most suitable for my disposition. The extremely limited range of elemental reactions aside, it seems that a Vision is provided largely due to the individual themselves, unlike the magic of Fódlan. Between the Geo Archon’s own attentive and methodical habits and the protective qualities of Geo, this would be chosen for me rather than being my choice. I’m confident I could find a way to apply this Vision to my combat strategies for the best outcome nonetheless.

Jeritza von Hrym: Electro. The fact that these are no longer being distributed by the Archon, and indeed actively hunted down, almost makes it more ideal for Jeritza, in all honesty. His is a rare resolve, after all. One that arguably exceeds the self-importance and aggrandized air of this Vision’s Archon. She could attempt to wrench it from him if she wished to, and I doubt she would succeed. The emphasis on power and indomitable force affiliated with the Electro Vision does lend itself to Jeritza’s own combative prowess, however. He simply did not let the mentality of that overpower him as wholly as the conceited Archon for Electro did. The powers resulting from Electro are notably more tactical than the Death Knight might employ... Yet I believe Jeritza himself could find them useful.

Linhardt von Hevring: Hydro. Not simply for the healing abilities found with Hydro, this Vision is exceptional for Linhardt. Its reliance on elemental reactions with other Visions to have significant effects in combat would please him, I’m certain. The more distance between him and battle, the better. I presume he learned Physic for that reason. The commitment to equal judgment by the Hydro Archon would also speak to his own nature, I believe. He cares little for the empty perceptions or accusations of others, but he would accept criticisms that had any measure of value to him.

Petra Macneary: Anemo. Much like Dorothea, her open-minded and free nature is undeniable. It is uncharacteristically passive as a Vision for Petra, similarly to how Geo is for me, but she is likewise more than capable of compensating for that by her own merits in battle. I imagine the abilities it provides her would blend seamlessly into her agile fighting style. Truthfully, it would likely be a sight to behold. Her path to freedom for herself and her people has been complex in several aspects, yet she never relents. It is this commitment to free will and the human spirit all people share that empowers her, both in regards to this Vision as well as her position as Princess of Brigid.

[prodigious-ladybug]

wishmaker thoughts

in terms of it being a single installment in the larger narrative of miraculous ladybug, i don’t have a lot of thoughts on wishmaker other than ‘haha cool someone knows both of their identities at the same time wonder where this will go’ bc like. i am unable to separate myself from the idea that i absolutely cannot judge something (in this case, season- and series-long arcs) until i see it in its Entirety, in its Proper Complete State (which i know doesn’t exactly mesh with television as a serialised art form but jhdfghj wtvr thats a whole other discussion) so i don’t, and won’t, really have an opinion on luka knowing their identities until i see what the show does with it

on the other hand, in terms of its own merits as an episode (as in, the parts of the episode that are self-contained and are supposed to have their own story arc within the 20min) wishmaker was probably one of the weaker episodes of the show? alec’s akumatisation practically came out of nowhere - the show usually does a pretty good job of setting up the through lines that lead to a character’s akumatisation right from the start of the ep (you know, like with actual foreshadowing and good writing and shit) but wishmaker felt more concerned with the interactions between luka & adrien & marinette than having the villain feel natural within the story. which is all well and good, like this episode is about those three and should be focused on luka’s relationship with adrien & marinette if it wanted to have the proper impact of luka finding out their identities, but it just seemed like the episode couldn’t balance being both a run of the mill, monster of the week episode and an Event episode at the same time (that being said, i doubt this episode would’ve been enough to hold its own across a two parter so i get how the unbalance arose). instead of throwing alec’s characterisation out of whack they couldve used his early screen time to lead up to his akumatisation more naturally - surely something about being a tv presenter and having to be fake all the time for a living and not staying true to what his younger self wanted or SOMETHING would like. be putting him down in the dumps or smth. idk. that’s just off the top of my head surely the writers could come up with something more substantial. and yeah this might take away some attention from the emotional core of luka, adrien & marinette but it’d at least 1. tie in with the theme of the episode and 2. set some precedent for his negative feelings instead of him getting akumatised in like. ten seconds hgfdfghjk

the only other thing that kinda rubbed me the wrong way was how wishmaker’s power seemed especially contrived, even for this show? like i Know half of the akumatised powers are to either get ladybug and chat noir to kiss (contrived for the sake of romance which is. generally fine in a romance show and also approved by my shipper brain) or reveal their identities (which actually ties into the plot and the villain’s motivations and therefore makes it...not really contrived) so wishmaker being used to reveal their identities is fine. but um. the leap hawkmoth made in how his powers would do that is. wild. it’s like:

reveal people’s childhood wishes

???

reveal lb & cn’s identities

profit

and again, i know hawkmoth has given an endless list of powers to people that make you think ‘what the fuck was he hoping to accomplish with that?? what did he THINK would happen?’ and i’m all for hawkmoth having dumb plans, being soundly beaten and then having to figure out smarter ways to beat lb & cn, but i guess my problem here is that in this episode he was actually proven RIGHT. like he had no guarantee that lb & cn wouldn’t have childhood wishes a la dino man and mr banana, but he really put out this fairly weak akuma with the immediate assumption that it would reveal their identities and like?? if viperion wasn’t there he’d have achieved it! (well, idk abt ladybug, he’d at least probably hit chat noir, which is. an interesting au to think about). the link between revealing childhood wishes and revealing lb & cn’s identities seemed like a massive leap in logic to me (more than this show usually makes), and idk if anyone else felt that when watching the episode but like kjhdfghjk hawkmoth buddy can you explain your thinking for just a second like i’ll accept what you’re doing i just need to know why the fuck you’re doing it and how you got there

but other than that! i really really liked this episode and i was hyped up the entire fucking time!! i had to keep pausing it bc i was getting overwhelmed LMAO. i guess one thing i will say so that this doesn’t seem like a wall of negativity (which i swear i didn’t mean for it to be, there were only two (2) things i didn’t like about the episode that i felt weakened it, it just takes me a billion words to get to my point) is that however they handle luka knowing their identities in future episodes, i fucking loved the way they handled it in this episode. for some background, i’ve honestly never cared much either way abt luka, i have zero negative feelings about him, it’s just that he has the unfortunate case of not being a character type i particularly care abt, and the writing hasn’t done anything much to endear him to me. he’s fine, and i certainly like him more than other characters, but i’m pretty much as neutral on him as you could get. UNTIL THIS EPISODE! okay not really, something abt him agreeing to be friends with marinette in crocoduel made me go ‘:) what a nice boy :)’ BUT! THIS EPISODE! i’m proud to announce i’m officially a luka stan. LYING BALD-FACED TO LADYBUG? KING. LYING TO LADYBUG AFTER THE SEASON OPENER OF HIM GETTING AKUMATISED OVER MARINETTE LYING??? i am SO here for internal character conflicts YES! this is what i WANT! set up a character who has a strict line in the sand and put them in a situation where they’re forced to cross it anyway, and see what happens next!!!! i really would not mind a whole character study on luka after this. like....the fucking intrigue.......why did he lie, and how does he feel about it? does he regret it? does he consider it a necessary evil? i’m sure all of this will be answered in like. a single line from him five episodes down the road bc that’s how this show handles shit like this but. those last few minutes were really just straight bangers i’m still not recovered

well this was. longer than i thought it’d be. and again, i liked this episode a lot, idk what compelled me to write all this out. i usually don’t have a lot of formulated thoughts like this after an episode of ml; i think that it was just bc there were a couple things i could actually critique in the ep that it made it easier to pick apart my feelings. but anyways!

TL;DR wishmaker, in its self contained elements, felt a bit weak as an episode bc 1. alec’s akumatisation was mad rushed and 2. the way his powers were used to further the plot felt contrived to me (yes, even for miraculous). but, in the episode’s over-arching elements within the season/show, i immensely enjoyed it, primarily because of the amount of intrigue it set up in 1. luka’s characterisation and 2. the possibilities emerging from luka knowing lb & cn’s identities

[some-cookie-crumbz]

BNHA, MomoJirou?

Prompts 25. "I know this looks bad, but I swear, it's not."

So many ways this could go~! Hopefully the route I took was a fun one!

Minor Trigger Warning: Mentions of Blood

Momo considered herself to be a rather fortunate woman. She had a financially successful family, a great relationship with her father and was working on things with her mother, a close-knit group of friends she loved dearly, and had started a paid internship just a few weeks back for a designing agency run by The Kayama Nemuri. She knew that she was an incredibly lucky person, that there were those who would kill for the opportunities she had been given, and made sure to wear her gratitude on her sleeve to everyone she knew. She put all her effort and energy into being a good daughter, a good friend, and a good employee, doing whatever she could through action to help emphasize the depth and sincerity of her gratitude. After all, actions were a great indicator of the merit of one's words!

But sadly… Her love life hadn’t seen nearly as many returns as the rest of her life had.

She’d had three relationships in the past and they’d all been… lackluster, to put it mildly. Her first relationship had been a situation where she agreed to date the guy more out of obligation than anything. He had been incredibly nice to her and her then-friends had insisted that meant she at least owed him a chance to prove himself as a boyfriend. The relationship had only lasted three months of her first year of high school and ended so horribly that her father had transferred her to a new school at the conclusion of her first semester.

The school she transferred to was a girls-only boarding school and where she grew into her sexual identity as a pansexual woman. She had a longer relationship with one of her classmates that started in the winter of her second year and ended in the spring of their third year, with her ex immediately jumping to date another of their peers within a week of the break up. It had been painful to watch and, for about a year after, she had avoided relationships for a while.

Her relationship after that had been even worse. She didn’t like to dwell on that ex too much simply because… Well, how incredibly awful it had been. The relationship had felt much more like the two of them getting together because they were afraid of being single in their group of friends. The two of them had nearly no common interests and her ex had always seemed to find her passion for fashion design to be a waste of time, frequently inquiring why she didn’t study something more “practical”. Momo herself, however, thought that her degree plan had been more than practical, considering her minor had been in business.

That relationship lasted ten months and ended when she learned of an affair.

She’d taken a two year break from dating after that, focusing instead on her friend and family and school. All of her friends had rallied around her after that break up, helping to lift her back up, and she had been incredibly grateful for it. They reminded her to never settle for less than she was worth, to wait until someone who deserved her commitment came around.

And then, one day, she met Jirou Kyouka.

Their first meeting had been an impromptu sort of thing. Momo’s dear friend Mina had to take her new puppy, Floofles, to the vet for vaccines and spaying. It was an overnight situation with a designated pick-up time, but Mina had to be at work during the time. She has begged Momo if, since she was free that day, she could pick Floofles up and monitor her until she herself was home. And not one to let a friend in need down, Momo had agreed.

In the lobby of the little vet clinic had sat a young woman in dark colors, with short cut indigo hair, and a snarling mass of hay colored fur in her lap. Momo had been a few minutes early and was urged to take a seat while she waited, causing her to settle into the vacancy next to the stranger and her displeased pet. Upon closer examination she realized that it was a cat, with a front paw that looked to be at an odd angle, which seemed to explain the attitude. “Oh, the poor little dear,” she murmured quietly, not thinking as the words left her mouth.

Dark eyes flickered up to her, the gleam of disinterest fading to a light of interest. Her lips twitched up in a small smile. “Thank you, but he did this to himself,” she hummed, reaching out to set one hand on the cat’s head. He responded by growling audibly and jerking his head out from under her touch. “Leave the patio door open unsupervised for one minute, and he leaps out to chase a bird. Eats shit and ends up hurting his paw.”

The cat let out a displeased hiss at his dirty laundry being aired, but it only resulted in both women laughing. The next few minutes waiting for Floofles had passed in the blink of an eye as she chatted up the cat owner, learning that the cat was named Dynamight and was just a grumpy old man trapped in the body of a young cat. Once Floofles was brought out to her, Momo asked for the other’s number, explaining she wanted to see how Dynamight was doing once his paw got looked at. And while there was genuine care about the cat’s well being involved, there had also been a selfish motivation behind it, too. Her companion seemed to know as much but didn’t draw attention to it as they exchanged numbers.

That was eleven months ago, with she and Jirou’s nine month anniversary as an official couple just on the horizon. And Momo couldn’t help but smile whenever she thought about it. Jirou was unlike her past partners in so many ways. She encouraged and supported Momo’s designing works, they shared a secret love of true crime love documentaries, and she was incredibly laid back. With her, Momo could feel her walls fall down and she felt genuinely secure about it. There was something naturally calming about Jirou’s presence and approach to life - of going with the flow and taking things as they came - that was refreshing and exhilarating. So much of Momo’s own life had been slotted around by activity start and end times, of living up to expectations both real and imagined, that the idea of simply letting things be and dealing with them as they came up was incredibly freeing.

The thought occurred to her as she stepped out of the elevator at Jirou’s apartment complex and started to make her way to her door. Normally, she made sure to reach out before dropping by. Part of it was because she didn’t like just showing up unannounced, but another reason was because of her girlfriend’s erratic work schedule. The other woman did freelance work of some kind - the details were vague and confidential - so her hours tended to shift depending on the needs of her client. Sometimes, she’d be free for a good three or four days, while other times she’d be engrossed in her projects for hours at a time. Things had been pretty quiet from what little she remembered last time they talked about work, though, so she felt things would be fine this one time.

She opened the door to the front door, unsurprised to find it unlocked. Jirou tended to leave the door unlocked in case her neighbor, a bedraggled single father, ever needed to ask for an impromptu baby-sitter. His daughter liked cats and Dynamight, as Momo herself had seen, was surprisingly agreeable with the young girl when she came by. She half expected to see young Eri settled on the couch, a Disney movie playing on the television, while Jirou prepared dinner or worked on something for a client, when she stepped in.

Only to stop just a few steps through the threshold.

A map of the city was spread across the coffee table, two large pillar candles set up at the far corners of the table, while Jirou was kneeling in front of it. She was cutting open what seemed to be a small blood donation bag with some scissors, a small wooden box to her left with what seemed to be crystals inside. After a moment, Jirou reached towards the box and pulled one out, a thin strand of yarn wrapped around the crystal. She released a slow breath. “Okay, Kyouka… This shouldn’t be too hard. You haven’t exactly used this combination before but it should work out fine,” she mumbled to herself, moving the crystal to dangle over the open lip of the bag.

Momo couldn’t help it; she gasped, loud and horrified. She was completely stunned. What was all of this? What purpose did it serve? It all seemed incredibly occult. Jirou had never seemed like the type to have such interests. Hearing her gasp, Jirou jerked to stare at her with a horrified stare of her own. She opened her mouth twice, clearly scrambling to find words to string together, before she clamped it shut with a soft click of her jaw.

They stared at one another for a long moment, eyes wide and their heart beats seeming to echo in the tiny space.

"I know this looks bad, but I swear, it's not!" Jirou yelped, finally cutting through the silence, dropping the blood bag in her hands and letting it hit the ground with a sickening splat sound. Momo felt her whole body shudder with the sound and her stomach flipped uneasily. She shifted her weight back on the heels of her feet while keeping her eyes fixated on Jirou.

“Tch! She’s gonna try and make a break for it if you don’t seal the door off, ya idiot!” For a moment, Momo was befuddled by the new voice she heard. She swore she could hear quiet, cat-like growls between their words, but… That wouldn’t make sense, right? Who does cat impressionations while speaking? Slowly she turned her head in the directions of the voice, her eyes landing on the familiar fluffy form of Dynamight sitting on the kitchen counter. His pupils shrunk to slimmer slits before he curled his lips back, the voice from before sneering, “Oh, looks like she’s starting to put shit together! Get your head back in the fucking game!”

Dynamight… Her cat… Was talking? But then… Talking cats were common of…

Momo whipped around and moved to rush for the apartment door, heart beating erratically in her chest. If this was all really happening, she needed to get out! Before a hex of some kind could be placed on her, or even worse! “Wait, Yaomomo! Please hear me out!” Jirou called out after her.

Just as her hands made to grab for the handle, it shriveled and withered into the door itself like a rotten fruit being reclaimed by its tree. A startled shriek left her as she scrambled backwards, watching with wide eyes as the rest of the door melted into the frame, the seam separating the two disappearing completely. She felt herself drop to her knees and wrap her arms tight around herself. “Oh God,” she breathed shakily, closing her eyes tightly as she heard soft footfalls approaching her. “I promise I won’t tell anyone about this! J-Just please! D-Don’t hu-hurt me! L-Let me go!”

There was a quiet swishing of wind and fabric before she felt herself being lifted slightly. Then, there was a soft and warm hand gently cupping her cheek. “I would never hurt you, Momo. Please… Even if you aren’t sure how to feel about the rest of this, please know that much is the truth,” The other woman’s voice hitched with pain as she spoke, clearly wounded by the suggestion. She peeked her eyes open to see she was floating just a few feet above the ground so that she was able to meet the other’s dark eyes. Those same eyes were pleading and vulnerable.

Momo swallowed thickly before timidly nodding her head. “I’m sorry,” she breathed softly.

“No, I understand. This… Isn’t what you were anticipating to walk into,” Jirou said with a small sigh before glancing over at the sacrificial site set up on her coffee table. “Just let me clean that up real fast, put on some tea and then I’ll explain.” Momo nodded with a bit more certainty before she was carefully floated over and set delicately on the couch.

She sat and watched in quiet bemusement as the other skittered to and fro, using what Momo could only assume was magic to help her. The longer she observed, the more relaxed she gradually became. While she worked at getting the blood cleaned up off the wood paneling, Dynamight actually rummaged through the kitchen cabinets to fish out the kettle and start filling it up. It was a little impressive to watch how he did it with his paws and teeth, though she could still hear the quiet grumbled swears he released as he did. Once all the summoning stuff and blood were cleaned up, Jirou prepared them each a cup of tea and settled into the couch seat a space away from Momo, giving her a good amount of breathing room.

She handed the cup over carefully with one hand. “I went with that citrus one you brought a while back. I remembered that one having a nice little zing to it,” she explained.

“Thank you,” Momo took a quick sip of her own cup, disregarding how it scalded her tongue just a smidge. “So… You’re a witch, I take it.” she said evenly.

Jirou nodded. “Yes, I am,”

“And Dynamight-!”

“Bakugo,”

“Huh?”

“His actual name is Bakugo Katsuki. Dynamight is just his… um.. Common cat name. Easier than explaining the logistics of a familiar,” she explained with a small nervous laugh.

“So he is your familiar,” she mused, taking another sip. The other nodded as she took a sip from her own cup as well, setting it on the coaster on the coffee table when she was done. 

Jirou’s hands clutched at her knees, eyes skirting down to stare at them instead. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’ve wanted to but… I was worried. There’s a lot of paperwork and hoops to jump through to get that kind of clearance. And even then… There’s no guarantee that you’d want to keep that knowledge. And if that happened, your memories would have to be wiped and I couldn’t see you anymore.”

Momo blinked in surprise. “Wait, what?”

“It’s a safety protocol that the higher ups implement to keep the general public safe, as well as those of us in the bureau,” she sighed, lifting her head to peek up at her worriedly. It was clear she was uneasy but was also being transparent. “Though, I suppose I should actually… Well, explain what’s going on here, huh?”

She nodded. “So… Is this related to your work?”

“Yes, actually. See, I’m aligned with what’s called the I.B.O.M.O., which is abbreviated further to I-Boom, and is short for International Bureau of Magical Events. As a representative, I have the ability to travel between this realm - the mortal plane - and the realm of magical creatures - the magical plane. As such, it is my responsibility to keep instances of magical creatures and mortal interactions limited. Part of that is tracking down rogue magicals that come into the mortal plane without the proper permissions and, if they encounter a mortal, wiping memories and issuing out punishments,” she explained, picking her cup back up and taking a sip.

“So what you were doing… Was that related to something like that?” Momo asked with a tilt of her head.

Jirou nodded. “Yes. I was trying to scry. My current assignment is to track down the heir of a noble warlock family who has apparently fled to this plane. He is apparently somewhere in this city but.. Well, since he hails from a high ranking family, his magical skills have been well-honed so trying to find him has been a struggle. I’d been hoping that by combining my scrying technique and a powerful conjuring technique using the bird blood I could… Well… Try to get some idea as to where he might be,” she sighed, letting her shoulders slump. “This is the longest I’ve ever taken on an assignment and it’s.. Well, it’s difficult.”

Momo stared at her before glancing back down at her cup. Her thumb traced along the rim of the cup thoughtfully, an idea turning about in her head. “Could… Could I help you find him?”

“Huh?”

“The fuck can a human like you do to help?” Dynamight - erh, Bakugo? - chimed in, hopping down from the breakfast nook and trotting over. He scrambled up and sat on the table, glaring her down with his ears back and fluffy tail lashing. “If a witch with as many accomplishments as Earlobes is having a hard time, what fucking chance does a mere human like you have?”

“Well, if you have an idea of around when he appeared, I can ask around,” Momo said, tone a little petulant. The sheer lunacy that she was arguing with a cat wasn’t lost on her completely - and she made note to ask Jirou later how, exactly, it was she could hear his voice - but she still felt the need to, as immature as it was. “I have a lot of connections around the city. I might be able to get you a list of suspects, since there is the chance he could do… Um… What is it called? Glamour?”

Jirou giggled a bit. “You’re right. Glamour is the tool magical creatures use to disguise their true forms,” She lightly tapped her chin in thought. “Hmm. That’s not a bad idea, actually. He could be using glamour to disguise his appearance since it’s so unique. Make himself harder to find.” Momo smiled at Jirou’s words, her heart fluttering a bit at the prospect of being about to help her girlfriend. “But… If you’re going to get involved, I’ll need to file the proper paperwork and make a protection charm for you. I want you to be safe. I don’t think the nobleman would harm you but… I don’t know the specifics of why he left the magical plan unannounced. I’d rather air on the side of caution.”

Momo nodded as she took another sip of her tea. A part of her told her she shouldn’t get this invested. It was Jirou’s work and she herself wasn’t a witch. She shouldn’t be getting involved too heavily. But… If she could help her girlfriend, wasn’t it worth it? If it gave her a chance to show how much she appreciated how good Jirou was to her, it had to be worth it.