#this is my personal analysis if you'd like to call it like that

[prael]

Phonecalls

Kinktember Day 24: Vicarphilia

IVE Gaeul x male or female reader smut

words: 3,757 Kinktember Masterlist

Happy Gaeul day!

Gaeul is the personification of the phrase ‘Don't judge a book by its cover.’

A big personality inside a small stature, Gaeul's appearance belies her true self. She's enigmatic, she's witty, she's charismatic, she's funny, and most importantly, she's honest. Honest, almost, to a fault.

She's your best friend, and she has always had your back. When you were down, she would always pull you back up. When you were lost, she would always find you. Gaeul has always been there for you no matter what, and you always knew you could rely on her. You trust Gaeul implicitly, and she does you.

There's this other side to Gaeul too, see, she looks ever so innocent. The way her voice always carries with excitement, it's always so full of life and wonder. Innocence is always an assumption people have of Gaeul. It's completely, and utterly incorrect, but people tend to assume it nonetheless.

Gaeul called you up as she usually does, and yes, you were busy, but not even an hour later you found yourself at a cafe sitting across from her. It was important, or so she said.

"Look at this message. He definitely wants to bone me, right?" Just like that, you had your regular reminder that all those assumptions about Gaeul are wrong.

"I don't know, he just said he wants to get drinks," you answered, albeit in the least convincing tone in your arsenal. Of course, he wanted to bone her.

"Exactly, drinking leads to being drunk and being drunk leads to boning."

"I've gotten drunk around you loads of times and we never ended up in bed together."

Gaeul squinted at you disapprovingly. "Well, we almost—"

"We don't talk about that, remember. Anyway, what's the problem, isn't this basically your dream Friday night? Boy meets girl, boy and girl get drunk, boy takes girl home, boy and girl fuck until they fall asleep," you told her, tilting your iced coffee in her direction as a gesture of encouragement.

"So you do think he's gonna bone me?" Gaeul asked, leaning back on her seat as she chewed on her bottom lip, no longer sure what to think of this text.

"Okay, maybe, but what's the problem?"

"He seems a bit clingy. He's all 'It would be cool if we could get dinner before' or 'I'd love it if we could go watch that new film that's out'," she groaned. "What am I, his girlfriend?"

Some psychiatrists would probably diagnose this as something born out of attachment issues or maybe some insecurity. Whatever, why bother with the analysis? She just hates relationships. 

She's young and having fun—a lot of fun. Sex, and plenty of it. Men and women in equal supply. Either way, relationships aren't on her agenda.

That's not what this story is, anyway. This story is not about Gaeul, not really. Her raunchy nights with strangers are important, but for you, it's more about the morning after.

"So cut it off with him, then. Give him some fake excuse and ghost him before you have another person falling for you."

She slammed her head onto the wooden table of the cafe. "Easier said than done. I mean he's funny. And he's pretty cute." She peered at you, an evil grin now curling her lips, "And I still want to bang him."

"Gaeul, we both know how this ends, you're going to see him tonight and you're ending the night on your back."

"Counter argument: maybe I'm on top."

"Alright, sure, but why am I here? You're only going to call me right after anyway."

"Well..." Gaeul said, leaning closer. "He has this friend and—"

"No, I'm good," you told her and she reeled back from your instant rejection, her eyes wide as if you'd shot her dead.

"Ugh, you're no fun." She shrugged, unfazed, as her hands flew across her phone's screen.

"You know where I get my fun."

"I'll call you after, don't worry," Gaeul said with a slight curve in the corner of her mouth, and that was the promise you held her to.

The promise she was right now upholding. Your phone is ringing with a call from Gaeul and it's the perfect way to start your morning. You smile, content that your best friend has kept to her promise.

"So? How'd it go, was he as big as you hoped?" You ask as you roll over onto your side and prop yourself on one elbow, the smooth fabric of your silken sheets beneath you.

"Big enough," she says followed by a satisfied hum, and you can just imagine that Gaeul must have the kind of stupid, satisfied smile that reaches her ears right now, "The things I let people do to me."

You shake your head and roll your eyes at that last part. "Come on, Gaeul, are you going to keep talking vague? The suspense is killing me." Your lips spread into a teasing grin that you're pretty sure Gaeul can hear through the call. You do very much appreciate her elaborate storytelling.

"Alright fine," she sighs, and the satisfaction is still there, if the subtle laugh she gives is any indication. "The drinks were good and went down easy. There was the small talk and the questions. So, I told him, he could ask any question as long as I got to ask any question I wanted afterwards. We were curious enough about each other and eager enough. We agreed.

"He started with these boring ones, 'What made you dye your hair black', 'Do you prefer salty or sweet foods', and all that other shit. But then I asked him a question that made his eyes pop."

"What was it?" You ask. Gaeul pauses, but the anticipation is a welcome feeling. Her playful silence lets the anticipation rise in you.

"I asked him, 'My face or my ass'?" You both laugh. That was so typical of Gaeul. Typical, but ever so effective.

"And what did he pick?"

"My face, though I don't think he understood I was asking him where he would prefer to cum. His face was so innocent when he said it. I wanted to give him a pat on the head for such a good answer," she explains in an exaggerated cutesy voice.

"He was all the usual, 'Oh you're so pretty' and 'Oh you're so adorable'. Yadda, yadda, yadda. I'm not saying he wasn't right because I do look really pretty," Gaeul quipped, to which you smiled, and she continued, "It went on for a while, he started asking some... hotter things. About how and when I touch myself."

"Usual guy stuff, sure," you joke, and you take delight in how she snorts a little giggle.

"Sure, well, next came his inevitable, 'Want to head back to mine?' Of course, I said 'Yes'. Then he said he would call us a cab, which, thank god, because it's much harder to do hand stuff on a bus compared to a cab."

"But not impossible," you interjected, remembering how she once described being felt up by someone in a packed train car. The way she grinned as she recounted it made her quite the bad girl.

"Anyway, we get in the cab and he just can't keep his hands off me. All over my tits and shit," she lets out a dark chuckle before her voice falls deeper, lower, sensual, and with the emphasis of a dangerous edge, "Don't know if the driver appreciated it but I sure as fuck did."

"Tell me more," you say, putting Gaeul on loudspeaker and placing the phone on the pillow by your head. You lay flat on your back and stretch your muscles. The joints of your toes curl into the sheets and push them down into the mattress as you arc your spine, and the deep inhale you take through your open mouth is soon followed by a relaxed exhale.

"He just slipped his hand up my shirt while she kissed my neck," Gaeul continues, bringing the memory to life with her words. She recounts in precise and deliberate detail how her nipples went hard the instant she was touched, the electricity sparking inside of her as he pinched at them with thumb and forefinger.

There's a rustling from the other side of the call before she continues her story, "We get in his place, he gets the door locked behind him, and the first thing I feel is his hot breath against my ear. It was warm and it tickled just a little bit. Then he whispered in a low voice that I can tell he thought was seductive."

"What did he say?" You ask, eagerly.

"'Fuck, I've never been this horny with someone so quick before'," Gaeul says and pauses. You both share a small laugh before she goes on, "Honestly, I did think it was kinda sexy at the moment, you know? Then he pulls off my shirt. Doesn't even unbutton it, just over my head with all the buttons. Guess the horniness was getting to him."

"Can't blame him." you run your hand up your own torso, fingertips barely brushing over the smooth, warm skin.

"And fuck, I was horny too. I was hungry. I turned and pinned him to his door, you should have seen the shock on his face, and I planted a kiss right on his lips. He wasn't that great. Wasn't really my type of kisser, actually. Too stiff, his lips were too dry, but still a kiss. I guess," Gaeul gives every little detail about him; from how his height stood a whole head taller than her, to how his eyes shone in the dark with a hint of anticipation. "I wasn't there for the kissing, so it was fine, and that's when his hands grabbed my ass. He was so rough, you should have heard the smack his palm made as it landed."

You hum in approval and bring a hand between your legs. In your mind's eye, you see her ass being spanked and groped, and you feel yourself growing more aroused. "Go on."

"Rough hands," Gaeul breathes into the phone. "I fucking love it."

"Yeah..." You sigh grab hold of your thighs and stretch out the tension.

"I could feel it, how hard he was, poking through his trousers and into my stomach."

"You loved feeling how hard you got him, didn't you?"

"Fuck yeah," her voice, dripping in lust and sex, was deep and steady like it always was when she gets like this. "So I dropped to my knees, practically ripped open his belt buckle and pulled down his zipper. And those pants fell to his ankles just like that, and then came the thing I was actually there for."

"Let's hear it," you urged.

"Like I said, good size, that's for sure, I've seen way worse. No way near the biggest dick that I've taken though. Anyway, I start stroking him with one hand," Gaeul lets out a gasp. You're not quite sure if it's for the benefit of her storytelling, but her sounds have always driven you crazy. "And then with my other, I've got his balls cupped and he's fucking loving it.

"I could tell, his cock was getting so big and so hot. It throbbed so much in my hands, so much so I could feel the blood pumping through him. And my hands were moving faster, my lips, teasing his tip, kissing, nibbling, even licking. I loved every fucking second because his dick tasted so good. After all, I could feel how worked up he was. So, I took him whole, you should have heard him moan, it was the cutest groan,"

Gaeul then breathes out heavily into the microphone, and her breath hitches in her throat and comes out short and sharp. You close your eyes and try and imagine the scene, and Gaeul must be reliving it too as you listen to her soft, sharp, wet breathing over the line. You tease yourself and plead with her, "Don't stop."

"And I'm looking up at him, through my lashes, and his eyes are almost pleading like he was trying so hard to hold his cum. Like he's trying to impress me, prove to me how much stamina he has. He's letting little moans and grunts out from his cute little lips, he's gripping the door handle so tight his fingers were white, and his knees are trembling. He's about to cum in my mouth, and my pussy is aching for him," she continues and lets her sentence trail off into a whining moan as she imagines his dick twitching inside her mouth.

"So quickly?" You ask, pushing your underwear down to your knees.

"I'm just that good, babe. The second my mouth met the shaft of his cock he was practically ready to burst. My tongue was dancing over the head, and I could taste the precum," Gaeul recalls. Her voice sizzles in your ears, and it is more like a deep purr, and it sends thrills down your body. A soft exhale escapes your mouth, and you're imagining her tongue caressing a hard dick. "And I'm only sucking harder now, stroking him faster. My left hand gripping onto him tight and tugging away. My right cradling those balls of his."

"All to make him cum," you utter in an aroused voice that you tried to hide but couldn't.

"Shit babe, it worked. I didn't even have time to prepare for him," she recounts. "He bucks his hips into my mouth. Barely has a chance to grab my head, he just blows so soon. All his cum was hot, and he was flooding my mouth."

"Shit..." You moan softly as you visualise a young man bucking his hips and releasing into Gaeul's mouth.

"Did I just go over to his to swallow his cum?" She asks and gives a laugh.

"I hope not."

"You wanna know what's funny?"

"Tell me," you plead to her.

"He came so quick that he went bright red, embarrassed, stuttering like a schoolboy that got caught smoking by the principal. All the courage he built up earlier in the taxi ride was completely gone. I couldn't help but laugh, mouth full of his cum, laughing at him. But I'm not going to lie. As he deflated so fast after he blew, all that bravado disappeared."

You let out a soft, something, barely a laugh, hesitating to touch as Gaeul grinds the story to a halt.

"Not funny?" she asks.

"Just, wish you'd continue, kinda in the middle of something here."

"Sorry, okay, where was I," Gaeul trails her words. "So I swallowed every drop, wiped at my chin where I've spilt a little and the guy still looks like he's going to die. I wanted him to suffer in the embarrassment a little, I wasn't going to tell him 'It's okay', so I got up and pulled him across his apartment. The guy nearly fell over his trousers since they were still on his ankles until he kicked them off.

"So the guy is a bit of a clean freak, by the way, the apartment was spotless. Somehow, I'm leading him to his own bed, don't know where the fuck I'm going but I find it and push him onto it. At this point, the guy's half-naked, sprawled, with his hand over his dick."

"All shy after your pretty lips have gotten him off, huh?"

"Right." Gaeul laughs, "So I stand at the edge of his bed, kick off my sneakers then pull down my jeans and drop them beside him. Then, he's staring at me and I ask him, 'Like the view?'"

"Stupid question, you're smoking," you interject with a smirk on your lips.

"The guy says, and I quote, 'Holy cow.' Who the fuck says 'holy cow'? Holy cow, babe, just holy cow," Gaeul starts laughing something manic, a cackle which is matched with a soft sigh, "Then, I just kinda laughed, like really, really laughed. It's all absurd, you get what I mean?"

"Oh god no he didn't?" You asked though the amusement was already creeping through.

"Right? What an idiot. Well, he was turning redder and redder as I was dying of laughter. It's about this time I realised I was so horny I had seduced pretty much the biggest loser in the city. Anyway, I had to shut him up, so I climbed onto the bed, and then onto his face. Dropped myself onto his stupid mouth. And then..."

"Then?" you prod her on.

"His lips and his tongue..." She makes a small moan, pleased, deep and sexy, and the sound is so hot. "Hungry boy. He starts lapping at my pussy like he was starved. He's all groaning and humming, and the vibration. That feels fucking great."

"Oh fuck..." You let a tiny sigh, one that you meant to keep to yourself, escape your lips. Gaeul keeps talking and in your mind, you're there with her—her voice fills your mind and draws an image. She tells you how she fucks his mouth, your imagination takes over.

"His tongue dances on me, licking over my lips, my clit, his lips were smacking and sucking on my most sensitive parts. He was so... energetic," Gaeul tells you. Your eyes closed, you can only imagine, in full detail, every stroke and flicker of his tongue as she described it. "Worshiping my pussy like it's the best thing in the world. So when his hands are grabbing hold of my ass and bringing my cunt to him even harder... Shit," Gaeul breaks from the story and swears.

You can't hold back anymore, touching yourself to the thought.

"He wanted this so bad. His hands were clamping hard onto me. His mouth sucking on me like a fucking vacuum. His tongue was all over the place. Everywhere it touches is like a jolt of electricity going through me. It's sending such great signals up my spine, right to my brain." Gaeul lets out a full, deep moan. One that is as tantalising as her words. It's followed by the sound of rustling. "I start just grinding down into his stupid fucking face."

You'd love nothing else in the world right now than to have Gaeul ride your face. "I can't get over how fucking delicious you would look like," you tease, "With that dumb guy, pinned under you,"

"I was moaning like crazy. If the neighbours were asleep, well, not anymore," Gaeul describes.

"Fuck," you respond as you find rhythm. You lose track of everything else, picturing Gaeul riding his stupid face until she cums.

Gaeul moans again, louder now, and with a husky, raspiness to her tone that you have memorised.

"There is no shame left in me, my hips moving into him with a need, a need for release," Gaeul chokes, then resumes with a pace of her own, "I can feel his fingers digging deeper and deeper into my flesh, and he was rocking my cunt even harder into his hungry mouth. His tongue, working so good. So, good...

"Just remembering how it felt... I'm gonna..." Gaeul moans again, throaty and harsh, and you picture it all in your head. She is sitting up in bed, legs wide apart, and fingers buried deep inside of her pussy. Moaning into her phone, moaning to you.

It's an amazing fucking image.

"I can feel my entire body starting to go warm, my thighs clamping onto the poor guy's skull. Oh my fucking god, his tongue, I love it, his tongue," Gaeul makes a long, low and whimpering moan, like the air was squeezed out of her lungs. "It feels like I've lost myself in time, completely. I'm going faster, my hips rolling into him faster and faster, desperate for relief. Then all of a sudden, it's all hitting at once, the spark just lights and I am exploding like a supernova, my core just bursting, and my pussy flooding his fucking stupid mouth."

You're chasing her high. "Shit," you find yourself whispering, softly at first and getting louder as you feel yourself nearing that beautiful feeling of sweet relief.

"I'm cumming so hard, his tongue is still going, still drawing out every last bit of my climax as he keeps feeding on me. The sheer fucking madness of the sensation... fuck, imagine that."

"Yeah..." You groan. "I am."

"You're so filthy," her words drip of sultry sex and that tease in her voice sends a tremor down to the base of your spine, setting your insides ablaze as the blood in your veins rises, the throbbing inside you reaching an incomparable peak. "Are you getting off to my story? I fucking dare you."

You close your eyes and breathe in the thought of her. Every inch of her lustful body, "I am."

"Fucking perv," she growls, her breathing sharp and shaky, erratic. A sound that resonates within your bones, and shakes you to the core. "Bet you want your lips wrapped around my clit. Let you suck the sweet nectar from my tight, hot pussy," she breathes through her teeth in a hissing sound as she falls over that edge. You can feel her shiver and quake. You hear every little shuddering whimper, every moan that escapes her soft, pretty little lips, and they ignite every sense in your body as if you can feel the electricity coursing through every nerve in her body, just as it is inside you.

You cum for her. You always cum for her, just like this. Your toes curl and your back arches. You twist, writhing under the feeling, your skin blazing as sweat rolls over it, your whole world coming to a beautiful standstill. You can't help but cry out her name in your bed.

"Nothing else makes me cum like this," you mumble, breathless and ragged as you finish, then add "You slut."

"How does it make you feel, hearing my dirty sex stories first thing in the morning?" Gaeul purrs. There is a sinister satisfaction in her tone, and that coy smile curling the corner of her mouth is definitely there in her voice. You can imagine it clear as day because it has been etched into your brain, that stupid, irresistible grin of hers.

"More," you beg, the aftermath of your orgasm, leaving the inside of your body searing hot, a sensation that you want desperately more of.

"Not now. Later," she sneers, knowing how it kills you inside.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Trumpism’s healthcare fracture-lines

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/20/clinical-trial-by-ordeal/#spoiled-his-brand-new-rattle

There was never any question as to whether Trump would implement Project 2025, the 900-page brick of terrifying and unhinged policy prescriptions edited by the Heritage Foundation. He would not implement it, because he could not implement it. No one could. It's impossible.

This isn't a statement about constitutional limits on executive authority or the realpolitik of getting bizarre and stupid policies past judges or through a hair-thin Congressional majority. This is a statement about the incoherence of Project 2025 itself. You probably haven't read it. Few have. Realistically, few people are going to read a 900-page group work of neofeudalist fanfic shit out by the most esoteric Fedsoc weirdos the world has ever seen.

But one person who did read Project 2025 was the leftist historian Rick Perlstein, who was the first person to really dig into what a fucking mess that thing is:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/14/fracture-lines/#disassembly-manual

Perlstein's excellent analysis doesn't claim that Project 2025's authors aren't sincere in their intentions to wreak great harm upon the nation and its people; rather, his point is that Project 2025 is filled with contradictory, mutually exclusive proposals written by people who fundamentally disagree with one another, and who each have enough power within the Trump coalition that all of thier proposals have to be included in a document like this:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-07-10-project-2025-republican-presidencies-tradition/

Project 2025 isn't just a guide to the masturbatory fantasies of the worst people in American politics – far more importantly, it is a detailed map of the fracture lines in the GOP coalition, the places where it is liable to split and shatter. This is an important point if you want to do more about Trumpism than run around feeling miserable and scared. If you want to fight, Project 2025 is a guide to the weak spots where an attack will do the most damage.

Perlstein's insight continues to be borne out as the Trump regime makes ready to take power. In a new story for KFF News, Stephanie Armour and Julie Rovner describe the irreconcilable differences among Trump's picks for the country's top public health authorities:

https://kffhealthnews.org/news/article/trump-rfk-kennedy-health-hhs-fda-cdc-vaccines-covid-weldon/

The brain-worm-infected-elephant in the room is, of course, RFK Jr, who has been announced as Trump's head of Health and Human Services. RFK Jr is a notorious antivaxer, chairman of Children’s Health Defense, a notorious anti-vaccine group. Kennedy's view is shared by Trump's chosen CDC boss, Dave Weldon, a physician who has repeated the dangerous lie that vaccinations cause autism. Mehmet "Dr Oz" Oz, the TV "physician" Trump wants to put in charge of Medicare/Medicaid, calls vaccines "oversold" and advocates for treating covid with hydroxychloroquine, another thoroughly debunked hoax:

https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/health/2024/12/17/hydroxychloroquine-study-covid-19-retracted-trump/77051671007/

However, other top Trump public health picks emphatically support vaccines. Marty Makary is Trump's choice for FDA commissioner; he's a Johns Hopkins trained surgeon who says vaccines "save lives" (but he peddles the lethal, unscientific hoax that childhood vaccines should be "spread out"). Jay Bhattacharya, the economist/MD whom Trump wants to put in charge of the NIH, supports vaccines (he is also one of the country's leading proponents of the eugenicist idea of accepting the mass death of elderly, sick and disabled people rather than imposing quarantines during epidemics). Then there's Janette Nesheiwat, whom Trump has asked to serve as the nation's surgeon general; she calls vaccines "a gift from God."

Like "Bidenism," Trumpism is a fragile coalition of people who thoroughly and irreconcilably disagree with one another. During the Biden administration, this resulted in self-inflicted injuries like appointing the brilliant trustbuster Lina Khan to run the FTC, but also appointing the pro-monopoly corporate lawyer Jacqueline Scott Corley to a lifetime seat as a federal judge, from which perch she ruled against Khan's no-brainer suit to block the Microsoft-Activision merger:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/judge-rules-for-microsoft-mergers

The Trump coalition is even broader than the Biden coalition. That's how he won the 2024 election. But that also means that Trumpism is more fractious and off-balance, and hence will be easier to disrupt, because it is riven by people in senior positions who hate one another and are actively working for each others' political demise.

The Trump coalition is a coalition of *cranks*. I'm using "crank" here in a technical, non-pejorative sense. I am a crank, after all. A crank is someone who is overwhelmingly passionate about a single issue, whose uncrossable bright lines are not broadly shared. Cranks can be right or they can be wrong, but we're hard to be in coalition with, because we are uncompromisingly passionate about things that other people largely don't even notice, let alone care about. You can be a crank whose single issue is eliminating water fluoridation, even though this is very, very stupid and dangerous:

https://yourlocalepidemiologist.substack.com/p/the-fluoride-debate

Or you can be a crank about digital rights, a subject that, for decades, was viewed as by turns either unserious or as a sneaky way of shilling for Big Tech (thankfully, that's changing):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/18/greetings-fellow-pirates/#arrrrrrrrrr

Cranks make hard coalition partners. Trump's cranks are cranked up about different things - vaccines, culture war trans panics, eugenics - and are total normies about other things. The eugenicist MD/economist who wants to "let 'er rip" rather than engage in nonpharmaceutical pandemic interventions is gonna be horrified by total abortion bans and antivax. These cranks are on a collision course with one another.

This is on prominent display in these public health appointments, and we're very likely about to get a test of the cohesiveness and capability of the second Trump administration, thanks to bird flu. Now that bird flu has infected humans in multiple US states, there is every chance that we will have to confront a public health emergency in the coming weeks. If that happens, the Trump public health divisions over masking, quarantine and (especially) vaccines (Kennedy called the covid vaccine the "deadliest" ever made, without any evidence) will become the most important issue in the country, under constant and pitiless scrutiny, and criticism.

Trump's public health shambles is by no means unique. The lesson of Project 2025 is that the entire Trump project is one factional squabble away from collapse at all times.

[wlwmedarda]

I'm honestly just looking to rant and this might be long depending on how fast I get irritated the more I type so if this isn't coherent or well written I apologize in advance. Since it looks like Ambessa will take on a more antagonistic role in arcane season two, I would like to unpack the fandom's antiblackness that you guys are either blind to or aware and too pussy to call it out as my gut is telling me it's gonna increase and if no one is gonna start the difficult conversation then I sure as hell will.

Sevika:

Mel:

Starting off strong with the definition of "you guys want complex female characters but can't even handle her". Mel Medarda is in quite the predicament seeing how she's morally grey, a black woman, AND "gets in the way" of a mlm ship so she was kinda screwed from the start. A cunning politician disowned for her pacifism who acts as a sort of bridge to Noxus' slow introduction, and is THE ONLY CHARACTER IN THE SEASON 1 MAIN CAST SPECIFICALLY CREATED FOR THE SHOW. She's treated like satan incarnate or a Jezebel (highly suggest looking into that if you don't know what that is), GOOD character analysis is rare, and when she is talked about positively, it's so often chalked up to appearances that I'd rather yall not talk about her at all. Oh you love Mel? Then can we talk about her relationship with her mother? Unpack her dynamic with Jayce? Maybe more fanworks centered around her? I've seen yall's fake asses dropping the shittiest fucking takes about her only to turn around and gush over how pretty she is, and yall think you're slick about it and you're not. I would say I prefer the ones who are loud and proud about their hatred but that'd be a lie, they're two cheeks on the same ass; annoying and couldn't give a decent break down of her character if a gun was pointed at they head even she's perfect to dissect. I could talk about her more but we'd be here all day and so many black women even from outside the fanbase have already talked about yall so there's no need for me to add on 🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️.

Quick question, have you guys ever tried to talk about her in a non sexual way? Yes, Sevika is undeniably sexy and you could argue that true stans of hers talk about her outside of horny time, but a good half of the fandom is a different story. In a similar case to Mel's, deep dives into her character are rare to find which is crazy when she acts as Zaun's own "kingmaker". She's loyal to her city and the cause, never to a specific person and will not hesitate to betray you. She could be your right hand man one day, and the next she might find a better kingpin to follow and stab you in the back like it all meant nothing. "Were you tempted?" "Not for a worm like him". Simple and subtle and probably my favorite Sevika scene; she comes to realize Silco is no longer the best leader for Zaun, but he's as good as it gets for now and so she sticks by him. I remember a YouTube comment breaking down how she's essentially the quintessential Zaun: a brute warrior molded by her environment, who defied Vander's peaceful ways and embraced Silco's cruelty. Her mindset and goal is interesting and you'd think it'd result in some fascinating meta or exploration of her upbringing when we got a hint that she potentially has some daddy issues right? Obviously, but what do we get instead? White sapphics treating her like nothing more than a sexual object. How delightful!

Ekko:

This might partially be Riot's fault because — and I hate to sound like a league lore nerd — Ekko is quite underdeveloped compared to the richer origins of his former pre arcane self, but I'm gonna hold off on that till the season finale to see how they handle him. Anyways, at this point the fandom clearly sees him as Jinx's trophy husband. When you talk about him, she is brought into the convo 90% of the time. That's exactly why I prefer black timebomb shippers over the nonblack ones because I trust they actually love Ekko as a character on his own. Even though I have my complaints regarding how's been written so far, I still know he's too good to be reduced to Jinx's loverboy. He fights and cares for his city, the only character that you can confidently say is pure of heart, and is the revolutionary leader Zaun really needs. He's just as smart as Jinx too, he is literally going to create TIME TRAVEL. Why does no one wanna talk about that? Can we be excited for his character development and arc not just for the timebomb scenes you'll get out of it?

Ambessa:

Can't even deny this woman is awful but her presence on screen enthralled me after a couple of rewatches and I also love bad mothers in media so I've settled on a love/hate relationship. Yes, she's definitely gonna have some influence on Caitlyn, which makes sense since she has now lost her mother; she's vulnerable and as we have seen, naive. She's practically free real estate for Ambessa. My recent worry though has been how the fandom seems to be willing to put all of Caitlyn's actions on her as if Cait isn't a grown ass woman who can make her own decisions. Of course being grown doesn't mean you're immune to manipulation, but I've seen some Silco and Jinx comparisons and it is NOT the same. Mind you we haven't even seen the first three episodes; we don't know how far Ambessa's manipulation is going to go and we can't really tell what the dynamic is gonna be like based off of clips and trailers that are likely shown out of context on purpose to throw people off. I'll never defend her actions, hell I'll join in on the lashings, but my black ass is also not gonna sit here and let yall talk about her weirdly or pin all of this on her.

Some might say I'm overthinking this, but I've been here since November 2021 and have sat back and observed for 2 years. You don't have to write deep, philosophical conversations 24/7, I'm sure it's not all in bad faith and I won't act like I don't thirst over Sevika or marvel at Mel's beauty. I'm not saying you have to like these characters and that you're racist if you don't. My frustration comes from the lack of nuanced conversations and hypocritical opinions surrounding black characters in this show. When you try to say something about this, you're hit with excuses; it reminds me of how man obsessed fujoshis act when they're questioned for not giving two fucks about female characters. They're either reduced to one character trait, only admired for their looks, or only discussed when it's about the white character they're connected to. Do NOT under ANY circumstance be black and morally ambiguous, you WILL be held to higher moral standards than everyone's wittle blorbos who can do wrong and are defended from all sides when you dare to take the rose colored stan glasses off and criticize them. What's really ridiculous is you hear the "complex characters" bullshit every two to three business days and some of you have the nerve to boast about this series being diverse while simultaneously ignoring the complexities in the characters of color. This is the main reason I took a step back and with season two around the corner I thought "Hey, maybe it'll be better this time!" and it was a mistake. Good to know yall still have an underlying racism problem you don't wanna address but with some extra classism thrown in. "What will we do once Arcane ends?" hopefully get a job, touch some grass, and reflect. Lord knows yall need it. The faster yall sizzle out the better. I'm done that's all I have to say lol goodnight 👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽.

[tarotofhope]

PAC: ୧ How do you view Love? ୨

(Please Read My Pinned post *IMPORTANT NOTE* before selecting a Pile)

Pick an Image by meditating and selecting the image you feel called to. You can be attracted towards more than 1 image. If you are not able to select maybe this reading isn't for you.

࿚ Pile 1 ࿙

Cards: Knight of Pentacles, Devotion-Saturn in the 7th House in Libra, Alchemist.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 1. Love for you, is a slow and steady thing. It doesn't come like a gush of wind nor goes away easily. You believe it stays. You also believe that people fall out of love but it cannot happen easily if the feelings are very strong. You seem to have left/rejected toxic, shallow and flaky people, unreliable and untrustworthy people, people who are backbiters and cheaters, it doesn't matter who they were to you once. Because of this, those that you left/broke up with, and also other people might think that you're a person of questionable character and not reliable. They think your values/morals/beliefs are wrong and you're very demanding and uncompromising in relationships. But, you are loyal. They think it's very hard to impress you and also they cannot expect/ask you to give them a certain kind of love because you'd do as you please. For you, love is fixing things up rather than replacing them. You'd kill as well as die for your loved ones but you're not the ones to bow down to anybody in the name of love. You'll never beg for love neither you'd chase it. With Saturn in the 7th house in Libra -Devotion, you believe in equality in relationships, and you'd be a devoted and mature partner. You're the one to wait for the right person to come in, rather than jumping directly into any relationships or friendships. You believe that if love is given in the right manner, it can heal people, so you will never settle for anything less than you deserve.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 1.

Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

࿚ Pile 2 ࿙

Cards: Strength, Isolation-Saturn in the 6th House in Virgo, Martyr.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 2. Some of you might also be attracted to Pile 1. You are of the belief that love makes people strong, that love is more of strength than weakness. Love can help people heal but for you, love can push people to become their best versions. Love can cheer people up. Love can make weak people shine with confidence. Love stands. Love endures. Love fights for their people's rights. Love is when one doesn't run away when life gets tough. Love is supporting your loved ones when they do not believe in themselves. Love means seeing all good and bad in your person but sticking to them no matter what because you chose them for a reason. You're also the one to talk and fix things up with your loved ones but if they still don't want to be with you, you'd never beg them to stay. Your love is fierce and bold. Eminem's Mockingbird comes to my mind. Just like pile 1, you'd never be with someone who doesn't respect you, your boundaries and your choices. You're goal oriented and independent, so you'd always choose people who'd never snatch your freedom away from you, be it any kind of relationship. You'd rather stay single than committing to the wrong person, to wrong friendships, so you take decisions after a lot of rational and emotional calculations and analysis. Most of the times, you may feel like you're better off staying single than handling the burden of sharing everything with another soul who might leave you someday. You mostly stay focused on your career.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 2.

Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

࿚ Pile 3 ࿙

Cards: 6 of swords clarified by 4 of swords, Influence- Mercury in the 7th House in Libra, Student.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 3. The way you view love has largely been influenced either by your own bad experiences in love or due to other people's experiences, for some of you. You or someone close to you might have dealt with toxic friends, parents or partners. For the others of you, you do not even have time for relationships, you're either a student or you want to stay single for a while or you have false notions about love because maybe you overthink a lot or you've been brainwashed by others. You believe that love brings chaos and people have really falsified the meaning of love. You believe that people just get into relationships just for the fun of it, they just like the romantic part of love and they do not realize how beautiful and pure love is, in itself. You value your peace of mind more than anything. Some of you could also be taking a break from relationships and enjoying on their own while others of you might have recently gone through a breakup/divorce or even left your family/friends. Some of you, with Mercury in Libra in the 7th house, could be very good at flirting or you like to be in casual relationships and don't want anything serious. You might be indecisive in love and relationships too because you have commitment issues, you don't want to be trapped or get stuck by any chance. You also dislike very serious, slow, clingy and dependent people. Also, you would never sacrifice yours dreams for anybody.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 3.

Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

࿚ Pile 4 ࿙

Cards: 6 of Cups, Harmony- Sun in the 7th House in Libra, Bully.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 4. You consider love as a beacon of hope and peace. You don't want love to destroy people and you also don't like unnecessary conflicts. Love is supporting and comforting for you. You might have faced a lot of bullies in your life. You might have a childhood trauma due to the bullying or you might have always been teased for how you look, dress and behave. You are of the opinion that if people cannot accept you for who you are and with all your good and bad habits, with all your quirks, then such kind of love is of no use. You value your peace of mind a lot. You are someone who would give their all and love with every ounce of your being, you've been hurt so bad but you never let the hurt turn you into something like your abusers. Your trauma could either be related to your family or school/college life. Life has not been fair with you earlier so you demand a better life with all the respect, confidence and self-esteem that you lost in the process. A very few of you could also belong to the rainbow group and people do not treat you well. You believe that love should involve equal give and take with the 6 of Cups here and with Harmony-Sun in the 7th house in Libra. You have a lot of love to give but you fear that you might fall prey to toxic people so you only be with people who give good vibes. You believe people cannot survive without love, as human beings we all crave love.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 4.

Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

࿚ Pile 5 ࿙

Cards: 4 of Pentacles clarified by 5 of Pentacles, Health- Sun in the 6th House in Virgo, Fool.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 5. Some of you might also be attracted to pile 4. For you, love has always been about healing, something that cures you, nurses you back to health. You too, like pile 4, have a lot of trauma due to relationships(any kind). You might have been abandoned by someone you loved and respected so much, now it can be a parent, sibling, friend or even a romantic partner. You might have even dealt with narcissistic and toxic people. You don't want all that bs again in your life. You pray for good people to enter your life or you try to be that good person. Your whole view of love has not changed but rather polished, you've become more alert, maybe you ignored or excused people for their bad behaviour or you just tried to look at the bright side of people but then their dark side started to become so overwhelming that it ate you one day. You still believe in love like you did before but now, you've become more worried of people's intentions towards you. You might have even built large walls around you. You only talk to people when it's really required. Your experiences make you overthink and you think of worst case scenarios in love. You might also be a little possessive and clingy in love but you know you'd give your all. You're the one who'd even die for your loved ones. With the fool here, I think you want someone who's light-hearted and funny but also honest and assertive. Someone who would speak their heart out. Someone who would genuinely love you.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 5.

Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Thank you so much for being here. I post PAC readings every Tuesday and Friday. Do love and support by reblogging, liking or following.

——————————— ♡ ♡ ♡ ———————————

[northopalshore]

Are you familiar with Ascendant Persona Charts?

♀ Ascendant persona charts are very interesting. It's like an extended version of your personality, in the eyes of the people around you. But also, you can sort of see the signs features manifest onto your appearance. I think it's really fun to look at lmao.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Though I've noticed that in some charts, they tend to manifest later in life. Like after said person gains some sort of consciousness or after a particular phase. In all reality however, it's exactly what you'd expect it to be. The extended version of your single, the one that comes before the album lmao.

╔════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════════╗

In my asc pc, I'm a Taurus rising (°8 Scorpio). Destinn (°28 cancer) & Briede (°29 leo) are also here. It probably means I'll be perceived as a wifey somewhere down the line. Though I sure as hell ain't just my FS's wife. You'll see what I mean lmao. I'm a diva in my own right.

╚════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════════╝

I love going into persona charts since there's always this added layer of depth into your identity. You're a multilayered cake! I'm not calling you an onion even if it's tempting. I ain't Shrek. 🎂

Should I do an analysis on my ascendant persona chart as a guide? If you look at my asc pc, then the existence of my blog & my interest aren't a surprise lmao especially with that 11th house stellium & venus, groom in the 10th house. I'll add other examples as well.

Michael Jackson:

Is an Aquarius rising (°3 Gemini) in his asc persona chart. He has both Chiron (°23 aquarius ) & Briede (°28 cancer) in Aquarius here, as well as Sun (°10 Capricorn ), Boda (°2 Taurus) & Europa (°0) in Pisces.

He's literally a star lmao. A woman's man, if you will. Women tend to trust him instinctively, he himself has always been more of a lover. The spirit of a lover that is.

Although, this would also explain his erratic behaviour at times. Having to battle his emotions at the same time trying to gain control of any public situation he was ever in. It's not media training, it's media manipulation. He grew up in front of the camera so his public persona is his second skin.

In his natal chart, his ascendant is Pisces (°10 Capricorn) with Moon (°14 Taurus) , Mireille & Lilith (°21 Sagittarius).

He's been bullied and shamed for his appearance, people always had something to say when it comes to how he should and shouldn't act or look like. He's also been openly insecure about how he looks because of his sickness & vitiligo.

However, no one can deny that his looks will forever be framed as an iconic part of pop culture history. Hell, in all of modern history. The King of Pop is never seen without an outfit that would outshine all who stand next to him.

It also mirrors his facial structures. I've heard that a badly aspected Mercury or 7th house ruler could be related to vitiligo in vedic astrology, but I'm not exactly sure. I'm not well versed in medical astrology either, but I wonder if aquarius might have some sort of effect as well since he has a LOT of aquarius here.

He's one fine mf tho. Even after all this time, he's still adored by many fans, old & new.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Hope this was interesting! Did I somehow make it about MJ again? Yes. Yes I did.

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

I’m sorry but can you write more stuff about Vox being a gaslighter? I’m actually obsessed with your analysis

Thaaanks I'm obsessed about them too~ 🩵❤️

So, Vox is like the ultimate gaslighter. Manipulation and brainwashing? That's his whole freaking business plan. I mean, come on, the Voxtek slogan is "Trust Us," and somehow, people actually do.

Oh, let's talk about Voxtek - he's the worst, most manipulative boss ever. He's always pulling stuff like withholding essential information for a task someone's supposed to do, then publicly blaming them for screwing up. And he's sneaky about it too, acting all concerned and disappointed instead of just yelling. It makes people feel useless and insecure, so they bust their butts trying to please him and win back their colleagues' respect, never daring to stand up for themselves. Plus, he's a pro at keeping relationships between higher-up managers tense and distrustful by spreading rumors and creating a competitive vibe. And don't get me started on how he's a total hypocrite - Voxtek, like every other company, preaches its values and missions to create this fake sense of safety and purpose, but then he goes and acts against them or lets someone else do so. It leaves people feeling confused and helpless because they can't play the game when the rules keep changing. Let me tell you, Satan might work hard, but Voxtek's HR department works even harder.

And manipulating people on a personal level? Way too easy for him. People who don't know him well enough think he's some kind of genius (bless their hearts), so they give him way too much credibility. It's crucial for him to be seen as competent because that's how he stays in control. That's why he loves to question the competence of his business partners (Not to be that guy, but those numbers don't look great. Are you sure you can handle this? I don't want to waste my money.) or Valentino (Babe, I've got this. We both know you're not great with financial planning.). Thought hardly ever works on Velvette because she's got zero bullshit tolerance.

Now, when it comes to Valentino, Vox has zero remorse about gaslighting him. To him, gaslighting isn't even violence; it's just a way of handling things, all neat and effective. Why bother yelling and arguing when he can just manipulate Val into agreeing with him? It's like what we saw in episode 2. And even when Val has every right to be angry because Vox acted like a jerk, Vox tends to devaluate his emotions (I don't have time to deal with another temper tantrum, Val; You're always so pissy, why can't you just chill?) or tries to make him doubt his own reality (Maybe you'd remember it better if you weren't high all the time.). He hates arguing with Val, but also is unable to admit that he's wrong, so in his mind, undermining Val's ability to call him out on his bad behavior is a way of keeping their relationship healthy. But it's risky because sometimes Val sees through his manipulations, especially when they're about his feelings, and then things get even messier.

I like to think they trust each other when it comes to serious stuff, like protecting each other from outside dangers, but at the same time, it's like Mr. Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss is married to Mr. Manipulate Mansplain Manwhore - you never know if he's being genuinely nice or if he's trying to get you to do something.

[communistkenobi]

Hi, genuine good faith question if you'd like! How is TOS racist? It was my understanding that the OG Series was like, huge for equality in media?

I’m speaking primarily about the content of TOS itself, not its historical impact - I understand it had various historic firsts in terms of having characters of colour in respectable roles, which I’m not dismissing. My experience with the discourse on here surrounding the show is that people front-load these character representations as emblematic of the show’s progressive politics. Which, if we want to go that route, TOS was contemporary to the US civil rights movement, which provides us with a handy measuring stick to see how TOS actually grapples with race, not just the presence of characters of colour themselves. I'm going to be kind of defensive in this explanation, not towards you specifically, but because I have had this conversation with people online many, many, many times, and so any defensiveness on my part is in anticipation of arguments I know will come up as a result of making the basic claim that a show made in America in the 1960s is racist. I'm also going to be copy + pasting from an older post I've made on the subject since it's been a while now since I've watched TOS so some of the details are fuzzy.

Like okay, the premise of TOS is that the Enterprise, as an ambassador of Starfleet/the Federation, is seeking out new alien life to study. The Prime Directive prohibits the Enterprise crew from interfering with the development of any alien culture or people while they do this, so the research they collect needs to be done in an unobtrusive way. I think this is the first point at which people balk at the argument that TOS is racist or has a colonial conception of the world - the Enterprise’s mission is premised on non-interference, and I think when people hear ��colonial’ as a descriptor they (understandably, obviously) assume it is describing active conquest, genocide, and dispossession. Even setting aside all the times where Kirk does directly interfere with the “development” of a people or culture (usually because they’ve “stagnated” culturally, because a culture "without conflict" cannot evolve or “develop” beyond its current presumed capacity - he is pretty explicitly imposing his own values onto another culture in order to force them to change in a particular way), or the times when the Enterprise is actually looking to extract resources from a given planet or people, I’m not exactly making this claim, or rather, that’s not the only thing I’m describing when calling TOS racist/colonial.

The show's presentation of scientific discovery and inquiry is anthropological - the “object” of analysis is alien/foreign culture, meaning that when the Enterprise crew comes into contact with a new being or person, this person is always read first and foremost through the level of (the Enterprise’s understanding of) culture. Their behaviour, beliefs, dress, way of speaking, appearance, and so on are always reflective of their culture as a whole, and more importantly, that their racial or phenotypic characteristics define the boundaries of their culture. Put another way, culture is interpreted, navigated, and bound racially - the show presents aliens as a Species, but these species are racially homogeneous, flattening race to a natural, biological difference that is always physically apparent and presented through the lens of scientific objectivity, as "species" is a unit of biological taxonomy. Basically species is a shorthand for race. This is the standard of most sci-fi/fantasy genre work, so this is not a sin unique to Star Trek.

Because of this however, Kirk and Co are never really interacting with individuals, they are interacting with components of a (foreign, exotic, fundamentally different) culture, the same way we understand that a biologist can generalize about a species using the example of an individual 'specimen'. And when the Enterprise interacts with these cultures, they very frequently measure them using a universalized scale of development - they have a teleological (which is to say, evolutionary) view of culture, ie, that all cultures go from savage to rational, primitive to advanced, economically simple to economically complex (ie, to capitalist modes of production). And the metrics they are judging these cultures by are fundamentally Western ones, always emphasising to the audience that the final destination of all cultures (that are worthy of advancing beyond their current limited/“primitive” stages) is a culture identical to the Federation, a culture that can itself engage in this anthropological mission to catalogue all life as fitting within a universal set of practices and racial similarities they call “culture.”

This is a western, colonial understanding of culture - racially and spatially homogeneous people comprise the organs of a social totality, ie, a society, which can then be analysed as an “object,” as a “phenomenon,” by the scientists in order to extract information from them to produce and advance state (ie Federation) knowledge. The Enterprise crew are allowed to be individuals, are allowed to be subjects with a capacity for reason, contradiction, emotion, compassion, and even moments of savagery or violence, without those things being assigned to their “race” or “culture” as a whole, but the people they interact with are only components of a whole which are “discovered” by the Enterprise as opportunities to expand and refine the Federation’s body of knowledge.

Spock is actually a good example of what I'm talking about, because he is an exception to this rule - unlike the others in the crew, his behaviour is always read as a symptom of his innate Vulcan-ness, where his human and Vulcan halves war for dominance in his mind and character. Bones (the doctor, one of the main cast) constantly comments on Spock's inability to feel things, that he is callous and unsympathetic, ruled by Vulcan logic to such an extreme that his rationality is a form of irrationality, as his Vulcan blood prohibits him from tempering logic with human emotion and intuition. Now you can argue that Bones is a stand-in for the racists of the world, that Spock proves Bones wrong in that he is able to feel but merely keeps it under wraps, that Vulcans are not biologically incapable of emotion but merely live in a socially repressive culture, but this still engages in the racial logic of the show - Vulcans are a racially-bound species with a single monolithic culture, and Spock's ability to express and feel 'human emotions' is the metric by which he is granted human subjectivity and sympathy.

And on the flip side you have the Klingons - a “race” that is uniformly savage, backward, violent, and dangerous. In the episode Day of the Dove, where Klingons board the Enterprise along with an alien cloud that makes everyone suddenly aggressive and racist (this show is insane lol), the Enterprise crew begins acting violent and racist, but the Klingons don’t change. They aren’t more violent than before (because they already were fundamentally violent and racist), and they don’t become less violent when the cloud eventually leaves (because they are never able to emerge from their violence and savagery as a social condition or external imposition - they simply are that way). Klingons are racially, behaviourally, psychologically, and culturally homogeneous, universally violent and immune to reason, and their racial characteristics are both physical manifestations of this universal violence as well as the origin of it. The writers and creators of TOS are explicitly invoking the orientalist idea of the “Mongolian horde,” representing both the American fear of Soviet global takeover as well as blatantly racist fears about “Asiatics” (a word used in the show, particularly in The Omega Glory where a fear of racialised communist takeover is made explicit) dominating the world.

This is colonial thinking! Like, fundamentally, at its core, this is colonial white supremacist thinking. Now this is not because TOS invents these tropes or is the origin of them, it is not individually responsible for these racial and colonial logics - these conceptions are endemic to Western thought, and I am not expecting a television show to navigate its way outside of this current colonial paradigm of scientific knowledge. I’m also not expecting an average person watching this to pick out all the intricacies of this and link it to the colonial history of Europe or the colonial history of western philosophy/thought. But this base premise of Star Trek is why the show is fundamentally colonial - even if it was the case that the crew never intervened in any alien conflict, never extracted any material resources from other people, this would still be colonial logic and colonial thinking. The show has a fundamentally colonial imagination when it comes to exploration, discovery, and culture.

I think a good place to end is the opening sequence. The show's first line is always "Space! The final frontier." I do not think the word frontier is meant metaphorically or poetically - I think the show is being honest about its conception of space as an infinitely vast, infinitely exotic frontier from which a globally Western civilisation (which the Enterprise is an emblem of) can extract resources, be they material or epistemic

[mamsieur]

Don't mess with the Storm | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary : Sometimes, Cyclone could live up to his call sign. Especially when it concerned you, his youngest daughter, his little Storm.

TW : slight violence, mention of alcohol, family/domestic fluff

Length : 6753 words

AN : You can't make me believe that Beau Simpson isn't a family man with lots of kids. That's what he radiates.

posted on AO3 August 21, 2023

Your mom always said you took after your dad, but if he was a Cyclone, you were a Storm ; smaller and less destructive. Storm has always been your nickname. 

It described you quite well as much in your way of doing things than in your personality. You were passionate about everything you did and you often left a mess after you.

Being a Vice Admiral, Beau managed to control himself for his work but when it came to you and your well being, he could literally destroy everything on his way. Not that your father was in any way abusive or violent, but he sometimes could over react.

You were your parents’ precious little baby.

You were the youngest of four children; you had three older brothers, all in the military. Two of them, Nathan and Jamie, were naval aviators, like your father, and one, Aaron, was a Marine Officer. 

Needless to say, you were well taken care of ; you liked to think that you had a small ‘army’ for yourself.

But as much as they thought of you as their little princess, they never treated you like one, and you never wanted to be. You were tough and very capable of defending yourself. Your father always encouraged you in whatever you wanted to do. 

You wanted to join the soccer team? Let's go. Switch to boxing lessons? Done. A new passion for karting? He had your back. An interest in mechanics ? He bought you your first tool box.

As long as you put your heart and soul into whatever you did, your family would support you.

So when you told them you wanted to work for the Navy after your engineering degree, they were as supportive as they could be.

You were a genius engineer - your mom’s word, not yours - and you loved working on jets, inspecting them, gathering as much data as possible to make them as efficient as they can be. Working at Top Gun was heaven. Since the pilots were supposed to be the best, you loved pushing them and their machines to be better and better.

Of course, the fact that you were working on the same base as your father had raised some eyebrows. But neither of you cared, and he got you no special treatment.

After the uranium mission, you were assigned to check the status of the Dagger Squad's F-18s. Everything seemed to be in good shape, and while your computer analyzed the flight data, you inspected the engines. You liked to work alone when you could, it helped you stay in your bubble of concentration.

The sun was slowly setting as you finished diagnosing the last jet. Being alone in the hangar, you took the opportunity to put on some music. You hummed and swayed a little while you waited for the analysis to finish on your screen and inspected the engine.

Your head was - quite literally - in it when you heard footsteps behind you. They stopped a few feet away from you to let you finish what you were doing.

"I'll just be two minutes," you muttered and then shrugged, getting no response. You finished inspecting the seemingly defective part and stood up. Your face was covered in dust and motor oil, and your hair was starting to fall out of your ponytail.

You sighed and turned to your mysterious guest.

"Oh! Good evening Lieutenant Bradshaw. May I help you?" you smiled a little and wiped your forehead with the back of your hand.

"Good evening Second Lieutenant Simpson, to tell you the truth, yes, you may..." he grinned charmingly, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the plane, "I was wondering if you'd forgotten our date? It's 7:20, and we agreed to meet at 6:30 ?” 

You stopped smiling and looked at the clock. Crap! You hadn't seen the time.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I was servicing the jets and didn't realize what time it was! I should have set an alarm, I'm sorry. Jesus, how could I be so stupid?"

You were starting to mumble excuses as you gathered your things when you felt his hand on your wrist.

"It's okay, I know how you get when you're focused on something. We’ll find another day for that. I'll wait for you at the bar, okay?" he reassured you with a grin.

"Uh yeah, yeah okay! I'll be quick!" you nodded and smiled back at him. He tucked a strand of your wild hair behind your ear, a few inches from you, making you blush slightly. His thumb stroked your cheek. He had that cheeky smile he always had when something was on his mind. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles, his beautiful brown eyes never leaving yours.

" Or , I can also wait for you in the changing-"

" Lieutenant Bradshaw, Second Lieutenant Simpson, what are you two still doing here? "

Your father's stern voice echoed through the hangar, taking you by surprise. Bradley took a quick step back and straightened his posture to greet him.

"I, uh-"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw forgot his keys, sir, he was out. I got carried away with the diagnostics, I'm almost finished here," you replied quickly as Cyclone’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Bradley then at you.

"Hm. You better hurry then, Second Lieutenant, overtime is not allowed. You're free to go Lieutenant Bradshaw."

"Yes sir!" you said in unison and Bradley left as quickly as he could, flashing one last smile in your direction before disappearing down the corridors.

As you started to clean up the mess you'd made, you heard an amused sigh.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. You're still living up to your nickname."

"Ha ha, very funny Dad," you rolled your eyes and closed your toolbox, "Don't wait for me, I'm going out tonight."

"Mmh. Is Bradshaw involved?" he asked as he helped you carry your stuff to the storage room.

"Yes? I mean the whole Dagger team is, I need to get to know them to understand how they work."

That was only half a lie. You knew they most likely were all at the Hard Deck, you'd met them there a few times. You got along well with them, especially Natasha, Bob and Mickey. And of course, Bradley... But it was different with him.

You'd known him for years and your very first assignment had been with him. Your friendship had evolved over the years into a kind of friends-with-benefits/fuck-buddies relationship until a few weeks ago. Since the uranium mission, he wanted more than that, and so did you. You two tried to keep your relationship secret because you suspected it could jeopardize either of your careers, and mostly because you knew your father would not approve.

He always thought the guys you dated were not good enough for you. And as annoying as it was, he was always right. He scared away some of them and when you thought back about it, it's a good thing he did.

Truth be told, you have been in love with Bradley for so long that sometimes it hurted. 

You had tried to tell him so many times in the past, but you were afraid of losing what little intimacy you had with him. So when he asked you out, first thing after the uranium mission, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. The hope that your feelings would be reciprocated had invaded your heart and mind, and you felt like it was the first time you were in love. It wasn’t of course, but you were all giddy about it.

You didn’t like to lie to your dad, he knew you too much to know everything in just one look. 

But it was worth it, wasn’t it ?

You hoped it was.

After a well-deserved shower, you changed into clean, comfortable clothes that actually suited you. You put on your helmet and rode to the bar with your motorbike. Your mother hated when you used that ‘death machine’ and your father wasn't really fond of it either. It reminded him of Maverick. He wasn’t fond of Maverick. It always made you laugh watching your dad trying to remain calm in front of the Captain. You’ve never seen a man getting on his nerves that much.

The Hard Deck was already busy when you parked ; a totally normal Friday night , you thought. Looking around, you spotted Natasha’s, Javy’s and Bradley’s cars.

Penny nodded at you with a smile as you entered. The Daggers were in their usual places and Bradley seemed to be winning the pool game against Jake. In a desperate attempt to break his concentration, Jake chuckled, "Your girlfriend's here, Bradshaw”.

The whole team had discovered your relationship, of course, but swore to keep it a secret. You were grateful to them, but Jake being himself, he couldn't resist taking a dig at you. 

You rolled your eyes and took a seat next to Bob, watching the two eternal rivals finish their game. You caught up with Mickey and theorized with him on the last episodes of Kenobi then made your way towards Penny at the bar to buy your round of beers. As you waited for your drinks at the counter, you felt two hands around your waist.

"You're late, Second Lieutenant ."

"Had to fix your teammates’ jets, Lieutenant , tell them to be more careful," you grinned, leaning your back against your boyfriend's torso. You heard him chuckle softly as he whispered that you were an ‘idiot' and kissed the top of your head.

"Sorry about our date, I'll make it up to you."

"You bet your sweet ass you will," Bradley snickered at the squeal you let out as he spanked you a little, “But right now, you owe me a dance to celebrate my victory against Hangman.”

He took your hand as you rolled your eyes but followed him. Your whole body pressed against his, arms around his neck, the room faded away. All you could feel and see was him; one of his hands on the small of your back, the other on your hip, guiding you. The warmth of his body was like a spell that kept you close, not wanting to let go.His hands roamed down your back making you shiver. It felt like you belonged there.

You couldn’t let go of his eyes, hypnotized. He had such beautiful eyes ; those hazel brown orbs were magnetic, so infuriatingly charming. 

One of your hands gently stroked his scarred cheek and he leaned into your touch, smiling like an idiot and humming the song you were slow dancing to. His smile always sent butterflies to your stomach and heat to your cheeks. It was almost annoying how easily you fell for his charms.

The two of you danced until the song ended and you pulled him by the collar to kiss him. You felt his hands slip into the back pockets of your jeans, shamelessly squeezing your ass, and his proud grin against your lips. You bit his as you pulled away from the kiss.

"Okay, lovebirds , get a room," Jake complained and you flipped him off, still in Bradley's arms.

"Don't be jealous Jakey, your time will come," you teased, making your partner chuckle.

"She's right Seresin, just wait till you're a big boy."

The evening continued quietly, with one beer after another, a few games of darts and pool, and a few songs on the piano for Bradley. 

You watched him from the bar, mesmerized, an affectionate smile on your face. You still wondered how you'd managed to get his attention; this man could have anyone he wanted with his smile combined with a little song, the sweetness with which he spoke, his sarcasms, his eyes so soft and intense at the same time, his stupid, stupid, cocky grin... God, you were definitely and undoubtedly under his spell, mind and heart.

Your eyes never left his form for more than five seconds. You looked at him as if you wanted to learn every aspect of his physique; but to be honest, you already knew him by heart. 

You could locate every beauty mark, every scar - and tell its story - and where his birthmark was. You could describe every shade of brown in his eyes, depending on the light or his emotions. You knew every expression on his face; when he was angry, frustrated, sad, or playful. You knew exactly where and how to touch him to make him putty in your hands, every positively sensitive area and those to avoid.

And yet, every time you looked at him, behind the piano, laughing with his friends, you discovered a new detail that made you love him even more.

The way he cared for all of them - even Jake, his "archenemy" - and knew just what to do to make them feel better and laugh. How he always listened to what they had to share, good or bad, and offered to help. How he'd always protect them as if they were his siblings, his rather hazardous family.

Speaking of hazardous family, it always made you laugh how Bradley could be so like Pete and like your dad. It was sometimes a mixture of arrogance and calm, defiance and seriousness. Part of you was sure that if they tried, your dad and Bradley would get along. But were they willing to ?

As you were lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice a man, a little younger than you, sitting next to your stool. He started talking, trying to flirt, but you didn’t really pay attention, still absorbed by your boyfriend’s silliness, until he clicked his fingers in front of your face.

“Hey, ‘m talking to you doll. You should really pay attention when someone is talking to you, got it ?”

You sipped your beer and looked at him out of the corner of your eye. He continued his flirtatious attempts, bragging that he was one of the best in his class at Top Gun. He kept trying to get your attention by snapping his fingers or grabbing your arm. His breath was clearly too close to your face and stinked a mixture of beer and chips. 

It really started to annoy you, so it was your turn to snap your fingers in his face.

"I'm not interested,” you snapped your fingers again, “If a girl ignores you, it's because she doesn't want to talk to you, got it ?"

You got off your stool, ready to join the Daggers by the piano. But a hand gripped your wrist and the man pulled you close to him. You could see a hint of anger and annoyance in his eyes, but it didn’t scare you. You were used to guys like him, thinking they own every woman they see. 

“Listen doll, I was nice until now. Give me your number and I’ll forgive you,” he grinned, his buddies sneering behind him, as if they were proud of him. You couldn’t help but giggle at the scene. What kind of bad joke was that ?

In one swift motion, you released your wrist and pinned his arm behind his back. You bent him violently over the bar and locked him in that position, pressing down just enough to hurt and immobilize him. 

"One false move and I will dislocate your arm," you threatened in his ear as a few glances turned in your direction. "Now listen to me carefully. This is the last time you'll talk to me or any woman like that. Understood?"

He grunted and struggled a little. You pressed harder and repeated, "Understood?"

"Okay! Okay, I understand! Get off me!"

The man growled again and you finally let go. Penny gave you a look that you understood as a warning and you smiled innocently to her. The man and his group walked away with a grunt, giving you one last murderous look. You smiled broadly and made a mocking curtsy. 

Bradley raised an eyebrow as they passed him, muttering that you were a "crazy bitch". You joined him with two beers, one for him and one for you.

"What happened?"

"Nothing to worry about, just some big macho guy. He didn't like that I wasn't paying attention to him. I just put him in his place."

You shrugged with a smile and Bradley shook his head, laughing a little, knowing exactly what you meant. He put his arm around your waist and kissed your temple. 

"I know you can defend yourself, but don't get yourself in trouble, Stormy."

"Don't worry, if I get in trouble, my knight in shining armor will come and rescue me, won't he?" you teased. He chuckled but nodded before taking you on his lap at the piano. He started a new song that had the remaining customers singing and dancing.

***

The end of the evening was a bit hazy.

You'd had too much to drink to get back on your bike, so it was Bradley who drove you home. You pulled your boyfriend into your small house - he offered no resistance - and kissed him as if your life depended on it, as if that simple contact made your heart beat. His hands roamed your body with hunger, and yours tore his Hawaiian shirt from his back. You thought of nothing but Bradley, his soft lips devouring your jaw and neck, leaving a few marks where he passed, his hands so warm on your skin, his breath making you shiver. 

You wandered back to your room, kicking off your shoes, and your clothes ended up in a pile at the end of your bed. 

You loved doing it with Bradley. He gave you everything you wanted and so much more. You'd never been as fulfilled as you were with him. It was as if he knew everything about how your body worked, that it held no secrets for him. 

Your nightly activities have drained you both of what little energy you had left, and you fell asleep hugging each other, as if afraid the other will evaporate.

The next morning, it was not your massive headache that woke you, but the sound of several cars and children laughing outside your house. What day was it? Was it Saturday? It was Saturday!

You jumped to your feet as Bradley mumbled something unintelligible.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" You shook your boyfriend and wrapped yourself in a blanket as you heard the sound of a key turning in the front door lock.

"Bradley, get up!"

"Mmh, five minutes..." he mumbled, burying his face in the pillow. You heard the door open and small footsteps running toward your room. You panicked and shook him harder.

"We don't have five minutes! Get your ass up!" 

You grabbed the first thing you could get your hands on: panties and Bradley's tank top. You stumbled to your bedroom door to get out before one of your nephews’ innocent eyes discovered their aunt and a man they didn't know naked as worms in her bed. You tried to look as natural as possible as you quickly closed the door behind you. Standing in front of you was Jack, your three-year-old nephew. He was Nathan’s, your oldest brother, son. He laughed as he threw himself on your legs to give you a hug.

"Oh my God, hi sweetie! You're early!"

"Dada said we'd surprise you, Auntie! And Pop-Pop is here too!" the little boy laughed.

"What a nice thought!" you tried not to sound too ironic as you picked him up to give him a kiss and rearrange his wild blond hair. "Auntie needs to get dressed, okay? Go wait with your dad in the living room!"

You gave him one last kiss and made sure he ran to the living room before storming back to your bedroom. How could you forget that your brothers were visiting today? You were so screwed! A million thoughts went through your head and one thing made you snap out of it; Bradley yawning and taking his sweet time getting up. You grumbled and attacked him with a pillow.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"We're in deep shit Bradley! My whole family is here! They weren't supposed to be up this early!"

"What?" he blinked and narrowed his eyes, trying to process what you'd just told him. You started to rattle on about how your brothers got their permission for your mom's birthday, but your brothers were here super early with their wifes, their kids, and your mom and dad. Bradley had trouble following what you were saying because you were talking really fast. 

“Babe,” he tried to interrupt you, but you kept mumbling and pacing next to the bed, “Y/N, baby, calm down!” 

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you to sit in front of him. His free hand cupped your cheek tenderly as he guided you into breathing to calm yourself down.

“Okay… mind explaining slower what is happening here ?”

You sighed and nodded before re-explaining the whole situation to him. “But they weren’t supposed to come here this early ! The surprise lunch for my mom was supposed to be at home, not in my flat ! And my dad is here. My dad ! What are we going to say ?”

You cursed again, rubbing your temples. Bradley took your hands in his to make you look at him and stole a kiss from you. You sighed against his lips, your tension going away slightly. He then pressed his forehead to yours, stroking your cheeks to soothe you.

“How about we get dressed and just… join them in the living room ?”

“You really want to face my dad ?” you raised one eyebrow, surprised but really relieved that he didn’t propose to just sneak out.

“Yeah ? I mean, the man already has doubts, you’ve said it yourself… and it’s your mother’s birthday, your whole army of men won’t be able to kill me. Not today at least.”

You chuckled at his joking tone and at the silly smile he has on his face. You pecked his lips with a grin. “Okay then Lieutenant , let’s get dressed.”

“Yes ma’am!” 

He gave you one last tender kiss, and when the two of you went to get up, a little giggle made you both freeze.

“Auntie who that ? And why he nakey ?”

Your nephew’s voice asked. He was standing by the door, a playful smile on his chubby face, and his little finger pointing at your embarrassed boyfriend. Bradley quickly covered himself more, lifting the sheet at his chin, and you ran to get little Jack in your arms.

“How did he get here ??” Bradley scream-whispered at you, hiding himself while trying to get dressed.

“I don’t know !” you scream-whispered back before turning your attention back to the toddler who was babbling in your arms, “Jack, honey, why aren’t you with your dad and pop-pop ?”

Before he could answer, your sister in law was by your bedroom, apologizing. She didn’t notice Bradley right away, but when she did, a small cheeky smile curled on her lip.

“Hi there, sorry to have him interrupted you two.”

“Annie, it’s not what it looks like-” you blushed when you understood what she implied but Bradley interrupted you by presenting himself and shaking her hand with a wide smile. They chat while you put on a pair of jeans, keeping on Bradley’s tank top. Never in your life had you been this embarrassed.

Little Jack looked at your boyfriend with wide-eyed wonder. He loved meeting new people, and Bradley seemed fascinating to his young eyes. It was no wonder when every time Annie spoke to you, Bradley would make faces at the little boy and make him giggle. 

Bradley already had him in his pocket, so that was a good thing. Annie seemed to like him too, at least you thought so from the mischievous looks she gave you. 

As you crossed the hallway to join the rest of your family, a wave of nervousness ran through you. You grabbed Bradley by the sleeve of his Hawaiian shirt and turned him toward you. You pulled him into a hug to relax and to give yourself courage.

"Promise you won't hate me?"

"Why would I hate you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"They'll probably try to impress you, my brothers I mean... and my dad... you know how he can be..."

"Oh honey... It takes more than that to scare me. I'll be fine."

He kissed your forehead and you walked into the living room.

You greeted everyone, your father not immediately aware of Bradley's presence. You introduced him to your brothers first, Nathan, Aaron and Jamie, and they didn't do anything strange at first; they were probably waiting for you to introduce him to your father to see what sauce to cook him in.

Beau and Vivian, your mother, were too busy admiring your niece, five-month-old Juliet, to notice Bradley's presence. She was fast asleep in the arms of Jamie's fiancée, Alice. She greeted you with a smile when you waved.

"Awake at last, Stormy?" your father asked before freezing and losing his smile at the sight of your boyfriend, " Lieutenant Bradshaw. ".

His cold, hard tone made you sigh a little as the two men shook hands in greeting. 

“Good morning Vice Admiral Simpson.” 

They were way too formal, it was ridiculous. Your mother had the same reaction as you and introduced herself to Bradley with a warm smile and a hug.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Simpson."

"Oh, please, just call me Viv!" she laughed a little, waving her hand. Then she turned to you, discreetly gave you both thumbs up and winked at you. 

Good. Bradley seemed to have charmed your mother with just a smile.

Still, you could feel your father tense up behind you as Bradley got to know everyone. He remained very polite and smiled, even letting Jack, Oliver and Tommy - Aaron's twin sons - pull him out to play in the little garden. Your father grabbed your arm. "Kitchen. Now. We need to talk." He seemed a little upset, and you could understand; you'd lied to him.

"Care to explain yourself?" He crossed his arms on his chest, a stern look on his face. 

You didn't like that look. He used to have it when he scolded you when you were a teenager, when you would sneak out of the house to go to a party or to meet up with your then-boyfriend. For a moment, you were 16 again, caught in the act.

You sighed at his insistent and questioning look.

"I uh... He’s... we’re... we've been seeing each other for… a few weeks..."

"A few weeks? So you've been lying to me for weeks?"

"I haven't lied! At least not completely..." you mumbled, biting your fingernail.

"Y/N. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Seriously Dad? You've made it pretty clear that you don't really like him, I mean outside of work."

"I never said that."

You widened your eyes, shocked at his bad faith. 

"Are you kidding me? You've made it clear that you don't want me around him because he's too much like Maverick! Every time I mentioned him, you made your… disapproving face. The same one you made every time I mentioned my old boyfriends, or when I wanted to get a motorcycle, or when the boys tried to bleach their hair in high school !"

"I don't have a disapproving face," he grumbled, "and it's not because he’s like Maverick that I don't want you around him, it's because he can be called back on a mission at any time. I don't want that to break your heart."

"Oh ! But it's okay for Nathan, Aaron, and Jamie to break the hearts of their partners? Of their children? It was okay for you to risk breaking Mom's heart and ours? What kind of cardboard argument is that, Dad?" You raised your arms in disbelief as you started to walk out of the kitchen, but you stopped and turned back to face him. "I know you want to protect me, but... you can't do that about things like that. I know you know better than anyone the risks of this job, the sacrifices it requires. But Bradley knows them as well, if not better, than you do. And as much as it scares me, as much as it scares us... we want to try… And even if you don't like it, we'll give it a try. Because I almost lost him once without really being able to be with him..."

Your father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. From the kitchen window you could see Bradley playing with your nephews, under your mother's and in laws’ amused and tender eyes. A small smile crept across your lips as the little ones called you over to help hold Bradley down. You hurried to join them, and your mother joined your father.

"Our boys and the little ones seem to like this Lieutenant…”

“Seems like it…”  

“He reminds me a little of you when we first met..." Vivian chuckled to Beau as she hugged him. 

"Really?" the man wondered, "and how?"

"Well, he has that same sparkle in his eyes... the one that calls for adventure, that gentle and loving look when his eyes land on our Storm... and he's also very good with children," she laughed at his slightly embarrassed expression, "You should give him a chance... our princess looks so relaxed with him... look at her… look at her smile…"

He lifted his head and watched the two of you having fun with the three little boys and sighed. His wife was right. You looked so happy in Bradley's arms, waltzing and laughing with the kids. He'd never seen you look so radiant, as cliché as it sounded. Your brothers also seemed to have accepted the newcomer without too much fuss. So Beau seemed to be the only one who was uncomfortable with the whole situation.

He nodded and kissed his wife on the forehead. "Okay, I'll try... but I'm not promising anything."

Vivian rolled her eyes with a smile on her face. She knew for a fact that your father would quickly accept Bradley as well.

Lunch went off without a hitch, Beau swallowing his pride not to be as awkward with Bradley as possible, although he did draw a few murderous looks from your father when he put his hand a little too high on your thigh or lower back. After dessert, he helped your brothers put the kids down for a nap and let them share the convertible bed in your little study. Your sisters-in-law and your brother-in-law, Evan - Aaron's husband - helped you with the dishes. They gently teased you that Bradley was a very handsome young man and that you had chosen well. 

"I know I did. Look at you all, we Simpsons always have good taste," you sniped back with a wink and a teasing smile, making them laugh.

"Wait, wait, wait... So he was your regular booty call after your first assignment?" Evan seemed to realize. You shushed him and made sure that your parents didn't hear him say that. Annie laughed a little and grabbed your shoulder, making you look into her eyes. 

"I can see why you qualified him as the best sex of your life after the upper body I saw this morning," she teased you again, making your face completely flush. You practically begged her to stop talking about your sex life, very embarrassed. But the three of them could be little bullies and they loved to tease you sometimes.

"Guys, please stop. If my father hears you-"

"Hear what, Stormy?"

You turned and paled a little under your father's cold gaze and tight smile. Your sister-in-law and brother-in-law took the opportunity to run off like teenagers, and of course Bradley arrived just then, smiling carelessly. 

"The three cataclysms are finally asleep. Is everything okay in here?" he asked as he joined you in front of your father. He immediately wiped the smile off his face when he saw the look on Beau's face.

"You're lucky it's my wife's birthday, Bradshaw," he growled, his eyes staring straight into your souls, "but if I hear one more detail about your... nocturnal activities, I'm going to make sure that the two of you are as far away from each other as possible, even if it means sending one of you to Japan or Korea. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Bradley replied promptly, "Clear as day.”

"For God's sake, Dad, aren't you being a little extreme? I'm a responsible adult-"

"I'm warning you, I don't want another grandchild too soon. Keep it in your pants."

"Dad!!"

Just when you thought you couldn't get any more embarrassed, your dad had the right words. He left the two of you in the kitchen, muttering that he was getting too old for this. 

"Oh my God..." You cursed as you hid your face in your hands and turned towards the sink. Of all the weird things that could happen, you'd really hoped no one would mention your sex life. You felt a little angry, but more than that, you were extremely embarrassed. You let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping the counter as you lowered your head. You felt the warmth of Bradley's body enveloping you as he wrapped his arms around your waist, his front against your back and his chin resting on your shoulder.

"I'm so sorry..."

"Why are you apologizing, babe? I told you it would take more than that to scare me off... Maybe your dad hasn't fallen for the Bradshaw charm yet, but I'm working on it..." he tried to cheer you up, "And now I have an army of kids who love me, I can order them to defend me."

You smiled, amused at his silliness. "You're really good with kids, but I think it's them who will command you..."

"Maybe you're right," he laughed a little and kissed the hollow of your neck, his mustache tickling you, "but your mother has already adopted me. I'm protected."

You laughed with him, your embarrassment and anger disappearing. You leaned against him, enjoying the hug he offered you. These simple gestures were so comforting that it was almost frightening how quickly he could soothe you. You closed your eyes as he hummed and softly danced with you in the kitchen. It was so cliché, right out of a rom-com, but you couldn’t care less.

After a few minutes, you regained enough courage to join the rest of your family in the living room. Your in-laws gave you apologetic looks, and your brothers were a little lost, but didn't dare ask. 

For the rest of the afternoon, Bradley learned every little anecdote your mother had to share; whether it was about your brothers, you, or even your father, she was more than happy to share with him. Jamie and Alice had fallen asleep in the garden, making your mother smile in awe. Nathan laughed a little with Aaron. "We warned them that a newborn was exhausting, but they insisted on coming here their own way...". 

You laughed a little too, it was true they looked exhausted. But little Juliet was so cute that they forgot how tired they were. 

Speaking of her, the baby phone warned everyone that she was waking up. You volunteered to warm her bottle and Bradley went to get her. Alice had put the travel crib in your room so the other three children would not be disturbed if Juliet woke up. 

When the milk was at the right temperature, you joined Bradley in your room. Your cheeks flushed and you felt butterflies in your stomach when you saw him holding the little one. He rocked her gently, stroking her cheek with his index finger. He seemed so natural that it made you fall even more in love with him. 

You shook your head, your father's voice echoing in your head: "No more grandchildren for now.”

You joined him and let him gently place the baby in your arms. You smiled and fed the hungry five-month-old in your arms. Bradley leaned against the doorframe and watched you with a soft smile. You, too, were a natural with children. Juliet seemed so comfortable in your arms and you seemed so relaxed. He found himself daydreaming about the two of you having children together. He blushed as he imagined you pregnant with his baby... and Nathan giggled behind him. "Calm your horses Bradshaw, you're not putting a baby in my sister anytime soon."

Bradley's face turned as bright red as yours. "Nathan, shut up!" you yelled-whispered at him, careful not to disturb the eating baby in your arms.

“What? You heard our old man, "No more grandchildren for now!”” Nathan grinned and put his arm around Bradley's shoulders.

"I can't promise that..." Bradley mumbled softly, mesmerized by the sight of you holding Juliet against you as you burped her after she had finished her bottle. Nathan's eyes widened and he tried his best not to burst out laughing. "What did you say, Brad’ ? I think I misheard you?"

You blushed as you realized what your boyfriend had just said.

"I... Nothing!" Bradley defended himself weakly, very embarrassed. Nathan teased him until your mother told him to stop, threatening him with no cake after dinner. He immediately stopped and went to get his son after whispering to Bradley that he wouldn't forget what he had just said. You decided not to talk about it, feeling a little embarrassed as well.

It wasn't long before dinnertime arrived, and your father was relaxed and talking with Bradley. You even caught them laughing together. This interaction was reassuring for the rest of the evening.

As usual, your mother had cooked for a regiment, and your refrigerator was full of leftovers. She made Bradley promise to stop by the family home and look at the family albums and your childhood bedroom. He laughed a little but agreed. 

You walked everyone back to their cars, helped them with the kids' stuff, and your dad gave you one last hug and said good night. He said goodbye to Bradley with a slight smile and a quick hug. 

When everyone was gone, you collapsed on your sofa, drained of all energy. Bradley joined you with a smile and pulled you right into his arms.

"That didn't go so badly after all..."

You nodded, yawned and put your arms around him. You thought back to the day that had just passed, to that roller coaster of emotions, and laughed a little.

"So... eager to put a baby inside me Lieutenant?"

"Oh my God Y/N!!" Bradley blushed, hiding his face behind his fists in total embarrassment. You laughed and teased him about it. You preferred to take it as a joke because neither of you were anywhere near ready to have children of your own, you both agreed on that. Or did you?

He turned to you, a serious expression on his face.

"And what if I am? Would you... would you be on board to have kids with me? Not right now, of course, but... I... I can't imagine a future without you in it, and I'd like to have kids with you. I know we haven't really been together that long, but we've known each other for a long time... and oh my God, I'm rumbling," he groaned, rubbing his face before looking back at you. "What I mean is that I love you and I don't want to live without you. Maybe it's rushed, maybe you-"

You interrupted him, pulled him by the collar and kissed him. You didn’t know what came over you; maybe it was the fact that he had just admitted his feelings, or the fact that he was already planning a life with you. Maybe both. Certainly both.

"I love you too," you whispered between two kisses, "and I don't want to be without you either... and I would love to start a family with you someday, Lieutenant Bradshaw..."

You smiled, your forehead pressed against his, and he chuckled in relief.

"Today was really like you... a storm..." he sighed, smiling and stroking your cheeks.

"I know... are you sure you can keep up with my family?" you teased, "Now that you've messed with the storm, the cyclone will never be far away."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Stormy."

[prettyinpwn]

Bill and Ford and Adult Grooming - Why Gravity Falls is a Metaphor Champion for Abusive Relationships (GF Writing Analysis Pt. 4)

GF Writing Analysis Series:

Pt. 1 - Ford Pines: A Masterclass in Writing a Good Flawed Character Pt. 2 - How Gravity Falls Could Have Been Better + Poor Ford and Wendy Pt. 3 - Mabel Pines: How Well Was She Written... Really?

Hello and welcome to the fourth post in my GF Writing Analysis series! Though the title is self-explanatory, I still want to warn folks that this post will contain dark content relating to adult grooming AKA abuse. If that is content you'd rather avoid (and for some reason your filters did not catch my trigger warning tags), this is your heads up that this post will contain that type of discussion.

For those of you who are not sure what adult grooming is, no, it's not the sexual grooming between an adult and a minor like we typically think of when the term "grooming" comes up, nor does it have to be romantic at all, although sexual acts can be a part of this form of grooming. It is defined as:

"-the predatory act of manoeuvring another individual into a position that makes them more isolated, dependent, likely to trust, and more vulnerable to abusive behaviour. The goal is to prepare the other person for abuse (for example, sexual or financial) later. Therefore, the groomer’s first step is to establish friendship and trust." (Source).

It is my belief that the relationship between Bill and Ford in Gravity Falls - which The Book of Bill helped illustrate even more - is one of adult grooming. This post will explore how the concept of adult grooming applies to the relationship between Bill and Ford, how it changes our perception of them as characters, and the value of showing metaphors for abuse in media for all ages - like Gravity Falls is - to help bring to light this very real and underdiscussed issue and help victims recognize it themselves.

Defining Adult Grooming Further + Who Bill Really Is

We already visited the definition of adult grooming above, but we haven't explored the psychology behind it yet. Namely, I want to explore who partakes in adult grooming on both ends. There is the abuser, and the victim.

The abuser is described as often being:

"Narcissists, Antisocial predators, con artists and sexual aggressors practice grooming to target and manipulate vulnerable people for exploitation." (Source).

Well, very obviously, we know that Bill is the abuser. But... why? He could be a narcissist, an antisocial predator, and a con artist, just like the above description. But which? Why is he an abuser?

Well, our first inclination might be to turn to The Book of Bill and think about his backstory; how he could see in the third dimension in a two dimensional world, tried to "liberate" his dimension to see what he could see, and... then slaughtered them all. He implies it was an accident. He just "wanted the best" for his people. But... drumroll please... get ready for a U-turn into some literary talk...

The Great Gatsby references surrounding The Book of Bill were more than just a "lol random" joke. Infamously, the narrator of The Great Gatsby, Nick Carraway, is what's called an 'unreliable narrator'. This is a writing technique defined as:

"-any narrator who misleads readers, either deliberately or unwittingly. Many are unreliable through circumstances, character flaws or psychological difficulties. In some cases, a narrator withholds key information from readers, or they may deliberately lie or misdirect." (Source).

To me, after understanding just how much more Hirsch has tied The Great Gatsby to The Book of Bill's release (e.g "TJ Eckleburg" being the password to get into the associated ARG website, offering a free PDF of The Great Gatsby on said website)... I think what Hirsch is trying to say, is... Bill is an unreliable narrator, as well. Not that that wasn't already well established throughout the series.

Let's ask ourselves this question: is there anyone Bill hasn't lied to? Tried to gain sympathies from? I'll wait. Because the answer is no. Bill lies every time he opens his mouth. Even the god of the Gravity Falls setting - the Axolotl - calls him a liar in the Dipper and Mabel and the Curse of the Time Pirates' Treasure!: Select Your Own Choose-Venture book.

So as a small aside to the main point of this post: I don't think there's anything in The Book of Bill that we can guarantee is proof or canon. If I'm honest, I think The Book of Bill is the mad rambling of a monster trying to justify to us as well as himself that he's better than he really is. He's an unreliable narrator to himself because he needs to save himself from mentally shattering upon the admission that, yeah, he's really that horrible of a person.

If I were to define what The Book of Bill is, is it's a sad attempt to elicit sympathy for a monster, by a monster. It's a masterclass in how he - as an abuser - grooms someone. If you read The Book of Bill and walk away feeling bad for Bill, then congratulations! You would have fallen prey to him just like Ford did. And just like everyone who ever fell prey to him before that.

The metaphor Gravity Falls and its extra content illustrates through Bill is how charming, funny, and enticing and sexy according to Tumblr for some godforsaken reason abusers can be in real life. Because the worst of monsters are the ones who do everything to convince you they're not.

So what does this say about Bill as a character? Don't be fooled. He really is that monstrous. He doesn't have any redeeming qualities. Everything Bill does is with a goal in mind, a person to be used or manipulated to get there, and with a complete lack of conscience to stop himself from doing it. And that's what makes Bill such a strong and terrifying villain: He really is that evil. He really is that soulless. He's not a villain of great strength or power that can be easily defeated with might. He's a villain that underlines something very real beyond a screen or book page, something that we all likely have experienced in real life: an abuser.

Bill and Ford: Abuser and Abused + How Bill Does It

Getting back to the definition of adult grooming, let's explore how it works. There are typical steps abusers like Bill use. We'll list them, then list examples alongside each step that show how Bill used these tactics on Ford for the sake of both exploring their characters more, and illustrating how well Gravity Falls depicts actual abuse.

Please note that I'm using this source as my guideline on the steps of adult grooming.

Step One: Targeting the Victim

The abuser first looks for someone they can target. They learn all they can about the victim. Typically, they look for victims who are:

Unpopular or have family problems. Gee... who does this sound like?

People who have low self-esteem. GEE... sounds familiar again.

People who have mental/physical disabilities. Although Ford does not have either, at least not proven in canon, it is possible that his genius could be considered a disability in how high IQ individuals typically are more socially isolated, depressed, anxious, insomnia-ridden from overthinking, and can have troubles with making friends due to likeliness to correct others (*cough* "Grammar, Stanley." *cough), different senses of humor, and being misunderstood. (Source). Plus, we know his polydactyly caused people to outcast him.

People who have already been through abuse. I - and many others - have made the point that it's common fan interpretation that Ford's father was abusive to a point. At the very least, I have argued in previous posts that Filbrick taught Ford that "value = what money you make from smarts". He was, after all, supposed to be "their ticket outta this (New Jersey poor neighborhood) dump", right? Assuming this is true, well... Ford was already taught from a young age that his value was in how others could use him. Filbrick may have primed him to be abused by Bill, unintentionally.

Okay, so we've established step one of adult grooming, and how Ford fits 99% of these criteria at least for the type of victim an abuser targets. What about step two?

Step Two: Gaining Trust

Honestly, I don't need to elaborate much on this part. I'll just quote the article I sourced before, because any Gravity Falls fan will instantly know how this applies to Bill and Ford:

"Groomers can be hard to notice as they will do their best to appear safe and genuine. This makes it hard to identify them. Over time, they will gradually manipulate the victim to be dependent on them."

"While gaining trust, the groomer may use flattery like offering gifts, admiration, and sharing “secrets” with the person to make them feel special. The groomer may do favours for someone. The groomer may gradually begin asking for favours in return, generally starting small. This may be the start of a romantic relationship or a simple friendship."

"Groomers may share secrets with their target in order to make them feel special and trusted by the groomer. This also may make the target feel they need to share secrets of their own, which the groomer may later use to increase their power over the target."

I mean... *gestures at all of Ford's journals and interactions with Bill in The Book of Bill*. Bill couldn't get any more textbook abuser/adult groomer than this. He praised Ford, shared secrets with him, made him feel so special, etc.

Step Three and Four: Filling a Need and Isolation

These steps are quite self-explanatory. The abuser (Bill) convinces the victim that they need them. "You need me to complete your portal project, Ford.". "No one else understands you, Ford.". And then comes the isolation, and where we'll touch on Stan and McGucket.

"Groomers will likely try to isolate the victim from their loved ones. This may be evident in the way they refuse to meet family and loved ones. Or perhaps they bad mouth them, or try to point out to the victim that the groomer is the only one who really and truly cares for them. Being isolated from friends and family makes it harder for the victim to notice warning signs."

Bill convinced Ford he didn't need anyone but him. He convinced him to isolate more and more; to push his brother away, to push McGucket away, until Ford had literally no support network, making him prime prey for Bill to take advantage of.

Step Five+: The Real Abuse

This step can manifest in many different ways. After reading the article sourced above, there are so many similarities to what Bill did to Ford. I'll list them here:

Continuing isolation.

Destroying self-esteem.

Physical abuse (leaving Ford with bloody knuckles, making his body hurt, leaving him on top of the Shack in the freezing cold, etc).

Seek to take control over victims (in Bill's case, the fantasy/supernatural metaphor of possession is just that: a metaphor for control).

Normalizing behaviors that aren't normal ("Here, I'll just possess you more and more, I swear giving me complete control is normal!").

Making the victim feel helpless.

And many, many more. Folks, I'm not going to lie: I would not be surprised if Hirsch and other writers involved in Bill's creation read a manual on how abusers work (or maybe experienced it in their own lives, but hopefully not, as I wouldn't wish that on anyone) to write Bill. Because Bill does these steps on cue to Ford. He is a textbook abuser.

So... What Does This Say About Bill and Ford?

The dark humor in Bill's writing is that he portrays his shadowy side as lighthearted, but there's a very, very dark underbelly of abuse in everything he does. Even the way we interact with Bill as viewers/readers in real life is a microcosm of his abuse. Look at how he's written:

"Oh, I look like an innocent, funny little triangle guy. Don't mind me. *Does something horrifying and awful.* Oh, I'm just funny, trust me, look how sad I am for losing Ford, and how I drink about it, and I'm all sad here in interdimensional therapy, and I kept a speck of dust from my dimension in my hat! I swear I'm really regretful!"

Text in point: "I'm just a rascal! A funny little guy! But everyone seems to think I'm "evil" or "a sociopath".

He wants to be a hero, or a star, as he calls it. He shows himself on a magazine cover, as someone talked to in a live show, as the leader of the Henchmaniacs (which I'd argue are also either are abusers or victims themselves based on how Bill describes them in the book), etc.

But he's a liar. He's a conman. He's a dream demon; a demon that has power over dreams, but dreams are just that: lies and illusions. Like I said, even the Axolotl thinks so:

"Saw his own dimension burn. Misses home and can't return. Says he's happy, he's a liar. Blame the arson for the fire."

What that line and this screenshot means, is that Bill is 100% to blame for the destruction he wreaks. He didn't "show people the truth". He burned them alive because they didn't worship him as the hero he wanted so badly to be, and he blamed it on, "Well, they just didn't GET what I was trying to tell them.". And the worst part about Bill, is he knows deep down he's to blame; that he has the blood of millions on his hands. But he literally tries to describe it as "liberating" his kind. Ford knows this, too, and tells us directly in The Book of Bill that the book itself is a sham:

Key quotes being: "It will become whatever it must to deceive you, to pull you in." and "DO NOT BELIEVE A WORD".

Honestly, there's only one line Bill ever said that was truth:

Yet, even though Bill knows he's a monster, he never stops. He's had millions of years to change, yet he hasn't. And I doubt he ever will. That's why the Theraprism is effective: it's a jail of his own making. He could get out if he wanted to get better and worked at it. He's always had the key to unlock his cage. But he won't. Because he can't admit fault.

So instead of fixing himself, he keeps wanting to drag others into his cage with him. Like a man drowning who'll grasp onto anyone else struggling, pretending he's helping them float together, only to push them down to keep himself above the water. But in the Theraprism, he has no one to pretend to. He's a "theatre kid without a stage", like Ford said. A little emotional leech without someone to latch onto. He's just alone, like he was after he destroyed his entire dimension.

As for Ford, he champions the story of a victim who regained his power and heals through the love of his family. If you read his and Bill's story from the perspective of abuser vs. victim, it's the story of a man who was isolated, taken advantage of, nearly destroyed... but then wrests his power back and chases after his abuser for thirty years for revenge. However, it's telling that it's not through his thirst for vengeance that Bill is defeated, but through his brother's love for him and the rest of their family.

I mean, look at the main villains of Gravity Falls: someone who sacrificed his family (Bill), someone who was selfish and didn't give a crap about his family (Gideon), etc. And the heroes: people who self-sacrificed for their family. All the Pines wrestle with this theme, from things as small as Dipper giving up a let's be honest very minimal chance at Wendy to make Mabel happy and win Waddles at the fair, Mabel destroying her puppet show to save Dipper from Bill, Ford self-sacrificing and getting tortured for I don't even know how many days locked up with Bill during Weirdmageddon to protect others, and Stan performing the ultimate sacrifice in the finale for his family and world.

Bill is the antithesis to the Pines: a selfish abuser who killed his family. And the Pines are heroes because they learn the moral lesson of the story: to give up pride and selfishness to forgive, self-sacrifice, and love your family and do anything for them, despite your trauma or prior disagreements. They could have just as easily ended up like Bill: awful because of a refusal to admit fault or self-sacrifice. But they don't, because they learned what Bill never did.

That's also why this show focuses so much on the theme of past vs. future and letting go; the Pines learned to let go and accept change, Bill never did. He's stuck. Funny how time stops whenever Bill shows up in the real world, huh? /symbolism wink

And that's why Gravity Falls - and Ford and Bill's story especially - is a champion metaphor for abusive relationships and healing from them.

[hoe4hotchner]

Chapter 10 - Cold pursuit

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x figure skater (fem)!Reader

Summary: The story follows you a figure skater training for nationals and Aaron Hotchner as your lives intertwine during an investigation into the abductions of young athletic women, including the your close friend, Leah. As the BAU delves deeper into the case, you find yourself captivated by Hotch’s quiet strength and protective presence. When Leah’s body is tragically discovered at the rink, the tension escalates, surrounding you in an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty.

Word count: 10k

Warnings: Alcohol mentioned, celebration dinner, doubts, detailed evidence run down and analysis, theres a bunch of children present in the last scene of this chapter.

A/N: Honestly, everyone should blame the outdoor skating rink opening in my city for me taking so long to editing this…. I've had it written for 2 weeks now, but only just finished editing it Wednesday and meant to post it last night (but I went skating instead). Oops…… but on the bright side the rink is open.

Masterlist

The restaurant buzzed with a low hum of conversation, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter and the soft clink of silverware against plates or glasses pushed together in a toast. The air in the restaurant was rich with the scent of freshly baked bread and hearty, savory dishes. It wasn’t the fanciest spot in town — no glittering chandeliers or pristine white tablecloths — but it had a charm of its own — and you liked it. The warm lighting, the rustic wooden tables, and the soft murmur of diners gave it a cozy, inviting atmosphere.

The team had insisted on taking you out to dinner after the competition, their excitement contagious. At first, you’d protested — wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed — you'd voiced your concerns about pulling everyone away from the case, the weight of the unsub running freely around gnawing at the back of your mind. But your objections had barely left your lips before JJ placed a firm yet comforting hand on your shoulder, her grin both gentle and determined.

“This is non-negotiable,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “You just won sectionals, and we’re going to celebrate. Even if it’s only for a couple of hours, you deserve this.”

Her words left you momentarily speechless, and before you knew it, you were swept up in their plans. Rossi had already called ahead to secure a table, likely pulling a little on his "do you even know who I am" author personality to get the best table in house. Garcia was already promising an entire evening of laughs and stories to distract you from the case.

Now, sitting at the table surrounded by your newly found friends, you found yourself relaxing for the first time in what felt like weeks — truly relaxing. Rossi had ordered a bottle of wine for the table, and while you’d politely declined, you couldn’t help but smile at the way he took charge, pouring glasses with ease. Laughter echoed from Morgan and Garcia at one end of the table, while Spencer leaned in to explain something to JJ with his usual enthusiasm, his hands gesturing animatedly.

Despite your initial reservations, you felt a spark of gratitude rising within you, thankful for this moment.

Hotch, seated at the head of the table, seemed content to observe the conversation. When your eyes met his across the table, he offered you one of his rare smiles — small but unmistakably genuine.

“You’ve earned this,” he mouthed, although his words came out in silence, it was like you were pitched in on a station only you could hear.

Heat rose to your cheeks, creeping up your neck as you ducked your head, pretending to focus on the condensation trickling down the side of your water glass. “Thank you,” you mouthed back, the words feeling far too small for the significance of his support. Still, the warmth in his gaze remained as he kept staring at you for a moment longer.

As the evening wore on, the conversation ebbed and flowed, drifting from the competition to lighthearted topics that had nothing to do with cases or stress. Morgan eventually stood, raising his glass, his grin wide and full of love for his family before him.

“To the champion of sectionals!” he declared, his voice cutting through the din with ease. “And to predicting you’ll be kicking ass and taking names at regionals in a few weeks!”

The team erupted into cheers, glasses lifting high in unison as laughter rippled through the group. The celebratory clinks of glass against glass echoed as a joyful punctuation to his toast.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up naturally. It felt freeing to laugh like this again, to let go. It was like a fresh breath of air after being submerged a little too long.

Even as the team’s laughter and cheerful banter filled the air, you still couldn’t entirely shake the weight of what had unfolded earlier. The tension, the chaos, the unsettling fragments — it all clung to the corners of your mind like a shadow refusing to be cast out. Every so often, your gaze drifted to the table, the fork idly turning over a stray piece of lettuce on your plate, as your thoughts circled back to the competition.

Across the table, Hotch’s sharp eyes caught your brief distraction. His perceptiveness was something you’d come to expect. However, it still surprised you how easily he could read even the faintest flicker of unease. He leaned forward slightly, the low hum of his voice cutting through the surrounding noise.

“It’s okay to enjoy this moment,” he said, his tone even and grounding, like a steady hand reaching out to tether you to the present. “I've learned that the hard way. We’ll deal with everything else tomorrow.”

The sincerity in his words, coupled with the unspoken permission they offered, settled over you. You lifted your gaze to meet his, finding reassurance. A small, genuine smile curved your lips as you nodded.

He was right, of course. Tomorrow would bring the chaos of the case and all the challenges waiting to be unraveled. But for tonight, you allowed yourself to lean into the moment.

As the plates were cleared away and the steady buzz of the conversation through the restaurant softened, Rossi pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. With the ease of a man accustomed to commanding attention at a celebration, he lifted his glass, the flickering candlelight casting warm shadows up at his features. His eyes swept over the table, taking in each member of the team until they landed on you, his expression was a blend of pride and warmth.

“To victories,” Rossi began, his voice effortlessly cut through the murmur in the restaurant. “Not just the one on the ice tonight — though that alone warrants its own round of applause.”

The team erupted into cheers and claps, their joy infectious as they turned to you with bright smiles. You ducked your head, a flush warming your cheeks as their enthusiasm washed over you.

Rossi held up a hand drawing the team's attention back to him. His tone deepened the words carrying a weight that settled over the table. “But also,” he continued, “to resilience. To all of us — because no matter what’s thrown our way, we endure. And we’ll keep doing it, together.”

There was a moment of silence, heavy with meaning giving each member enough time to reflect a little over all the good they'd done together before the clinking of glasses broke it. The sound echoed around the table, accompanied by murmured agreements and the gentle exchange of smiles. You lifted your glass, your throat tightening as Rossi’s words settled over you.

Hotch remained seated, his glass untouched. He didn’t raise it or join in the clinking, but his presence was no less commanding. His voice cut through the celebratory noise with ease as he turned his attention to you.

“Congratulations,” he said, the simplicity of the word carrying a weight that struck deeper than anything else.

You looked up, meeting his gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the mask he always wore cracked just enough to reveal — was it pure joy you were sensing?

For a moment, the quiet conversations, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter faded into the background. All you could focus on was him. The soft light caught the subtle lines of his face, and in his eyes, there was a flicker of something you couldn’t quite name.

The moment was fleeting, but it clung to you.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible above the surrounding noise. But he heard you.

The faintest twitch of his lips hinted at a smile as his gaze held yours. It was as though he wanted to say more, but before either of you could dwell on the moment, Morgan’s voice cut through, his teasing tone breaking the spell.

“Alright, alright,” Morgan called out, tapping his fork against his glass with an exaggerated gesture. “Enough of the serious stuff! Let’s focus on what’s really important — dessert. I saw cheesecake on the menu, and I’m not leaving without it.”

The table erupted in laughter, the lighthearted energy spreading like a wave and pulling you back into the present. You smiled, grateful for the shift in mood, even as a small part of you held onto that of the unspoken connection you felt between you and Hotch.

As the evening wound down, the dessert plates were cleared, and conversations turned to lighter topics, the check was settled. Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone began gathering their things.

Hotch stood, his tone heavy but still firm enough to carry authority. “Tonight might be for celebration,” he said, his gaze sweeping across the table, lingering on each of you in turn. “But tomorrow, we’re back to the grind. Everyone get some rest. We’ll need it.”

His words were met with a mix of groans and chuckles. The case loomed over them, but for tonight, they had carved out this small moment of peace together — a reminder of the strength they found in each other. As you followed the team out of the restaurant, you couldn’t help but glance back at Hotch, who lingered at the door, his expression thoughtful, as though the moment between you had stayed with him, too.

Tomorrow loomed large in everyone’s mind. For you, it signified the beginning of an intense new chapter — weeks of brutal training as you started preparing for the regional championship. Tonight’s victory was just a stepping stone, a moment of triumph that already felt distant under the weight of what lay ahead. The road to regionals stretched long and unforgiving, paved with endless hours of practice, aching muscles, and the relentless pursuit of perfection. You had to beat Natalia — even if it would be the death of you

For the team, the shadow cast over the celebration wasn’t just tomorrow’s responsibilities but the events of the day itself. The CD, the disruption during the competition, and the potential dangers tied to it hung in the air, thinly strung together. While laughter and lighthearted toasts filled the space, each agent carried their share of the unease, their minds churning over the implications of what they had seen and what it meant for the days to come.

The next morning arrived with the relentless inevitability of a ticking timebomb, the warm afterglow of celebration giving way to the sharp, cold focus the case needed. At the BAU, the team reconvened, their moods subdued, maybe due to a hint of a hangover, although the weight of the investigation now took center stage and filled their minds.

In her brightly lit lair, Garcia sat at her station, the soft hum of computer screens and the rhythmic click of her keyboard filled the room. Her fingers flew across the keys with precision, her movements almost hypnotic. Multi-monitor screens surrounded her, bathing her in a glow of cold, digital light. Each screen displayed a different piece of the puzzle: lines of code racing across one monitor, a serial number database running cross-references on another, and a frozen frame of the video file at the center of it all.

The CD lay nearby, its reflective surface glinting under the dimmed overhead lights, as it lay on her desk it looked like a harmless object, but reality was that it carried an unsettling importance. It was more than just evidence — it was a breadcrumb, a breadcrumb Garcia was dangerously close to deciphering, potentially leading to someone or at least a direction. Garcia had already traced the faint serial number etched along the edge of the disk. Cross-referencing sales records and supplier logs, she narrowed down its origins to a single store in the D.C. area.

But that clue wasn’t enough. Not for her. She leaned in closer to her screens, her eyes flicking between metadata timestamps and software watermarks embedded in the video file itself. The metadata provided a chunk of information, revealing the date and time the disk had been burned. It pointed to the program used to create it, offering a glimpse into the unsub’s methods. Yet, as Garcia delved deeper, something unusual caught her attention.

Her fingers stilled for just a fraction of a second before resuming their pace. A small discrepancy in the timestamp — a detail so minute most wouldn’t have noticed — jumped out at her. It suggested tampering, a deliberate attempt to obscure the file's true origin. She wasn’t sure if it was just a delay or if it indeed was tampering, but she would get back to that later.

“Oh, you sneaky little…” she muttered, her tone a mix of frustration and admiration for the unsub’s craftiness. Her brow furrowed as she flagged the anomaly for further analysis.

She adjusted her headset, muttering softly to herself as she combed through every byte of data.

Every so often, Garcia’s eyes flicked toward one of the frozen frames highlighted on her side monitor. The still images — grainy shots of an empty rink, its edges shrouded in shadows — offered little at first glance. However, to her trained eye, the subtle details began to take shape. The camera angle, the faint reflection of banners and flags against the ice, and the placement of the shadows all hinted at where the footage had been recorded. They had all been there, just later in the day. She opened a mapping tool on her other screen, overlaying a diagram of the rink’s layout.

“Let’s see,” she murmured, zooming in on a specific section of the map, cross-referencing with promo pictures and surveillance from the competition. With a few calculations, she triangulated the possible vantage points where the camera could have been placed during the recording. It wasn’t definitive yet, but it was a start — and hopefully, she could get access to surveillance from earlier in the day if she knew which camera could've captured the unsub filming his gloating video.

Her main monitor flashed as another search result loaded, confirming her earlier findings about the disk’s origin. The CD had been sold at a local chain electronics store. It wasn’t a smoking gun, but it was a solid lead that she knew Hotch would want to check out.

Garcia leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her hair. The task was starting to press against her shoulders, but her gut told her to keep going, that she was closing in on something significant. The pieces were aligning, slowly revealing the completed picture.

Reaching for her notebook, she jotted down the critical details — timestamps, store locations, and potential camera placements. Her handwriting was quick one only she could decipher as she rushed to gather more information.

A glimmer of pride crossed her face as she clicked through the windows on her screen one last time. Despite the gravity of the situation, she thrived in moments like these. The team depended on her ability to turn the digital ether into leads, and she wouldn’t let them down — especially not when it came to you.

Standing up, Garcia grabbed her notebook and adjusted her headset. “Alright, time to give the boss man the scoop,” she muttered with a small grin.

As she glanced back at her screens, her eyes caught the timestamp anomaly once again — the fraction-of-a-second delay between the burning software’s internal clock and the recorded file. It was deliberate, she was sure of it now. Whoever had created this disk had gone to great lengths to cover their tracks.

“That’s not amateur work,” she said softly, turning back to her monitors.

“Crafty little hacker, aren’t you?” Garcia muttered under her breath, her fingers moving with ease over the keyboard as she navigated through the labyrinth of digital breadcrumbs he had laid out for her.

Her determination bore fruit as a line of metadata caught her attention. It revealed a clue about the software used to edit and burn the file — an obscure program known only within niche tech circles, lucky for her, he hadn't managed to delete the full watermark from the file. It was a faint, almost imperceptible watermark lingering in the corner of the footage. Zooming in and adjusting the file's contrast, she enhanced the image. The watermark appeared to be an alphanumeric string, subtle enough that an untrained eye would miss it entirely.

This wasn’t something an average consumer would stumble upon during a scroll through the web. No, this was the work of someone with both access to specialized tools and the expertise to wield them.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” she murmured. Garcia leaned in closer, her gaze narrowing as she traced the software’s digital footprint. It was a small lead, but it would narrow the suspect pool significantly once Hotch had a list of who had bought the same brand of disk at that specific store. Whoever created this disk wasn’t just tech-savvy; they were likely indulged in the hacker community too.

The realization hit like a spark igniting a fuse. She too could potentially know this guy — she hoped not.

The disk wasn’t finished giving up its secrets. Curious, Garcia ran an analysis on the unused storage of the CD — space often left blank or filled with meaningless data. What she found wasn’t random. Her tools flagged encrypted data hidden in the remaining sectors of the disk.

Her heart raced. “Encrypted, huh? Oh, sweetie, you have no idea who you’re up against,” Garcia said with a smirk, already queuing up her decryption programs.

The process would take time, and there was no guarantee it would yield immediate results.

Garcia sat back in her chair, biting the end of her pen as she pieced together the — hopefully last — implications.

Its maker had underestimated her. Each inconsistency was a thread waiting to be unraveled, and she intended to tug at every single one until the truth came tumbling out. A small smile played on her lips as she straightened in her chair, her hands already poised to dive deeper into the mystery. “You can try to hide,” she whispered, “but you can’t outsmart me.”

With a deep breath, she grabbed her notebook once again, jotting down a few more details:

Store location identified

Timestamps = deliberate manipulation

Software hints at a skilled hacker

Embedded watermark, potential clue to video origin

Encrypted data in unused disk storage, likely containing additional information

“This isn’t just a breadcrumb trail,” she said under her breath. “This is a whole bakery.”

As her decryption programs worked in the background, Garcia stood, grabbing her notes. Whatever was on that disk wasn’t just about the video.

She adjusted her glasses and headed toward Hotch’s office. This was bigger than she’d initially thought, and the team needed to know, now.

Garcia pushed back from her desk, the wheels of her chair squeaking faintly as she grabbed her tablet and her notebook. The findings were fresh, and her mind raced with how to frame the data for maximum impact. Normally, she’d package her brilliance with a touch of flair, but there was no time for dramatics now.

She slipped her heels back on — bright purple, of course — and set off toward Hotch’s office with purpose. Her usual confident strut was replaced by a hurried waddle as she navigated the maze of desks, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. Agents and analysts turned to watch her pass, her determined energy cutting through the hum of the bullpen.

By the time she reached Hotch’s door, her cheeks were flushed, both from the brisk pace and the adrenaline of her findings. Without waiting for an invitation, she knocked lightly and poked her head in, her eyes already locking onto Hotch.

“Got something,” she announced breathlessly, stepping fully inside.

Hotch, seated behind his desk, looked up from a stack of files. His expression was calm, but the slight lift of his brow indicated curiosity. Garcia rarely burst in without good reason at this hour of the day.

She took a moment to collect herself, standing straight and smoothing her skirt. “You’re going to want to hear this,” she said, her voice steadier now, though still brimming with urgency.

Garcia settled into the chair across from Hotch’s desk, balancing her tablet on one knee while flipping through her notes. The hum of her tablet filled the brief silence as she pulled up the files she needed, her fingers dancing across the screen.

“Okay,” she began. “Here’s the rundown.”

She started with the serial number analysis, explaining how it had led her to identify the store that sold the disk. She detailed the discrepancy in the batch number.

“The disk wasn’t just bought off the shelf and used,” she said, tapping the tablet for emphasis. “It was tampered with once bought, Hotch. Someone knew what they were doing, and they wanted this to look as normal as possible, but— ” she paused for dramatic effect, “—Miss Garcia can sniff out forgery like nobody’s business.”

Hotch didn’t interrupt, his gaze fixed on her as she continued.

She pivoted to the video analysis, describing the faint watermark she’d uncovered. “It’s subtle, barely there, but I think it could be a lead—it's a signature from the software used. I’ll dig deeper into that.”

Her voice softened slightly as she reached the final point: the encrypted data hidden in the disk’s unused space. “Whoever made this disk wasn’t just leaving breadcrumbs — they buried an entire loaf. There’s encrypted data sitting on the disk, separate from the video file. I’ll need more time to crack it, but... it feels intentional. Like a trap or a potential new message.”

Hotch leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled as he absorbed the information. His expression was unreadable.

“Good work,” he said after a moment. “Follow up on the watermark if you can and get back to me once you have a lead on that data. Whatever this is, we need every detail.”

Garcia nodded, her initial tension easing slightly at his reassurance. “I’ll get right on it. I just... I wanted you to know where we’re at.”

“You’re invaluable to this team,” Hotch said, meeting her gaze. “We wouldn’t have gotten this far without you.”

The weight of his words settled over her, and she straightened her posture, ready to tackle the next phase of the investigation.

Hotch stepped out of his office, his stride purposeful as he moved toward the conference room. His sharp tone cut through the bustling bullpen as he called out, "Team, conference room. Now."

The agents exchanged brief glances before gathering their materials and heading toward the glass-walled space.

Once inside, Hotch stood at the head of the table, hands resting firmly on its edge. Behind him, a digital display showed a split screen: a map of the sectionals venue and a paused frame from the video on the CD.

"We're going to dissect the events from the competition," he began, his voice steady and commanding. "It's crucial we find every anomaly, no matter how small. But first Garcia has some findings for us."

The conference room was quiet as the team sat around the table, all eyes on Garcia. She clicked through her slides with haste, the soft hum of her laptop’s fan the only sound.

"Alright, gather 'round, kiddos," Garcia began, her voice bright despite the intensity of the situation. "Here’s the tea on the disk. You’re going to want to take notes."

She tapped a key, and the first slide appeared on the screen. "First thing's first, the serial number on the disk. I ran it through multiple databases. The number was linked to a batch of discs sold exclusively at a specific electronics store — one in the D.C area." She clicked through to the store’s profile on the screen. "Now, here's the kicker: the purchase logs I can get access to for that batch don't show the time stamps from when it was bought, we'll have to get the footage and logs from them."

She paused for effect, allowing the information to settle in the room.

"This batch was bought in bulk, way under normal quantity for a store like that. It wasn’t one random buyer — it was someone who knew exactly what they were after."

A few murmurs went through the team, and Hotch’s expression remained focused, his gaze fixed on Garcia as she moved on to the next part of her analysis.

"Now, about the video file," Garcia continued, clicking to the next slide. "I ran a full metadata scan, and let me tell you — it’s like this file had a hidden life of its own." She brought up the details on the screen. "First off, the timestamp doesn’t match what was originally logged on the disk. There’s a slight discrepancy — like someone fiddled with the time and date. It looks like it was altered after it was originally created, meaning this wasn’t just a copy-and-paste job. Someone went in and manually adjusted it to make it look like the footage was recorded on a different date. When in reality it was most likely filmed yesterday morning before the competition."

She clicked through a few more details, tapping a button to reveal the software data. "And that’s not all. The software used to burn the CD wasn’t the usual consumer-grade stuff. We’re talking about something a little more specialized. It’s a higher-end program, one often used by professionals and mainly hackers."

A murmur ran through the room, and Rossi leaned forward, clearly impressed. "Not something most amateurs would have access to."

"Exactly," Garcia confirmed. "And then I found something even more interesting: an encrypted file embedded in the unused space on the disk. It’s hidden, like someone didn’t want us to see it, but I’m already starting to break it down. There’s a chance it holds more information — likely some kind of communication or possibly even the unsub’s confession. If I get a few more hours, I think I can get it open."

Garcia paused for a moment, glancing up at Hotch. "But no promises. I’m working on it, though."

"Okay, so here’s where it gets... super creepy," Garcia added, her fingers briefly hovering over the keys as she recalled the findings. "When I scrubbed through the video, I found a faint watermark embedded into the footage. It’s barely noticeable, but it’s there, and it’s something I’ve never seen before. I ran it through a couple of image recognition programs, but nothing came up. We might be dealing with a custom watermark that’s not public."

She turned to face the team, her face illuminated by the monitor. "That watermark could be a clue — like a signature, we just haven't noticed it yet at the previous crime scenes cause it's so well hidden."

Hotch’s brow furrowed, and he exchanged a brief glance with Rossi. "It’s a lead, no doubt," Hotch remarked. "But we’re still no closer to identifying the unsub."

She glanced up from her screen, locking eyes with Hotch. "If I get another few hours, I can probably get into that encryption, but I’m not making any promises."

Hotch’s gaze remained steady. "Keep working on it, Garcia. We need all the information we can get."

Garcia’s fingers stopped moving, and she folded her arms, looking more serious than usual. "To sum it all up, this wasn’t just some spur-of-the-moment purchase, nor is the disk an accidental clue. Someone knew exactly what they were doing. They took steps to ensure we wouldn’t trace them, but they made one crucial mistake—they underestimated us."

"I’ll keep digging into the encrypted data, but I have a feeling this isn’t going to be the last time we’re dealing with a tech-savvy unsub. He's playing a game with us."

Hotch gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. "Good work, Garcia. Keep us posted."

As Garcia clicked her mouse to close the presentation, the team sat in silence for a moment. The unsub had left behind more than just evidence — they’d left a challenge. But Garcia, as always, was ready to rise to it.

The room was quiet for a moment longer before Hotch broke the silence. "Alright, let’s move on. We’ve got a lead now, but we need to be prepared for anything. Let's do the rundown of sectionals"

Morgan leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the display. "We know the unsub had access to the venue, but do we have any indication of when the disk was planted?"

Garcia, seated toward the end of the table, chimed in. "Based on the timestamp from the surveillance footage I analyzed, whoever planted it had to have done so an hour before the first crew member signed in."

JJ frowned, her arms crossed. "What about security at the venue? Any gaps?"

Rossi nodded. "There were at least two points where the cameras had blind spots. If the unsub was familiar with the layout, they could have moved unnoticed."

Hotch moved to the screen, pointing to a highlighted area on the map. "Here and here — both blind spots. We need to dig into who had access to the venue during that window."

Prentiss leaned forward. "Do we have any connections between those who had access and our victim yet? Someone who could’ve been lurking close enough to make a move?"

"Not yet," Hotch replied, his tone clipped but composed. "But that's our next focus. Garcia’s findings have given us a lead, and we’re going to pursue it."

The team continued to exchange observations, noting peculiarities in the footage and comparing it to witness statements. Though much remained unknown, their collective focus began to narrow in on a clearer picture of the unsub’s method and intent.

By the time Hotch concluded the meeting, the air in the room felt heavier. "Morgan, Prentiss, I want you reviewing those blind spots. Rossi and I will follow up on Garcia’s lead at the store. The rest of you, focus on tightening the timeline. We need to figure out exactly when and how this disk made it into the venue."

As the meeting wrapped up, the team shifted to their respective tasks. Reid, however, remained seated for a moment longer, his brow furrowed as he absorbed the information that had been shared. His mind was always working, piecing together the puzzle that was the unsub. Finally, he broke the silence, speaking more to himself than to anyone else.

"You know," Reid began, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "if we look closely at the unsub's method, we might start seeing a pattern in their behavior. It's more than just a crime of opportunity or a random act of violence."

Hotch, who had been reviewing some files, paused and looked up at Reid. "Go on, Spencer," he prompted.

Reid leaned forward, his hands moving as he spoke, fingers lightly tapping the table as he gathered his thoughts. "First, let's consider the choice of victim. We know the unsub chose Leah specifically, someone who was a competitor. But not just any competitor — she was highly skilled, one of the top-ranked in the competition. Then he moved to Branson to single out (Y/N), then a rising star, and now his focus is completely on (Y/N). There's a deep psychological motivation behind singling out someone with such a public profile. This suggests a need for power and control." Reid’s voice was measured as he connected the dots.

"Right," Prentiss said, nodding in agreement. "The victims had to have been an intentional target, someone the unsub knew would attract attention."

"Exactly," Reid continued, his eyes now scanning the screen displaying images of the sectionals competition. "In a case like this, the unsub likely sees themselves as someone who competes with their victim, whether it's for attention, recognition, or perhaps even validation. The disk it’s a form of control. A way for the unsub to leave their mark. It's symbolic. The way they inserted the disk into the system — it’s a way of sabotaging the event from the inside, making their presence known but in a covert way."

Garcia nodded. "So, you're saying the unsub wants to be seen, but from the shadows?"

"Yes," Reid replied, his voice growing more animated. "They want to shape things — and especially the investigation — from behind the scenes, like a puppeteer."

Rossi leaned in slightly, intrigued by the direction Reid was taking. "But what about the attack on Leah? The violence... that’s not subtle at all."

Reid’s eyes darkened slightly as he shifted gears. "That’s where the psychological profile gets more complicated. The unsub’s need for control could have escalated into violence, especially if they felt their plan was being threatened or if Leah, in their eyes, represented a challenge to their self-worth." He paused, thinking it through. "It’s possible the violence wasn’t the plan at all — at first. But when they saw her as an obstacle, they acted out of anger or desperation."

He rubbed his chin as he processed the implications of his theory. "We’re dealing with someone who is probably not entirely comfortable with direct confrontation. That’s why the CD was their preferred method — something passive. But Leah’s defiance, or maybe just her proximity, pushed them over the edge."

"Do you think the unsub has done this before?" Hotch asked, referring to other cases that could be unsolved if they went looking.

Reid’s eyes flickered toward Hotch. "I think this is someone who has a history of unresolved issues. Maybe not in a traditional criminal sense, but they might have a pattern of seeking control in different ways throughout their life. Perhaps they’re someone who has been overlooked, ignored, or ridiculed. This isn’t the first time they’ve sought recognition, but it’s the first time they’ve acted on it this violently. They might even have a history of stalking or watching others from a distance, wanting to feel the power of watching without being seen."

"So, they’re not just trying to make a statement — they’re trying to be something," JJ said, her voice quiet but thoughtful. "They want to feel significant, even if it's only in their own mind."

"Exactly," Reid affirmed. "And it’s possible the unsub sees their actions as justified. They might believe they’re teaching a lesson — showing the world, or at least their victim, that they matter. In their mind, the murder of Leah could be framed as a necessary step in their quest for recognition. They could rationalize that the chaos they’ve created is something that had to happen for their greater purpose to be achieved."

It was unsettling, the way he dissected the unsub’s psychology with such clarity. But as always, it offered them a glimpse into the mind they were hunting.

"Reid," Hotch said after a long pause, his voice steady. "What would the next step in tracking down someone like this be?"

Reid glanced around the table, meeting each agent’s gaze. "We need to look at the unsub’s past once we get a name."

"Alright," Hotch said, rising from his seat. "Let’s get to work. The sooner we know who we’re dealing with, the sooner we can stop this from happening again."

The team was buzzing with new energy as they wrapped up their meeting. Hotch didn’t waste time. He motioned for Rossi to follow him as they made their way to the SUV in the underground garage. There was no time to sit on their hands; they needed answers, and they needed them fast. The store where the disk had been purchased was the next logical step to take.

The sun was already starting to set when Hotch and Rossi arrived at the electronics store. The fluorescent lights inside flickered slightly as they approached the entrance, and the evening rush had begun — if you could even call it that. The few people inside were strolling through the aisles, glancing at products, while a few employees stocked shelves. The store was busy, but it was quiet in the way retail spaces often are just before closing time.

As Hotch and Rossi entered, the smell of freshly printed sales flyers filled the air, the manager, a woman in her late forties with dark hair and glasses, glanced up from her register, her eyes flickered to their outstreched badges, then narrowed slightly. She seemed like she had seen her fair share of customers over the years but her eyes sharpened when she saw the agents approach. Hotch’s presence was always commanding, and Rossi’s easygoing demeanor, while calming, held an air of authority that made people take notice.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice polite but cautious.

"We’re investigating a case," Hotch began, his tone all business. "We need to see the purchase log for a specific item. It’s a batch of disks — make and model: CD-RW 700MB, brand name Verbatim. We have reason to believe it was bought here recently."

The manager’s gaze faltered for just a moment, and she folded her arms. "I’m afraid I can’t just hand out our purchase logs," she said with an edge of defensiveness. "We have strict privacy policies here. I’ll need to consult with corporate before I can release any information."

Rossi, sensing the hesitation, stepped forward with a warm, disarming smile, his tone smooth and persuasive. "I understand your position, ma’am, and I’m sure corporate’s policies are in place for good reason. But we don’t have the luxury of time. We’re trying to prevent a very serious situation, and the information you have could be critical."

He paused, letting his words settle. The manager looked like she was weighing the situation, her fingers tapping nervously on the counter. She was clearly uncomfortable, caught between corporate policy and the urgent need of the agents standing in front of her.

Hotch didn’t give her time to second-guess. His voice was calm but commanding, cutting through the moment of hesitation like a sharp knife. "The information we’re asking for could help save lives. You don’t want to be the one who holds it back when it matters most."

There was a brief silence as the manager looked between them. Hotch’s authority was noticeable even in the stillness of the store atmosphere, and Rossi’s quiet insistence added a layer of pressure.

The manager glanced at the counter, then back at them. "I... I still need to check with corporate. I can’t just—"

Rossi leaned in, his demeanor shifting from charm to subtle persuasion. "Look, I’m sure this isn’t easy, but we’re talking about a potential crime. We’ve been given clearance to get the information we need. All we’re asking for is the log for that specific disk. It’ll take minutes. I promise you, you’re doing the right thing."

The manager hesitated, visibly torn, her hands now pressed flat against the counter. But there was something in Rossi’s delivery — his tone, his expression — that nudged her into compliance. With a resigned sigh, she relented, her shoulders slumping slightly.

"Alright," she said, voice quieter now. "I’ll get the log. But I still have to consult with corporate. I’ll pull it up, but you won’t get it until I’ve gotten their approval."

Hotch nodded once, his expression unchanged, but the relief in the air was almost tangible. "Thank you. And we’ll also need to see the security footage from the day the disk was purchased."

The manager’s eyes flickered with uncertainty, but she didn’t argue. "I’ll get that too. It’ll take a minute."

As she turned to retrieve the logs, Hotch and Rossi exchanged a brief look. Rossi gave a slight nod, his smile returning, this time with a touch of approval. It hadn’t been easy, but they’d broken through.

The manager returned with the purchase log and a USB drive containing the security footage. She placed them both on the counter, looking like she had just given up a piece of herself, and handed them over wordlessly.

Hotch took the items, his fingers brushing the USB drive, and nodded his thanks. "We appreciate your cooperation."

Rossi gave her a reassuring smile. "You did the right thing. Thanks for your help."

The manager gave a stiff nod but didn’t speak. With the files in hand, the two agents turned and walked out of the store, their steps quick but measured.

As the door closed behind them, Hotch pocketed the USB drive, his thoughts already moving to the next step as he walked out towards the SUV. They had what they needed — at least for now — and Garcia would have her hands full with the information. The pieces were starting to fall into place, but the puzzle wasn’t finished yet.

Without hesitation, Rossi followed, throwing a polite “Thanks for your help” toward the shopkeeper before he stepped outside and caught up to Hotch, both of them moving swiftly toward the waiting SUV parked just outside.

As they reached the vehicle, Hotch immediately pulled out his phone, dialing Garcia’s number as he slid into the driver's seat.

The grainy video played on the screen as they plugged it into a table back in the car, showing the dimly lit aisle of the electronics store. The figure in question moved quickly, deliberately, their face obscured by a hoodie and a low-brimmed hat. Their posture was tense, as if they knew exactly where they were going, not interested in drawing attention but also not doing much to conceal themselves. It was as if they were trying to blend in just enough to get the job done, but not so much that they were hard to notice.

Rossi frowned. "Damn, he’s good. We might not get a solid ID on him from this footage."

Hotch narrowed his eyes, the figure’s movements dancing on the screen. The timestamps from the footage matched the day the disk was purchased, but it didn’t reveal much else. Whoever this was, they were careful — wearing a hoodie, possibly to mask their features, not to mention the hat. But the footage wasn’t useless. They had something.

“Let's pull up the purchase logs,” Hotch said, allowing Garcia to access the tablet and data remotely. She quickly transferred the document to her own screen.

The log was brief but revealing — a list of items purchased with a timestamp matching the one from the video. Garcia zoomed in on the entry. A name appeared on the screen.

"Eric Collins' name is registered on the credit card used to purchase the disk," Garcia read aloud, her voice steady. "Purchased a batch of Verbatim CD-RWs on the same day, at the exact same time."

Hotch’s jaw tightened at the name. The coincidence was too strong to ignore. His mind raced, calculating the possibilities, but something in his gut told him this was more than just a random pop-up of a name. He ran a hand over his face.

Eric Collins.

It was the kind of coincidence Hotch didn’t believe in. No, it didn’t feel random. Not when the pieces were aligned like this. The more Hotch thought about it, the more he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Collins was involved — if not the unsub, then definitely involved in some way. But the hesitation remained — without concrete evidence linking him to the crimes, Hotch couldn’t make that conclusion yet.

His eyes flicked to Rossi, who was watching him carefully, waiting for some sign.

"That's him," Rossi said quietly, as though reading Hotch's thoughts. "The timing, the purchase, the footage — it fits."

Hotch inhaled sharply, his fingers brushing the side of his neck as he glanced at the screen again. Eric Collins might not be their unsub, but with everything aligning so neatly, it was hard not to think he was. The coincidence was just too strong. The pieces were starting to fall into place. “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Hotch muttered, but his voice lacked its usual conviction. “We need more.”

Rossi’s expression softened. "I know. But this is a damn good lead, Aaron."

Hotch’s gaze lingered on the name, his finger hovering over the mouse, almost ready to click on the next step of their investigation. The hesitation lasted only a moment, but it felt like an eternity. The thought of potentially jumping to conclusions weighed heavily on him. Still, there was no denying the gut feeling — Eric Collins was their unsub, or at least, someone deeply connected to the case.

With a deep breath, Hotch finally spoke, his voice steady but filled with the resolve of someone who had seen too many pieces fall into place too perfectly for it to be just coincidence.

“Start running a background on Collins,” he ordered Garcia. “I want everything. Personal history, financials, anything that can tell us where he’s been, what he’s done, and what connects him to the victims.”

He turned toward Rossi, his expression hardening. "Let’s move, Rossi. We’re not letting him slip through the cracks."

Hotch’s movements were quick, almost mechanical, as he turned the SUV away from the store.

“Let’s go,” Hotch said, his tone clipped, efficient. He threw a quick glance at Rossi, his hands clasped together in his lap as he stared out the windshield.

“I don’t like the feeling of this,” Hotch murmured, more to himself than to Rossi, his eyes flicking back to the road. “Collins is tied to something bigger. He’s too perfect a lead.”

Rossi leaned back in the seat, exhaling slowly. “Yeah, well, when things line up this cleanly, it’s always hard to ignore. But we need more before we jump to conclusions. You said it yourself.”

Hotch didn’t respond immediately. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he processed everything that had happened so far. The name, the footage, the purchase log and the fact that you were acquainted with him — there was too much connecting Collins to the case for Hotch to just let it go.

As they sped away from the store, Hotch kept his focus ahead, his thoughts already racing ahead to the next steps. They had a name, but now they needed to turn that name into something concrete.

The hunt was far from over.

The cool, crisp air of the rink surrounds you as your skates cut through the ice in smooth, familiar motions. The slicing of your blades in the vast empty arena is calming, the rhythmic sound almost meditative. Your mind, still preoccupied with the chaos of the last few days, begins to clear with every lap you complete.

You've been pushing yourself hard today, preparing for the regional championships. Today, it's about reclaiming some peace, some control as you train, perfecting your routine, practicing new elements — hoping that it'll be enough to pull ahead and beat Natalia — but you know she's doing the same, her coach most likely pushing her harder than ever.

As you round the corner near the boards, your attention shifted to the entrance to the ice. There's a familiar figure standing on the other side of the boards. You almost don't recognize him at first, lost in the quiet concentration of your training — plus he let his beard grow since last you saw him — but when he waves at you, you can’t help but smile.

It’s Luke, a friend from your early skating days — you had met him since the first day your parents had put you in skating classes, his had originally put him in "learn how to skate" with the intent to move him to hockey once knowing the basics. However, he’d always been one of the best on the ice, moving through the ranks and milestones quickly before an injury forced him to retire early. You hadn't seen him in a while, especially with everything going on.

You push your skates towards him, the smooth glide making it easy to close the distance. As you get closer, your eyes catch something unusual — small, brightly-colored figures dotting behind him. They couldn’t be more than five years old. At first, you're confused, but then it clicks: Luke had transitioned to coaching younger skaters after his injury, though in the frenzy of the case, you’d forgotten about it.

Luke greets you with the same warm, enthusiastic tone you remember so well. "Hey! Congrats again on the win. You really killed it out there."

You laugh softly, grateful for the normalcy of the moment. The weight of the past few days has been heavy, and seeing him was a welcome distraction. You lean over the boards and hug him tightly, the kids behind him fidgeting, wobbling a little on their skates — one is even trying to adjust their helmet straps — but they don’t interrupt.

When you pull away, he looks at you with a softer expression. He lowers his voice, careful not to let the kids hear — they didn't deserve to be indulged in the terrifying things going on in the community, it would likely lead them away from the ice before finding their passion. “You okay?” he asks, his tone genuine and filled with concern. “I heard about what happened. Just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

The words settle in, but you manage to nod reassuringly. "Yeah," you say, forcing a smile. "I'm good. It’s just been a lot, but I’m managing. Thanks for checking in, though."

His eyes linger on you for a moment, searching for any sign of vulnerability, but he doesn’t press. Instead, his excitement returns in full force. He claps his hands together, a playful grin on his face. "Well, we were just coming over to ask if we could skate a little with you," he says in an exaggerated sing-song voice, directing the words toward the kids, who immediately perk up at the mention of getting on the ice and skating with you.

The little ones, barely able to stay still, look up at you with wide, eager eyes, their faces lighting up as they begin to shuffle in place. Their tiny gloved hands clasp together in excitement, some of them bouncing on the balls of their feet — the ones in hockey skates careful not to lose their balance. Others simply gaze at you with innocent puppy-dog eyes, pleading for your attention, excited to be able to move around on the ice with an adult on skates. Although Luke was always standing on the ice while the kids skated, he never wore skates, his ankle too weak after the injury, threatening to sprain — or even worse, break again if he wore skates.

It’s hard not to smile at their enthusiasm. You glance back at Luke, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Well, I suppose I could make an exception for you guys,” you say with a teasing tone, your heart warming at the sight of their excitement. “But you’ll have to keep up.”

Without another word, you walk over to the gate, the sound of your skates clicking lightly against the ice. You pull it open, the heavy metal gate creaking as you do. “Alright, come on then,” you say, motioning for the kids to follow. "But no funny business. You’re going to have to work hard to keep up with me.”

The kids cheer in unison, their voices high-pitched and full of joy as they rush past Luke, tumbling onto the ice. They’re wobbly at first, you hold your hand outstretched, ready to catch them if they start to fall, their small legs unsteady, but they’re determined, their faces lit up with the thrill of being on the ice. You can’t help but laugh, the simple joy of the moment settling over you like a blanket. It feels so light, so easy—like it should be.

You're immediately drawn back to your first skating lesson, remembering the same feeling of gilding so freely — even though you too had been wobbly and a little too tense in your body language.

Luke steps aside, watching as the kids swarm around you, their tiny hands reaching out as they try to skate in your direction. “Thanks,” he says, his voice quieter this time, his eyes filled with gratitude as he watches the kids trying their best. “They’ll never forget getting to skate with a champion.”

You look over at him, your smile softening. It’s not often you get a break from everything, and seeing the kids so excited, so full of life, reminds you of why you love this sport. It’s not just about competition or winning. It’s about the simple joy that comes with skating — freedom, movement, and a grounding connection to the ice.

You glide effortlessly across the ice, your legs moving in smooth, controlled swizzles. The little ones are laughing behind you, their tiny skates struggling to keep up as they try their best to mimic your movements. Their legs wobble, their feet slipping slightly as they chase after you, but they don’t give up. You can feel the thrill of their enthusiasm, the innocent determination in their bright eyes, and it makes your heart swell with affection.

"That's some great lemons, Mary!" You hear Luke yell across the ice. You turn your head, catching a glimpse at who you assume to be Mary, watching as she mimics your swizzles as perfectly as a wobbly five-year-old can.

You laugh softly, slowing down just enough to make it fun for them. One little boy tumbles and giggles, his arms flailing as he struggles to stay upright, but he’s quick to get back up, undeterred by the fall. Their excitement is contagious, and for a moment, you forget about everything else — the case, the pressure, the weight of the past few days. This, right here, is the pure joy of skating.

You pause for a moment, letting them chase you, zooming around the ice in circles. The sound of their laughter fills the rink, and you can’t help but smile. It’s a simple moment, but it feels like everything you need right now—light, carefree, and filled with innocence.

As you take a breath, resting against the boards for a quick break, you watch them from the sidelines. The kids zoom around, their movements are erratic but full of life, and you can’t help but feel proud of them. They’re so small, yet their passion for skating is bigger than anything you’ve seen in a while. You see a few of them glance over at you, their wide eyes filled with awe as they continue to move across the ice with whatever grace they can muster.

It’s then that you feel a small tug at your sleeve. You turn, surprised to see one of the girls, a little thing with a wide smile and cheeks rosy from the cold, standing beside you. Her skates are a bit too big for her, but she’s making it work, her arms outstretched for balance. You recognized her as Mary.

She looks up at you, her eyes shining with something that makes your heart skip a beat. “Do you think I’ll ever get to look like an ice princess like you?” she asks, clearly referring to the Disney movie, however, you feel a sense of pride as she mentioned you, her voice issoft and full of wonder.

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is look at her, her innocent gaze full of hope. She’s so young, yet there’s something in the way she asks that makes it feel like the most important thing in the world.

Your heart melts a little as you smile, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “You already are an ice princess,” you tell her gently. “It’s not about how you look or how many tricks you can perform. It’s about how you feel when you're on the ice, and how you move. You have the magic inside you already. You just have to let it shine.”

Her face lights up, and she gives you a shy little grin before skating off, wobbling slightly as she goes. You watch her go, your heart full. There’s something so pure about these kids, so full of possibility. It tugs at something deep inside you, a reminder of why you fell in love with skating in the first place.

As the little girl re-joins the others, your eyes follow her for a moment, a soft smile lingering on your lips. You can’t help but feel a warmth inside, a kind of peace that had been absent for far too long. For a moment, all the complications of life seem to fade away, and you're simply here, with the kids who look up to you like you're something magical. You quickly glance towards Luke on the opposite side, noting to yourself to ask him about co-coaching with him during a few lessons once everything is over. When you finally can relax.

Hotch stood just outside the rink, looking through a window, the door slightly ajar for him to enter if he wanted to, his gaze fixed on you. He had come to deliver news about Eric Collins, but as soon as he stepped into the cold air of the rink, he hesitated. There was something about the sight before him that made him pause.

Through the glass, he watched you move with ease, guiding a group of children across the ice. His eyes narrowed slightly as he noticed the kids chasing after you, laughing, their faces flushed with excitement. They stumbled and fell, but you were patient, and gentle — giving them space to grow into their own skates while also subtly encouraging them when they fell behind. He figured you must be a natural with kids, though he didn’t know why it surprised him.

He watched as you slowed down a little, allowing the children to catch up to you. You glided backward effortlessly, a picture of grace, and for a moment, Hotch found himself captivated by the scene. There was a sense of peace in it.

His eyes shifted to Luke, who was clearly in charge, coaching the little ones with enthusiasm. Hotch hadn’t realized Luke was there at first, not even knowing who he was. However, he felt a surge of something rise within him, not sure what it meant.

The children looked up at you with awe, and you returned their admiration with kindness. It was the same warmth he had seen when his team interacted with Jack, a genuine affection Hotch didn’t see often in others. He smiled to himself, a soft, almost imperceptible expression, as the scene unfolded in front of him.

When a little girl tugged at your sleeve, Hotch leaned in slightly, his interest piqued. He watched as you bent down, your expression warm and patient as the girl asked her question.

Hotch remained silent in the doorway, hidden in the shadows, as you reassured the little girl. “You already are an ice princess,” he could barely hear you as you answered her question with a smile that seemed to melt his own reserved nature, though he would never admit it. You didn’t just give her a standard answer; you gave her something real. The kind of encouragement that could change a child’s perspective, the kind of encouragement that Hotch knew Jack would respond to.

He watched as the little girl skated away, her face lighting up with excitement and pride, and a small chuckle escaped him before he could stop it.

He should tell you about Eric Collins — he needed to. But something about the moment, something about seeing you so effortlessly bring joy to these kids, made him hesitate. There was a reassurance in watching you, a sense that even in the midst of everything else, there were moments like this, moments of simple happiness.

Hotch leaned against the doorframe, taking one last glance at you, his gaze lingering for a moment before he pushed himself off the frame. The case still loomed large, but for just a second, he allowed himself to remain where he was, watching you and the children on the ice. He could have easily walked away, but the moment felt important — something he hadn’t realized he needed to witness until now.

With a soft exhale, Hotch stepped back into the shadows, deciding to let you finish your moment with the kids before he interrupted. The weight of the case would still be there when he told you about Eric Collins. For now, he could afford a little more time to watch you.

Tag list: @love4lando @therealbaberuthless @crazyunsexycool @pear-1206 @bookworm124 @itsmytimetoodream @c-losur3 @lumestar @evvy96 @booknerd2004 @werebearcocoon @sreidahotchnergirl @jazzimac1967 @gamingfeline @soyobi-wankenobi @meg-black @maxinehufflepuffprincess @iyskgd

[devisopod]

Book of Bill Ramblings

If you don't want spoilers, I'd suggest you stop reading before the cut. This'll contain quotes from the book! I've avoided content and conversation about this thing like the plague, so I'm going in blind. This is gonna be a wall of text if you're on mobile. Have fun, if you're into that.

I'm gonna solve the ciphers by myself, so they won't be included here, it's more fun that way! This is all just my "analysis" or whatever you wanna call it.

|| PREFACE

I am an adult. I'm not here to argue or debate with anyone about the content of this book! I'm simply sharing my personal breakdown, so these opinions and statements are in no way meant to be taken as "the right way" to look at it. They're how I alone choose to view the text! I'm open to discuss it, if you want, like sane and civilized people. Heated arguments or grumblings fueled by the discontent that someone doesn't buy into the way YOU'RE perceiving a work of fiction is unwelcome.

Now.

Before I even had the book in my hand, I knew how I wanted to approach this. I had to keep in mind this is all meant to be written by the worst character in the series (from a narrative standpoint), and he isn't supposed to be pitied. So seriously obvious, I know, but it's THE most important factor to circle back to given ANY tidbit of information.

Since this is his point-of-view, which is such a skewed perspective to begin with, it's ultimately bound to be manic (and god was it). He's everything we already know him to be: out of his mind, a compulsive liar, a pro at manipulation, and literally so self-important. That's what makes it difficult to trust whether or not things that happened (or didn't happen) will be altered by his unstable state of mind.

I think I'd even go as far as to say that he's delusional in a lot of ways. No matter how smart he thinks he is, or objectively is, he's a highly flawed individual that is constantly sabotaging himself. And what's more, he doesn't CARE. Bill, while driven in his own right, is highly apathetic unless events or actions directly impact him significantly and negatively.

INITIAL AND UNCATEGORIZED THOUGHTS:

- Holy shit, it's like Bill prides himself on being some sort of "all-knowing" being, but he's really just a fat gossip.

- Bill says it and stresses it multiple times in this book that not only is reality not under your control, but you don't understand it. Only he understands it, and you're just too dumb. Nothing is real. But the universe is a hologram, and everything is also a multiverse. Dennis and Kyle hold our existence in a binder.

- As suggested, he is quite literally feeding you lies, and he's having fun doing it.

- So, Bill's kind of dead, but not really. He's existing in a "half life" state. "Descending through circles, battling demons, reliving [his] whole life... somewhere far away... where the music is always out of tune. Where everyone smiles but no one is happy". Sounds like a mall lmao.

Okay, we'll get into it. My back hurts.

1 || "SIXER, IT WOULD EAT YOU ALIVE."

Let me just start this by saying that Bill sees Ford as a possession. He spent a lot of time grooming him, so he feels HEAVILY entitled to Ford in an "I made you" sort of way. Which is just about as messed up as you'd expect it to be! Bill EXPECTS Ford to be okay with this and even functions under the assumption that Ford wants to belong to him, which is very likely a stem from how open to the relationship Ford was at the beginning. He's constant in sharing that he's grateful for Bill's influence and that it's made his life so much better.

That aside, Bill is repeatedly suggesting to the reader that people that hate him actually love him a lot. And it's so likely that some twisted line of love and being used was blurred between these two. I've said it before and I'll say it again: sharing a mind and a body with a seemingly god-like being is going to fuck you and your perspective UP, I don't care who you are.

After all, "the more people love you, the more brainwashed sheep you can bend to your whims! So CONQUERING HEARTS is one of the most important things you can do!"

While, Ford is an immensely strong-willed individual, he's so very weak to Bill's manipulation because Bill knows EXACTLY what he wants to hear. He's been learning and planning for this kind of thing for a very, very long time and using countless others to do so. So, his false loyalty and promises, though really suspicious to anyone else, appeal to Ford's ego and subconcious because they're specifically catered to him.

And this is where Bill thrives. He is extremely efficient at finding the selfishness within others and exploiting it because he is selfish. He doesn't care what happens as long as he reaches his goal. Any pain along the way isn't gonna be his, so why not just relax and enjoy it? And he's found his match: a "brilliant, morally ambiguous, and romantically challenged" individual. To him, Ford fits the bill (no pun intended), and no dumb Shaman is gonna scare him off this one. It's all a trick to keep him away from advancing his portal plans, right?

He emphasizes his excitement at the prospect of Ford's potential as a pawn by saying, "This is what a partner looks like. The ego of a king. The insecurity of a circus freak. And totally isolated from anyone who might steer him clear of my plans."

He's impressionable and gullible enough to follow him blindly in the name of discovery and arguably as a result of his alienation in the odd town that is Gravity Falls.

And that's where I think Bill's influence should be addressed. Bill's been whispering in Ford's ear, making his life easier, and "fixing" his problems by offering solutions that HE would use. That's the scary part, I think. Bill uses so many different types of flattery, even gives Ford a lot of confidence that he needs, which really feeds into Ford's trust.

2 || GUYS WITH BIG BRAINS GET ON MY NERVES

After seeing Stan on TV, selling the "Grifter", Ford starts to seem like he's having second thoughts about maybe calling Stan up. Bill is, naturally, quick to shoot this down by convincing him it's a waste of time.

With both Stan and Fiddleford, we see Bill kind of steering Ford away. It's clear Ford wants to be around both of them, but as Bill has already suggested, he wants to keep this one isolated. Ford's attention should ONLY be on him and the work that needs to be done. He's not gonna make the same mistakes he made with his previous puppets.

It's unclear whether Bill complicates things on purpose or not, but he certainly isn't interested in making them better.

As far as the relationship between Ford and Fiddleford is concerned (whether you view it as brotherly, romantic, or platonic), I think it had a lot of potential to bring Ford away from Bill, but Ford is just not equipped to be a solid and reliable partner at this stage of his life. He's too focused, too full of himself, and really desperate to fill the hole Stan left. Or maybe not desperate enough.

I've made this point before and I'll make it again: the vast majority, if not all of, the heavy lifting in the dynamic between Ford and Fiddleford IS DONE BY FIDDLEFORD. He is a very caring and loyal person, very much to a fault in this situation.

The Christmas gifts he makes Ford are very personal. Ford means a lot to Fiddleford, so much so that he doesn't see his family often and chooses to help with the research. Whether or not Fiddleford and Emma-May were already having issues can't be judged based on the information given, but it's possible that it plays a part in his absence. It seems like the most likely possibility to me, though. Fiddleford doesn't seem the type to just forget about something like that, especially exhibiting such a friendly and kind demeanor, so I'm willing to bet they were already having problems.

Ford, as I see it, very rarely goes out of his way to do things for Fiddleford, though. However, I will give him props for being good enough to cheer Fiddleford up after he returns from his family.

What I will say, is that Ford relies on Fiddleford a great deal, and I'm not entirely sure how healthy that is. Fiddleford is Ford's ONLY real friend, and definitely the only one not feeding him questionable advice.

Therapy.

3 || CUCKOO CLOCK

Therapy, right? Yeah.

Anyway, Bill REALLY gets after Ford when the whole portal thing goes south. And that's sure to be a hell of a time. Ford is put through immense pain physically and mentally during it all, and wow does it actually sound horrifying. Even during this aggressive and desperate scramble to get Ford to do his bidding, Bill is beating Ford down and trying his best to use his hardships against him while also trying to convince Ford that he needs Bill. He's got nobody else.

He tries everything: sabotage, threats, you name it. Even though Ford doesn't realize his wrongs entirely here, he still knows he has to do something to rectify all that he's done. And boy, does he wanna kill that triangle.

He even loses his mind just a little bit more about this time, grasping at straws and realizing how bad he fucked up.

But now, we skip ahead. Things are better. All that's passed.

The ending of this book was about as satisfying as I imagined it would be. The Pines family. Simple and clean. A thoughtful message from Ford, and some inserts from Mabel, Dipper, and Stan. Stan's message is probably my favorite, and rightfully so.

These four are what it's all about to me. Each sibling has the other, and they're all happy. Bill can't touch them anymore, no matter how much this book of his tries. They're smarter than he is, and it's because they don't intend to be divided by him ever again.

[onnahu]

Batkids as AO3 users

Dick - I don't think he'd be a writer. He just don't give me the vibes, ya know? He would, however, read fics about people he knows. And himself. He's deep in superhero fandom, and at some moment he gets super invested in some rarepair and actually menages to set them up. I also think as a teenager he would stumble upon some E rated fic for someone he knows, then promise himself he'd never touch it again, and then a few years later he reads them a lot, is just super secretive and guilty about it. He does not, however, touch Batman E rated fics with a ten foot pole.

Tim - you'd think he'd write Hero RPF, huh? No. He's deep into Formula 1 RPF. He writes, he reads, he's just very active in fandom. Most of his works are some kind of Formula 1 murder mystery.

Jason - he is the one from Hero RPF. He doesn't read it, he just writes it. In various AU's, ranging from some inspired by his crazy adventures to those from classic literature. When he was still Robin, he wrote Pride and Prejudice Superbat fic, that became crazy popular. After ressurection he sweared he wouldn't touch it, but after checking it out once and realising how tragic his writing style was, he rewrites the whole thing. He reads fics from fandoms he does not know the original works of. He finds a fic he likes, and learns things from it. Then he spirals deep into fandom. Like many of Batfam fans I imagine. That's why he doesn't write, because he feels he can't without knowing the original, and he sure as hell ain't watching some kids show called Ben 10.

Babs - I think her beginnings were in something like Twilight of DCU. She would regret it forever. Currently she's involved in some shows she watches when on break from work and Oracle. I'm not really into TV series but maybe something like Bridgertons or The Boys or something like that. She writes only one-shots and is active on Tumblr. She has like a thousand bookmarks and she posts fic recs with the most wild analysis of writing style, plot consistency and just vibes. She stays away from any RPF's, but esoecially Superhero RPF. She's got it enough on day to day basis thank you very much.

Steph - that girl post Robin writes the most sick gore body horror fics change my mind. And she does it in fandom's you would least expected. She also writes Spoiler/Batgirl fics, that are really fluffy but also full of action and actually made the pairing wildly known.

Cass - she reads everything Steph writes for Spoiler/Batgirl. Steph does not know Cass knows she writes them. Cass is really charmed. She tried writing one, but it came out really dark and she didn't like how clumsy it was and gave up on trying to be an author. She reads heavy angst, crack, or Steph's Spoiler/Batgirl fics, nothing else. She's the person that leaves very short but very sweet comments on literally averything she likes.

Duke - that boy is in the same circles as both Tim and Dick. He actually finds out it's Tim that writes his favourite Formula 1 fics as Tim finds out it's Duke that leaves those super insightful comments on them that start's conversations with author and other readers. They have one talk about it and then forcefully forgets about it and continues as it was. He writes Batman and Robin and Robin Gang fics. He's really good at it, and that's how he found Duck Grayson. Not that any of them knows that's the other on the other side of the screen. And yes, he's Steph's beta reader, and she's his. They don't talk about it, it's just how it is.

Damian - he reads Batman and Robin fics but only about himself. He also draws fanart and makes comics about Batman and Robin (himself). Later he gets involved in Teen Titans fandom, then the Justice League one, and suddenly he's a wildly known fanartist in the whole Hero RPF community. And he did draw a fanart for Jason's fic ones. They both don't know it's the other. He also gives aby superhero an emotional support fictional pet. Dick think it's adorable. (He was the one that introduced Damian to fandom.)

[thebroccolination]

POLL BATTLE: YOUR FAVORITE LINE FROM BE MY FAVORITE

Behold this random selection of my twelve personal favorites!* \:D/ *I tweaked a few of them to sound more natural in English.

"Can you please open the trunk, phi?"

"Never seen someone eating in the bathroom or what?"

"You call yourself an intellectual. Act like one."

"I'll even scream for you."

"Why did you guys even bother to talk inside?"

"You said you'd come back if I didn't follow you."

"If you're going to stare that hard, you might as well eat me."

"(Though I'm disappointed,) I'm not that desperate."

"(Anger may make you seem tougher in the short term,) but it weakens you on the inside in the long run."

"HYEH HYAH GHAGHAGHAGHA"

"Where is your ability to perform in-depth analysis?!"

"For me, no matter what happens, being his and belonging to one another is what's most right."

AND NOW IT'S POLL BATTLE TIME!!!

[thurio-edau]

SBG GANG MENTAL ANALYSIS

first of all, I should explain what I am going to do. starting with Ashlyn, I'll analyze and/or theorize the group. because there is a lot of depth to all their characters and I've really been wanting to do this for some time. it will be a total of 5 posts instead of 6, because I will be analyzing Tyler and Taylor together due to obvious reasons. I will also cut them at the beginning because they might be long and also there will be triggers.

Part 1: Ashlyn Banner

I'm starting with Ashlyn right here as the protagonist and the leader of the series. Ashlyn's probably won't be very long since this is not a character analysis and instead, a mental characteristic analysis. even though her character is written so well that doesn't mean she has to be mentally sick, since she seems to be... well the most stable one -until the recent chapters-

what I'll be starting off with, will be autism. even though it's not confirmed fully in canon, Red herself said that she wrote Ashlyn with autism in mind so in this analysis I'll mostly go through with the symptoms she shows and how it explains her character.

her most obvious and constantly repeated symptom is her sensory issues. she is able to hear phantom noises and other things no one can hear due to her hypersensitive hearing.

from the beginning of the series, she has been repeatedly struggling with loud noises even though she wore earplugs or noise-cancellation headphones. Ashlyn herself said that she didn't want to make friends growing up, one of the reasons being her sensitive hearing allowing her to hear everything. you'd also probably be wary of things like it if you had her hearing; any gossip, talking behind backs, rumours etc. would not be pleasant to hear and you'd be aware of everyone's true side.

the group understands her problems with her hearing being too strong, and looks after her whenever there's anything loud. which was first seen at the arcade if I'm correct, Taylor asked her if she'd be alright and Aiden got punched in the face while he was worried about her.

or the time Taylor and Logan were shooting at the centipede phantom, due to the bullets making extremely loud sounds for her. or in the facility, when Logan told her to cover her ears to take down a phantom.

from the moment she was born, she had always been sensitive to any loud sounds. reminding here that autism is a neurodivergency, which means someone's brain is diverse than most other who we call neurotypicals. autism, ADHD, bipolar etc. are neurodivergencies that cannot be obtained later in life, and has always been at the person's brain.

I see myself in her frequently, I also wear earplugs constantly and my friends are aware of the sensory issues I have. her reactions to said sensory issues are written really realistic and correctly.

next, boundaries and distancing.

once again, since the beginning, Ashlyn has been distancing herself from everyone around her. this part will mostly include Aiden due to him not understanding boundaries and having passed Ashlyn's lots of times.

autistic people tend to avoid eye contact, physical touch -if the person is not very close to them- and also usually not very expressive. for the love of god, the first time we see her geniunely smile is halfway through the series, when they get the car keys. the group's reaction to her smile is hilarious, even.

after the events of that night, Aiden is trying to understand her boundaries. he's an affectionate/caring person inside, and wants to hug her but keeps it low by just holding her head.

here we learn he did, indeed, hug her when he kept her from falling and Ashlyn even allowed it when she realized how scared he was for her.

despite keeping her boundaries always high, she let it happen this time, learning how to open up to people. before this night she was always on guard

by time she starts to see them as her actual friends, like the found family they are. autistic people are similar to cats actually, like those stray cats that will claw you instantly if you look at their eyes for long or make sudden moves to pet them. the cat sniffs your hand first, you feed it for some time, then a slight touch. the cat gets used to you after your own efforts to get close to it. Ashlyn is a similar case, she had to almost die to get used to them and accept them.

next, special interests. this part is a bit short but I feel as if it still counts to be honest.

ever since her childhood, she's been very interested in dancing. losing track of time as she does, not being interested in any other things if it wasn't related to ballet, making it a very important part of herself. her love for dance/ballet made her not take any interest in anything else like her self-defense classes her parents tried to give, and they were really surprised once she asked them to do it this time.

like cmon she has a literal dance mat on her room

which basically wraps the main symptoms! I can't really think of any detail symptoms for now because it's midnight here but I'm thinking of updating them each time I get more ideas. for the next part, mental disorders.

personally, I must say that I don't think she suffers from any mental disorders or illnesses. she's not depressive, just closed off. you might ask anxiety but she herself had said she isn't shy or nervous, she herself just doesn't like to talk a lot which is fully valid. Ashlyn hasn't showed any problems in talking in front of audiences, she isn't paranoid -her hypersensitive hearing doesn't count since it's not paranoia; she knows what's in there because she hears- and seems to be mentally more stable than the rest of the group. I also don't think she has anger issues the way Ben and Tyler do, it's just that everything got on her nerves quickly before she got used to the team.

she doesn't mind being the leader of the group and definitely isn't scared, as seen as how she went up against Tyler when they first were in the phantom dimension.

Ashlyn is basically the autistic girl who doesn't like talking much and has high boundaries, but once she warms up to her friends she's willing to do anything for them as seen as the recent episodes in the facility. I'm almost fully sure that she is autistic, considering the signs she shows.

sorry if this was a bit boring! the next ones will definitely be more interesting because the rest of the characters have interesting backstories and oh boy some disorders, I just wanted to start with Ashlyn to see if I could do this the way it was in my mind. I'm sure the rest can be pretty good!

I'd like it if anyone else mentioned more stuff. next up will be Aiden, who has a plethora of characteristics and it's definitely going to be really interesting. thank you for reading so far but I won't be writing Aiden's now because hhhhhh i need some sleep

[all-pacas]

How do you think the fellows interviews went? S4 makes it seem like house is incapable of hiring people normally but I think forechameron was bit more.....normal. I know house said chase's dad made a phone call but house is definitely not the kind of person who will hire someone just because x said so. I can't even imagine foreman interview because I cannot imagine a universe where house won't make a racist joke and offend foreman. Cameron must've had the most normal interview comparatively

My guess is that it went something like what we briefly see in Kids, a whole string of interviews (with Wilson doing most of the work) where House arbitrarily decides who he doesn't like and why.

We know Chase did get a phone call, but you're absolutely right I can't imagine that really getting him in the door — if anything, I think telling House to hire someone would make him all the more likely to fire them immediately (see: S4 Foreman. Masters). House also didn't seem to recognize Rowan in Cursed, so my theory is that the call was to Cuddy, that she got Chase in the door, so to speak. In The Jerk House has that lovely "sometimes I forget why I hired you" line when Chase picks his entire manipulation apart, so I'm guessing the interview was something like…

House is very reluctantly doing the interview, on orders, with Wilson assisting (ie: doing all the interviewing). Bored, or just fucking around, House is pretending he's Wilson and Wilson is House, or something along those lines, he has no intention of hiring his kid so he's just messing with him, asks him a trick question, except… Chase sees right through it. He pulls some Houseian "the only reason you'd act like this is if x, therefore you're House, not him" analysis and House is pleased despite himself and hires him. (While making 18 nepotism jokes.)

Cameron I think is pretty straight-forward; House was interested in her because he sees her as a bit of a puzzle. She's a contradiction. She presents as soft and super feminine, but she's punchy and ambitious and sharp tongued. She is entirely unafraid of House and constantly challenging him, despite her meek appearance. He tells her in the Pilot he hired her for her looks (true) and her type A / overachiever personality.

I think their interview probably went something like Cameron being super earnest and polite and House all but licking his lips, he's going to make her cry, she's way too soft for this job, but when he says something insensitive or pushes her too far, she doesn't cry, she pushes back. She refuses to back down. She might even have gotten angry with him, as in Heavy when she thinks he's unfairly blaming her. House loves a good contradiction. He loves to be challenged and pushed.

You're right that Foreman is a mystery, because he has the best CV and probably interviewed fantastically, but he's too proud and sort of lacks the Overt Housian Weirdness he likes in an employee. On the other hand, we also know why House hired him: his criminal record, which is another way of saying that Foreman is the same "type" as Cameron — ambitious, contradictory, with something to prove.

I think his interview was a bust. Foreman was perfectly professional and competent and qualified, he didn't take any bait or give House anything to bait him on. House had no real intention of hiring him (he's boring!), but Wilson or Cuddy intervened — not by telling House to hire him (that would backfire), but by trying to dig up something interesting about Foreman to engage House. And they found the criminal record and brother in jail, and that was enough to get House's interest piqued, because it means Foreman isn't boring, it means he's hiding things and is full of contradictions and trying to overcome his background and isn't some upper middle class boring guy, and that means House sees himself in Foreman and wants him around.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

The Riddle of Tom Riddle: Part 5/7

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6, Part 7)

After Graduation

Continuing with my analysis of Tom Riddle's character, we reach his graduation. Here things start getting a little murkier. You'd expect we'll have more information the more recent it is, but there is very little information about Tom's life between his graduation in 1944 and his return to Britain under the alias Lord Voldemort in 1967.

I want to discuss the continuation of his quest for immortality, his choice of profession, and a little bit about his family's legacy.

Graduation

So from Dumbledore, we know Tom graduated top of his class. Head boy and 12 NEWTs, all Os under his belt:

He reached the seventh year of his schooling with, as you might have expected, top grades in every examination he had taken. All around him, his classmates were deciding which jobs they were to pursue once they had left Hogwarts. Nearly everybody expected spectacular things from Tom Riddle, prefect, Head Boy, winner of the Award for Special Services to the School. I know that several teachers, Professor Slughorn amongst them, suggested that he join the Ministry of Magic, offered to set up appointments, put him in touch with useful contacts. He refused all offers.

(Half-Blood Prince, pages 430-431)

Dumbledore says Tom was offered multiple positions in the ministry and that he refused all of them. We knew he applied for a teaching position at Hogwarts, which I'll discuss in a moment, but I want to talk about his refusing these offers and why.

Now, I made no secret of the fact Dumbledore has an agenda when he's showing Harry these memories, he wants Tom to appear as an irredeemably evil monster that must be destroyed. Now, Tom isn't a good man, not by a long shot, but in his younger years, I don't think he was beyond help.

Regardless, I'm sure Slughorn did help him set up appointments with ministry personnel, it sounds just like the sort of thing Slughorn would do. The thing is, Tom is incredibly ambitious, he is as Slytherin as they come in that regard. Most ministry positions, especially the ones that'd be offered to him aren't anything shiny to brag about. These positions Dumbledore is talking about were probably for a clerk or secretary. We see with Percy Weasley, that the approach in the ministry is that you start from the bottom and climb up. Tom, who got used to thinking of himself at the top would've struggled being ordered around like we see Crouch ordering Percy. Tom would've murdered his boss before running around to someone else's whims.

I think he didn't take a position in the ministry for this exact reason. He's prideful and ambitious and he wanted a position that'll give him more freedom and control.

Tom loves being in control, all his childhood was in a state of lacking — both in food, belongings, clothes, and mostly control. Tom had very little he could control about his life and we see him seek to exert control, not only on his own life, but on others.

but Voldemort first approached Professor Dippet and asked whether he could remain at Hogwarts as a teacher.” “He wanted to stay here? Why?” asked Harry, more amazed still. “I believe he had several reasons, though he confided none of them to Professor Dippet,” said Dumbledore. “Firstly, and very importantly, Voldemort was, I believe, more attached to this school than he has ever been to a person. Hogwarts was where he had been happiest; the first and only place he had felt at home.” Harry felt slightly uncomfortable at these words, for this was exactly how he felt about Hogwarts too.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 431)

Tom's first choice was to be a professor. I think Dumbledore is pretty spot-on on the first reason why Tom wanted to stay at Hogwarts. I already mentioned in my previous post, how Tom loves Hogwarts. Hogwarts is the only place he ever called home. He loved it so much that he attached his soul to items representing the school (the founders' artifacts).

And Harry is right to feel the way he does. Tom is similar to him in this regard.

The other two reasons Dumbledore gives in this scene for Tom's desire to become a teacher are:

2. Tom wants to unravel the mysteries of the ancient magic of Hogwarts that he hasn't resolved yet.

3. As a recruiting ground for future Death Eaters.

I think the second idea has some merit. Tom is definitely an academic, as I mentioned in my previous posts. He'd want to study and learn everything about magic and Hogwarts and would only be satisfied once he knew everything. I think his love of academics and magic is another major reason for his desire to teach. Dumbledore doesn't mention it, but Tom loves magic, as in just magic. It's what made him special, what gave him power and control when he had none. It's what garnered him pride and attention. His magical academic accomplishments are something Tom takes great pride in. "magic is might" in his words, after all.

The third one I believe is completely false. We have nothing but Dumbledore's words to support the existence of the Knights of Walpurgis (proto-Death Eaters followers of Tom when he was in school). We know Tom had people he considered friends and who he (diary Tom) says already called him by the title Voldemort, but we don't really have any other information about them and if there was an actual organization.

Also, from how uninvolved Voldemort was in both wars I find it hard to believe he'd bother applying for a job to raise an army. He didn't take over the ministry when he did have an army, so I don't think this is something he was actually after, at least not at this time. He didn't really make an effort to create an army for himself in these years after graduation, because he could have, even working at Borgin and Burkes, and yet he didn't. Which means this wasn't one of his goals here.

Customer Service

“So Voldemort went off to Borgin and Burkes, and all the staff who had admired him said what a waste it was, a brilliant young wizard like that, working in a shop. However, Voldemort was no mere assistant. Polite and handsome and clever, he was soon given particular jobs of the type that only exist in a place like Borgin and Burkes, which specializes, as you know, Harry, in objects with unusual and powerful properties. Voldemort was sent to persuade people to part with their treasures for sale by the partners, and he was, by all accounts, unusually gifted at doing this.”

(Half-Blood Prince, pages 432-433 )

So, not being able to secure the teaching position Tom goes to Borgin and Burkes. Now, I think Dumbledore isn't accurate on why Tom chose to work there.

First, I mentioned why he turned down the ministry positions, Tom isn't interested in being low on the ministry ladder and climbing it slowly. Dumbledore mentions himself how Tom wasn't a mare assistant. He was in touch with powerful clients and had access to priceless magical books and artifacts he probably found fascinating. I bet all the time he wasn't with clients he was studying the magic he could in the shop and the things in its collection.

This position gave him a lot of freedom in who he talked to and how he got these treasures. His boss clearly didn't care as long as there were results, which is something I think Tom would like, having complete control over his life and work. It's the kind of job that would give him plenty of time to pursue his own studies should he wish to do so as well.

I don't think Tom suffered in this job. I called it Customer Service mostly as a joke, I don't believe Tom often worked retail behind the counter at the shop. Dumbledore mentions he mostly procured treasures (and also studied them, in my opinion) rather than handle the customers at the shop. I think Tom enjoyed it well enough, I don't think he'd have remained there 10 years otherwise.

These 10 years at Borgin and Burkes ended with him going to Hepzibah Smith and I want to talk about this scene a bit:

She opened the lid. Harry edged forward a little to get a better view and saw what looked like a small golden cup with two finely wrought handles. “I wonder whether you know what it is, Tom? Pick it up, have a good look!” whispered Hepzibah, and Voldemort stretched out a long-fingered hand and lifted the cup by one handle out of its snug silken wrappings. Harry thought he saw a red gleam in his dark eyes. His greedy expression was curiously mirrored on Hepzibah’s face, except that her tiny eyes were fixed upon Voldemort’s handsome features.

...

She hooked the cup back off Voldemort’s long forefinger and restored it gently to its box, too intent upon settling it carefully back into position to notice the shadow that crossed Voldemort’s face as the cup was taken away.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 436)

As I mentioned in the past Tom is sentimental, and there is nothing he is more sentimental about than Hogwarts and his family legacy. The first place he called home and something he thought he could be proud of. Both signs of his magic — what always made him special. His sentimentality is very tied in with his ego.

This is Hufflepuff's cup, a remnant from a Hogwarts founder. It's rare, special, and magical and is a symbol of home for Tom, and so he wants it. And Tom likes getting what he wants when he wants it.

She slid back the fine filigree clasp and flipped open the box. There upon the smooth crimson velvet lay a heavy golden locket. Voldemort reached out his hand, without invitation this time, and held it up to the light, staring at it. “Slytherin’s mark,” he said quietly, as the light played upon an ornate, serpentine S. “That’s right!” said Hepzibah, delighted, apparently, at the sight of Voldemort gazing at her locket, transfixed. “I had to pay an arm and a leg for it, but I couldn’t let it pass, not a real treasure like that, had to have it for my collection. Burke bought it, apparently, from a ragged-looking woman who seemed to have stolen it, but had no idea of its true value —” There was no mistaking it this time: Voldemort’s eyes flashed scarlet at the words, and Harry saw his knuckles whiten on the locket’s chain.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 437)

With the locket, Tom's reaction is even more obvious. It makes sense, it's not just a symbol of home, but of the family legacy he should've been able to be proud of and yet, couldn't.

You see, Tom and his family is an interesting dynamic. Like, how he feels about them is interesting.

When he found out who his family was he went to look for them. I don't think Tom searched out his relatives to kill them. Harry describes him being disappointed in the state of the Gaunt house and Morfin:

“You speak it?” “Yes, I speak it,” said Riddle. He moved forward into the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Harry could not help but feel a resentful admiration for Voldemort’s complete lack of fear. His face merely expressed disgust and, perhaps, disappointment. “Where is Marvolo?” he asked. “Dead,” said the other. “Died years ago, didn’t he?” Riddle frowned.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 364)

I think, back then, when he was 16, Tom had hoped he'd find a family and a legacy. He only attacked Morfin after he learned his father left his mother when she was pregnant and that no one wanted him. I think he had hope back then, and it was squashed completely.

The thing is, up to that point, he probably took great pride in speaking Parseltongue and being the Heir of Slytherin at Hogwarts. Then he met Morfin and all that pride turned to shame, emberessement, and burning hatred. But the pride, the sentimentality towards a legacy that could've been remained.

By the time we see him with Hepzibah Smith, Tom has complicated feelings about Slytherin's legacy. It's something that won him friends and favors in Slytherin's house, it symbolized how special and powerful he was. But he was also ashamed and disappointed in them, the way none of them seemed to really love him and they all abandoned him. I think he blamed his mother for not surviving. After all, he was sure she couldn't have been the witch between his parents because of how weak she was, because of how she died.

I just find this dichotomy, of Tom wearing her legacy — Slytherin's legacy — proudly as part of the identity he fashioned for himself but being ashamed of the weakness of all his relatives fascinating.

Even in the above scene with the locket, the way he is so desperate to keep hold of it at the age of 29-30 shows this dichotomy. His desperation for a family and a connection he never had, he is still desperate to feel connected to his legacy, even when he hates all of his relatives.

“Hepzibah Smith died two days after that little scene,” said Dumbledore, resuming his seat and indicating that Harry should do the same. “Hokey the house-elf was convicted by the Ministry of poisoning her mistress’s evening cocoa by accident.” “No way!” said Harry angrily. “I see we are of one mind,” said Dumbledore. “Certainly, there are many similarities between this death and that of the Riddles. In both cases, somebody else took the blame, someone who had a clear memory of having caused the death —” “Hokey confessed?” “She remembered putting something in her mistress’s cocoa that turned out not to be sugar, but a lethal and little-known poison,” said Dumbledore. “It was concluded that she had not meant to do it, but being old and confused —”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 438)

But before they [Hepzibah’s family] were sure beyond doubt that the cup and the locket were both gone, the assistant who had worked at Borgin and Burkes, the young man who had visited Hepzibah so regularly and charmed her so well, had resigned his post and vanished. His superiors had no idea where he had gone; they were as surprised as anyone at his disappearance. And that was the last that was seen or heard of Tom Riddle for a very long time

(Half-Blood Prince, page 439)

Then, he kills Hepzibah and steals the locket and the cup. The cup was made into a Horcrux using Hepzibah’s death and we know he took it with him (along with the locket) when he went traveling the world for the next 10 years. This is important because, in this next section, I want to note something important I noticed regarding Tom's Horcruxes — or more specifically their hiding locations.

Tom's World Tour

Ten years separates Hokey’s memory and this one, ten years during which we can only guess at what Lord Voldemort was doing. . . .” Harry got to his feet once more as Dumbledore emptied the last memory into the Pensieve. “Whose memory is it?” he asked. “Mine,” said Dumbledore.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 440)

Like Dumbledore says, we have little to no information regarding these 10 years of Voldemort's life I like to refer to as his world tour. All we know from this period in his life is that he made 2 new Horcruxes — the locket and the diadem.

To the Dark Lord, I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. R.A.B.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 609)

We know he killed a "muggle tramp" to create the locket Horcrux at some point between 1956 and 1966 in an unknown location outside Britain.

“And . . . and the diadem?” “It remained where I had hidden it when I heard the Baron blundering through the forest toward me. Concealed inside a hollow tree.” “A hollow tree?” repeated Harry. “What tree? Where was this?” “A forest in Albania. A lonely place I thought was far beyond my mother’s reach.” “Albania,” repeated Harry. Sense was emerging miraculously from confusion, and now he understood why she was telling him what she had denied Dumbledore and Flitwick. “You’ve already told someone this story, haven’t you? Another student?” She closed her eyes and nodded. “I had . . . no idea. . . . He was . . . flattering. He seemed to . . . to understand . . . to sympathize . . . . ”

(Deathly Hollows, page 522)

The second is the diadem that was made into a Horcrux in a forest in Albania by killing an "Albanian Pheasant" at an unknown time between 1956 and 1966.

What I wanted to note about these Horcruxes and his world tour is actually quite simple. We know from Deathly Hollows all of Voldemort's Horcruxes were hidden in Britain, that's why Harry, Ron, and Hermione could track them down as they did.

"So?" you might be asking.

Well, I just described Voldemort having five Horcruxes (diary, ring, cup, locket, diadem) with him, on his person, when he traveled the world. He made the last two abroad, and the others weren't hidden yet since he didn't meet Lucious Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange to give them the diary and cup yet and he was described wearing the Gaunt ring. So, get this, Tom travels the world, outside Britain, including an Albanian forest where Ravenclaw's diadem remained hidden for centuries without anyone locating it, and he thought, the best place to hide his Horcruxes was in relatively accessible places in Britain that are way less well hidden? Places other people know of and could go to?

No, I'm not convinced.

This is just so weird to me, I mean, he could've made the Diadem Horcrux and then left it where he found it, and no one would've been able to track it down. But no, instead he brought it back to Britain to place it at Hogwarts.

Why?

Well, he is sentimental, about Hogwarts and Britain as a whole. Think about where he hid his Horcruxes:

The Diary - was given to Lucious, the son of Abraxas Malfoy who went to school with Tom. Tom was probably fond enough of Abraxes to hand Lucious the diary, although without telling him what it was.

The Ring - he hid in the Gaunt Shack, in the place his mother grew up, the last place his magical relatives lived. With all his shame and disappointment in them, he still felt a desire for what they represented.

The Cup - he gave to Bellatrix Lestrange to hide. I think he did care about Bellatrix, she seemed to know what the cup was, that it held his soul, and when she died:

Bellatrix’s gloating smile froze, her eyes began to bulge: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed

(Deathly Hollows, page 621)

Voldemort clearly cares about her, we see he reacts emotionally to her death in a way he doesn't react to most other deaths.

The Locket - he placed in a cave dedicated to his own magical might. A place he made into an undead experiment, with protections of his design and a potion he invented. And where did he place this cave of wonders? In the same cave he scared two children from the orphanage with his magic. This is a place dedicated to what made him special, what made him better (in his mind).

The Diadem - He placed it at Hogwarts, the first and only place he ever thought of as a home.

Then he didn't really hide Harry or Nagini.

But all these locations reek of sentimentality and emotional attachment, even fondness to people. This is the main reason I call bull on Dumbledore's statement of Tom being incapable of love. I think he is capable of it, it's just very rare for him. He doesn't trust easily and keeps everyone at a distance (even Bellatrix who doesn't know he's a half-blood), so of course he doesn't have anyone close. But it's not that he never wanted a connection. He did, was actually quite desperate for it.

The other thing that's curious about all these hiding locations is that they are all accessible. Not necessarily easy to get to, but the trio showed it was possible to reach all of them. And that's a bizarre choice, because, why wouldn't he drop a Horcrux down the marina trench? Why wouldn't he leave the Diadem where it hadn't been found in centuries?

Because he doesn't want them to be impossible to find.

Tom is smart. He's one of the best students to ever make their way through Hogwarts. I'm sure if he wanted to make his Horcruxes inaccessible, he could have. After all, he made up the spells protecting the locket in the cave, he could've made a ward that wouldn't let anyone but him inside, but no, he made the cave a game. Something solvable, it isn't easy, but it is possible.

This tells me that one of Dumbledore's assumptions about Tom is wrong at its core. Tom didn't want to die when he started making Horcruxes, but I don't think he intended to live forever. Someone who wants to live forever wouldn't make it this easy to access their failsafe to immortality, they would drop the Horcrux down the Mariana Trench, or hide it in a vault under wards that no one could access, not even themselves. But that isn't what Tom did.

Conclusions

Tom is incredibly sentimental and is capable of feeling love and attachment to places, people, and ideas. He does, he loves magic and Hogwarts. He has complicated feelings regarding his family and Slytherin's legacy and he cares about Bellatrix (and Nagini).

He wanted to teach not to raise an army to start a war, but because he truly is an academic who loves magic.

He had no interest in working at the ministry as that would limit his freedom and control. He is prideful and ambitious and isn't willing to be at the bottom of the ladder.

And most interestingly, he never actually wanted to live forever. He just wanted to ensure he'd live as long as he wanted to, but not forever.