#uuum i think these are all of them

[sciderman]

sci i have a vintage donald duck anthology <3 i appreciate that you have some odd hyperfixations bc i have a TON

🤝

we love duck

[ssa-dado]

12 - Goodbyes & Partners

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: uuum you tell me Summary: The BAU team discovers that Hotch had a former partner, a brilliant female profiler who left the unit abruptly. Gideon reveals you were one of the best, sparking curiosity among the team. As they dig deeper, they uncover your impressive credentials, speculation grows about your close relationship with Hotch, with theories ranging from unspoken feelings to complicated personal dynamics. Warnings: none - or at least that's what I think - who would have thought. Word Count: 7.1k Dado's Corner: OKKKKK let's gooo! First time meeting Aaron's children the team, who's excited?! Peter canonically the most hated character of this fic. This chapter, like many others in this fic, has a sister chapter coming up in exactly 7 hours. After leaving you with your mouth dry yesterday, I figured it’s only fair to keep the anticipation going! Let me know what you think of the team! Also if you have ideas for this particular fic, my inbox is opened, feel free to leave as many suggestions as you would like!

previous chapter ; masterlist

No one at the BAU was ever good with goodbyes.

It was a team built on unspoken bonds and shared burdens, a group of people who had seen the darkest parts of the world and each other. For all the skills they had in reading human behavior, they were never quite able to express what it felt like to lose one of their own. Words often felt inadequate, insufficient to capture the weight of what they’d been through together: the late nights, the close calls, the quiet moments that held more significance than any case file.

Goodbyes were messy, uncomfortable, and often avoided altogether.

Rossi had been the first to leave, and even though Hotch knew he had been restless for months, it still came as a shock. One day, Rossi was there, with his dry humor and his endless stories, and the next, his office was empty, the walls bare, as if he had never really been there at all, if it weren’t for Gideon’s call, he would have never reached out. Only later he left behind a brief note, neatly folded on Hotch’s desk, with a few lines about “needing a change” and “time to start the next chapter.” It was classic Rossi: vague, detached, like he didn’t want to make a fuss. Hotch had read the note a multitude of times, hoping to find some hidden message, but there was nothing. No explanation, no real goodbye. Just Rossi, slipping away on his own terms, halfway to his next adventure before anyone had a chance to ask him to stay.

Then the most recent was Gideon’s. After Boston, after the case that had broken him in ways none of them had fully understood, Gideon’s silence was deafening. Hotch remembered the last time he’d seen him, sitting alone in his office, staring blankly at the case files scattered across his desk. Gideon hadn’t said a word, hadn’t offered any explanation or farewell. He just looked up, his eyes hollow and distant, and Hotch knew that whatever had been holding him together had finally snapped. By the next morning, Gideon was gone, his desk cleared out, his badge left behind like a discarded shell of who he once was. There were no letters, no phone calls, just the ghost of a man who had once been a legend in the field but was now too broken to even say goodbye.

Both of those men had left him with new responsibilities: Rossi’s departure had made him a lead profiler, and Gideon’s exit had eventually thrust him into the role of Unit Chief. Though Hotch had always been an ambitious person, the way he’d earned his promotions often felt like a double-edged sword, each step up tinged with a sense of loss. It was as if there was an unspoken rule that he could never fully enjoy his achievements without bearing the weight of the absences that had made them possible, leaving him to wonder if success always had to come at such a cost.

Hotch had never mastered the art of letting people go. The departures always felt like tearing pages out of a story that had been written together, each blank space a reminder of what had been lost.

But you, you were different.

You were the only one who was extraordinary at goodbyes.

It had been a few months after his wedding when you made your announcement. The BAU had just wrapped up a grueling case, the kind that left everyone drained and hollowed out, and Hotch had retreated to his desk, hoping for a moment of peace. You had come in, hesitant at first, fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist - a nervous habit he’d come to recognize over the years. You took a breath before speaking, your voice laced with the kind of excitement that only comes when you’re standing on the edge of something new and terrifying.

“I got an offer,” you said, your words tumbling out in a rush. “To teach. It’s a position I never even dreamed of. The first-ever Behavioral Sciences courses, all across Europe. They want me to lead them.”

Hotch remembered the way his heart sank when you first told him, though he tried his best to keep his expression neutral, hiding the ache beneath a composed facade. He had always known you were destined for more; your talent, insight, and your relentless passion for sharing knowledge had set you apart from the very beginning. You were the team’s quiet genius, not just in profiling but in connecting dots others couldn’t see, blending psychology, philosophy, and the art of communication into something extraordinary.

You laid out all the details with an excitement that was hard to contain: Rome, London, Paris - places you had only glimpsed on rare vacations now calling on you to bring your expertise to their prestigious institutions. It was a perfect fit, a job seemingly tailored just for you. Your fluency in multiple languages, from Italian and French to German and Swedish, made you uniquely qualified to teach across Europe, bridging cultural gaps with the ease of someone who had spent their life immersed in the subtleties of language and human behavior.

It was everything you had worked for, and everything you deserved. Hotch knew that it was fate, really - that someone with your knowledge, your intellect, and your gift for teaching would eventually end up in front of a classroom, shaping the next generation of minds. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. You were finally getting the recognition you deserved, but for Hotch, it felt like the beginning of the end of something he hadn’t been ready to let go of.

Hotch had listened intently, though the tightness in his chest made it hard to breathe. He could see the flicker of conflict in your eyes, the way you glanced at him, searching for something: approval, reassurance, maybe even permission to take this leap.

You had always been strong, but this decision was monumental, and Hotch could sense your need for his support. As you spoke, your words came out in a rush, filled with excitement yet underlined with an uncertainty that made his heart ache. When you finally paused, breathless and hopeful, he forced a smile, pushing back the knot of emotions building inside him.

“You always told me I should find my happiness,” he said softly, echoing the words that had once helped pull him through some of his darkest times. “Maybe it’s time you did the same.”

He watched as your expression softened, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little. Hotch could feel you on the verge of saying something more, something that lingered just beneath the surface. But instead, you nodded, your smile bittersweet, tinged with an understanding that broke his heart just a little more.

“Thank you, Aaron,” you whispered, your voice so quiet, yet so full of sincerity it nearly undid him. “I needed to hear that.”

And he knew, in that instant, that his words had given you what you needed. But the cost of that comfort weighed heavily on him. This was it - this was the moment he had been dreading. The goodbye that followed was simple, yet it carried a depth of emotion that neither of you dared to fully express. There were no tears, no grand declarations, just the two of you standing in the bullpen, surrounded by the echoes of shared memories and silent understanding.

When you moved to hug him, Hotch felt the familiar warmth of your presence wrap around him. For a second, he held on tighter than he should have, his hands lingering at your back, memorizing the way you felt against him. He wasn’t sure how long he held you there, but it wasn’t long enough. It would never be long enough. The realization hit him hard, this might be the last time he’d feel the steady comfort of you by his side, the last time he could call you his partner in the same way.

“I’m going to miss you,” you said, your voice thick with the emotions you’d worked so hard to keep at bay. And though Hotch tried to respond, his throat tightened, and all he could do was nod, hoping that somehow you’d understand all the things he couldn’t find the words for.

“Don’t forget to write,” you had said, pulling back with a small, teasing smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. It was a half-joke, half-promise, but Hotch had clung to it.

When you finally pulled away, it felt like something inside him had shifted, like a piece of him had gone with you. He watched as you gave him one last, lingering look before walking out of the building, the door closing softly behind you. The silence that followed was suffocating. Hotch stood there for a long time, staring at the space where you had been, already feeling the weight of your absence settle deep in his bones.

You both knew phone calls wouldn’t work - the time zones were unforgiving, and your schedules were a mess of lectures, seminars, cases and travel. Trying to coordinate would only lead to missed calls and voicemails, the kind of slow drift that ends in silence. But letters, letters were something else. They were tangible, personal, a way of staying connected even when the rest of the world pulled you in different directions.

Your first letter arrived a few weeks after you left. Hotch had found it waiting on his desk one morning, nestled between case files and memos, and just seeing your name scrawled across the envelope made something in his chest tighten.

For Hotch, the idea of writing to you felt right. It reminded him of the hours you had spent together in the bullpen, sitting across from each other as you filed endless reports and bantered over cases. Your handwriting, always in blue ink - never black, because you said it felt too clinical - was something he had come to cherish. He still remembered the way you had teased him, claiming that black ink was for lawyers and pessimists, and he had laughed, knowing you were right.

He opened it carefully, unfolding the pages with the same kind of reverence he might have shown an old photograph. The letter was filled with details of your new life abroad: how strange it was to be teaching in a classroom instead of chasing down criminals, how the students were eager but occasionally overwhelmed by the intensity of your lessons. You wrote about your tiny apartment in Rome, the cobblestone streets that twisted like a labyrinth, and the late nights spent sipping espresso as you prepared your lectures.

But it wasn’t just the big moments you shared; it was the little things, too. The frustration of dealing with Italian bureaucracy, the odd comfort of hearing a student quote something you’d said in class, and the quiet evenings when you missed the familiar hum of the BAU. Every word was laced with your personality: your humor, your insight, the way you saw the world with a blend of sharp intellect and boundless curiosity. Hotch read that first letter at least a dozen times, absorbing every detail, and when he finally put it down, he felt closer to you than he had in weeks.

Writing back to you became a ritual for Hotch, a quiet refuge at the end of his long, exhausting days. Once the cases were filed, the team had gone home, and the dim glow of his office lamp was the only light left in the bullpen, he would settle at his desk, the silence his only company. The act of writing to you felt both familiar and soothing, a tether to a time when you sat just across from him, lost in your own thoughts yet always attuned to his.

Hotch’s letters were a blend of work updates, personal reflections, and glimpses into the ever-changing dynamics of the team. He would tell you about the latest cases they were working on, the challenges that kept him up at night, and the way the BAU had evolved in your absence. You were always keen to know how the team was adjusting, and Hotch made sure to keep you in the loop, filling you in on the new agents who had joined and the unique personalities that now made up the BAU.

He told you about Derek Morgan, the first agent to join after you left. A former Chicago police officer with years of experience in the bomb squad, Morgan brought a fierce determination and a protective instinct that quickly made him an invaluable asset. But there was also a softer side to Morgan, one that emerged when he talked about his past or reached out to support his teammates. In many ways, his drive and unwavering loyalty reminded Hotch of you, and he knew you would have liked him.

Next came Penelope Garcia, the flamboyant technical analyst whose quirky style and unmatched brilliance with computers brought a new energy to the team. She was a ray of light in the otherwise dark world of profiling, and Hotch often found himself amused by her unique way of looking at the world. Despite her unconventional approach, Garcia was a genius with technology, hacking into systems with ease and always finding the crucial piece of information that made the difference. Hotch thought of how you would have loved her spirit, her warmth, and her unfiltered way of connecting with others.

Then there was Jennifer “JJ” Jareau, the new media liaison who had quickly proven herself to be on of the most important resources in the team. JJ was calm under pressure, compassionate, and fiercely dedicated to the team’s mission. She was a bridge between the BAU and the outside world, handling the delicate task of managing public perception and dealing with victims’ families with grace and empathy. Hotch admired her poise and her quiet strength, qualities he often found himself describing to you, knowing you’d appreciate how she balanced the team’s intense work with her soft-spoken resilience.

And then there was Dr. Spencer Reid, a young genius with an IQ of 187. Gideon had brought him in, recognizing his potential - just as he did with you back then - even though Reid was still so green, fresh out of the academy with a mind that worked on an entirely different level. Hotch wrote about Reid’s unique brilliance, the way he could recite obscure facts at lightning speed, and notice patterns no one else could see. But he also told you about Reid’s vulnerabilities, when his intellect clashed with his emotional sensitivity. Reid’s innocence and earnestness were tempered by the heavy weight of the cases, and Hotch often found himself mentoring him.

Lastly, Hotch wrote about Emily Prentiss, the newest addition to the team, an experienced agent with a knack for languages and a drive that matched his own. Prentiss was smart, resourceful, and relentless in her pursuit of justice, and her multilingual skills often put her in the center of complex international cases. She was bold, unafraid to speak her mind, and determined to prove herself, even when the odds were against her. Hotch appreciated her dedication and saw echoes of your tenacity in her work ethic, her unyielding desire to understand every angle of a case.

As Hotch became Unit Chief, he had worked hard to build a cohesive team, one that felt more like a family than just a group of agents. He made it a priority to cultivate an environment where each member’s strengths could shine, creating an expanded, stable unit where everyone had their own area of expertise: Morgan with tactical support, Garcia with technical prowess, JJ with media relations, Reid with his unparalleled intellect, Prentiss with her international insight and Gideon – just being Gideon.

It was a dynamic mix, and though the team had grown and evolved, Hotch never stopped missing your presence among them. You were the missing piece, the partner who had helped lay the foundation for what the BAU had become.

But his letters were not just filled with work updates; they were laced with personal moments, too. Hotch shared glimpses of his life outside the office, the small joys that kept him grounded. He wrote about his son Jack, who was growing up faster than Hotch could keep up with. He also wrote about Haley, who had found solace in gardening, transforming their backyard into a small oasis of color and life.

The lines between work and personal life blurred in his letters, just as they always had with you. You were more than just a partner at work, you were the person who had been there through the highs and lows, his best friend who understood the burdens he carried without him having to say a word. And though you were an ocean away, your presence lingered in every word exchanged, each letter a lifeline that kept you connected despite the distance.

You never just sent letters, though. There were always little extras tucked inside: clippings from newspapers, photos of the places you were exploring, and, most often - to still honour your long lived tradition - books.

You had a way of choosing the perfect titles, each one reflecting the country you were living in or the experiences you were having. When you were teaching in Italy, you had sent him a cookbook called “Pizza, Pane e Focacce,” a whimsical collection of traditional recipes that made Hotch laugh out loud. He had imagined you in the tiniest Roman kitchen, trying your hand at kneading dough, and the thought was so charmingly incongruous that he couldn’t resist teasing you about it in his next letter.

“Italian pizza and philosophy, a natural combination,” he had written, the playful tone feeling both familiar and distant. “Let me know when you’re ready to challenge Rossi to a cook-off. I’ll bring the wine.”

But the most meaningful gift had come when Hotch had told you about Haley’s pregnancy. It was a vulnerable confession, written in the quiet hours of the night when he felt the weight of impending fatherhood pressing down on him.

He hadn’t expected anything in return, but a few weeks later, a package arrived, a book titled “Guide for New Dads.” It was in Swedish, a nod to one of the first books he’d ever given you about coin collecting, and this time to prove him you had long mastered that language, every page was carefully translated into English with sticky notes in your familiar blue ink.

You had filled the margins with little jokes and notes of encouragement, turning a practical guide into something deeply personal.

“This one’s actually useful, Hotch,” you had joked.

“I promise, the Scandinavians know their thing.” Or

“It’s not the easiest language,” you had written on one of the notes, “but then again, neither is parenthood. You’ve got this, partner.”

Those two words - “you’ve got this” - had stayed with him, becoming a quiet mantra in the moments when doubt threatened to creep in. You always seemed to know exactly what he needed, even from halfway across the world.

Today, Hotch was sending you something in return. After years of toying with the idea, he had finally co-written a book on crisis negotiation, a project that had taken countless late nights and long hours of reflection. It was something he was proud of, a culmination of his years in the field, and it felt only right that you should be one of the first to see it. He carefully packed the book, adding a handwritten note on the first page, a Hegel quote about partnership that he knew you would appreciate.

"Partnership, like friendship, is an expression of freedom that arises from the recognition of others as individuals, bound by a common ethical life." - (Philosophy of Right, unfortunately, not Hegel for Dummies)

“Hopefully, you’ll like this one in particular,” he had added in a playful scrawl, imagining the way you would roll your eyes at his attempt at humor. It was a small gesture, but it felt like a continuation of the conversation you had been having for years, the dialogue that never really ended.

Six years had passed, but some things never changed. You were still his partner, the person who understood him in ways no one else ever could. But now, your life had taken a different turn - you were engaged to Peter, your best friend since you were fifteen. Hotch knew Peter well, how he had been there when you needed a shoulder to cry on, when you were too stubborn to ask for help, and how, despite winning that date with you back at his welcome back party, you’d never really given him a fair chance.

Peter had always been that steady presence, always willing to wait, always there in the background, a constant in your life when everything else felt uncertain. And though you had resisted his quiet, unwavering affection for years, something in you had shifted: a desire for something safe, something dependable, something that felt like home.

In your letters, Hotch could feel the warmth and affection you had for Peter radiate from every line. You described him with such tenderness: the way he would surprise you with breakfast on mornings when you were buried in work as your usual, how he would wait up for you when your classes ran late, and how he would listen, truly listen, to every word you said, even when his own responsibilities at Interpol were just as demanding. There were little moments, too: the way his eyes would light up when he saw you walk into a room, and the quiet nights spent talking about everything and nothing.

Hotch could tell Peter cherished you in a way you deserved: patiently, deeply, without reservations. He could see that Peter was the one who was there to hold you through your doubts, the one who made you feel understood when the rest of the world seemed incomprehensible.

He remembered the letter you had sent announcing your engagement, how you described Peter’s proposal on a quiet evening in Vienna, the two of you standing on a bridge overlooking the Danube. You wrote about the gentle way he had asked, how it felt so natural, so right, that you hadn’t even needed to think twice before saying yes.

You were building something beautiful, and he was happy for you. Truly, he was. But there were moments, in the quiet solitude of his office or in the late hours of the night, when he couldn’t help but feel the weight of your absence like an old, familiar scar.

He sealed the package with the book and his note inside, pausing to add a small card with a few lines scribbled in his neat handwriting:

“To my partner, the only person who could ever make a philosopher out of an FBI agent. I hope this book finds you well. I’m proud of you, always. Don’t forget to write.”

He had kept your latest letter on his desk, re-reading it whenever the weight of the day became too much. You wrote about the small joys of your new life - the café near your apartment in Paris, where you and Peter would go on Sundays, the excitement of teaching your students about behavioral analysis, and the bittersweet feeling of missing the team. It was the kind of letter that made Hotch smile, filled with all the small details that made him feel like you were still just a phone call away.

But life at the BAU had moved on. Hotch was Unit Chief now, a position he had worked years to attain, and the team was evolving with new faces and new dynamics. Haley and Jack were thriving, and Hotch found solace in their little routines, the stability of home life that had once seemed impossible. But no matter how full his days were, there was always that quiet moment when he would think of you: wondering where you were, what you were doing, and if you ever missed him the way he missed you.

He hadn’t seen you in six years, hadn’t heard your voice except for in memories, and yet you were still so present, woven into the fabric of his everyday life in ways he hadn’t fully understood until you were gone.

.

Back in the bullpen, Emily Prentiss, still trying to find her rhythm with the BAU team, leaned against her desk, her eyes trailing toward Hotch’s office. She had been with the team for a few months now, and while she was learning the ropes and getting comfortable, Hotch remained somewhat of a mystery to her.

He was always calm, collected, and focused - a leader who kept a firm grip on everything around him. But when it came to his personal life, he was a locked vault. It intrigued her, in a way that felt almost frustrating. With a sly smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, she tossed out the question she’d been wondering for weeks. “Does Hotch even have friends? I mean, besides his endless pile of case files?”

The bullpen, which had been filled with the familiar hum of typing and low conversations, quieted as everyone processed the question. Morgan, sitting across from Prentiss, was the first to break the silence with a low snicker. He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, flashing his trademark grin. “Hotch? Friends? Nah, that man’s married to the job. Friends would require, you know - fun - and I don’t think he’s ever met the word.”

JJ, who had been sorting through a stack of papers at her desk, laughed softly. “Yeah, he definitely seems more like the ‘spend Saturday night in the office instead of watching a game with buddies’ type. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even have time for friends.”

Prentiss grinned at that, shaking her head in agreement. "Or maybe he has a secret club of workaholics where they get together and solve cold cases for fun."

Garcia, standing behind Morgan’s chair and draping her arms around his shoulders, gasped dramatically, her eyes widening with an over-the-top look of mock horror. She placed a hand theatrically over her heart, shaking her head in disbelief. “Oh, can you imagine Hotch at a dinner party?” she exclaimed, her voice dropping into a stiff, deadpan impression of him. “‘So, how do you feel about the rising murder rates in the Midwest?’”

She shivered dramatically, clutching Morgan a little tighter for effect. “Honestly, the worst small talk ever,” she declared, rolling her eyes with a playful shudder that sent the team into laughter.

Laughter rippled through the group, the shared image of Hotch awkwardly navigating social situations becoming a source of amusement. But as the laughter died down, Reid - who had been quietly sifting through old case files - looked up, his expression thoughtful, as if he had been contemplating the question more seriously than the rest.

“I don’t think it’s that he doesn’t want friends,” Reid mused, his tone thoughtful as he leaned back in his chair. He absentmindedly flipped through a stack of old case files in front of him, though it was clear his mind was elsewhere. “It’s more that he doesn’t *prioritize* them. His work-life balance is… well, skewed. I think he probably sees relationships outside of work as distractions. They pull him away from his responsibilities, and that’s something he can’t afford.”

Prentiss nodded slowly, taking in Reid’s assessment with a soft hum of agreement. She crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight, her gaze flicking toward Hotch’s office, where the blinds were half-drawn and the lights were on. “Yeah,” she said, drawing out the word, “I can see that. But still… doesn’t everyone need someone to talk to? I mean, even Hotch?”

Morgan, leaning back in his chair with a casual grin, was about to drop a classic sarcastic retort when something stopped him in his tracks. He noticed the subtle shift in the room - a presence just behind them, commanding yet silent. The playful banter faded as everyone instinctively glanced up.

There, standing quietly at the edge of their conversation, was Jason Gideon.

His mere presence had a way of quieting a room. Unlike Hotch, whose authority was overt and rooted in his leadership, Gideon’s was understated, more psychological. He didn’t need to bark orders at them; he simply had to be there, and everyone would fall silent. He looked between them, his eyes calm but sharp, assessing the scene with a quiet understanding.

Gideon had clearly overheard enough of the conversation to know what they were discussing. His expression was thoughtful, as though he was deciding just how much he wanted to reveal. Finally, in his familiar, measured voice, he broke the silence. “Yes, he does have friends.”

The simplicity of his statement landed like a bombshell in the middle of the room. All eyes snapped to Gideon, the weight of his words sending shockwaves through the group. The notion that Aaron Hotchner - stoic, ever-serious Hotch - had a social life outside the walls of the BAU was almost laughable.

Morgan was the first to react, leaning back with an incredulous grin as he raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” He let out a disbelieving chuckle. “You’re telling me Hotch has friends? Like, real, actual friends? Not just old case files and unsolved murders?”

JJ, sitting a few desks away, blinked in surprise and lowered her papers, clearly caught off guard by the idea. “Friends?” she echoed. “I mean, I know Hotch is close to his team, but I didn’t think he really had time for anyone outside of work.”

Prentiss, her curiosity instantly piqued, leaned forward, her arms now resting on the back of a chair. “Wait, hold on. Hotch has a friend? Who?”

Gideon’s gaze swept the room, and the corners of his mouth tugged upward in a subtle smile, enjoying the ripple of disbelief he’d caused. He took a step closer, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. “She used to work here,” he said, his voice calm and deliberate, almost as if the information he was dropping wasn’t about to throw the entire team into a frenzy. “One of the best profilers we’ve ever had, Hotch and her were partners.”

The weight of that revelation hung in the air like a thick cloud of mystery, and the group fell silent again, processing what had just been said. A female profiler? Someone close to Hotch? Who had left the team without a single mention in all these years? The idea felt like a puzzle, one they couldn’t help but start piecing together.

Garcia, always the quickest to act when it came to uncovering mysteries, perked up immediately. Her fingers hovered eagerly over her keyboard, itching to dive into the archives. “Wait, wait, wait,” she said, her voice bubbling with excitement. “She? A female profiler? Who worked here? And Hotch’s partner?” Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “We need details, Gideon.”

JJ, her brow furrowing in confusion, leaned against her desk and glanced at the others. “Why didn’t Hotch ever mention her? I mean, if she was one of the best profilers we’ve had, wouldn’t we know about her?”

Morgan scoffed lightly, shaking his head in disbelief. “This has got to be a joke, right? Hotch had a female partner, one of the best profilers, and he never said a word? Not even in passing?”

Prentiss, now fully engrossed in the mystery, added, “And why did she leave? People that good don’t just walk away. Something had to have happened.”

But Gideon, ever enigmatic, simply shrugged as if he were tossing breadcrumbs to a group of hungry detectives. “She moved on to bigger things,” he said, almost wistfully. “She’s in Europe now. Teaching. Brilliant mind.” And just like that, before anyone could ask more questions, he gave a small nod of finality and turned to walk back to his office. He left the group standing there in stunned silence, their collective curiosity now burning hotter than ever.

JJ blinked rapidly, still trying to process what had just been revealed. “That’s… cryptic, even for Gideon.”

Morgan, arms crossed over his chest, glanced back at Hotch’s office, his brow furrowing deeper. The blinds were half-drawn, but he could still make out the familiar figure hunched over case files, as usual. “Hotch had a partner like that and never mentioned her once? Not even a hint? That’s not just weird, it’s suspicious.”

Prentiss raised an eyebrow, a sly smile playing on her lips as she shook her head. “If she was that good, why isn’t she still here? There has to be more to the story than Hotch is letting on. You know how he is with secrets.”

Garcia’s eyes were immediately already glowing with excitement. “Well, my darlings,” she said, leaning forward with an exaggerated conspiratorial whisper, “it seems we have ourselves a delightful little mystery to solve. And you know there’s nothing I love more than a good digital dig into the archives.” She clapped her hands together. “To the Batcave!”

Morgan chuckled, standing up and stretching. “Alright, alright, lead the way, baby girl. Let’s see what you’ve got on this mystery woman.”

With an excited flourish, Garcia waved them all into her colorful sanctuary, the tech-laden, light-filled Batcave that was her pride and joy. Stepping inside, it was like entering another universe, a world of colorful bobbleheads, blinking lights, and eclectic posters that shouted Garcia's unique personality. Her desk was lit up with the glow of multiple monitors, all showing scrolling lines of code and flashing icons.

She wiggled her fingers theatrically over the keyboard before diving into the search. “Prepare to be dazzled, my friends. You’re about to witness hacking magic.”

Prentiss leaned against the edge of Garcia’s desk, smirking. “Do we get popcorn for this?���

Garcia flashed her a grin. “Popcorn comes later, my dear. Right now, we’re after intel.”

The rest of the team gathered around Garcia’s chair, their curiosity piqued. Morgan leaned over her shoulder, watching as she quickly navigated through various secure databases, her fingers flying over the keyboard in rapid succession. The sound of keystrokes filled the air, the tension rising with each tap. After a few moments, Garcia’s face lit up, her fingers pausing as she let out a theatrical gasp. “Oh. Oh my God.” She spun around dramatically in her chair, eyes wide. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you… her.”

The monitors flickered, and suddenly, the screen filled with your personnel file. A younger version of you stared back at them from the photograph - a sharp, focused gaze beneath determined brows, your expression serious yet full of life. There was something magnetic in the way you carried yourself, even in a still image.

Morgan leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied the picture. “Well, damn,” he muttered under his breath, letting out a low whistle. “She’s exactly my type.”

Prentiss nudged him playfully, raising an eyebrow. “You say that about every woman who’s both breathing and talented, Morgan.”

Morgan grinned, flashing her a playful wink. “Yeah, but this one’s different. Hotch kept her under wraps. That’s like a glowing recommendation.”

Garcia, enjoying the banter, rolled her eyes affectionately. “Easy there, tiger,” she teased, spinning back to her computer. “I’ll share her with you, but only because I love you. Remember, I’ve called dibs.”

The team erupted in laughter, Garcia’s infectious energy cutting through the room. Even Reid, who had been quietly studying your file, let out a small smile, though his focus remained intensely on the details unfolding before them.

“She was hired here at 21,” Garcia read aloud, her voice laced with a mixture of awe and disbelief. “Straight out of university with degrees in philosophy, psychology, and linguistics. And - oh, my God - she spoke 16 languages fluently when she joined.” She paused dramatically. “Now they’re up to twenty-six, tewnty-six.”

Reid’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock. “Twenty-one? She was recruited younger than I was?” He blinked, his mind racing as he processed the information. “That’s… incredible.”

Morgan grinned and elbowed Reid playfully. “Looks like someone beat you to the genius profiler title, pretty Ricky.”

Reid shot Morgan a mock glare but couldn’t hide his amazement. “Twenty-six languages?” His voice was filled with admiration as he scrolled through your file. “I’ve read her work. She pioneered an entirely new method of geographical profiling, 3D models that incorporate topography. Elevation, terrain changes, natural barriers… it completely changed how we understand unsub movement patterns.” He leaned forward, growing more animated. “Traditional geographical profiling looks at a flat map, but she recognized that criminals don’t move across flat landscapes. She factored in hills, rivers, even forests,anything that could affect the unsub’s route or escape. She mapped out the terrain as the unsub would see it, considering how natural barriers influence decisions.”

Prentiss nodded, intrigued. “So, she wasn’t just tracking where they went, but how they moved through the landscape?”

“Exactly!” Reid’s excitement built. “She created a ‘criminal terrain map,’ layering traditional geographic data with topographical maps. She used it to predict choke points, places where terrain forces an unsub to make specific choices. She even factored in the psychological impact, organized offenders would avoid risky terrain, while disorganized ones might take dangerous paths without thinking. She didn’t just consider where they were going, she understood why they made those decisions, based on both the landscape and their psychology.”

Prentiss raised her eyebrows, clearly impressed. “So, basically, she was a legend?”

Garcia continued scrolling through your file, her fingers moving methodically as she scanned more of your achievements. “And she didn’t just stop there,” she said, excitement building in her voice. “After leaving the BAU, she went on to teach behavioral science and criminology all over Europe: Italy, France, Spain, Greece, Sweden – you name it – even Iceland. Lecturing in multiple languages, of course. She’s giving a guest lecture at Quantico today.”

Morgan let out a low whistle, leaning in closer as though he could learn more about you just by studying your photo. “Hotch’s friend is an international superstar. That’s why he didn’t tell us about her. He didn’t want us feeling inferior.”

JJ chuckled from the other side of the room, still processing the idea of Hotch keeping someone like you under wraps. “Of course, Hotch would keep someone like that close to the vest. It’s so like him to have a secret weapon tucked away.”

Prentiss, crossing her arms, seemed to grow more curious by the second. “If she’s this brilliant, why did she leave? And why didn’t he ever mention her?” She scanned the faces of her colleagues, clearly unsatisfied with the pieces of the puzzle they had so far. “There’s something else going on here. Hotch doesn’t just let people disappear.”

Morgan scratched his chin thoughtfully, glancing back toward Hotch’s office, which seemed to be shrouded in even more mystery now. “Yeah, something’s not adding up. She was that good, and then she just… vanished from the BAU? I bet there’s a whole story we’re missing. The question is, why did she leave?”

Garcia, never one to miss out on a juicy bit of gossip, spun around in her chair with a conspiratorial grin. “You know, now that I’m thinking about it… she left just a few months after Hotch’s wedding.” She wiggled her eyebrows dramatically, enjoying the shocked looks from the others. “Coincidence? Or was there something more going on?”

JJ’s eyes widened, and she laughed softly, shaking her head. “You think she and Hotch were… what? Secretly involved? No way. Hotch is way too straight-laced for that.”

Morgan leaned against Garcia’s desk, crossing his arms. “I don’t know… maybe. She leaves right after his wedding? That’s a pretty big red flag. Maybe she had feelings for him, and when he married Haley, it was too much. She couldn’t handle being around him anymore.”

Prentiss raised an eyebrow, half-amused but also intrigued by the theory. “Or… maybe Hotch had feelings for her, and she left to avoid a messy situation. I mean, Hotch isn’t exactly one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Maybe it was all too complicated.”

Reid, who had been silently absorbing the conversation, finally spoke up, ever the voice of reason. “Or,” he said, “it could just be a coincidence. People leave jobs all the time for personal reasons. She was clearly brilliant; maybe she just wanted to pursue teaching or research.”

Garcia grinned at him, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Come on, genius. Even you can’t deny that the timing is suspicious. She leaves only months after Hotch gets married? There’s gotta be more to that story.”

Morgan nodded, his expression serious but playful. “Yeah, kid, you don’t leave the BAU, the best profiling team in the country, unless something major goes down.”

Prentiss tilted her head, her curiosity still running wild. “What if they had some kind of falling out? Maybe they were super close, and after the wedding, things got awkward between them.”

JJ leaned against the wall, looking thoughtful. “It’s possible. People don’t usually leave a close partnership like that without a good reason. Especially someone like Hotch, he doesn’t form bonds easily, but when he does… it runs deep.”

Morgan grinned. “Whatever it is, I can’t wait to find out. If we’re lucky, we might get some answers when we meet her. Maybe she’ll drop some hints about what really went down.”

Garcia, her fingers flying across the keys again, pulled up more details about your guest lecture. “Well, lucky for us, she’s not going to be a mystery for much longer. Her lecture is in just a couple of hours at the Academy. How convenient for us to take a little field trip.”

Reid, his eyes lighting up, nodded eagerly. “I’d love to hear her lecture. I’ve read so much of her work - it would be fascinating to see how she applies her theories in person. Maybe we’ll even get some insight into her departure.”

Prentiss smirked, clearly enjoying the intrigue. “And I wouldn’t mind getting a sense of what she’s like. She sounds like a force to be reckoned with. Plus, if she was that close to Hotch, there’s gotta be some interesting history.”

Garcia swiveled around to face them, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Well, what are we waiting for? Field trip, anyone?”

JJ pushed away from the wall, smiling as she glanced around the room. “I’m in. Let’s go meet the legend.”

The team exchanged eager glances, the sense of excitement in the air palpable. There was more to this than just a lecture, they were about to meet someone who had not only shaped the field of profiling but had also left a deep, unspoken mark on their unit chief, Aaron Hotchner. They couldn’t help but feel like they were about to uncover a part of the team’s history that for some reason had been hidden for far too long.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

¡Hello Miss Raven! Comentarte una teoría que tengo del evento de Halloween y es que la manera tan regida de actuar de Skully con respecto a la forma correcta de celebrar Halloween me recuerda mucho a la forma tan estricta que tenia (y aun tiene) Riddle de seguir la reglas, esto por que fue criado de esa forma y hasta entro en Overblot por ello, entonces mi teoría es... ¿Y si Skully paso por lo mismo? ¿Su familia lo obligaron a celebra así el Halloween y Skully es un niño traumado?

Hello, uuum 💦 I’m sorry, but I don’t speak Spanish so I’ll have to respond in English. I think I still understand the gist of what you’re asking though, so no worries! (Thank you Vic for that 👍)

Shoutout goes out to my homie Hajime Hinata (of Super Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair) for the following full Spanish translation:

I don't doubt that Skully will probably have some kind of traumatic backstory to explain his very intense devotion to Halloween and why he's so defensive about keeping the traditions of his hometown alive. However, I don't think it will be the exact same as Riddle's?? Skully tells us very early on that everyone in his hometown loves Halloween and Jack Skellington. I get the sense that his enjoyment is very genuine, not something forced upon him. Additionally, Skully speaks about dissenters very differently than Riddle, even if they both express a similar rage. Riddle demands that rules be followed for their own good; he thinks following the rules will benefit them. Skully wants people to celebrate Halloween his way because "well, that's just how it should be". Their reasoning is not exactly the same. When upset, Skully says he is disappointed in others and constantly stresses not being "understood". This, combined with him being uncomfortable talking about his school life, admitting that not many people understand him, and talking down to his peers, makes me suspect some degree of bullying and ostracization for his interests and/or beliefs.

There might be similar elements as another character's backstory perhaps? After all, Idia and Rollo are both older brothers who are both coping with the loss of their younger brothers in unhealthy but different ways. It's possible that Skully will be like that too. There's only so many traumatic elements Twst can work with before they have to repeat some, but just put a different spin on it.

[thewertsearch]

TT: I should have gone looking for her. TT: Why didn't I? [...] GG: because you were busy trying to make the best of this situation? TT: John was too. But he went to look for his father. [...] GG: john was being john, and you were being you, which i guess meant taking our problems very seriously and putting all your attention on solving them! GG: and anyway, you and your mom had a much trickier relationship than john and his dad didnt you?

I'm with Jade on this. Presumably, Rose decided that analyzing the game was a more productive use of her time than searching for Mom - a lady who, let's not forget, deliberately abandoned her. Can you really blame her for avoiding the woman?

For a thirteen-year-old, Rose's tactical calls have actually been pretty good. The problem is that Scratch keeps redirecting her plans in directions that benefit him.

GG: now we have all lost guardians GG: dave lost his, and i lost mine in a weird way… uuum even though that was pretty much definitely my fault :\ GG: and even the trolls all lost their monster guardians GG: i think that maybe it is an inevitable part of a game that can be cruel sometimes

I didn’t want this to come to pass, but it always seemed somewhat inevitable.

After all, says Skaia, how are you going to focus on creating a new world, if we don't cut all ties to your old one?

TT: For some reason, despite all the danger, I never thought she was in any trouble. TT: I never believed she would actually die. […] TT: I didn't actually need the ectobiological verification that she was like a mother and a sister at the same time. I always understood that somehow. TT: And I felt she had knowledge and ability beyond what she let on. It was always intimidating, but nonetheless a source of respect which was childishly begrudging on my part.

She worked directly for Skaianet. I'm sure she knew exactly what was coming - and honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if her foresight included her own fate. Prophecy is abundant in this world, and her boss was time-traveling through the session before it even existed.

But... think about this for a second, Rose. If your mother knew everything that awaited you, then it's actually a really good sign that she's been helping you from behind the scenes.

Because if things were truly hopeless, then why was she out there killing monsters for you?

What would be the point, if there was no light at the end of the tunnel?

I'm just saying - that's not the punch of a woman with no hope.

GG: i just hope you arent thinking of doing something rash TT: I already was. TT: I was going to go to sleep, fly to a sun bigger than our universe, drop a bomb in it, and kill myself. […] TT: So if my course of action is to change on account of my mood, it can only become less impetuous, don't you think?

...I’m willing to hear you out.

TT: You never liked my plan very much anyway. […] TT: I made it without a full understanding of the nature of the Scratch. […] TT: Maybe I will go kill Jack myself. TT: Right now.

Oh, man.

Ohhhh, man.

Look. Rose. I'm loving how proactive you're being here, but this plan will kill you instantly - and even if you're dream-revived, you'll die for good when you deliver the Tumor.

Is this what causes the Blackout, then? Is Rose about to power up for this fight, overwhelming the session with eldritch energy?

This fucking guy -_-

[howlingday]

RUBY EXPLOSION

Taiyang: I can't tell what you're thinking sometimes, Ruby. You need to talk to me here. Communicate with me!

Ruby: ...

Ruby: (Smashes computer)

--------------------------------------------------

Nora: What's six times... twelve?

Ruby: (Punches her)

--------------------------------------------------

Ruby: (Dumps shopping bag of watches)

Weiss: I thought you hated wearing a watch.

Ruby: I. Smash. Them.

--------------------------------------------------

Kid: Listen, Ebony Darkness Dildo, I want four number fives! NOW!

Ruby: Uuum... You have... You wanted...

Kid: Wait a minute. Aren't you Ruby Rose?

Ruby: Y-Yeah, I... I am.

Kid: Didn't you have a fallback plan for when all of your friends died?

Ruby: Uh... N-No, I... I never graduated from an academy.

Manager: She's a complete fuck up. She can hardly function. She's so stupid!

Ruby: Y-Yeah, I'm... stupid.

--------------------------------------------------

Ruby: This is Weiss, and Blake, and... You get it, they all have names.

--------------------------------------------------

Child: You have short hair, just like my daddy~!

Ruby: Oh, uh, th-thank you...

--------------------------------------------------

Ruby: Open it, open it! I... I can't open it... Pressure's too much...

Jaune: ...You failed. You got zero on all questions because you failed to answer a single one.

Ruby: ...AW! DAMN! SERIOUSLY?!

Jaune: How did you not know that?

--------------------------------------------------

Ruby: Well, if you all have such a problem with it, then why don't you all go jerk each other off?!

Ruby: ...What was I talking about? Anyway, fuck this, I'm done! Fuck all of you!

Ruby: (Looks to team) I think that went well~!

--------------------------------------------------

Ruby: Neopolitan, I hate you and I think you should die because you are an idiot and I hate your voice and there's not enough room on this page to express how much I fucking hate you.

Neo: ...

Ruby: ...Was that good?

--------------------------------------------------

Weiss: THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T PLAN FOR CINDER SHOWING UP!

Ruby: I'm- I'm tired of this- I SAID I WAS SORRY!

Weiss: NO! YOU! DIDN'T!

Ruby: IT! WAS! IMPLIED!

--------------------------------------------------

Lisa: Ladies, together you form the fourth largest economy on Remnant, and climbing, and yet you are all so private. How do you explain that?

Ruby: Because.

Lisa: ...

Ruby: ...

--------------------------------------------------

Jaune: Are... Are you sure you don't want to-

Ruby: I'M EATING CHIPS!

--------------------------------------------------

Ruby: There's nobody I hate more than Neopolitan.

Ruby: But there isn't anything I wouldn't do for the chance to hang out with COOKIE MONSTER~!

--------------------------------------------------

Ruby: (Vomits blood)

Penny: She's showing... emotion...

[patibato]

[Bitter Sweet Sixteen] 002-B01 - The Hateful Five

Female Student A: Oh, ufufufu! Just what I'd expect from you, Yumenosuke-san! Sharp, smart, athletic, and funny to boot.

Female Student B: I'm so happy we can spend time together in mahorova like this.

Yumenosuke: I'm also honoured to be able to talk with delightful ladies such as yourselves. It's a shame that, due to me being at my villa in Switzerland, the metaverse is our only way to meet, but… well, there's only about half of Summer Vacation left.

Next on the agenda is how to make the best use of the remaining time—let's have an open discussion about it!

Female Student A: Sounds good to me! By the way, what are your plans?

Yumenosuke: I completed all my assignments in the first week, so in the remaining time, I think I'll put all my efforts towards ensuring the success of the open days we'll be holding at the end of the month.

Female Student B: Oh my! That's wonderful! We should learn from you.

Female Student A: We should. I've just been obsessed with the "LashColle" releases lately…

Yumenosuke: LashColle… "Eyelash Collection", you mean? Unfortunately, I'm rather unfamiliar with the eyelash world, so I appear to be falling behind.

However, I believe the top LashColle award from the other day was acquired by my Uncle, with an overwhelming point difference, yes?

Gannosuke: Indeed, along with one of the audience awards.

A pleasure to meet you, lovely young ladies. I am Yumenosuke's Uncle, Kuraku Gannosuke.

Female Student B: I was wondering who the mysterious gentleman next to Yumenosuke-san was… so you're that renowned eyelash artist?

Female Student A: Congratulations on your winnings! Your work was the boldest, most radiantly decadent one of them all…!

Female Student B: So true. On top of that… it felt a little different to your usual style!

Yumenosuke: Huh… has there been a change in your mental state or something?

Gannosuke: Well, the other day I had a once in a lifetime encounter on the island. There's no doubt that he sparked a flame in my imagination.

Yumenosuke: Oh! That's wonderful to hear. I wonder, just what kind of encounter was it—

Student Council Member: President Kuraku!

Yumenosuke: What is it? Quiet down.

Student Council PR: It's serious! Please look at this news!

Yumenosuke: …!? "Active High Schoolers Recruited as Tourism Ward Mayors"…!?

Student Council PR: What's more, while this hasn't been announced yet, my mother who works with the news says the ones nominated are—…

Female Student A: Of all people, it's those lowly Rank One students who may have blown up the old school building…!? Aah, I'm getting dizzy…!

Female Student B: A-are you alright, Yumenosuke-san? You've gone pale…

Yumenosuke: …Kh!

(Ward Mayors have a lot of influence over the political world, and despite knowing that, the Ward 0 Mayor chose THEM? In the first place, it's clear this personnel decision was enforced without proper consideration… an unacceptable folly!)

(What's more, being a Ward Mayor…! It's the position that I should have been inaugurated into in "Kuraku Yumenosuke's Life Plan Chapter 3 ~Tourism Ward Mayor Edition~"…!)

(Surely those savages responsible for the bombing incident took the positions with no great effort involved—absolutely unforgivable! How dare they do this to my perfect life plan… how dare they…-)

Gannosuke: Are you alright, Yumenosuke-kun?

Yumenosuke: … Excuse me. I have some business to attend to, so I shall take my leave now!

Gannosuke: …

Momiji: Everyooone! The press release is ouuut!

Akuta: Ooh! For real!? Can I see~~~?

Nanaki: Oi, Akuta. Sit properly while you eat.

Ushio: Hmm… this celebration* soba is pretty good.

Muneuji: Indeed. I'm sure even my mother, who's very particular about Japanese food, would choose to eat this 100% buckwheat soba.

*slurping*

Kiroku: … Slurp…

Akuta: Uuum, "Actibb high shkoowers~"…

Yachiyo: Ah, should I read it out? Since everyone's busy eating…

Renga: That's thoughtful of you. —Hey, you guys, hand it over.

Momiji: Sorry, Yachiyo-kun. Please go ahead!

Yachiyo: "Active High Schoolers Unexpectedly Chosen for Wards 5-9 in the Hama Special Tourism Ward"

Liguang: … …

Yachiyo: "Aiming to incorporate a new sense of values into Hama's tourism based on the younger generation, who bear the burden of the future—"

"We are pleased to announce that active high schoolers have been inaugurated into the position of Tourism Ward Mayors for Wards 5-9 under the orders of Ward 0 Mayor and Hama Tours President, Oguro Kafka."

Yukikaze: …

Yachiyo: "As with the tour held by R1ze—the Mayors of Wards 0-4—which concluded to high acclaim the other day, their upcoming first tour will include a Hospitality Live."

"And this time, there'll also be an inauguration ceremony held on the first day, making this a tour packed with events."

"Furthermore, it will be held at their school building, one of the symbols of Hama—"

Ten: This soba's good.

Yachiyo: "Hama Asunaro High School, in collaboration with the open days being held."

"It will be a tour that can be enjoyed by not only the prospective students and their guardians, but the general public as well, so please rouse yourselves to take part, everyone."

—Done!

Momiji: The press release really does make it hit home and get you motivated.

Akuta: A Hospitality Live for the tour…! Just hearing that gets me going all of a sudden~~~!

Liguang: Don't shake the table, boy.

Nanaki: Ah, sorry, I'll scold him later.

Renga: But you know, feeling excited for it is… well, I understand it. But what will you do about the contents? Your concept is important.

Kiroku: …The… concept… …

Ushio: Our dear Idiotake-san, how's that coming along?

Akuta: Nghe?

Muneuji: Thinking up the concept is the leader's role. Do you have anything in mind?

Renga: W-wait! Students. —I appreciate that you guys don't know up from down when it comes to making plans.

If you're struggling, I could deign to lend a hand—

Akuta: Ac-tua-lly, I DO have a proper plan!

Renga: Wh—

Liguang: Patronising them is futile.

Ten: Isn't it nice that they won't be taking up any of your time, Renga-san?

Renga: …- Y-yeah, right.

Momiji: —Alright, if we're finished with the soba, let's get on with the rest of the moving process!

All Five: Got it.

Nanaki: So the room arrangements have me, Akuta, and Kiroku rooming together.

Akuta: The room's called "Coil" huh. We should think up a coiled pose later.

Kiroku: … Hm…

Momiji: Are you fine with this room arrangement, Ushio-kun?

Ushio: Can't complain about rooming with Muneuji. The name, on the other hand…

Muneuji: "Whinny Clan" is an interesting one. Shall we devise a Whinny Clan pose later?

Momiji: (The former inn does have weird room names…)

Nanaki: We should finish carrying in our luggage now. Let's go Akuta, Kiroku.

Kiroku: Mhm…

Ushio: … …

Yukikaze: Why are you scowling at your phone? Have you finished putting away your luggage?

Ushio: Elevator's full so I'm waiting for it to be empty. Gotta use that spare time to ego-search that news from earlier.

Yep, there's the slander. Reported.

Yukikaze: …

Ushio: …You think what I'm doing is pointless, don't you? So do I. It doesn't really matter.

Yukikaze: No, it's not pointless. I'll help.

Ushio: … Idle curiosity, huh.

Momiji: (It's not out of curiosity, it's out of kindness. Ushio-kun…)

Muneuji: Uuchan, step aside a bit. I want to put this there.

Momiji: Woah! That bag looks super heavy…!

Yukikaze: How grand. …It doesn't look like a piece of furniture.

Kafka: Amazing, right? It's full of congratulatory gifts sent by Muneuji's family.

Momiji: Wow~! It's got everything from high class sweets to electric appliances!

Kafka: Looks like we won't need to worry about equipment for a while. There's even tea cakes for tea time with Chief-chan.

Akuta: Lured by the presence of food, I have arrived from the second floor!

Ushio: Are you a dog…?

Akuta: Can I have this gold leaf castella? Ah, if I gather up the gold leaves, will I become rich?

Momiji: Ahaha, I wonder.

Ten: What's your home like, Akuta? Your family must be happy to hear you're a Ward Mayor.

Akuta: Nyah, my uncle's holed up at work so we've not had a proper talk yet. Nom nom…

Momiji: Your uncle?

Akuta: He's an animation director, Isotake Taiji. He's been looking after me.

Momiji: Is that so…

Ten: Isotake Taiji's a pretty famous animator. And even if he wasn't, people working in animation have it hard.

Momiji: (There goes Ten-kun…! Splendidly moving past the complicated circumstances and continuing the conversation…!)

(Come to think of it, the family member who signed the letter of consent for the trip was his uncle, wasn't it.)

(I wasn't going to touch on it, but—I see, that was why.)

Renga: Oh, Akuta! You're here! I was looking for you!

Akuta: Mgh?

Renga: A-about your concept! Earlier, I wondered if you were bluffing in front of everyone… I understand that too, or like…

A concept isn't something you can put together so easily! So I, the leader of the Morning Team, shall-

Akuta: Nah, I'm good. But thanks for the thought, Renga-san.

! Nanaki and Kiroku have come back at just the right time.

Hey, gentlemen of Asu-High! Attentiii~~~~on! Please gather here tomorrow!

Renga: …Uu.

Akuta: I'll be announcing the best, most powerful concept to render the guys who treated us like idiots speechless!

Renga: I-I… can lend… my knowledge…

Momiji: (I'll console him later…)

*"引っ越しそば" (hikkoshi soba) is soba eaten to celebrate a successful move. It's traditionally given by neighbours, but in recent years has become something eaten regardless

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist

[yankaze]

KH OC week 2024 - Day 2: Past What was your character creation process like?

this one will be morally difficult for me 😭😭

I didn't find much old art to show, but I think these ones will say a lot.

Hajime as a character has existed since 2016. In March 2016 (I was 13 uuum 13 ehem) I learned about KH and somewhere around the same time I came up with this, at that time - eh, I don't know- at least unoriginal character who was literally a goth Roxas (I didn't knew about the existence of AUs idk, and Roxas is already ''emo boy'', but 2007 was almost here idkkk, we can joke about it for a very long time actually, but the fact remains a fact).

His name changed many times and there was no special meaning behind them (Sea, Syon), I just liked the way they sounded. I can answer the question why I named him ''Hajime'' right now. Internet says: ''Hajime (Japanese: はじめ) is a Japanese name meaning "beginning" (初め, 始め)''. I liked the way it sounded and its meaning and it gave me a hint where to move the character's story now.

+ in the Hajime's story he chooses this name for himself, because obviously no one gave name to him, but he needed a word to talk about himself and (i'm not sure about that) in the book he finds this name and I can say that it was chosen by him randomly.

He had a terrible written story on the basis of some other AU (???) and without сorvalol I can’t read it, even though it’s stored somewhere in my old dms from those years, I still don’t want to show it 😭

Around 2017 and up until 2019, I tried to make... something... out of him. It feels more like I just periodically returned to KH in a fit of baseless nostalgia and I really wanted to shove a “piece of myself” into this universe (which was already tired of me lmao).

2019 reminded me about KH in the form of KH III release and... this character again (+ my friend's kh oc- Jun).

I think that for a long time I didn't wanted to fundamentally change his concept (which was literally just that he exists and somehow travels around the worlds) because I was emotionally attached to this character. In essence, he was not just a character for me, but also memories that were triggered by each repeated hyperfixation on this universe.

It seems to me that the most obvious indicator of how I jumped back and forth into the KH universe is noticeable by the fact that it gave me the opportunity to look at one of my redraw series with this character through the years.

From 2020 to 2023 there was a long lull with this character.

2023 has been jUiCy in rethinking from the start because the long break gave me the opportunity to finally stop give in to nostalgia (or at least less) and loosen my emotional attachments to unworkable concepts. Therefore, this character now has the opportunity to finally become something better than a copy of another character.

However, this epic attempt was quickly abandoned as soon as the hyperfix ended.

We've reached the present time (mid-2024).

I slammed my fist on the table and decided to finally play through ALL the Kingdom Hearts games (that was therapy for my soul) and finally my understanding of KH universe became kinda complete (I still don't understand everything, the plot is very complex u'know). From what I began to understand, I decided to give this character another chance and close this damned gestalt.

This story is still ongoing, but I told in general details everything that happened to this character all these 8 years. This actually shows not only how the character changed, but also how I changed as an artist. Even my ''psychological problems'' can be seen through this story, and what amazes me the most is how over the years, using Hajime as an example, my drawing skills improved.

At such moments, you understand that you are not standing still and thoughts about "I have no progress in my art" no longer arise.

@khoc-week

[rozugold]

so rozu what is deh about. is it about trees. did I get that bit right

Sorta skdhdj there’s one specific oak tree that’s important ha ha

Uuum Dear Evan Hansen is about a boy who accidentally lies about the best friends of Connor Murphy, a boy who takes his own life in the beginning of the story. How does one accidentally lie about that? Well the short, simple answer is Connor’s grieving parents were desperate to find something from the nothing their son left them and Evan happened to be there due to some misunderstandings. His lie spirals into more lies, which brings some good at first but eventually crash and burns in the end. But like after a forest fire, sprouts of hope poke outta the ground and he learns to be honest with himself and everyone is on the road to healing by the end.

A lot more happens but we’d be here all day if I tried summarizing everything. I’d describe the whole musical as a dark comedy with lots of heartfelt moments n songs (the songs are BANGERS!!) Uhh one thing I don’t like is how the musical is advertised. It sorta sells itself as some heartwarming show about how the internets connects us and how no one is alone and you will be found yadda yadda. It’s not a feel goodsy show, it’s pretty heavy with lots of themes about suicide and loneliness and grief. But it’s GOOD, it’s not perfect but it’s good

So yeah I think that’s all I have to sayy? I really love Dear Evan Hansen, it was my main interest for like 5 years. I had a good time :D

Oh and Zoe Murphy is perfect, she did nothing wrong

[ghost-qwq]

Hii hello!!! I really love your character, (cowboys and not only them), and I wanna know about them more!!! So uuum,,, I have some questions about them, only 3 questions and no more today!! a question about Celia! I'd like to read more about Her, especially her interaction with the 'Miss in the purple' that appeared in one of the artworks with Celia, and also Her interaction with Owen Rivera, it would be interesting to know the reason why They broke up! Overall Celia and 'miss in purple' caught my eye and it would be interesting to know more about Them!! :D Also a quick question about Rori Morris!!! In one of the art (or doodles, I just call everything art), we can see him addressing someone called 'Lass', and He's a little disturbed, who is Lass? Do we will know about His interaction with Rori later on? I tried to figure out who this could be from the already known characters, but in the end not figurate it. I apologize if this has been mentioned already! And also a final question about Ernest! In his Toyhouse there is mention of an 'The Barn Incident' which involved Him being locked up with an unfriendly dog and also, I assume, somehow leading to a fire in the end. What was the reason He was locked in barn in the first place, and how exactly did everything lead to the fire? I don't think it was just because He didn't have a good relationship with His Father that he was locked up there. Did Ernest do something wrong when He was a kid and this was some sort of punishment? Or is this a part of the story that will be told in the future? I'm sorry for SUCH LONG ask!! I just really interested with your character and when I like something, I'm very verbose And also thanks for answer in advance!! ':] (And also sorry for not the best English, I hope the gist of the questions is still clear)

AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE QUESTIONS, HIT MUTUAL !!!!!! :D

I will try my best to answer all of them 🫡🫡🫡🫡 (Organized below because... woah)

yap alerttt !!!

1. CELIA/SCARLET !!

I have a lot more to say about Scarlet and Rivera than I do her and her unnamed girlfriend </3

Scarlet and Rivera broke up because, honestly, Rivera was NOT a good person and was in no state to be in a relationship… She should have broken up with him WAY before she did, tbh There were a lot of reasons to break up with him, but the final straw was when he went behind her back and sold her locket that her parents gave her… it was all she had left of them. They had a fight, and the end result was that she left both Rivera and the gang. (Rattlesnake offered to help get her locket back, but she denied his help)

I NEED a name for her girlfriend but I DO know that her girlfriend is married... and Scarlet is the "other man." they are actually good for each other!! A far healthier relationship than Scarlet and Rivera ever were <3

2. Rory

That's just what he called Scarlet lmao,, she refused to give her name for a while and he just called her "lass" until it stuck...

Scarlet has NO patience for Rory's nonsense and WILL hit him LMAO

3. The... Barn incident

this reminded me to draw something about this so... art sometime !! yaayyyyy fkdhashdf

I'll drop the exact details someday but the point was Rattlesnakes father wanted to "toughen him up"! and yeah, the fire... That was an accident, Rattlesnake knocked a lantern onto some hay while trying to get away from the dog and it caught on fire

[nethhiri]

Ok uuum the tags in that one ask "don't get your loved ones autopsies, unless you really need to" like, what do you mean? I'm curious now

To preface this, I really wanted to be a forensic pathologist and thought autopsies were the coolest and most useful thing (and they are in forensics) and I was very pro-autopsy. I'm also not an expert and this is not medical advice by any means, just opinion.

Specifically hospital autopsy. Can autopsies help? Yes, absolutely. However, the majority of the time, there’s not really an answer OR the clinical team already knows what happened so there’s not a need to perform one. Medical testing is so advanced that there's really nothing left to be 'uncovered'. For some people, it's more of a closure thing and I can understand that.

Basically, no matter how gentle or respectful you are of a decedent, the bottom line is that you’re taking someone apart permanently. I feel like a lot of people aren’t properly consented and have no idea what actually happens. The idea of taking someone's mom/grandpa/daughter/etc apart unnecessarily or without them knowing the extent of what happens is the part that really bothers me.

I don’t want to go into crazy detail but I’ll put a summary under the cut anyways.

After we do the Y-incision to open, we use shears to cut the ribcage off. Take out all of the organs, in some places this includes all the way up to the tongue. When the autopsy is done, we don't put organs back unless it is specifically requested 'organs back'. Even then, they're put back in plastic biohazard bags inside the person. We don't put all the organs back where they're supposed to go. If it's not 'organs back', those plastic bags full of organs are essentially placed in big biohazard trash boxes and incinerated later. The ribcage is placed back in the body cavity and the skin is sewn over it, but it sags down bc there's nothing in there anymore (the funeral home fixes it up nicely so you can't tell). If the brain has to be examined, we also have to use a bone saw to open the head.

The worst part for me is that to tie off the carotids, we have to pull the neck skin over the person's face and I think it's just barbaric.

[funtimesale123]

gn reader x bowser fan fic second chapter

You finally get to meet the Koopa king himself and are even invited to have dinner and to stay in the castle.

Curious of Bowsers where abouts you decide to ask the young koopa "Hey, Jr. you keep talking about your dad but where exactly is he?" “Huh?" Jr. looks to you "Uuum... the last time I saw papa he was fighting Mario. I think if he's back he should be in the throne room." "C'mon we can see 'em if ya want!" his little hand excitedly grabs yours before you have a chance to protest dragging you as you nearly fall over yourself. Eventually, you stop in front of the throne room. Jr. excitedly hops on his feet, pointing to the double doors ahead. "Here we are!!!"

You gulp, feeling the foreboding atmosphere radiating out of the room. Despite knowing Bowser isn't all bad you still can't help but feel intimidated. Bowser Jr. notices your unease and pats you on the shoulder gently. "Don't worry! My dad's really really really really really cool! Just wait until ya meet him!" You take a deep breath, feeling a bit more relaxed with Bowser Jr's reassuring words. You step into the throne room, hoping for the best.

And then, there he was: Bowser himself, the King of the Koopas. The giant turtle-dragon hybrid dominated the chamber with his sheer size alone. His sharp red eyes were fiery and intimidating until he saw Jr. with you, his face softened. "Ah, I see my son has brought a guest. Welcome to my castle. What brings you here?" he boomed. You stand there for a moment just taking in the king not really knowing what to say before Jr. piped up "I found 'em laying outside the castle confused and not really sure of what happened." Snapping out of gazing at Bowser you add "Yeah um I'm not really sure how I got here, or even how to get back home." confirming what Jr. said. "Can we help them, papa? please!? please!? please!?" the little Koopa begs You think to yourself seems Jr.'s already very attached to you despite only knowing each other for a few hours

Bowser looks to his son before looking at you for a few moments then cracking a soft smile. "Well, it looks like you need some help then! I'd be more than happy to help you with finding a way back to your home. In the meantime, why don't you stick around and get to know the castle a little better? You're welcome to stay here as long as you like!"

at those words Jr. jumps around excitedly Bowser pats his son's head after he hops off the throne, "Now then, come with me and I'll show you around the rest of the castle."

You follow Bowser and Jr. as they lead you through the parts of the castle you hadn't seen yet, showing you many rooms and introducing you to many different koopalings. The whole time Jr. skips around excitedly, obviously happy to be able to introduce his new friend to everyone.

After finishing the tour, Kamek appears informing the two royals that dinner was ready and that he had heard there was a guest and had the chefs make enough food. After finishing speaking to Bowser Kamek comes up to you to introduce himself (despite you knowing him already you still go along with the introductions) After that Kamek disappears away.

Bowser leads you and Jr. to the royal dining room, a long room with enormous brick walls and pillars. At the center sits a grand table with a feast truly fit for a king of Bowser's size. Bowser motions for you to take a seat in one of the chairs. As you dig into the dinner, Bowser and Jr. keep you entertained with stories of their past adventures and Bowser's as he says "courageous" battles against Mario and Luigi. Despite knowing (and playing) the stories it was refreshing to hear the tales from the Koopa's point of view.

You finish the night with a friendly game of mini-golf, laughing and joking with the Koopa king and his son.  It's clear that they both enjoyed your company and shortly after the game Bowser says "My boy and I are wondering what the deal is… Where did you come from? We want to help you get back home. We can even provide you with an escort if needed."

You wonder for a moment. What you could even say, that you're from a world where both they and the mushroom kingdom are fictional? no you couldn't tell them that could you? After contemplating the question, you decide the best course of action is to explain you're from a world that is like theirs, but different in some ways explaining how in your world the Mushroom Kingdom, Bowser's Castle, and Magic are fictional and that you have no clue how you were even transported here. Explaining that you fell asleep playing the game that their world exists in.

Bowser and his son look at each other in awe, trying to process your story and understand how you even made it here. They’ve dealt with other worlds and such before but never really something quite like this. 

"Well whatever crazy magic brought ya here, we're gonna help ya get back home. Don't ya worry." Jr. looks to his dad “Right, papa?”  The big Koopa looks between you and his son with a look of pity.  He sighs before saying "We will deal with this and help them tomorrow Alright Jr.? I'm sure our new friend here is exhausted. I mean waking up in a completely different world and dealing with all they have been must be pretty tiring." Jr. looks over to you and as if on cue you yawn "Yeah, I guess you're right." Jr. says Bowser then suggests "How about you and Kamek show them to the room they'll be staying in?" Kamek then appears "I heard you call Your Highness?" "Jr. would like to help you take our guest to their sleeping quarters." "All right Your Highness. Come Young Master let us show them to their room." "oh... ok!" Jr. then once again grabs your hand as him and Kamek take you to your room.

[lastbluetardis]

Sacred New Beginnings (17/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU

This Chapter: Teen/Mature-ish, ~5200 words

AO3 || Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 |

James doesn’t bother to knock; he simply opens the front door and ushers Rose in and out of the cold. It’s beginning to rain, and a damp chill slices through him along with a gust of wind. The house smells of roasting chicken and something chocolatey. His stomach rumbles, having already digested his lunch and looking for dinner.

“It’s us!” he calls, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the rack by the door. Rose follows suit, and stays a step behind him as footsteps approach.

“Jamie!”

His mum emerges from the kitchen, her gray-streaked brown hair pulled into a messy bun high on her head. He is glad she stayed in comfy, casual clothes as he sees Rose tugging at her shirt.

He opens his arms for his mother, bending to reach her tiny height. Her bony body fits into his, and he takes a moment to breathe in her familiar scent that makes him feel like a small child again.

He kisses her cheek and pulls back, beaming as he says, “Mum, this is Rose.”

Any trace of her nerves is hidden by the broad smile Rose flashes at them.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Noble,” she says.

His mother opens her arms and envelopes Rose in a warm embrace that James is so thankful for. Everyone loves his mother, and his mother loves everyone; she has always had that aura around her that puts everyone at ease, and she’s dialed it up to the max for tonight.

“Oh, please, call me Vera,” she says, squeezing Rose. “I have heard so much about you! I’ve been hoping James would bring you ‘round. Well, I’ve mostly been hoping he would talk to you about how smitten he is, because he can be quite oblivious sometimes.”

His cheeks burn and he mutters, “Mu-uuum!”

But Rose giggles and says, “He did, don’t worry.” She then glances around and says the obligatory, “Your house is lovely!”

“Let me show you around,” he interjects, intercepting Rose from his mum.

His tour lasts all of thirty seconds—a house is a house, isn’t it?—before they’re back in the kitchen. His mum is mashing potatoes, and puts in an unfortunately pitiful pinch of salt. When he tries to add more, his mum smacks his hand.

“You can always add more salt later, but you can’t take it out again! Too much salt will give you high blood pressure.”

He relents with a sigh, then goes to the fridge to root around for something to drink. He finds a bottle of white wine and takes the liberty of opening it and pouring out healthy measures into three glasses.

“Some wine for m’lady,” he whispers into Rose’s ear, affecting the Scottish brogue she’d loved so much.

She elbows him lightly, her cheeks a lovely pink color. He sneaks in a kiss before handing a glass to his mother.

“What can I help with?” he asks.

“Everything is almost done. You could set the table, though.”

He salutes her, and dutifully gathers plates and cutlery from their appropriate cabinets and drawers.

By the time the oven dings, the mashed potatoes and green beans are steaming in their serving platters on the kitchen table. James’s mum takes the chicken out of the oven, and he winces to see absolutely no seasoning on its golden-brown skin. Rose reaches beneath the table to give his knee a quick little squeeze before she says, “That smells divine.”

His mother carves the chicken, heaping out generous portions onto everyone’s plate. James sprinkles salt and pepper on top of his chicken and mashed potatoes as he asks, “What’s new and exciting here in Flydale North?”

“You know my friend Harriet? Harriet Jones, who lives across the street?”

“Yes, I know who she is.”

“She’s been thinking of getting into Parliament. She wants to make some changes to our little constituency and doesn’t think anyone bothers to stick up for the little guy, as she puts it.”

“Oh, good for her!” James has met Harriet Jones a few times—she’s got a fierce tenacity about her, which she masks behind politeness. He smiles to himself; those politicians won’t know what hit them, if she takes office.

“And a new chap’s moved in next door.” His mum’s cheeks go uncharacteristically scarlet, piquing his interest. “I made him some biscuits to welcome him to the neighborhood, and he invited me in for tea.”

James hides his smile in a sip of wine. “Oh, that’s nice of him. What’s his name?”

“Robert,” she answers, her blush deepening. “He’s a professor at the university. He invited me ‘round for tea tomorrow, too.”

Before James can weasel any more details out of his mother, she says, “I’m not sure what he’s after. I think he knows I’m your mum… I can’t tell what his angle is yet.”

“Maybe there is no angle,” he says simply, reaching across the table to squeeze his mum’s hand. “Be careful, but don’t be a recluse, yeah?”

His mum smiles, then shifts her focus to Rose. “I’m sorry, darling, I’ve been stealing the conversation.”

“No, no, it’s fine!”

“Psssh. James tells me you’re a teacher? An English teacher?”

The conversation flows so naturally that a tension James didn’t realize was there lifts from his shoulders. He had expected his mother and Rose to get along well, but it’s going even better than he could have hoped. Rose relaxes the longer they all talk, offering up anecdotes that coincide with whatever story his mum is telling.

Even when his mother brings up slightly embarrassing childhood stories, he can’t bring himself to be too self-conscious, not when Rose is laughing and holding his hand atop the table.

“God, you should see photos of the time James thought he could give himself a haircut…”

“I once wasted loads of my mum’s make-up trying to figure out how to use it. I ended up looking like a clown!…”

“James looked so dapper in his little suit going to prom…”

“I ditched prom and went out clubbing with my mates and boyfriend…”

“He has always been so smart. You know, he won first prize in the school science fair every year…”

“I was rubbish with maths and science, and my teachers were arseholes about it. The only gave help to students who were already good at it…”

“The first ever vacation James took me on, we went to Italy. It’s such a gorgeous country…”

“I’ve never been! Been to Paris though. Once for a school trip, which didn’t end well, and another time a few years ago when my mate got married…”

On and on and on they talk, swapping stories and memories until they’re nearly crying with how hard they’re laughing. He loves how open Rose is being with his mum, and he loves that his mum isn’t being cagey with the details, as she often is, for fear of raking his name through the mud in a future magazine article. But it’s like his mum instinctively trusts Rose, as he does. Maybe it’s because he told her how he’s falling in love with her, or maybe it’s because Rose is one of those rare gems that you want to entrust with all of your secrets.

It hits him suddenly that this could be his future, sitting ‘round the kitchen table into the wee hours of the night, polishing off a bottle of wine and eating far too much chocolate cake as they laugh until their sides hurt. This can be his forever. And God, how he wants this to be his forever. He never wants to show up at his mum’s house alone, never wants to sit through a holiday dinner without Rose by his side, never wants to not be able to share his every thought and feeling with her.

His mum has excused herself to go to the loo, and so he takes the opportunity to thread his fingers through her hair to angle her face up for a kiss. She tastes like chocolate and wine, and he deepens the kiss, catching her lips over and over. She reciprocates just as enthusiastically, slinging her arms around his shoulders to keep him close.

They pop apart when they hear the toilet flush, but he doesn’t go far. Instead, he rests his forehead to hers and tries to catch his breath.

“What was that for?” she pants.

“I just… I really…” I really, really love you. I love you so much my heart is too full to contain it all. I love you too much to put into words. He swallows thickly, and presses a delicate kiss to her lips and replies, “I’m having a really great night with you. Thank you for coming.”

She beams. “I’m having a great time, too.”

They sneak in one more kiss before his mother shuffles down the hallway and begins to clear the table.

“Excuse me, I need the little boys’ room. Then Rose and I probably ought to get going. It’s late.”

“Of course you need a tinkle when it’s time to do the dishes,” his mother says with mock-sternness. “Nothing’s ever changed.”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea of what you mean,” he says sweetly, but he winks and clicks his tongue before trekking down the hall to the loo.

He makes quick work of taking care of his bladder, because regardless of what his mum says, he actually does want to help clear up from dinner. But as he makes his way to the kitchen, he hears his mum and Rose talking in hushed undertones. He frowns and slows, keeping his footsteps silent on the hardwood floor.

What on Earth are they whispering about? Is it just girl gossip? Or… is it more than that?

He knows he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but he can’t help himself, and he stays out of view in the hallway, straining his ears to listen.

“Have you been handling everything all right, Rose?” his mum asks gently. “It can be… quite the adjustment.”

“So far we haven’t been found out,” Rose says. “Apart from some blurry photographs of us and some vague articles.” They’re quiet for a heartbeat, then Rose continues, “I know we’re going to get caught one day, but I just… can’t help but cling to the stupid hope that we can keep our relationship private forever. I don’t want the world to know my name. I don’t want to be splashed across the tabloids. I don’t want people photographing me any time I’m out and about, or if we’re on a date, or…”

His stomach drops and a sour taste blooms in his mouth. Of course she wouldn’t want any of that. Hell, he doesn’t want any of that, either for himself or for her. He wants them to stay private forever, too. But he knows that’s impossible. He’ll be back in the limelight soon enough when he records and promotes his new album. He’ll go around touring, jumping from city to city faster than a blink. He’ll be away from home for months. Be away from Rose for months.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know what you mean,” his mum says. “I was scared to death of the attention when James first got famous. I was so embarrassed by the photographs they would take of me, and I dreaded saying the wrong thing. I made so many mistakes that came back to hurt him, and I was so ashamed of myself for the longest time.”

“I’m terrified of that too,” Rose admits. “It’s so overwhelming. I’ve never had to worry this much about a relationship. I never had so much to consider. Going on a date takes so much planning, and even then, I feel like I’m constantly looking over my shoulder.”

Dinner sits like a lead weight in his belly, and he’s got a dull ringing in his ears as he listens to how hard it is for anyone to be with him. Why do people do it, then? Why would Rose keep seeing him, when it causes her this much stress? Why did his mother stay when she’s got so much anxiety?

But she didn’t stay did she? She moved hours away from you to get some peace and quiet.

James squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his hands into fists, trying to ground himself in the here and now. But what good is it, when his mum’s and Rose’s voices are still coming from the kitchen, commiserating on how difficult their lives are all because of him.

He can’t bear to listen to any more of it. He’s sweating in his jumper, shaking so hard that he’s not sure how the house itself isn’t rattling around him. His blood pulses and pounds through his body, getting his muscles ready to flee fast and far away, to somewhere his presence won’t impact the lives of those he loves.

He can’t breathe, can’t think. Just needs out. Needs to get away. Needs… needs… needs…

Without realizing what he’s doing, James heads to the front door, wrenching it open and stumbling onto the porch. It’s pouring rain, and the cold, damp air hits him like a lorry, stealing the breath he doesn’t really have and sending a bone-deep shudder through him. The air burns down his lungs as he tries to take deep, measured breaths, but he exhales before he can fully finish inhaling.

He scrubs his hands through his hair, pulling at the strands and clenching his teeth against a scream. Why is he like this? Why is he so selfish in wanting to keep people around him, when the only thing he causes them is pain and fear and suffering? He never should have let his mum stay in his life. He should have packed her away, even farther than Flydale North, and told her to never contact him again. He never should have asked for Rose’s number, never should have kept seeing her, never should have let himself fall so hopelessly in love with her, never should have…

“James?”

The door opens behind him, but he’s too busy pacing and gasping for breath to properly acknowledge his mother or Rose.

“James, what are you doing out here?” his mum chides. “It’s freezing. And you haven’t even got shoes on!”

“Getting some air,” he rasps. “Needed some air.”

A familiar hand wraps around his bicep, and he glances down into warm, whiskey-colored eyes that are currently furrowed with worry. Rose touches his cheek, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the tenderness he doesn’t deserve.

She strokes his cheek again, then her touch is gone. “Vera, can we have a minute? Please?”

His mother is silent for a few seconds. “Jamie, what’s the matter? Talk to Mummy.”

He shakes his head and tries to focus on his breathing, which is quite difficult when he can barely feel his body.

“We’ll be inside in a minute,” Rose says. “Just… please let me have a moment to talk to him alone?”

His mother hesitates again, and then says, “At least let me give you your coats.”

She steps back inside, returning moments later with their coats. Rose dons hers straight away, then helps him into his. His limbs don’t feel like his own, and he can’t really tell a difference in the cold.

His mother goes back inside, leaving him and Rose alone on the porch, listening to the rain pounding around them. He expects her to talk, to demand he explain this insane behavior, but she doesn’t. She merely stands beside him, rubbing the small of his back beneath his jumper. Her hand is warm and soft, and it’s the one thing he is able to focus on. He closes his eyes and lets himself feel the weight of her palm, the fragility of her fingers, the texture of her touch, the patterns she is painting along his spine.

Slowly, his breaths come more steadily, and his head isn’t swimming anymore. The roar in his ears fades to the background.

“Are you all right?” she asks quietly.

“Not really,” he admits, staring ahead into the darkened, rain-soaked street.

“Wanna talk about it? This seems… really sudden.”

He sighs, and leans his elbows on the porch railing. Rose continues stroking his back.

“I overheard you and my mother chatting,” he confesses. “I didn’t mean to…” He shakes his head. “Well, yeah, I sort of did. My own fault. I was curious as to what you were talking about. And I just… my life destroys everyone around me. And I wish it didn’t. I wish I wasn’t so selfish to want to keep you. I wish I could let my mum live her life in peace. It feels like everyone’s lives would be so much simpler if mine didn’t exist.”

Rose’s hand stops its stroking, and he slumps into the railing, hardly able to stay on his feet. He’s so tired.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she murmurs, removing her hand from his back.

I’m sorry you feel that way, but it’s your own damn fault. You asked for this. You’re the one who wanted to be famous. You could’ve declined a record contract. Why are you being such a baby about this?

The words and accusations clamor around in his skull, echoes of things said by previous partners who were fed up with his childish whining, echoes of things he’s told himself whenever he has been fed up with his own childish whining.

“I wish you didn’t,” Rose continues, much to his confusion. He glances down at her, and she offers him a sad little smile. “I’m really glad you exist.”

He sighs and drops his head, staring at his clenched fists. “How can you say that? I’ve brought you nothing but heartbreak and worry, looking over your shoulder any time you want to be with me, thinking I was just using you for a fuck and a lark.”

“That’s true,” she says quietly, and his heart breaks a little to hear her confirmation. She covers his fist, giving it a squeeze. “But you’ve also brought me so much joy and so many wonderful memories. My life is richer for having known you, James. And I will never, ever regret any of it, the good or the bad.”

“How can you say that?” he repeats, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “How can you tell me that I’ve added any value to your life when it’s such a struggle to be with me, to know me?”

Rose hesitates for a fraction of a second, then takes a deep, measured breath. “Because I… I…” She huffs out a sigh, and kneads the heel of her hand into her forehead. She’s quiet for a few seconds, then she turns to look at him, her expression raw and more vulnerable than he’s ever seen it before. “Because I’m in love with you. And being in love with you is worth more than the inconveniences that might pop up.”

He’s too stunned, too stuck on the words I’m in love with you.

“But… why…?”

Rose cracks a grin. “Why am I in love with you? Beats me.”

A surprised laugh burbles out of him, taking some of his anxiety and self-loathing with it. She beams, and opens her arms for him. He gathers her close, clinging to her as though she might disappear, as though she’s going to fade away from him like a dream, taking those precious words with her.

“How can you love me when I make your life so difficult?” he whispers into her neck.

“Because you make me feel alive again,” she answers, feathering her fingers through his hair. “You make me feel safe, like I can tell you anything. Being with you is the most fun I’ve ever had.”

“But… your life is harder with me in it. Always watching out for the paparazzi… dealing with my mood swings… putting up with me freaking out ‘cos you took a photograph of me and I jump to the conclusion that you’re going to sell it to the media…”

“That happened once,” she drawls, flicking his ear. “You’ve gotten better about that.” She rocks them slowly from side to side and continues, “Love doesn’t always make sense, y’know. I started falling for you ages ago, back when we first met. And I knew it didn’t make sense, but I couldn’t help it. I fell so hard for you, which is why it hurt so much to think you thought we were just a bit of fun.”

James clenches his hands into jacket. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve already forgiven you for that, remember? When I told you we should try falling in love together… well, I was already in love with you, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for you to know. Now, though, I can’t bear the thought of you not knowing how important you are to me. It’s daft, we’ve known each other for a month, but it’s true.”

He holds her tighter. “Loving me is dangerous. The whole world will tear us apart just to know more about us. Everyone is going to follow us around to try to catch a cheeky photo. They’re going to make up stories to suit whatever article they want to sell. They’re going to tarnish your reputation.”

“I know. It’s why it took me so long to tell you I wanted to keep seeing you, after the night you came to my flat about the note I’d sent. I kept going back and forth, wondering what to do, wondering if I was making the right choice. But it’s no choice at all, is it? I’m in love with you, James Noble, and whatever consequences come with that, they’re worth it. You are worth it.”

His eyes burn, and he’s sure he’s about to burst into tears. His thoughts are a tangled, messy snarl, but the one thing that’s churning over and over and over again is…

“You love me?” His voice is weak and fragile, much like his emotional state at the moment.

“Yeah, I do,” she confirms, turning her head to the side to plant a gentle kiss to his neck.

“But I’m going to make your life so much harder than it should be.”

“I’m ready and willing to deal with it. If you’ll help me.”

He pulls his face from her shoulder, finally looking at her.

“Of course I’ll help you,” he says, reaching to cup her cheeks. “Of course I will. Because I’m in love with you too.”

The smile she gives him is the brightest he’s ever seen. “Yeah?”

He nudges the tip of his nose to hers. “Yeah. So in love.”

She giggles, and he finds himself joining in. The awful knot of hatred loosens from around him, and he basks in the joy of loving and being loved by Rose Tyler.

He bends to kiss her, softly and sweetly, as the drumming of rain patters all around them. He kisses her like they’re the only two people in the world, like they’re a pair of nobodies, living their unassuming lives in an unassuming world. He kisses her again and again, wanting to stay in this moment forever, wanting to capture this joy in a bottle, to keep it forever, to open it up whenever he needs a reminder of what happiness feels like.

“I don’t ever want to lose you,” he confesses into her lips between slow kisses.

“Neither do I. I want to be with you forever.” A rush of wind swirls around them, sending a chill through them. “But I want to be with you somewhere warmer, if it’s all the same to you.”

He pulls back with a laugh. “Let’s go back inside. But Rose…” He brushes her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Thank you for talking with me.”

She catches his hand and kisses his palm. “Thank you for tellin’ me the truth.”

When they step back inside, his mother ambushes him.

“What’s the matter, Jamie? Did someone write something nasty about you? About Rose?”

“No, Mum.” He wraps her in a hug and says, “Just having a bad night. I heard you and Rose talking, and it made me think… I make your life too complicated, and maybe you’d be better off without me.”

“James Corin Noble, don’t you ever say something like that again,” she growls, pulling back to point a threatening finger into his chest. “You are my life’s greatest joy, and I have never ever regretted having you as my son. I have loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you, and I will love you until the day the good Lord takes my soul from this earth. So don’t you dare suggest my life would be better without you.”

He plants a kiss to her forehead. “It’s just a bit of sadness talking, is all. I’m okay now. Mostly. But Rose and I ought to head out for the night. It’s getting late.”

“Are you sure you want to drive home in this?” she asks. “It’s raining buckets, and it’s a long drive. The roads must be a mess. The guest room is always open to you and Rose.”

He nearly argues, but he can see the apprehension and worry pinching her face.

He glances down at Rose. “Is it okay if we stay the night? I’ve got clothes you can borrow.”

“’Course,” she replies.

The two of them shed their coats, and they all make their way back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up.

His mother bids them goodnight shortly thereafter. She has always been an “early to bed, early to rise” kind of woman, the habit ingrained after twenty years of menial labor jobs that started before dawn. Despite the fact that she hasn’t worked in almost six years hasn’t broken her of that schedule.

James leads Rose to the far wing of the house to the guest suite, where he always sleeps whenever he stays over. They start getting ready for bed, even though they’re not that tired yet, and James turns on the wall-mounted television for a bit of background noise. He turns the channel to some unremarkable crime drama, then folds Rose into his arms, enjoying the warmth of her body beside his.

He intends for them to just have a cuddle, but Rose seems to have other ideas when she pulls him down for a lazy, languorous kiss. He melts into her, his brain emptying of everything except for her. He can feel every inch of contact between them, can feel the hot humidity of her breaths, can feel the bite of her nails against his spine whenever he nips at her bottom lip.

He loses himself, gathering her into his arms and tucking his face into her neck to give her dozens of tiny, searing kisses. She moans, the sound vibrating through her throat and against his lips. She tangles her fingers through his hair, keeping him exactly where he is. He obliges, kissing her neck and delighting in the range of noises she lets out.

Her skin turns red and splotchy, and he hopes he hasn’t gone too far and left a stain of love bites across her neck.

“Don’t stop,” she breathes, arching her head back to showcase the addictive column of her neck. “Love it when you kiss me.”

“Not gonna stop,” he promises, but he shifts his focus to her lips instead. “I love kissing you too much to ever stop.”

He’s getting hard, but ignores it, too wrapped up in kissing her. Rose, however, notices; she palms his erection through his pants.

He bites back a groan, and wraps his fingers around her wrist, halting her. “We don’t have to, if you’re tired or not in the mood.”

“I don’t mind.” She gives him a slow squeeze that sets off sparks behind his eyes.

But he presses, “Don’t do this because you think I want to. We had a lot of sex last night. And this morning. We don’t have to do it again.”

“And what if I want to have sex with you again?” she challenges, but releases her hold on his cock. “Women can really like sex too, y’know.”

This conversation feels stupid and absurd, but now that they’ve wandered down this rabbit hole, he’s compelled to carry on.

“I know that,” he says. “It’s just, I don’t want you to feel like you have to have sex when you don’t want to.”

She’s quiet for a moment, her eyes focused on something he can’t see. Her mood has shifted, and suddenly he regrets ever saying anything. He rests his hand on her hip and gives it a soft, reassuring squeeze.

“I used to be embarrassed of how much I like sex,” she finally admits, her cheeks growing scarlet from something other than desire. “Like… I grew up hearing that boys are sex-crazed animals and as a girl, I probably wouldn’t enjoy sex, or that I shouldn’t want sex, or that it’s dirty of me to sleep around. But I loved it, once I found partners that cared about my pleasure.”

His heart cracks a little, and he’s desperate to reassure her, but he doesn’t want to talk over her and break this fragile memory she’s entrusting to him. So he merely listens, and continues to rub her hip, hoping that his presence is a comfort to her, like hers was to him earlier that night.

“My boyfriends all loved that I wanted to have sex as often as they asked for it. But part of me was so ashamed that I craved sex and intimacy as much as I did. I thought there was something wrong with me, ‘cos nobody ever tells girls that we’re allowed to like sex. Nobody tells us that it’s something that feels really great, or how emotionally satisfying it is to have sex with someone you love. It’s always about men and their urges. I used to hate myself for everything I felt.”

His heart crumples, and he shifts his hand from her hip to her back so he can pull her in for a hug. She molds herself against him, sighing into his neck as she slings her arms loosely around his middle.

“I’ve mostly gotten over those feelings,” she says. “And it’s part of why I really liked bein’ with you, when we first… y’know. You’re a bloody good shag. God, I’d never had anyone like you before. You made me feel so good and you weren’t a total arsehole.”

He stifles a laugh. “You’re welcome, I suppose?”

“My point is,” she says, pinching his waist, “I’ll tell you if I don’t want to have sex. But it’s rare that I won’t want to.”

“Noted. In that case, can I thoroughly fuck you into the mattress? Respectfully, of course.”

She bursts out laughing. “Oh, my God, you’re an idiot. Yes, please fuck me into the mattress. Disrespectfully, if you want.”

He grins, and, like the loving, doting, obliging boyfriend that he is, gets right to it.

[mourningobject]

re: your post saying you have nuanced takes on proshipping; what nuance is there to not wanting csem/abuse/incest/etc written for entertainment and fandom without tact. "dislike both sides of the argument" perhaps it's my black and white autism thinking but genuinely what is there to dislike about not wanting twitter users to romanticize various forms of abuse. i am asking this not as some random hate anon but as someone who is considering whether or not to break mutual; i do not want anyone who can even slightly be okay with abuse for entertainment around me; and therefore am asking clarification.

Putting this under a cut because I don't want a biggie made out of it. TLDR; I dislike pro-shippers as people and think they are disgusting scum, but dislike anti as a label due to the rampant hypocrisy and occasional lack of nuance regarding if and how to portray sensitive content in art, as well as the performative behaviour & the lack of curating of their online spaces.

I've learnt to stop caring so much about what other people do even if the content they create makes me sick to my stomach. I do not agree with creating such content without tact or for the sake of making their dicks hard. But I just won't interact, I'll block. I also don't see how this material can be considered "abuse for entertainment"... unless you're talking about the abuse within the content.

But I understand your concern. You don't want someone perverse to be by your side. To elaborate on what I meant, the problem isn't with the concept of someone simply disliking seeing such things, that's more than fine. I just don't either as a Label, fundamentally.

Antis are more often than not performative and reactionary online (particularly the ones fixated on the subject, or with uncovering others as secretly being evil and such to the point of sending others retrospring asks like "Uuum, why do you follow [so and so]" and not even giving the @ for the person to block them and assuming the worst of them to the point it comes off as fake advocacy on their behalf. Especially when I myself follow artists who create questionable content once in a blue moon, but if it isn't their entire catalogue does that make me evil? These people aren't and will never be my friends. This is something that happened a lot on twitter, especially a few months ago. I understand the fear of being close to someone who's morals don't align with yours, but if you genuinely have concerns you may as well dm them instead of making a spectacle out of it), especially when most of them turn around and indulge in content that borders on the same, or even downright degeneracy on the side, as well as comparing it to genuine real world abuse or feeling it important to mention in cases that are totally unrelated where a person has committed actual crimes which is like, well, both can matter, but is now the time? I'd say it only counts in cases like that of Lily Orchard, where what she portrayed in her works was a reflection of her disgusting self and abuse she'd committed in real life. I don't believe in fiction not affecting reality because that is a redundant way to view art, as well as due to how art can reflect the creator's subconscious views, or normalize things to them, and they'll repeat again and again, "it's just fiction!" as if that makes it any better that they get off on the things they do. But these people will exist no matter what and so will the content they create, so antis should learn to actually curate their online spaces rather than getting into useless discourse, particularly teenagers who won't be able to change the minds of degenerate adults, or make a big deal about it publicly to show how they have the moral high-ground. Not to mention, countless antis I've seen are hypocrites who end up being revealed to believe this doesn't matter at all in the real world, or are friends with people who engage with pro ship content, but will harass others for it...? It's the rampant double standards that I don't like. Plus, a lot of media that antis love has elements that would be considered "pro ship" like nitro chiral games, and targets those audiences specifically, but they are surprised when the people it is made for interact with it. Of course I believe one can engage in media with disgusting things while being critical, though; I am an Ensemble Stars fan. There is shota-bait and incest all over the source material. That doesn't make me inherently sick because I'm not there for that, I understand that.

Also, most antis dislike these concepts being portrayed in media altogether, which is something I disagree with. If handled well these are experiences that deserve to be shared to others. Many victims have internalized so many horrific thoughts that they can't help but handle it imperfectly—that's something they have to deal with in therapy, though, why should I be the one to try to open their eyes as if it won't push them deeper into the hole they're in? You know?

There's also the thin line between "dark content" and "proship material". Who has the right to define this? (Obviously CSEM being inherently immoral is a given). That's all, mostly. There's more I've thought about before but I'm forgetting right now. I think both sides are worthy of critique and simply find most self-identified antis annoying, not nearly in a way that is as egregious as their counterpart, to be fair. I'm too busy simply being a Normal Person who also shakes his head in disdain when I see things like that. Even though I have mental problems regarding this sort of thing. I'm not saying to "not be sensitive", but to "not be stupid".

I think pro-shippers should stay away from antis because they are mostly children and victims themselves at that, and antis should stay away from pro-shippers because they are disgusting adults who will never be saved or changed by their protests.

My questions in this post are rhetorical even though I suppose I'm open to discussion and further elaboration but I think it's more than enough to show where I stand and whether you want to stay as my mutual or not. But that's essentially why I don't self-identify with either. Also, this could have used a dm, but I'm happy to explain my views. I’d at least appreciate an anonymous final verdict, though!

[esotl]

Performance - Chapter 7 (Part 14)

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring

Characters: Mitsuru, Adonis, Wataru

Translation Directory

Ado-chan-senpai, look, look! I made an Ado-chan-senpai out of clay~♪ 

Time: Two Weeks Before the Performance

Mitsuru: Hum-hu-hu~m♪

Working, working~♪ So much fun~☆

Ado-chan-senpai, look, look! I made an Ado-chan-senpai out of clay~♪

Adonis: ? Thank you. It's very good Tenma, your fingers are surprisingly skillful.

Mitsuru: Not really! I made it while looking right at you, but I couldn't make it cool!

I've liked arts and crafts since I was little, but I'm not really good at it~?

Adonis: You're better than me. When making my own ocarina back home, it took a few years to make something I was satisfied with.

This is that ocarina, by the way.

Mitsuru: Oh, it's that thing you're always blowing into! Let me blow into it too, let me♪

Adonis: Sure. But wash your hands first, or it'll get covered in clay.

Mitsuru: Got it! Ado-chan-senpai, hold Ado-chan-senpai! Gonna wash my hands, splash splash♪

Adonis: Hold... myself? Ah, do you mean, hold the me you made out of clay...?

(Haha. So this small, cute thing is me, huh?)

(I wonder if I seemed like this in the past. A fragile existence, that can easily be crushed in one hand... Though, right now, I'm big and strong.)

(I'll have to make sure I don't carelessly crush the soft clay.)

(Haha. This is more fun than I expected. When we were training in the Track and Field Club, I just happened to overhear that Tenma was going to help out the Drama Club-)

(I was also free, so I found myself coming along, and have been helping out little by little... It's peaceful, so my heart is calm.)

(The Track and Field Club puts emphasis on solo training, and Undead always feel like they're yelling at each other and running riot.)

(Every now and then, I wanted to spend my time after school calm like this.)

Wataru: Amazing! All you helpers seem to be working hard!

Adonis: Woah... I wish you wouldn't surprise me, Hibiki-senpai. Right now, I'm holding something that's like a baby.

Wataru: A baby? Ahaha, so you were using the clay for crafts~♪

Adonis: Right, pardon us. The work is going slowly, and it seems Tenma's grown bored.

I'm sorry for not being very useful even though I came to help.

Wataru: No no, it's the thought that counts. Most of the costumes, scenery, and props are in the Drama Club or acting department's inventory.

You need only focus on making what we don't have enough of, so please don't worry too much about it.

Since the two of you are helping out of the goodness of your hearts, I'm not going to expect too much from you.

Adonis: Hm... That does take a weight off my shoulders, but since I'm here, I want to be useful. Though I'm not very good at the small work.

Making props seems difficult, so I was just doing the task of taking unnecessary things... things like cardboard, and crushing them up.

Destroying things is much simpler than creating them.

Wataru: Fufufu. Just what I'd expect of one of Rei's kids from Undead.

Uuum, it's Adios-kun, right?

Adonis: It's Adonis.

Wataru: Right right, Adonis-kun, such a lovely name.

Since Japanese tools seem like they'd be small and hard to use for hands like yours, I went to the warehouse and found you some bigger ones.

I've packed many different tools in this toolbox, so please use them as you like.

You were in the Track and Field Club, were you not...? You must have good bodily control then, you shouldn't be as clumsy as you think.

Human beings have suitable tools for every possible standard.

Though your strength appears too strong to be controlled, that part of you also makes you feel like Rei's child...

If handling props seems difficult for you, please join the acting department in completing the scenery.

Transporting the set will be huge hassle, so they're proceeding with their production nearby... in the Concert Hall, it looks like. If you'd like, we could jump over there in my balloon.

Adonis: Hm. If it's the Concert Hall, I've passed it while on a jog with the club, so I know where it is.

It's not a huge distance away, so I'll run there. You'll be starting practice for the play soon, so I want you to focus on that here.

Ah, could Tenma come too?

Muscles will get stiff if you only work sitting down, and then you'll get weak. I want to loosen up our bodies by breaking a light sweat.

Wataru: Of course. Do what you want, as you want♪

Mitsuru: Ado-chan-senpai~! I washed my hands! So let me play your ocarina♪

Adonis: Right. Afterwards, would you mind coming to the Concert Hall to help the acting department?

If you do mind, I'll head there myself, and you can continue working here.

Mitsuru: No, I'll go with you! Tomo-chan hasn't shown up yet, so I'm kinda down since there's basically only people I don't know here~?

Adonis: Haha. Were you really such a shy kid, Tenma?

Wataru: "Bad Boy"-san, "Bad Boy"-san, do you know where Tomoya-kun is?

I'm worried about how little I've seen of him, could it be that he ran away?

Mitsuru: Don't call me a "bad boy"...

Hm~ I don't think Tomo-chan would run away.

I peeked into Class A on my way, and he was practicing while reading the script. I didn't wanna interrupt him so I came here by myself.

Tomo-chan gets passionate about anything, or like, he gets sucked in, so...

I think he probably lost track of time and kept practicing~?

If you need him, should I go call him? I'll dash right over there☆

Wataru: No, there's no need to go that far. Speak of the devil and whatnot, I just heard Tomoya-kun's footsteps approaching.

[Act 5 • Directory • Chapter 8]

[j2spntranscripts]

☆ 2007 Asylum (Sunday)

Official name: Asylum- A Supernatural and Smallville Convention Location: Leofric Hotel, Coventry, UK Time: Sunday May 13, 2007 (between 9:30am-5:30pm) (GMT-0) Panelists: Jensen Ackles Last episode: 2x21 "All Hell Breaks Loose Part 1" May 10, 2007 Next episode: 2x22 "All Hell Breaks Loose Part 2" May 17, 2007

Question Index: *(questions maybe be out of order, not fully transcribed, and/or labeled correctly due to lack of information) a- Prank-ish, Drag "J2" b- Thoughts on "Fan fiction" c- unknown

(video links and transcripts below the cut)

(*if you notice any mistakes in the video transcripts or found more video coverage of the con please point them out thanks*👍) (*tumblr doesn't like dailymotion vids so I can only hyperlink them*)

[click here]

Jensen_sunday_enter_snall by _sin_attract (0:00)-intro

Moderator: -To the stage Mister Jensen Ackles!

Audience screams and claps. Spn’s theme music starts playing. Jensen walks through the room’s door and walks up to the stage, waving at everyone as he went. He shakes hands with the moderator and then stands in front of his chair and looks at the crowd before him. He then grabs the mic from the moderator and raises one of his hands.

**Jensen: **Well, I made it. Huh? (audience woo’s) Heya, bud. (audience laughs) Alright, shall we? (sits down)

Moderator?: (sits down) Absolutely

Jensen: (leans back in chair) Woo!

Jensen Ackles before Q&A at Asylum by kellybubble (0:00)-intro2

Moderator: Okay, so we get started at 10!

The audience laughs. Jensen flops forward in his chair. The audience laughs harder. The audience starts yelling things.

Moderator: 9.

The audience yells out some more things.

[click here]

Jensen_sunday_1 by _sin_attract • (0:00)- Asylum07B;Qa – Prank-ish, J2 Cross Dressing

Moderator: -Person who (?) There was a time when you and Jared- (audience starts yelling) In Brooklyn, I’m sorry. You and Jared dressed up as women or say? (audience laughs, cheers, and claps)

Jensen: (looks at the audience for a while then shrugs at the Moderator) Yeah. (audience and moderator laugh) (sits up) Um, (shrugs) (audience giggles) (?) We were a little bored. There was a, I think- I believe it was, uh- Wigs were being made in the hair and make-up trailers, uh, for some (?movie? or ?reason?) that had (?drill clippings for the mosque?) earlier (?in the evening?) for something that we, uh, were shooting.

Uhhhh, and, um, and for some reason, uuum- Well, I-I don’t know if we were having a few drinks or, uh, (audience laughs) well we just decided to get a little randy and do something bit crazy. So. (audience laughs) We, uh, (?Naomi?) threw our wigs on and-and went in for a-a-a- a rehearsal. And, uh, I guess (?uuh-uh-uh-?) Brooks is, uh, was on and she was, uh- she was, uh, obviously you guys know but, uh, “Asylum.” She was in “Asylum” in the first season. Um, (?We always have to-?) to make the, um, guest stars feel as uncomfortable as possible. (audience laughs) So, we, uh, you know, we tried a few things. (audience giggles)

Girl ask Jensen Ackles about fanfictions (legendado) by Carol Padalecki • (0:00)- Asylum07B;Qb – Thoughts on “Fan fiction”

Jensen: Thank you.

Fan: I have a question. Uh, yesterday you told us that.. you are very protective of Dean. Uh, what do you think about.. fanfiction? The audience gives a mixed reaction of groaning, cheers, claps. Jensen looks at the moderator and then rubs his eyes. The audience starts clapping. Jensen then rubs his forehead and drags his hand down the side of his face.

Jensen: You- Not you, but s-s-some of those fan fictions have some very, very crazy ideas. (audience laughs and claps) And sometimes very.. disturbing… ideas. (audience laughs) Um, one of my favorites is, um.. wincest. (audience laughs, cheers, and claps) I- I-I- I only hope that my grandmother never sees it. (audience laughs and claps) with-(Jensen laughs) With-

Jared and I got a good laugh out of that one. (audience laughs) Although, it was only brought to our attention because Kim Manners posted it. (audience laughs) So, uh, thanks for that.

Moderator: I think the audience (?were felt?).

Jensen: Moving- Moving on (audience laughs)

Asylum 1 by nevernilien • (0:00)- Asylum07B;Qc – unknown

The audience cheers and claps

Jensen: Uh, I think one of my favorites is, “Dean! Salt gun!” (audience laughs, cheers, and claps) Ah, I love the way he said that.

[click here]- Asylumcon_closingceremoney by _sin_attract

Closing ceremony:

Jensen: Uuhh, (laughs) Listen, this is, uh, this has been my first convention ever. And-and I want to just thank you all for a- for a great experience. And-and it’s been truly nice to see, uh, when you work so hard and you- and you-and you put a lot of.. time and effort and love and blood and sweat and tears in something and you really believe in it. Um, it’s nice to see that people appreciate it. So, I thank you for that from the bottom of my heart. Anddd, I’m going to thank you for Jared as well. Because if he was here, he’d say the same thing. So. Thank you. (audience claps and cheers.) (hands over the mic to Alan Ritchson.)

Alan Ritchson: (?Alright?) I-I think he said it perfectly, I show the same sympathies- (video transistions to Alona)

Alona Tal: (?) Important (?buddy?) that is out here for showing up to see us, because it’s really awesome to us (?) Thanks (?) for preparing all those questions and things that (?) Thank you. (audience claps and cheers. Jensen and Ritchson? clap) (hands the mic to Mack)

Allison Mack: Um, (laughs and looks back at Hartley)

Justin Hartley: Chloe! (audience giggles)

Mack: Yeah, I just thank you. (?As we put it?) Thank you so much, we wouldn’t be able to do what we do if we didn’t have you. So, I appreciate you and I love, uh, coming in here and sharing the attention and appreciation (?). Thank you very, very much. (audience claps) (Mack hands the mic to Hartley) (audience cheers)

Justin Hartley: (?) Guys, mostly ladies, have been, uh, (audience laughs) And, uh, yeah, quite- quite friendly spirits. Because you never know (?) kind of things turn out. (?) been fantastic. So, um, thank you for opening you’rrre proverbial door, and we’ll see you guys next year or something like that. (hands the mic to Jason Manns.) (Audience claps and cheers)

Jason Manns: Uuum, (points the mic at Hartley)

Hartley: (?Throw up?) (audience laughs. Jensen smiles)

Manns: Um, It’s pretty much everything that they said, ditto. And, also, uh, you guys are probably-

The moderator crouches in front of the stage, and then gets back up. The audience laughs.

Manns: (to the moderator) Thank you. (audience laughs) (to the audience) You guys are probably the best crowd that I’ve ever played on a show for. So. (audience cheers and claps. Jensen and Ritchson clap.) Thank you. (hands the mic to Aycox.)

Nicki Aycox: I think everybody has said pretty much exactly.. what it is. And, I’m think I agree with you a lot, if it wasn’t for you guys at all we would not even be doing this. We’d probably be on the streets. Uhm, So. (audience laughs) Thank you very much. And Thank you for being so positive and-and giving us loving words and just that you enjoy it. And, (?) show up so that we are (throws up hand) happy.. to have you guys here to see you. (audience claps. Video skips ahead.)

Jenny Mollen?: (?) from one of these and every time I (?) always blown away by just how- just, you know- I’ve-I’ve never been embraced (?), you know, so many strangers. And, (audience chuckles) (Jensen wipes his forehead) No, no- I – it really is…It’s- such a, you know, wonderful- wonderful feeling. You know, makes (?) the time when you’re (?) in LA and you’re doing your thing and spilling (?) to continue in the world, makes it all sort of worth it. So, Thank you. (hands the mic to Mark Lutz) (audience cheers and claps. Jensen and Ritchson clap.)

Mark Lutz: (scratches head) Yeah, and again. I’d just like to reiterate, you guys have been, uh, fantastic. You know, we really- really appreciate you coming out and-and, uh, (?) with us. And (?) (wipes eyes)(audience laughs) I promised myself I wasn’t gonna cry. (wipes eyes) (audience laughs) But, uh, also I think we would be completely remiss if we didn’t thank the fantastic staff that- (audience claps and cheers) (Mollen leans the mic over to herself and says something) (?) round of applause because they got this thing done. It wasn’t us, so. Yeah, they really deserve, uh, a lot of the applause. And (?Dwayne?) for putting this whole thing on. So, thank you very much. (The audience screams. The Panelists and audience clap.)

Brooke Nevin: (?) Um, (?) Unique (?) This is just one of those extra special treats. (?) extra special and wonderful. (raises hand) You guys rock! Thank you. The audience claps and cheers. All the panelists clap. Brooke places the mic down on the ground. Mollen walks up near the exit to the stage. (?The Moderator blocks her?) Mullen then goes back to the line up on stage. The audience laughs.

Mollen: I thought that we were-

Moderator: (?) There are a lot of people who- (skips)

The actors, now accompanied by body guards, are exiting the stage. The audience is clapping.

[carebearscomfort]

FULL THOUGHTS ON THE EP

No spoilers

Um, LOVED IT.

Loved that SOOO much more than the last one, by LEAPS!

Though it definitely takes place early on in the show, like REALLY early

Range to give? At LEAST before The Grumpy Effect, at the absolute latest it’s before that episode

Everyone’s development and dynamics with each other completely correlates with that point in the show, ESPECIALLY when it comes to Robbie and Bluster! But I’ll talk about them later

Togetherness was so cute!! She didn’t play a major role in the episode, but what time she did have was pretty fun and I liked her character! Her voice was also really nice!

Speaking of voices, I can hear Grumpy and Tendy’s voices definitely improving from the previous special, which I’m glad to see! Still not major on them, I like both of their old ones more still, but it’s improving. Which I’ll fully congratulate!

Despite seeming to be set early on in the show, the writing is on par with later episodes, which was VERY fun to see!! Again, especially with Bluster and Rob. But again again, I’ll get to them later

The bears were really fun in this one as well, I caught myself laughing at them a lot more this time. I thought Bedtime would take a bigger role than he did, him being on the poster and all, but his role didn’t last for too long in the episode. Which was somewhat disappointing, but I love the rest of it so much I can like, honestly forgive it tbh. Like he was still there and played his part, it just wasn’t the full ep, so the Bedtime food is still pretty good!

I liked Cheer’s character here, you can definitely tell she’s in that early on “I’m the leader I’ve gotta know what I’m doing and handle the issues on my own” phase in this ep! Which again, reminds me a lot of her earlier character back when the imposter syndrome she has kicks in!

The rest of the gang was also really funny, nothing major character wise there, just great to watch. Grumpy and Funshine’s lil hug bit was cute and Share thinking Bluster and Rob were funny and cool was a FEAST for me

Speaking of which I’m gonna finally talk about those two

uuum MY BABIES MY BABIES MY BABIES MY BABIES⁉️‼️⁉️‼️⁉️‼️

I GOT THEM BAAAACK LETS GOOOO!!!!!!!!

THEY WERE SO GOOD, BEST PART OF THE EP IDC I KNOW IM BIASED SHUT UP.

ANYWAYS, they’re the biggest reason I believe so firmly that the episode takes place really early on in the show. ESPECIALLY because of Robbie herself, I assumed it pretty quickly after she started speaking at all.

Her character arc in the show starts pretty damn early on, like episode 14 early on, and was a pretty big part of style shows small narrative. Heck, I’d argue THE biggest part of it! Anyways, what I’m saying is her character was something the show really took care of and slowburned with, and by the last episode she’s changed a lot. Her motives and behavior changes, but so does her relationship with Bluster and the bears. Her dynamic with Bluster is horrifically strained to the point they almost hate each other, and she gets along with and likes the bears. She’s not like that at ALL here. And the bears? Don’t like her either

What I’m saying is, the show REALLY cares about Robbie’s character and growth,,,and I don’t think they’d actually throw that away for this special. Especially her development with the bears themselves

So it’s gonna be near impossible to convince me that this doesn’t take place after like, pffff,, I’d say close to A Yoorg Awakening perhaps

Cause her and Bluster get along, but they still bicker, which is very reminiscent of their characters in THAT period of the show

Hell I’d say this episode could be put like, RIGHT after Yoorg Awakening and it’d fit right in

So no I don’t believe they botched the character growth, it’s just early on in the show

Anyways, LOVED this episode so much, aaaand this is my favorite image ever now

bye!