#which is a long time driving for me specifically
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I have been in touch with a close friend of mine who works in rather high security data management, whose identity and specific job title they would prefer not to be disclosed, but this is their advice on best practices for a redundant archive system. Per their words: "External hard drives are good, easy to budget for, can be encrypted, and are effectively air-gapped w.r.t. security (they're only vulnerable when actually connected, which you don't necessarily need most of the time). They're not the most reliable medium though, and you run the risk of losing everything due to mechanical failure if they're in regular use or travel.
The completely other end of the spectrum is something like Amazon S3 - it can be encrypted, but is effectively always-connected, so you have to do all the security yourself (which can be a bit of a burden if you're not really technically savvy - honestly, I'm not savvy enough to understand all the ins-and-outs of that one). It's also a subscription service, so you run the risk of losing everything if you don't/can't pay your bill (though it's not expensive, per se, it's still an imperfectly predictable cost and will tend to be more than the cost of buying a hard drive of equivalent size after about a year).
What I've taken to doing, with my own data (which I don't expect to be raided or whatnot, but using my knowledge of archives to drive my own backup policy), is the following:
Keep one copy as the primary archive. For me, this is on my desktop, but could easily be a laptop, external drive (if that's your primary copy), or whatever.
Keep a second copy, that you replicate from the primary regularly, as a backup. For me, this is a linux server that I keep in my basement. It's basically good for "Ooops, I deleted that thing and want it back" or easy sharing from one computer to another. You can set this one up as your "share" space for others to access if you want, or it could be your "whenever the external drive comes back to me, I make a second copy" that you keep on-hand.
Keep a third copy, that you keep off-site. For me, this is an external drive that I keep in my office at work. I replicate from my backup copy to the external drive about 2-3 times a year. If the house burns down, I'll still have (a maybe older) copy of all my data. I wouldn't recommend burying this one in the woods or anything, but something where you've got a synched copy physically separated is key.
If you're doing this only with external drives, each of these would be separate drives:
1 for you to have on-hand as the "full" archive of what you're trying to save.
1 that gets shipped around, and may get dinged up, but is the primary "share" archive.
1 that your most trusted person has at their house, your studio/office, etc.
If you're doing this with servers, you might have something like:
Your laptop where you keep everything organized
A web site, server, AWS S3 bucket, or whatever for folks to access
An external drive where you back stuff up and keep wherever makes sense.
SSDs travel better, but degrade each time they're written to. HDDs are more reliable long-term, but tend to have mechanical failures if they get bounced around. If I were setting this up using only drives, I would make the "share" drive SSD and expect to replace it more often, but the 3rd copy I would make an HDD.
A good rule of thumb is: 3 copies 2 media types 1 copy off-site."
If you haven’t started already, start archiving/downloading everything. Save it to an external hard drive if you’re able. Collecting physical media is also a good idea, if you’re able.
Download your own/your favorite fanfics. Save as much as you can from online sources/digital libraries. Recipes, tutorials, history, LGBTQ media, etc. It has been claimed, though I can’t find the exact source if true, that some materials about the Revolutionary War were deleted from the Library of Congress.
It’s always better to be safe than sorry and save and preserve what you can. Remember that cloud storage also is not always reliable!
Library of Congress - millions of books, films and video, audio recordings, photographs, newspapers, maps, manuscripts.
Internet Archive - millions of free texts, movies, software, music, websites, and more. Has been taken offline multiple times because of cyber attacks last month, it has recently started archiving again.
Anna's Archive - 'largest truly open library in human history.’
Queer Liberation Library - queer literature and resources. Does require applying for a library membership to browse and borrow from their collection.
List of art resources - list of art resources complied on tumblr back in 2019. Not sure if all links are still operational now, but the few I clicked on seemed to work.
Alexis Amber - TikToker who is an archivist who's whole page is about archiving. She has a database extensively recording the events of Hurricane Katrina.
I'll be adding more to this list, if anyone else wants to add anything feel free!
#hopefully this isn't necessary#but in case it is#do it now#better safe than sorry#even if you can't afford to invest in something like a server#decentralization is the key to survival
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╰┈➤ the pumpkin reaper
part 3: the last day of investigation
previous part here
epilogue here
in which you and the BAU are handling the case of a murderer in a small, sleepy town.
tw: decapitation, description of a crime scene etc, mention of a suicide attempt, mentall illness
contents: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, solving a criminal mystery, angst, slow burn
words: 9 k....i'm insane, i'm aware
Your dad was the one who managed to explain everything to you.
Once, you hated the coldness he exuded. Everything he said seemed so devoid of emotion, as if he didn't have any at all. Probably, if he had ever tried to say "I love you," those words would have gotten stuck in his throat, causing choking and death.
At that moment, you appreciated it for the first time. He told you how your mom had found Jeremy in the bathtub, the water completely stained with blood. If an outsider had heard it, they would have thought he was talking about some stranger's child, not his own son, so composed he sounded. But you heard all the tiny breaks in his voice, the pauses to swallow saliva that slowly dripped down his throat.
You stood with your back against the door, the phone slipping from your numb hand.
For a moment, you felt simply empty. Without feelings or thoughts. What was this room you were in — the bathroom? A bathroom, what even is that? Syllables joined into a longer sound that should have some specific meaning. What meaning? You didn’t know. A loud ringing filled your ears, driving everything out of your mind.
The phone call had ended. The device was still pressed against your cheek, slipping further and further from your grip. After a while — you couldn’t tell how long — it simply fell to the floor, onto the simple black-and-white tiles. You didn’t even hear the sound it made.
You might have stayed frozen there for hours if not for the soft tapping on the other side of the door. You were only just returning to reality, so you couldn’t respond. Then someone spoke your name in a questioning tone. You ignored that too, though not intentionally. For a moment, you had simply forgotten your own name. This unsettled the person in the next room; after a few seconds, they grasped the handle and pushed the door. It met the barrier of your back, and that gentle jolt was what began to pull you out of your trance.
The first breath hurt; the first thought nearly brought you to your knees.
Jeremy. Your little brother.
Moving as if on autopilot, you turned toward the door and opened it. At first, Spencer seemed to exhale with relief, but then he saw the expression on your face, and his slightly hunched posture straightened, shifting to one of concern.
You’d taken over the bathroom as soon as you returned to the hotel, so he hadn’t had a chance to change. He’d only hung up his jacket by the door, taken off his vest, and remained in his shirt with a loosened tie and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out.
“W-what happened? I thought I heard something fall…”
“It was...um...the phone,” you managed to choke out.
“I-I was talking to my dad, my dad, but first with my mom, and…and she was mad at me because of…because of…wait, what did you ask?” The words spilling from you were one big jumble. You pressed a cool hand to your forehead, burning as if with fever, your brain throbbing with effort, as if you were delivering a university lecture on nuclear physics.
Spencer was no longer just concerned — he was terrified. Seeing how you were barely standing on legs that refused to cooperate, he caught you just before you fell. You collapsed face-first onto his shoulder, surrendering entirely to gravity.
“Oh…okay, okay, it’s okay now,” he whispered, resting one hand on the back of your head and the other on your back, offering support.
You closed your eyes, only now realizing they were filled with tears. The shock was fading, the barrier that had held back every other emotion finally breaking down. They began to overwhelm you, resulting in a muffled sob against his body.
“He tried to kill himself,” you finally managed to say, the meaning of the words slowly sinking in. You repeated it several times, each time quieter but with more awareness. “He tried…he tried…”
“No, you don’t have to... just... oh god, I’m so sorry...” He stammered. He realized that no words would be enough, none would help you. Instead of wasting energy on them, he poured it all into the embrace, holding you even tighter.
You simply stayed in that position, as time passed by.
"What's with him?" he asked when your breathing finally returned to a steady rhythm, and the pain wasn't as sharp. His voice was so soft, soothing like a lullaby. "Your brother?"
You realized that, because of your secrecy, you had never even casually mentioned Jeremy to him. This was the first time you were talking about him. Under these circumstances
"Dad said his condition is stable." You raised your head, and your eyes met by accident. You quickly looked back down at your hands. You felt exposed in a way you never had before with anyone else, and it was strange, unfamiliar. But you couldn’t say it was entirely negative. "He’s under observation now; he lost a lot of blood. If my mom hadn’t found him..."
You shook your head, trying to chase away the dark visions and scenarios.
"Spencer," you sighed, struggling to put into words what had been tormenting you from the very beginning. "I... I can’t stop thinking about how much of this is my fault."
"I left him with our parents. Fully aware of what they’re like. I told him he could rely on me but I was in another city, only keeping in touch by phone. Irregulary. Since we started working on this case, I’ve spoken to him once…"
Until now, you hadn’t maintained strong eye contact; each time it happened, you pulled away. But in that moment, there was something in his gaze that wouldn’t let you look away. Reid was definitely not one to offer empty words of comfort or general platitudes. Seeing him remain silent, you were certain he was about to say something entirely his own.
“Blaming yourself is a very common, I’d even say natural, part of grief, and I’m afraid that nothing I say will make you stop feeling this way, but I’ll try anyway. You didn’t abandon Jeremy. Even if there was distance between you, you still tried to be there for him, you cared for him like no one else did. You know, even if you usually avoided talking about it, it was still very clear. Sometimes I’d see you from a distance talking to him on the phone. I couldn’t hear a word, but… I wondered a lot who that person was. The one who makes you so happy” He looked slightly flustered, blushing as he realized what he had mentioned, but continued nonetheless. “You seemed so happy and genuinely invested. I can tell that you didn’t stay in touch with him out of guilt or obligation alone. He truly meant the world to you. And… what I’m trying to say is that… sometimes, no matter how much we try, there are things we just can’t control. This is incredibly hard for you, and you blame yourself for all of it, but I hope that someday you’ll see that not everything depended on you, and none of this is your fault."
You stared at him in silence, not knowing what to say. His words… they touched you, pierced your skin, and lodged deeply within your body. They soothed you, like a lullaby sung to a child before sleep. You realized just how incredibly grateful you were that you both shared this room.
"I don't know what I would do if you weren't here," you answered softly, feeling the area around your eyes tighten, signaling the tears that were about to come.
Without hesitation, he simply embraced you.
With his chin resting on the top of your head and your forehead pressed against his collarbone.
"You would manage. You’re strong. But you deserve to have someone by your side in a moment like this."
You whispered that you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. He offered you one of the sleeping pills he had mentioned in the car, though it would take a little while for them to take effect. You lay on your side, with your knees curled up. It wasn’t until the morning that you realized you were on his bed, surprised to find yourself so far from the window. That was your first thought, still not fully sober.
The room was drowning in darkness, the only sources of light being the faint glow of the moon sneaking in like a thief through the imperfectly drawn curtain, and the alarm clock on the nightstand between your beds, showing the time as 4:47.
You stretched your sleepy eyelids open and rubbed them with your hand, not moving from your spot. You felt a little embarrassed that you had fallen asleep in Spencer’s bed, but then you noticed his silhouette in yours. It turned out you had simply swapped places. Since it was only your second night in this hotel, it hadn’t yet absorbed his scent. Not that you were looking for it. You were just curious, which is why you pressed your face so firmly into the pillow.
Spencer was lying with his face turned toward you. However, he didn’t seem completely relaxed, almost as if even the sound of dust floating in the air could wake him. This turned out to be a very accurate observation, as the moment you opened your eyes, he did the same.
"Hey, how do you feel?" he asked. His voice was quiet, hoarse.
"I'm too awake to go back to sleep for another week. Unfortunately," you muttered, turning onto your back. Of course, it was sarcasm. You couldn’t sleep for too long, you had to... you weren’t even sure what you had to do. You urgently needed to find out what had happened with Jeremy over the past few hours. Was his condition still stable, or had it improved significantly overnight, or…
The thought of another conversation with your father drained you. Or, worse yet, your mother. They were, however, your only source of information about your unconscious brother.
So yes, you needed to make a call, then get up, pull yourself together, maybe eat something… it all sounded more than overwhelming.
"I'll talk to Hotch, if you want. He’ll let you go back, even today."
The mention of the boss’s name hit you like an ice cube dropped under your shirt. Despite everything that had happened yesterday, you were still at work. In the middle of hunting down a seven-time murderer who had discarded his last two victims just yesterday. A murderer who, from the very beginning, had stirred your intuition, suggesting that the answer to this puzzle lay somewhere at the back of your mind.
On the other hand, you felt obligated to be by Jeremy’s side when he woke up. Who else would be there for him? A nurse? An emotionally absent father? An unstable, bipolar mother who had probably stopped taking her meds again?
As if against your own will, you lifted yourself into a sitting position, a certain thought suddenly entering your mind.
"I'll stay," you decided.
"Are you sure? If you don't want to talk about it with the others, I’ll do it for you," he offered, propping himself up on his elbows. His hair was a mess, eyes gleaming with worry. "You know Hotch, he may not seem like it, but he's very understanding..."
"Really, I can handle it," you reassured him, but he didn’t seem convinced. "Reid, I need to finish this case. I think I’ve realized something."
He sat on the bed, furrowing his brow. The sudden change in the tone of your voice must have intrigued him; you sounded almost determined.
"What is it?"
You opened your mouth, ready to rush out a chaotic response, but stopped yourself at the last moment. It was so early in the morning, and your mind wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders — how could it be, when you’d only just woken up? It made more sense to wait, to go over the latest findings with the team; maybe they would fit perfectly with your newest theory.
And that’s exactly what happened.
“The victims found on the pumpkin farm have been identified,” Hotch announced instead of a greeting when you met just an hour and a half later. Everyone looked slightly dazed; the coffee they were sipping hadn’t yet kicked in. Likely, only you and Reid had been up this early—physically, you seemed the most alert, yet it was plain to see that your thoughts were still rooted in the previous day, struggling to keep up with everything happening around you. You sat close together, shoulder to shoulder, entirely on instinct, as if an invisible thread connected you, tightening painfully around your wrists whenever you tried to drift too far apart.
From time to time, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, as if checking to see if you were okay. Twice, he gave a slight nod in Hotch’s direction, reminding you that you could still talk to him, ask for permission to go back home. You silently reassured him that you were feeling relatively fine and didn’t want to bring it up with the boss. Just as you broke eye contact, ending the wordless conversation, you noticed Morgan and Prentiss watching the two of you, their heads tilted at the same angle in an almost eerily synchronized way.
You took a breath, feeling slightly embarrassed. Your sudden closeness with Reid must have seemed at the very least… suspicious to them.
“Their names were Denise Grant and Alexa Miller, and listen to this,” Garcia began, her voice quickening as her face appeared on the laptop screen. “Both of them worked at the same orphanage. And what's more — it's the very same orphanage where one of the earlier victims worked.”
The atmosphere thickened as everyone absorbed the significance of the information.
"What are the chances this could be a coincidence?" JJ asked rhetorically.
"Well..." Reid began. His friend raised an eyebrow. "I get it, no large numbers. But small ones. Smaller than the chance that the asteroid..."
"Were the remaining body parts of these women found?" Rossi asked matter-of-factly.
Hotch shook his head.
"Unfortunately, no. The forest is so heavily guarded by the police that it's unlikely the unsub managed to dump them there."
"But he has to be doing something with them," Prentiss said, biting the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. "Doesn't it make you wonder where he's committing all these crimes? He gets rid of the bodies quickly, and there were no signs on the victims suggesting they were held captive. Do you think he could be killing them in his own house?"
"That's possible," Morgan replied. "He wouldn't be the first. And unfortunately, he won't be the last."
"If that's the case, they're going to start smelling awful soon. He'll have to get rid of them, and with so much police presence around, it won't be that easy."
"Let's hope he makes a mistake in the process," Hotch summarized, scanning your faces carefully. Finally, his gaze landed on yours. "You’ll go to the orphanage with..." He swept his eyes over everyone around you, finally settling on Derek. Reid, sitting next to you, shifted uncomfortably.
"I'll go with her," he offered a bit too abruptly.
This shifted the focus of everyone’s attention onto you. You tried to act as if it didn’t matter who would go with you, but deep down, you were hoping it would be him.
You stared at your boss, waiting for his decision. Finally, he nodded and began assigning other tasks to the rest of the team. You couldn't help but smile, barely perceptibly, feeling grateful to Spencer.
It wasn’t that you minded the company of the others; it was simply that none of them had any idea what had happened the day before. They might ask questions about your more withdrawn-than-usual behavior or your subdued mood, and you didn’t want to talk about what had happened with your brother. You knew that with Reid, you would feel the most comfortable.
For a while, you continued discussing the farm workers, who turned out to be employed without contracts, and of course the owner who was hiring them off the books. But with each new statement from your colleagues, you became more and more detached. Your thoughts kept drifting to Jeremy and his behavior over the past few weeks. He had seemed down during your conversations, but you had chalked it up to just the usual busy period at school. On top of that, there was the family situation. Living alone, you'd almost forgotten what a typical day with your mother used to look like. You started to berate yourself, feeling guilty for not being more concerned about his state.
Eventually, everyone dispersed, ready to get back to their tasks.
You went to the car alone, as Reid had been stopped by Derek, who had asked him something with an unreadable expression. His eyebrow had raised suggestively, and you could have sworn you saw it even from several meters away. You stared at the two of them, leaning against the open passenger-side door, intrigued about what the conversation might be about. Normally, you weren’t the curious type; you didn’t like it when people asked you too many questions, and you avoided prying into others’ affairs. But this time, you couldn’t take your eyes off Spencer’s face, clearly embarrassed—maybe even… blushing?
Derek laughed at his reaction and gave him a pat on the back before walking away. Your companion sat in the driver's seat without a word, avoiding your gaze.
"Where is the orphanage?" he asked.
You turned toward him, brow furrowed.
"You remembered the whole map," you reminded him.
"Oh, right..."
You fell silent for several minutes, but your curiosity grew so much that you thought you might not be able to hold it in any longer.
"What were you two talking about? With Morgan?"
"Oh... just some stuff," he replied evasively, overly focused on the road. As if you were in the middle of a busy city during rush hour, rather than on a nearly empty road in the morning.
"You know Morgan and his... sense of humor."
"Yes, I know. Did he tell some great joke?"
"Not really."
"Go ahead. I'm curious."
"I’m telling you, nothing worth repeating... Besides, I've already forgotten it myself..."
"Reid, for God's sake, you literally have a photographic memory...!"
"Okay, fine!" he finally blurted out, removing one hand from the steering wheel and raising it in a defensive gesture. His voice went up a quarter of an octave. He then took a deep breath and put on a seemingly calm expression. "Morgan wanted to know if our... well, unusual... peculiar... definitely different from the previous days... behavior means that..."
"That what?" you asked encouragingly.
"That we slept with each other”
You blinked in slow motion, too shocked to respond. Spencer couldn't resist glancing at you, trying to gauge your reaction. For a moment, you sat frozen, then you burst into laughter.
"And what did you tell him?"
"What did I tell him?" he repeated in disbelief. "The truth, what else was I supposed to say?"
You realized how stupid your question was.
"Anyway, even if it were true... you know, that we... slept together... I wouldn't have mentioned it to him. I mean, don’t get me wrong” He quickly added the last part.“It's not that I’d be ashamed to admit it or... anything like that, I just would’ve preferred to sort it out with you first..."
You watched his growing embarrassment and... simply smiled.
"Sorry," you explained your reaction, letting out a slight chuckle. "I just thought... Well nevermind. Or…Fine, I was thinking about how strangely Emily was looking at me and how Derek probably wasn’t the only one who came to that conclusion. Look, we share a room with each other for the very first time and then suddenly we become so close... and then there's the fact that you asked to come with me..."
"That's because I wanted... I wanted to keep an eye on you after what happened yesterday."
"I understand that, and... I’m incredibly grateful to you for it. Really, Spence. But to others, it might look really suspicious."
He paused for a moment, thinking about your words. Ahead of you, the orphanage building came into view. Made of a mix of red and cream bricks, it resembled a small private school. Behind the fence, there was a small playground with a pink slide, its surface now covered in brown leaves.
"Wait," Reid asked with a slightly hoarse voice as you were about to get out of the car. "Does this mean that... you’d prefer we saw each other less?"
You were momentarily speechless.
"What? Of course not. Let them think what they want. Especially those two…lacherours, Morgan and Prentiss. It doesn’t change anything between us."
The air hit your face in waves, occasionally accompanied by a stray raindrop, but overall, the weather that day wasn’t terrible.
You made your way to the orphanage doors, trying to adopt serious, professional expressions fitting for your line of work. However, you couldn’t help but let those fleeting, secret smiles slip through. You felt a tight knot in your stomach loosen.
But back to business, no staff member at the orphanage wants to see two FBI agents on their doorstep at eight in the morning. Well, no one wants to see FBI agents on their doorstep. Regardless of the time. The woman who opened the door greeted you with a slight look of confusion. She was shorter than both of you, with thick blonde hair, wearing a fluffy lavender sweater. At first glance, she seemed friendly, but… incredibly downhearted.
"Can I help you with something?" she asked, clearly forcing a smile.
You looked at Reid and took a small breath, holding back a sigh. It dawned on both of you that… she probably didn’t know yet that the heads found on the farm belonged to her two coworkers.
Everyone in the town knew about the discovery, that was beyond doubt. The fact that these two women hadn’t shown up for work in several days should have made her realize it. But sometimes, as people, we prefer to deceive ourselves right until the very end.
You hated informing people that their loved ones had died, especially in such a horrific way. However, you knew you had to do what was required of you, reaching into your pocket for your badge.
"We're from the FBI," you said after introducing yourselves, trying to keep a gentle expression to spare some nerves for the already frightened woman. "Do you work here? We’d like to have a word with all the staff and the director."
The woman took a deep, nervous breath.
“Yes, I work here. Florence Terry. I’m… I’m a psychologist.”
She opened the door wider, letting you both inside. You quickly glanced around, immediately noticing how well-kept the place was. In your line of work, you’d surprisingly often found yourself visiting orphanages, and many — even in larger cities — were in far worse condition. In the spacious hallway stood a staircase made of light wood, leading to the upper floors. On one of the steps, someone had placed a teddy bear so that it looked like it was gazing down.
“Do you think it’s afraid of heights?” you whispered to Reid, careful that the psychologist couldn’t hear.
“I think it’s an inanimate object and therefore incapable of having fears,” he whispered back, leaning slightly toward you.
“I think you’re —”
“We’re just having breakfast,” Florence interrupted, leading you into the dining room, where a long table stood at the center. At the sight of you both, the adults seated there — likely other caregivers — put their utensils aside. There weren’t that many kids here; they could almost pass for an unusually large family, if not for the fact that nearly all of them were around the same age. There were no little ones — you noticed mostly teenagers. One boy spilled his tea on the table and wiped it up with his sleeve, his black bangs brushing against the glasses perched on his narrow nose. You weren’t sure if it was his appearance or his mannerisms, but he immediately reminded you of Jeremy.
Reid immediately noticed you staring. Of course he did. You gave a slight smile, reassuring him that everything was fine.
Your arrival didn’t cause much of a stir; most of the children didn’t even look up. It probably would have been different if they knew you were from the FBI. The expression on the psychologist's face, however, alarmed the adults. They exchanged tense glances, but tried to maintain appearances in front of the children.
The woman with the tight black ponytail stood up, introducing herself as the director.
“We can talk in my office,” she offered, shaking your hand.
“We’d like to speak with all the staff,” Reid informed her.
“Oh, of course. Then please, follow me…”
She led you to a small room on the ground floor, with the word "DIRECTOR" written on the door in colorful crayons. Three more people followed you, including the psychologist.
"Not everyone is here today," the director noted. "Some employees simply work different hours, while others..."
"That’s something we wanted to discuss," you said slowly.
The women and one man exchanged glances. They knew.
"Is… is this about Denise and Alexa?" Florence dared to ask.
To their horror, you had to confirm it. It was incredibly difficult to watch someone take in the news of not only the death of colleagues, but likely close friends as well. You lowered your gaze, staring at your shoes, giving them a moment before they were ready to continue with the questioning. Together with Reid, you had to ask them countless questions, probing to understand why these particular orphanage employees had become the killer’s victims. Or perhaps, whether they remembered any former resident who had long since left but whose behavior had raised suspicions. There was a strong likelihood that the unsub had come from there.
But before you began the questioning, the doorbell rang.
"That’s probably the volunteer. A teenager from town who comes by to help from time to time, sometimes she brings friends along," the director explained, her trembling hands pressed against her chest. "Their help has been especially valuable these past few days since… since Denise and Alexa… disappeared."
"I’ll let them in," you offered, glancing at Reid. It would be worth asking these teenagers a few questions as well.
He nodded, and you headed toward the entrance of the building. One girl pulled back quickly into the dining hall at the sight of you; she must have been eavesdropping. At first, you felt like smiling, but then sadness took over. These kids didn’t know yet about the death of their caretakers. How would the staff tell them? How would they react?
Worried by this thought, you opened the door and raised your eyebrows in surprise at the sight of… Charlotte.
Worried by this thought, you opened the door and raised your eyebrows in surprise at the sight of… Charlotte.
“Oh, hi,” she greeted you, equally surprised. She wore the same white jacket you’d seen her in yesterday, with a colorful scarf covering half her face, her pale cheeks flushed from the cold. You glanced toward the parking lot, where the sheriff's car was just pulling away beside yours. He must have dropped off his daughter before heading straight back to his duties. The town needed him more than ever. “Dad told me who those women were… the ones I found yesterday. Is that why you’re here?”
You confirmed, lips pressed tightly together. She stepped inside, unzipping her jacket.
"My partner is talking with the staff right now," you said, stopping with her by the stairs, not wanting the children in the dining hall to overhear. "I had no idea you volunteered here. That’s really, really kind of you. How long have you been doing this?"
She hesitated, her cheeks flushing slightly.
"Just a few months," she replied, but there was something incomplete in her tone. As if she wanted to say more but held back. You replayed your conversation from the day before in your mind, analyzing it moment by moment, trying to deduce what might be behind her behavior.
"My dad, surprisingly, isn’t too thrilled about it. I live on the other side of town, so he has to drive me here, and he also says I should be studying instead…” She lowered her voice to an embarrassed whisper. “…wandering around with the poor."
You were taken aback, even outraged, by the sheriff’s behavior. As a parent, he should be proud that his daughter took the initiative to get involved in charity work! Yet, as you looked at the girl, who was avoiding your gaze, you felt there was something she wasn’t telling you.
“I’m glad that despite his… forgive me for saying it, but rudeness, you’re still determined to help here,” you said, choosing your words carefully. Charlotte gave a shy smile at the compliment. “Out of curiosity, was it your idea? Or maybe your friends’, and you just got… drawn into it?”
The girl hesitated before finally sighing in surrender.
"My boyfriend grew up here," she admitted. "He told me a bit about this place, and… hearing his stories, I felt a need to help these kids. I started coming here, tutoring them, playing with them, teaching them to draw. You know, typical volunteer stuff."
Her answer didn’t surprise you much. Since she’d mentioned her boyfriend yesterday—describing him as someone who opposed rules and was the complete opposite of her father—you’d subconsciously known this topic would come up again. You didn’t hide the fact that the way she described him had raised concerns, making you question whether he was truly a good match for such a sensitive young girl.
"Does he know about this? Does he come help with you?"
"N-no. He doesn't have the best memories of this place... but he's really happy that I decided to do this."
You didn’t want to turn the conversation into an interrogation, but you felt you needed to ask these questions to get the full picture.
“How long ago did he leave the orphanage?”
Charlotte seemed increasingly tense during the conversation, glancing around as if expecting someone to come and rescue her. You couldn’t help but cross your arms over your chest, a gesture that may have seemed threatening or stern. Quickly realizing that you’d frightened her, you softened your posture, taking a deep breath to calm yourself.
You were almost certain that this was a similar case. Charlotte was only sixteen, struggling with the death of her mother, a sensitive soul with an incredibly strict father—who also happened to be a cop. An older boyfriend might have given her a sense of escape from the heavy hand of her father’s authority, a feeling of freedom.
"Sorry, Charlotte. I didn’t mean to be so intrusive. Just a professional habit," you joked. She smiled faintly, still clearly on edge.
The way she spoke about him—the hint of fear, her earlier request for you not to mention him to her father, and her avoidance of answering how long ago he left the orphanage—made you start to seriously suspect that he was older than her. It wasn’t unusual for teenage girls to seek out older partners, and in most cases, it wasn’t a bad thing... but sometimes, those older partners turned out to be much older men. Manipulators.
Before you could say anything more, Reid appeared in the doorway of the office, casting a curious glance between you and the girl, whom he surely remembered from yesterday.
"Uh...Can I have a word with you?" he called you. Charlotte greeted him so quietly that he probably didn’t even hear it. "I think I’ve found something interesting."
"Oh, sure," you replied, remembering you shouldn’t leave him alone with the work for too long. Before leaving, you smiled at the sheriff’s daughter. The topic of her and her boyfriend was still nagging at you. "I’d like to talk to you later, okay? Either after we finish talking to the staff, or... you have my number, right?"
The girl nodded, murmuring a quick goodbye before disappearing into the dining hall, where a child squealed with delight at the sight of her.
"Did you find anything out?" you asked Reid. He had been watching the girl with obvious interest, which was piqued by your almost agitated stance. However, you didn’t have time to explain everything to him yet; you needed to get back to the main investigation.
You both returned to the office. The staff were standing in the same spots, looking as if they hadn’t moved an inch since you left.
"I asked a few questions that might help us figure out why the unsub chose three people who worked at this particular orphanage," he began. You noticed he was starting to speak faster, which meant a breakthrough had occurred, at least in his reasoning. You watched him, holding your breath. "And I found out that none of the people here have worked here for more than eight years. Just like the victims."
You furrowed your brow, not sure what that meant. The director quickly offered an explanation.
"Eight years ago, there was a huge scandal involving this orphanage," she explained, swallowing hard. "It came to light that the caretakers and the director at the time were abusing the children. Seriously abusing them. What’s worse, the case was reported multiple times, but no one in the town’s leadership did anything about it. The mayor stayed silent... They say he was afraid to do anything, so as not to lose the funding the orphanage was receiving. It wasn’t until eight years ago that the truth finally came out, the staff was convicted, and they were replaced by us."
"The town’s leadership didn’t react," you repeated her words, your mind working at full speed. "The earlier victims were part of the town’s leadership. This is the connection we’ve been looking for, Reid. The unsub must have been a victim of abuse right here in this orphanage."
"We need to tell the others," Reid decided. You both headed toward the exit, and then you remembered that you hadn’t even said goodbye to the orphanage staff.
"Thank you for your help, these are really useful pieces of information..." you said quickly as you passed them.
In the car, everything felt like it was spinning.
"Look, the unsub isn’t directly killing the people who abused him. If that were the case, the old staff would be the ones dying, not the current one. Remember, one of his victims was a teacher, completely unrelated to the orphanage. I think it’s not about punishing those people, but more about a symbolic revenge, one that doesn’t have to be logical. It doesn’t have to make sense to us, but it seems logical to him," Reid shared his thoughts as you drove toward the police station, where you expected to find the rest of your team. "He’s struggling with trauma. He’s been managing it somehow over the years, but now he’s unable to control the rage building up inside him. Decapitation is another symbol. It strips these people of the power they once had over him when he was a child or a teenager, and no one listened to his cries for help."
You straightened up in your seat, all the information starting to fall into place.
"Do you remember this morning when I mentioned that something came to my mind? That’s why I didn’t want to leave?" you asked. "At first, we were puzzled that some of the victims were treated with a different level of cruelty, specifically the women. Others, the ones from the city council, only had their heads cut off, with no other injuries. The unsub believes these innocent people are directly responsible for hurting him, he’s delusional. Sometimes he blames the city authorities for not reacting. The anger he feels toward them isn’t as intense as for the orphanage staff, which is why he harms them to a lesser extent. I think... he’s experiencing manic episodes, where all his feelings and paranoia are stronger. That’s when he kills with much greater cruelty."
“Mania?” Reid repeated, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “You mean borderline?” You nodded. For a moment, he thought over your words, then his eyes lit up. “That... that’s very possible. There have been cases where borderline murderers nearly changed their modus operandi. During a manic episode, when someone with borderline personality disorder experiences heightened energy, a sense of grandeur, and excessive impulsivity, they may act more aggressively, brutally, and ruthlessly. In a depressive episode, on the other hand, the person may act more coldly, with calculated precision, focusing on their goal without emotional outbursts, but carrying a heavy load of negative emotions. It all fits.”
You nodded eagerly, feeling that familiar rush that came whenever you were close to solving a case. Your heart raced, and warmth crept over your neck, like a fever. You and Reid burst into the station, practically supporting each other like two converging whirlwinds, nearly colliding with Hotch in the process. He was initially startled, then his eyes narrowed as he took in both your faces, his expression becoming more focused as you explained everything.
For a moment, he was silent.
“Let’s call Garcia,” he finally said. “Have her find all the men who lived in that orphanage eight years ago.”
You took a deep breath. This was really happening. You were so close to catching the killer...
After filling Garcia in on everything you knew, she immediately set to work compiling a list of men who might fit the profile. Meanwhile, you and Reid headed to the coffee and snack machine. You bought yourself a drink and a chocolate bar, feeling the rush of adrenaline start to subside.
Taking advantage of the brief moment of calm, you checked your phone for any missed calls.
“Neither my mother nor my father called,” you said, slipping the phone back into your pocket. Sharing personal details with anyone on the team still felt strange—especially when it came to your family. You wondered if it would ever feel normal. You noticed Spencer giving you a concerned look. “It’s a good thing,” you added quickly. “It means Jeremy’s condition is stable. Or maybe even improving. If it were bad, I’d have twenty missed calls from my mom—and one from my dad.”
You tried to turn that last line into a joke, but it came out sounding more bleak than funny.
“I hope everything will be okay with him,” Reid said, as his cup filled with coffee from the machine. He reached for it, his gaze fixed on you. “You remember that you can come to me if things get tough, right?”
“I try not to forget,” you admitted, hugging your arms around yourself. “But it’s not something I’m used to.”
For a moment, he looked at you silently, holding a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. His eyes seemed so gentle and understanding that it was hard for you to look away.
"Hey, lovers!"
Spencer jumped and cursed as coffee spilled onto his hand. Startled, you both turned to see Morgan grinning at you with a playful smile.
"Come over here for a sec."
You felt the urge to cover your face at the sight of the entire team, who had all heard what he'd called you.
Some unknown force held you back from nudging Emily when she shot you an amused sidelong glance. But soon, your focus shifted to Garcia's face on the laptop screen, ready to share her findings.
"Tell us what you found, babygirl."
"So, I managed to pull up quite a long list of former orphanage residents. Surprisingly long, for such a small town. Hotch helped narrow it down a bit… I found twelve men who would now be between twenty and forty years old. Five of them still live in town, but one of them caught my eye. Well, actually, his story did. He was placed in the orphanage at ten years old after his mother, struggling with bipolar disorder, attempted suicide."
You already knew it was him.
"His name is Logan Osborne, currently twenty-four years old. He has one minor offense on record for selling weed, oddly enough, in another town. Here’s where it gets interesting—though not in a good way. His mother actually survived but passed away less than two years ago, and he inherited her house and apparently moved back into it."
"Returning to the town where he was abused must have been the trigger that pushed him to murder," said Reid.
"That would fit with my theory about bipolar personality disorder," you summarized. "Genetics alone doesn’t determine the disorder, but the fact is that in families with cases of this disorder, the likelihood of it appearing in other individuals is higher."
At one point, you had read a lot about it due to your own mother. An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine. Reid looked at you intently, surely noticing the sudden shift in the tone of your voice. God, he must have been that observant?
"What's the address of his house?" Hotch asked.
You waited in readiness as Garcia provided the information. Once she did, you all gathered and headed out.
*
If you had found him there, everything would have been so simple. Almost too simple.
But there was no sign of Logan Osborne at the house, nor any indication that it was inhabited by a serial killer who decapitated his victims. Instead of immediately securing the building, Hotch ordered a stakeout. Inside, several agents, including Morgan and Prentiss, waited for the moment he might show up.
The rest of the team had no tasks assigned. You waited at the precinct, hoping something would happen. Meanwhile, Garcia sifted through thousands of bits of information about the man. Some were more important than others, but unfortunately, it only seemed to fuel a growing sense of dread among you all.
Since inheriting his mother’s house, he hadn’t paid taxes or most of his bills. He didn’t have a steady job, though he picked up odd jobs here and there. You checked with the local police, but most didn’t recognize his name. One officer who did recall him said he didn’t have the best relations with the authorities. With anyone, really.
"A little anarchist, huh?" Rossi muttered.
You felt the vibration of your phone in your pocket. Reaching for it, you saw a message from an unknown number.
hey it’s charlotte. you said we could meet and talk when i needed to please can we meet? i can’t handle what i saw on the farm yesterday and my dad isn’t helping with his behavior either
A few hours had already passed since the ambush was set, and still nothing had happened, though the darkness outside was settling in.
“Would it be alright if I disappear for a quarter?” you asked. “I promised something to the sheriff’s daughter, and it looks like I’ll need to meet with her.”
You didn’t receive any opposition. If anything happened, you would be immediately informed by phone. Reid offered to go with you, but Hotch needed him for something. You wouldn’t have minded his company—on the contrary, you would have been glad for it—but on the other hand, Charlotte might not feel too comfortable with it. After all, she had arranged to meet only with you.
As you drove toward her house, you spent a lot of time reflecting on your earlier conversation. It was the first time you really had the chance to think about it seriously. Her mysterious boyfriend, whom she had been so reluctant to talk about and with whom there was probably an age gap. And who also grew up in that orphanage...
You didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to you earlier. Maybe because of how well-behaved Charlotte seemed? Her big, bright eyes full of kindness. She herself seemed like the perfect teenager—sensitive and eager to help. Plus, she was the sheriff's daughter. For God's sake, you were about to go to the house of another cop.
You only realized how foolish you had been when, as soon as you stepped out of the car, something hit you in the back of the head.
*
You were woken up by nothing but the pain in the back of your head.
You opened your eyes, struggling to hold back a groan. Everything around you was blurry, as if you had a terrible vision problem and were forced to go somewhere without your glasses. The image, however, began to sharpen with each passing second, causing your heart to beat faster.
You were in…
It was hard to say what kind of place this was. Incredibly dark, the only weak light source was somewhere behind your back. It was possible it was a battery-powered lamp. You couldn’t confirm your suspicions, however… because you couldn’t move. You realized this with horror.
You were tied to the chair with rope. It wrapped tightly around your body, making it hard to breathe and pressing painfully on your ribs. Some of them might even be broken.
Wherever you were, the whole situation looked far from promising. Fragments of memories swirled around your head, randomly flying into your mind and helping you recall what had actually happened.
Of course, working for the FBI, you knew how to behave in the event of a kidnapping. The most important rule was: don’t panic. The problem was, it was damn hard to follow that.
Inhale, exhale, something jabbed at your ribs. You couldn’t stop another soft groan from escaping.
As if drawn by the sound, a young man appeared in your line of sight.
“Good morning, did you sleep well?” he asked, leaning over you as if you were an infant. After a second, he straightened up, the smile completely replaced by a serious expression. “I don’t like killing people when they’re asleep.”
Garcia had sent you his pictures, and even with the poor lighting, you were able to recognize your unsub in them.
"Logan Osborne?"
"I see you've done your homework."
"Where’s Charlotte?" you asked, a sudden rush of panic flooding through you. Maybe she was behind you, somewhere you couldn’t see? Was she involved in your abduction? After all, it was her who sent the message...
"You think I know where she is every moment of every day?" he sneered, suddenly angry. The room was small, but to your left, there was a rotting bench with metal objects arranged on it. You had to turn your head sharply to confirm your worst suspicion. Knives.
It was getting harder and harder not to panic.
"Knowing her, she's probably painting. My work on the farm really inspired her."
There was a sound. Like a drop falling from the ceiling.
"Where are we?" you asked.
"None of your business."
"Is this a bunker?"
"Did you hear what I said?"
"What difference does it make if I find out? I'm tied up," you shrugged meaningfully, emphasizing your position. This caused a wave of pain to course through your chest.
For a moment, there was silence. The man was wandering around the surroundings, and all you could do was watch as he wiped each blade on his flannel shirt. The bile began to rise in your throat with every move he made. Pessimistic thoughts started flooding your mind, so tragic that you barely managed to hold back the tears.
First, everyone on your team thought you went to meet Charlotte. Meaning, it would likely be your prolonged absence that would eventually seem suspicious.
Second, you were in such a mysterious place that everything pointed to the fact that no one would find you, even by accident. Well, alive.
You knew you couldn’t give up, even though there was little you could do in such a situation. The only real solution in such a hopeless scenario was… convincing him to let you go. A scenario that was damn unlikely, but since death was already threatening you, why not give it a try?
"Logan," you said, your voice trembling. In your mind, you replayed his profile, reminding yourself of facts that could give you an edge in your conversation with him. "Killing me won't help you. It's not me you want to hurt, it's those who hurt you in the orphanage. And those who didn’t react."
"Fine, it’s a bunker," he replied, as if he hadn’t even heard most of what you said. "Back in the Cold War, people built them by the dozen. They didn’t even inform the authorities. We found this one once with the kids from the orphanage, and we didn’t tell anyone, you know what that means, agent?"
You were painfully aware of it.
"Logan," you tried again. "My people know you killed those people. They'll find you the moment you step out into the open. Killing me won’t change anything..."
"Not killing me won’t either."
"They’ll look at you more favorably..."
"Favorably?" he exploded in a manic laugh, suddenly right in front of you. You flinched at the sight of his crazed face so close to yours. "They’ll look favorably on a seven-time murderer? Are you joking? Since I’m already screwed, I might as well cut off your head too..."
Fuck the fake calm, you were terrified.
You trembled, the pain in your ribs intensified, and the first tears began to fall from your eyes. You thought about how you’d never see Jeremy again. How he’d wake up and your death would probably be one of the first things he’d find out. What would he do then? God, your team would think you were an idiot. Of course, no one would say it out loud, but that’s what you were. You got yourself into this situation. Under these circumstances, they shouldn’t even particularly mourn, though they probably would, just a little.
Spencer would probably grieve a little more than the others. Those two nights in one room had brought you closer, you couldn’t deny that. Before, you had thought of him as just a regular coworker, the genius boy, sometimes amusing in his awkwardness. The way he supported you at the worst possible moment made you realize just how valuable he was.
Wherever you end up after death, you’ll miss him.
You didn’t know what motivated you to speak up again. Was it the thought of Jeremy and Spencer, or perhaps the sound of Logan sharpening some kind of weapon, probably an ax?
“Please," you pleaded simply, no longer knowing what else might reach him.
"Don’t cry. I hate it when girls cry. Charlotte does it all the time."
"Charlotte," you repeated. "Did she... know?"
You wanted to know if the girl you had tried so hard to help had played an active role in your murder.
"Of course not," he sneered. "She didn’t help me with anything, if that’s what you’re asking. But she told me about you, the nice FBI agent who snoops around a lot. She thought I was just some rebellious guy, attractive to a teenager like her. You know, with a tough cop dad. I won't lie, it turned me on, sleeping with the sheriff's daughter, knowing I was being hunted by him. And not just by him. Even by the damn FBI."
He seemed proud of himself. Maybe that’s what you should do? Appeal to his ego?
"You were really a tough case," you said, pretending to be impressed. "Seriously. Hours spent analyzing, we sat in silence, none of my colleagues knew what to say..."
“Spare me, I see what you're doing. You're trying to manipulate me... because... you feel superior." After saying those words, a sudden fury ignited in him. He knocked over the rotting table, the knives on it scattering to the floor. You took a breath, clenching your fists tightly in pure panic. "Just like they did. They thought they could hurt little kids, abuse them... because their position allowed it. After all, they were older, their word against a child's word. They say children have too vivid an imagination, have you ever heard that?!”
You closed your eyes, he was screaming it right in your face.
"No, Logan, that's not true... they were monsters, but I would have helped you if I... if I could."
"Then why didn't you?!"
"I... I... I..." Tears tore through you, and you got lost in your own words.
Logan opened his mouth again, but suddenly fell silent. His earlier screams were completely drowned out by a sound from above. You stiffened, recognizing it. Footsteps.
"They're here," you whispered, like a prayer. Tears began to flow down your cheeks.
The man, jaw clenched, stared at the entrance to the bunker. He suppressed a scream of rage, turned around, and grabbed his head, not knowing what to do. But suddenly, he bent down to pick something up from the floor, one of the knives he had knocked over when he flipped the table.
"W-what are you doing?" you asked. Something urged you to struggle, even though you knew it was pointless, the ropes were too tight. "What are you doing?!"
The footsteps mixed with voices, even a shout, and the room was soon flooded with a tsunami of daylight.
"Since they’ve got me anyway, I might as well slit your throat..."
You couldn’t stop the scream as he approached you with the knife. A firm grip on your shoulder, keeping you from squirming. The cold metal on your neck, grazing the thin skin.
And then a shot.
NOTE:
I HATE THE ENDING THE READER IS SO STUPID....!
but in my defence i got kind of lost in my plans and i had to change many things in the last moment
but i want to say that im very grateful for reading 2 previos parts and all the notes under<3 i didn't expect so many likes and comments
epilogue for this story will be posted tomorrow!
taglist: @nightfullofparadox @miriamnox @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx
#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid#spencer reid criminal minds#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x oc#derek morgan#spencer reid x reader#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#jennifer jareau#jj#emily prentiss#david rossi#jason gideon#spencer reid angst#criminal minds x you#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#criminal mind
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Interesting stuff. Some reactions:
I don't disagree with any of the points above. Yes, the mere fact that a source text is old does not, in itself, justify the use of archaism in the target language.
And yes, cross-cultural categories like "epic" are lossy abstractions over more specific, non-identical literary forms belonging to specific cultural and linguistic traditions.
There are established conventions for "epics in English." (Whether translated or original, with influence running in both directions between "what the most celebrated English-original epics are like" and "what the most celebrated English translations of Homer et al are like.") But we shouldn't demand that every translation of a so-called "epic" follow these conventions.
----
Still, I stand by my claim in OP (even if it was imprecisely expressed), that there's an appropriately epic quality to the Warner&Warner translation that is lacking in Davis.
This isn't about the (now-)archaic features of Warner&Warner. You could modernize their diction – and untangle their sometimes convoluted, old-timey syntax – without destroying the quality I'm talking about.
The quality is something more like... I want to call it an "elevated tone."
Not "elevated" as in "high-flown and erudite," but as in "setting the material apart from mundane present-day life." As in "creating an atmosphere of uncommon greatness (in every sense of the word)."
Evincing an appropriate reverence for your material, when it's the kind of thing that is written about because it's revered.
Handling that weighty material with appropriate care. Appreciating its heft, and its significance. Not speaking too lightly of it, or too casually, as through the first king who ever ruled were just some guy like you and me, and nothing more.
----
What I find remarkable about Davis is that he not only lacks this quality, but seems to be striving for its opposite.
His prose is "less elevated" than I'd expect for epic poetry, but that understates the situation. Even by the standards of ordinary prose narration in English, it's oddly pedestrian, flat, tuneless.
@argumate said in another reblog that it feels like a plot summary, and indeed that is a thought I had many times while reading Davis' Shahnameh. It's a shapeless collection of facts, related in a bored-sounding tone and piled up into long mind-numbing paragraphs. Nothing feels singled out as significant; there is no build-up and release of tension; there is just the one fact and then the next.
Consider for instance:
It was he who first taught men about the preparation of food and clothing, which were new in the world at that time.
The meaning here is basically the same as in Warner&Warner, who have this as:
And under him the arts of life began, For food and dress were in their infancy.
But the tone is worlds apart.
This is the beginning of the world, when even the things you and I take for granted did not fully exist yet. Warner&Warner's language drives home the weird extremity of this gap. Even such basic things are "food and dress" were new, then; the "arts of life" really had not existed, before, and were only now being established from scratch. Whoa!
Davis' version evokes none of this eerie distance. He conveys the same information, but he doesn't do anything with it. It just sits there.
Among other things, this leads Davis into an awkward redundancy here: if you've already told me that "it was he who first taught men about the preparation of food and clothing," you really don't need to explain that these "were new in the world at that time." Like, thanks, man, but I could have figured that out myself – it's a direct logical implication of what you've already said!
Davis might have rendered this bit non-superfluous by giving it something to do in the passage, in a literary sense if not an expository one. But, since exposition is the only thing Davis' prose ever does, any element without a unique expository purpose of its own is just left sitting there, seeming pointless.
In this case – as often with Davis – it dangles awkwardly at the end of a sentence, bringing that sentence to a limp and underwhelming conclusion. And, as he often does, Davis expresses it in a specific, inappropriately casual register that has a weird sort of "edutainment" vibe. Like this is a "fun fact," a "did-you-know?", a random piece of trivia.
While I'm slagging off Davis' style, I also want to take a moment to gripe about his choice of the phrase "world sovereignty" in the very first sentence. It feels like a microcosm of Davis's problems.
This is not merely modern-sounding language – it's language that specifically evokes (to me, anyway) a modern understanding of rulers and politics. It sounds like something you'd expect to find in an academic poli-sci paper, like some specialized and precise term invented to draw fine distinctions between all the different sorts of power and kingship that are conceivable. This fine-grained way of thinking is exactly wrong for the primeval period being narrated, when even food and drink were in their infancy, and there was no need to draw careful distinctions between different sorts of rule because rule itself was only just now coming into being.
Again, the literal meaning is not too far from W&W, who in this case write "power among mankind." But "power among mankind" lacks the spurious precision of "world sovereignty." It's broad, primal, simple, direct; it is a phrase one can imagine people really using in the very first days of civilization. Kingship, "sovereignty": these were new, and still unfamiliar. But power is a more basic idea, with much older roots.
----
What is Ferdowsi's style like, in the original?
Obviously I can't say firsthand. But here are some typical characterizations (my emphasis):
Ferdowsī’s poetic genius in creating a lofty, dynamic epic language that is brief but to the point and free from complexity greatly contributes to the strength of his style. (Encyclopaedia Iranica)
[Describing some early translations and their constrast w/ the original] The verse in iambic pentameter [in Champion's trans.] is heavy and laden with archaic diction. Reasonably accurate, it lacks the quick pace, vivacity or pathos, as well as the simplicity, of the original Persian. [...] Atkinson’s translation, like the earlier one by Champion, lacks the epic thrust of the original. (Encyclopaedia Iranica)
Direct, unadorned, rapid, full of life and emotion, simultaneously "lofty" and "free from complexity."
This doesn't much like either Davis or W&W, frankly.
But W&W, for all their fustiness, at least capture some of the "loftiness" and the human intensity suggested by these descriptions. Davis doesn't manage that, and in fact does not manage to do right by any single one of the qualities indicated above. He's got all the "quick pace" and "vivacity" of a templated regulatory compliance report.
----
A last complicating factor re: archaism.
According to Brittanica:
The Persians regard Ferdowsī as the greatest of their poets. Down through the centuries they have continued to read and to listen to recitations from his masterwork, the Shāh-nāmeh. Though written some 1,000 years ago, this work is as intelligible to the average modern Iranian as the King James Version of the Bible is to a modern English speaker.
So, even if the language wasn't archaic at the time of composition, there is a whole tradition of later and later readers encountering it in the original, and experiencing it as archaic – and perhaps interestingly and beautifully archaic, like the KJV is for many English speakers today.
The KJV – or indeed Shakespeare, with whom Ferdowsi has some things in common.
Like Shakespeare, Ferdowsi is renowned not just as a great writer, but as a great shaper of the very language in which he wrote.
Wikipedia claims (though annoyingly without attribution) that
Some experts [who?] believe the main reason the Modern Persian language today is more or less the same language as that of Ferdowsi's time over 1000 years ago is due to the very existence of works like the Shahnameh, which have had lasting and profound cultural and linguistic influence. In other words, the Shahnameh itself has become one of the main pillars of the modern Persian language. Studying Ferdowsi's masterpiece also became a requirement for achieving mastery of the Persian language by subsequent Persian poets, as evidenced by numerous references to the Shahnameh in their works.
which strongly resembles the way people often talk about Shakespeare's influence on the evolution of English: a single genius creates a celebrated exemplar of literature in his language, exerting a dramatic influence on all later literary culture in that language; meanwhile the undimmed cultural prominence of his work across multiple centuries exerts a kind of frictional drag on the evolution of the language itself.
Which is to say: not every English translation of this guy needs to feel archaic in a KJV/Shakespeare kind of way. But if there were no such translations, we would be missing something real about the work in its cultural context.
I feel like I've had the same experience several times now: someone does a new translation of a non-English literary classic, and all the critics praise it to the moon, so I go and try to read it, and it's turns out it's just . . . bad? Like, really bad? And weirdly bad?
A while back, I wrote about the case of Pevear and Volokhonsky. Here's another example, which I encountered while doing background research for my novel Almost Nowhere.
----
One of my novel's major characters is a literary translator, famous for his rendition of the Persian epic poem Shahnameh ("Book of Kings").
To help me write this character, I tried to read the Shahnameh myself. I started out – where else? – with the translation that seemed to be the gold standard, and which was certainly the most critically lauded.
Namely, the 2006 translation by Dick Davis, in prose with occasional shifts into verse.
Here's how the Shahnameh begins, in Davis' translation:
What does the Persian poet say about the first man to seek the crown of world sovereignty? No one has any knowledge of those first days, unless he has heard tales passed down from father to son. This is what those tales tell: The first man to be king, and to establish the ceremonies associated with the crown and throne, was Kayumars. When he became lord of the world, he lived first in the mountains, where he established his throne, and he and his people dressed in leopard skins. It was he who first taught men about the preparation of food and clothing, which were new in the world at that time. Seated on his throne, as splendid as the sun, he reigned for thirty years. He was like a tall cypress tree topped by the full moon, and the royal farr shone from him. All the animals of the world, wild and tame alike, reverently paid homage to him, bowing down before his throne, and their obedience increased his glory and good fortune.
And here is the same opening, in the 1905 translation by Arthur and Edmond Warner (which I only discovered much later in the process of writing Almost Nowhere):
What saith the rustic bard? Who first designed To gain the crown of power among mankind? Who placed the diadem upon his brow? The record of those days hath perished now Unless one, having borne in memory Tales told by sire to son, declare to thee Who was the first to use the royal style And stood the head of all the mighty file. He who compiled the ancient legendary, And tales of paladins, saith Gaiúmart Invented crown and throne, and was a Sháh. This order, Grace, and lustre came to earth When Sol was dominant in Aries And shone so brightly that the world grew young. Its lord was Gaiúmart, who dwelt at first Upon a mountain; thence his throne and fortune Rose. He and all his troop wore leopard-skins, And under him the arts of life began, For food and dress were in their infancy. He reigned o'er all the earth for thirty years, In goodness like a sun upon the throne, And as a full moon o'er a lofty cypress So shone he from the seat of king of kings. The cattle and the divers beasts of prey Grew tame before him; men stood not erect Before his throne but bent, as though in prayer, Awed by the splendour of his high estate, And thence received their Faith.
Now, I can't speak at all about the source text. I have no idea how faithful or unfaithful these two translations are, and in what ways, in which places.
Still, though. I mean like, come on.
This is an epic poem about ancient kings and larger-than-life heroes.
This is a national epic, half myth and half history, narrating the proud folkloric lineage claimed by a real-world empire.
There is a way that such things are supposed to sound, in English. And it sure as hell isn't this:
What does the Persian poet say about the first man to seek the crown of world sovereignty?
Excuse me? That's your opening line? I thought I was reading a poem, here, not taking a fucking AP World Literature exam!
----
Postscript
Some of the critical praise for the Davis translation, quoted on the back cover of my copy (emphasis mine):
"A poet himself, Davis brings to his translation a nuanced awareness of Ferdowsi's subtle rhythms and cadences. His "Shahnameh" is rendered in an exquisite blend of poetry and prose, with none of the antiquated flourishes that so often mar translations of epic poetry." (Reza Aslan, The New York Times Book Review) "Thanks to Davis's magnificent translation, Ferdowsi and the Shahnameh live again in English.” (Michael Dirda, Washington Post) "A magnificent accomplishment . . . [Davis’s translation] is not only the fullest representation of Ferdowsi’s masterpiece in English but the best." (The New York Sun)
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update: sfp show no mercy, darby allin vs jungle boy (february 24 2019)
good news! i have exactly one minute of this match thanks to begging my girlfriend on my hands and knees and it looks.. well, exactly how i expected it to look LOL but nonetheless, it's a step closer to finding the whole thing
i'm not sure if this has been uploaded onto the internet yet but i thought i'd leave a little update because i quite literally have been laying on my floor and staring at the ceiling trying to understand how my GIRLFRIEND from NEW YORK happened to be in CALIFORNIA that week with her cousin specifically the night of this match when she was a fan of NEITHER of them. the fact that she never brought this up until earlier this week is driving me insane because she saw brody king here too ????
she also said she remembers jack getting thrown off the stage at some point which is killing me because that's a Darby Thing
anyway she has a few videos we're trying to grab off the cloud (not the full match unfortunately but maybe if we can get ahold of her cousin) and i think this one was taken by either her or her cousin, we're not sure yet because it was such a long time ago
i found her cousins twitter so i'm going to go bug him until he responds. either that or i'm sucking the match out of his brain with a straw the next time i see him
also. um. the way darby smiles when jack picks up the kendo stick has altered my brain chemistry by the way. why did he look at him like that. i'm gonna die jesus christ
#jungle boy#jack perry#scapegoat#scapegoat jack perry#skategoat#junglecorpse#aew#aew collision#aew dynamite#all elite wrestling#darby allin#i'll be 92 by the time somebody has the full match#i'l find this match before they do i swear#sfpw#hi hat bar#socal wrestling
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the amount I do not want to go back out and do more errands is so high
#charlie babbles#alas. still have to do a little laundry get more groceries (two different stores) and pick up a prescription#tomorrow is talking to mom's doctor (again) and doing more laundry and the picking up and delivery of the childrens which will take. FOREVER#friend lives 45 minutes from where she works so its 20-30 minutes to the school 45 to their home and then 20ish back here#which is a long time driving for me specifically#whine sob cry bitch moan complain
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HoO is so funny to me when you actually think about the ages of all the characters. Octavian is 18. Percy and Annabeth are 16, almost 17. Reyna is presumably 16. Frank just turned 16, Jason’s about to turn 16. Leo and Piper are like 15. Hazel’s like 14 and a half, and Nico is 13.
The Death Sibs are both the youngest and oldest on the Argo II. Octavian is a college freshman getting into petty drama with a bunch of high schoolers. He gets told to shut up at one point by a random 8th grader. Everyone is scared of the 8th grader. We Sent A 13 Year Old To Superhell and he came back weirder, Just Like Middle School. TLH was just three high school sophomores being sent to do a task and it going Exactly Like You’d Expect. Percy’s the only demigod on the ship who can legally drive (though Reyna gets her drivers license at some point before TOA). What Is Happening.
#pjo#hoo#heroes of olympus#riordanverse#my second favorite thing related to this is like every time Hazel references someone's age especially in SoN it's just. blatantly incorrect.#she goes into very specific detail about how she's 14. detailing like exactly how many months it had been since her birthday#and when she died and when she was brought back. just like ''okay. im 14 and a half. got that? good.''#''anyways here's Frank. he's 3 years older than me'' like literal next chapter. we are told Frank is not 3 years older than her.#Hazel: Here's my older brother! [Nico is younger than her in literally every way feasible]#ive just decided Hazel is an unreliable narrator who is just really bad at guessing/remembering how old people are#which like. adhd mood. forgetting how old everybody is.#and she has the bonus excuse of saying her sense of time is skewed from being a ghost for so long#but it's just so funny every time she's just. with the upmost confidence. blatantly the wrong answer.#i want a scene of Hazel looking at Percy and just going ''hm. I bet he's like 20.'' and then learns he's 16#and she's just [surprised pikachu]#also we know it isn't an error that she's 14 cause in TOA she's like ''oh yeah im learning to drive!''#so she's 15 by then#it is however an error that *Nico* is said to be 14 in hoo cause he's 12 in TLO and 14 in TOA#but we know in HoO the reason that error was made was cause Rick hadn't figured out Nico's birthday yet#and he was flipping it between January or March#so he just forgot how old Nico is for a series and then we went back to normal
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Head-canons!
Head-canons!
Head-canons!
Buckle up, I have quite a few headcanons for Hogan’s Heroes and the characters! I also have some Klogan-ship specific headcanons but I’ll focus on the characters. I’m also going to follow @frau-wilhelm-klink’s format. This gets long, sorry not sorry!
I also have specific head-canons for my fics, especially my long ones since there’s a lot happening and it’s too easy to derail and I need something to keep me on track! 😅 I could easily make separate posts for Walk Through Fire and Peace in the Moonlight (including its Prequel, which is now titled Terror in the Shadows)
General:
Either Klink/Burkhalter is Nimrod - it fluctuates depending on the Plot of a fic I’m writing. But I can see arguments of either or. (Why Burkhalter keeps Klink in his post, why he lets Hogan stick around in Klink’s office when he comes around. Why Klink tolerates Hogan’s antics, why he’s so high strung).
The Germans spoke German a lot more (obviously the show was in English for an English-speaking audience). However, Klink and Schultz would often speak English for Hogan and his men’s sake. Hogan and the gang all understand German in varying degrees but are fairly fluent in it.
The POWs definitely formed a found-family situation at Stalag 13. They all need each other and even though a horrible thing brought them together, they wouldn’t have it any other way. Klink and Schultz somehow became part of the found family too. (They are like that uncle that you’re not quite sure about, but turn out to be pretty cool and let you drink beer behind your parents’ backs).
The Germans (the Main 4):
Klink (trying to stay human in an inhumane business):
Is not the complete dummkopf that everyone makes him out to be. If he’s Nimrod, he’s just anxious about anyone else finding out. Burkhalter and Hochstetter also drive him crazy and he just wants to get through the war without freezing to death on the Russian Front.
When passionate/angry, Klink doesn’t remember the English language. Any yelling that happens is most definitely in German. Also, he can get incredibly angry/intimidating when he absolutely needs to.
Feels protective over his prisoners. He has a sense of duty and frankly, doesn’t care for the Nazi’s ideology. He’s grown fond of Hogan (especially; whether platonically or romantically) and his men and wants to makes sure they live through the war.
Schultz (Gentle Giant Teddy Bear):
Got caught up in the Draft, is definitely not a Nazi, nor does he believe in the Regime. Holds a grudge for having his toy factory repossessed for the war effort. Also can’t stand all the violence/fighting that comes with the War and just wants it over.
He knows about Hogan’s men and their operation but since he opposes the Nazi Regime, he implements his ‘I know nothing, I see nothing!’ Policy and plays the fool, but often helps out in any way he can.
He and Klink are actually good friends, bonding over their hatred for the war and what has become of Germany. Klink acts tough towards Schultz but deep down, has a soft spot for him, keeping him in his post.
Burkhalter (Has no time for nonsense and will sass you):
Is 110% done with everyone and their bullshit, especially Hochstetter. He has his own agenda (whether as Nimrod or as a General), and is tired of everyone else getting in his way. He doesn’t necessarily care about people or things; that would get in the way of his Strategy.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t completely hate Klink. He’s also feeling pressure from his superiors and since Stalag 13 is a Model Prison Camp with Zero Escapes, there’s a spot-light on it and Klink. He genuinely wonders how Klink does it.
He is also… fascinated by Hogan (in a ideology/military strategy way). All he knows of America is what the Regime has told him, which is all propaganda bullshit, so he’s genuinely intrigued by Hogan and his homeland.
Hochstetter (my angry smol bean man; I’m deep into this man rn for my WIP):
Definitely has an unhealthy obsession with Hogan (to the point that it is homoerotic in a way/may be due to internalized homophobia) and is desperate to prove that he is the Underground agent Papa Bear to his superiors, who may be getting to the point of dismissing the theory since there’s no evidence.
Like Klink and Burkhalter, he is feeling the pressure from his superiors to prove that Hogan is Papa Bear, and that is why he is wound tighter than a ball of yarn. He usually is a great detective, but is letting his skills/other cases slide with his Hogan Obsession™️
Is insanely jealous of Klink for having Hogan in his custody. A man as dangerous as he claims Hogan to be should be handed over to Gestapo for questioning. Why does KLINK, of all people, get to have Papa Bear?! He also questions if there’s something going on between Klink and Hogan, but like his case for Papa Bear, he has no proof.
The POWs:
Hogan (military mastermind with a mouth that won’t shut up):
Would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat if it meant his men (and Klink and Schultz) would be safe, a bit of a martyr. He sees himself as a father/big brother figure to his men and loves them as if there his own family. He also gets fed up with them, like they’re his own family.
Can sometimes let his emotions get the better of him, and explains why he sometimes seems to be flying off the handle. Seriously, without Kinch to hold him back, Hogan is bit unhinged.
Has gotten roughed up by the Germans (the SS/Gestapo) at least once, and holds a personal grudge against the Nazi Regime. He has his own mental blocks, but his motives are to make sure no one goes through what he did.
(Bonus): Has a certain level of respect for Klink and genuinely thinks they could be friends or more after the war. He loves his men, but enjoys the company of another officer from time to time.
Kinch (Holder of the Brain Cell):
Is the gang’s rationalized thinking. He questions the sanity of himself and those around him on a daily basis, and wonders what he did to be surrounded by these maniacs (that he loves).
With his race, he, along with Hogan, knows how horrible people like the Nazis can be. He would like to go unhinged like many (especially Hogan, Newkirk and Carter), but he takes the high road, to not feed into horrific stereotypes.
Often had to prove himself to others, but not with Hogan. Hogan knew Kinch was brilliant with technology and doesn’t see race, and Kinch appreciates being treated like anyone else.
Newkirk (Lovable Bastard):
He’s been at Stalag 13 the longest, which makes sense given that England/France/Canada joined the war years before the United States. Next of the core gang for longest time at Stalag 13 is Hogan, so the two have a bond over that.
Has a (petty) criminal past, which explains the lock-picking/pick pocking skills. Forced to join the military as an alternative to jail time and he was told he could kill as many Nazis as he’d like. He gladly accepted since… yeah, Nazis suck.
Bonded well with Carter since they both have a love for mayhem and destruction. He only picks on Carter because he is teasing, but knows to stop when he really strikes a chord. Carter brings out a sensitive side to Newkirk that he wouldn’t admit to the others.
Carter (Pyromaniac with a Heart of Gold):
Is neurodivergent (whether it’s on the autism spectrum, ADHD, or a little bit of both), and is happy to be be included, and accepted in the gang, even if he doesn’t understand all the social conventions. He seems a bit dim/naive, but in fact, is one of the smartest people of the bunch.
Has special interests with chemistry and explosions, which is why he can ramble on and on about them. He gets dejected when the rest of the gang dismisses him, but often, Newkirk or Hogan come to him later and let him ramble and show an interest.
Has a close bond with both Hogan and Newkirk, he sees Hogan as an older brother and often forgets they are in the military together. Explains why he often calls him boy vs. Sir because he just… feels like family.
LeBeau (Resident Short King):
Like Hogan, has a personal grudge with the Nazis since they did occupy France after all. He might have also had a run in with the SS/Gestapo, which Hogan knows about. It took him a long time to come around to Klink not being a bad guy; he was instant friends with Schultz after the first batch of strudel.
His one pet peeve with the rest of the guys is that none of them really bothered to learn French. So whenever he’s mad, he just starts muttering in French under his breath and shaking his head. Oddly enough, he found out Klink speaks fluent French and the two of them would often talk in French, much to Hogan’s frustrations (of not understanding what the hell they are talking about).
Has aspirations to be a chef, and maybe was one before the war/occupation. He takes a great joy in cooking which is why he doesn’t mind cooking if Hogan/Klink ask him too. He would rather not cook for Nazi-scum, but he knows that Hogan (and to a lesser extent, Klink) have ulterior motives.
What are your top 3 headcanons for Hogan's Heroes in general?
What are your top 3 headcanons for each character?
#hogan’s heroes#headcanons#colonel klink#sergeant schultz#general burkhalter#major hochstetter#colonel hogan#sergeant kinchloe#corporal newkirk#sergeant carter#corporal lebeau
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no one would notice if i ever vanished // if bodies could sustain // this never-ending army // like blood pumping through a vein
(click for better resolution!)
:OOO hello. anyway since these are all posters i'd have in an ideal world or smth and i'd like to store the high res versions somewhere,,, here's the google drive folder for them? hehe ''
close up!
#adamandi#vincent aurelius lin#i'm back with the posters! or smth! idk!!#i'm maybe just a bit obsessed with vincent. such a Character.#where can i run is sustaining me single-handedly through this exam season (<- has cried thrice in the last two days; alas; but moving on)#my stress response was that in a fit of apathy i shut myself down from academia and stopped to paint this#six hours total? on this funky little thing! had to push myself to finish the magnifying glass but!! looks so cool. i'm impressed with my e#fun fact: all the shades are hand-coloured. aka everything is digitally hand painted hooray!! i havent painted for a long time (ish)#smth about this musical makes me want to paint. it's very lovely that way#it's also a miracle i haven't gotten carpal tunnel or any wrist injuries so far... i'm a lucky person! hooray#i had so many thoughts to ramble about and now i don't recall any of them.#-! about this piece: inspired specifically by that one line that i doodled in the margins of a math practice last night#the diagonal slant was very. thinky. the rendering and angle were kinda contradictory to do but it's fineeee (draft was diff. pov)#i liked the red abstraction. and the way that people (misc) gave same vibes as red blood cells.#green for vincent because contrasting colour!! considered a spotlight that was more obv bc. again theatre lighting is so cool. but that was#a bit too literal? i think. so just fun little highlights. no one look at the accuracy of anything here though.. shadows do Not do this#also like hehehe lin. forest. forest of people. i really liked thinking about that. hehehe#i didn't know the font to use!! or quote!! so i slapped on the name of the musical and called it a day... the blank one is in the google-#-folder if you want to add your own stuff :') also also i wasn't sure about cropping at all. so again high res in google drive link#which is under the keep-reading sign! kind of a choose your own adventure because i'm lazy :3#ajhshdhfhfhfhf i think i've been fuelled by the tags under each post so far. so intensely. so very nice.#also when the cast or creators drop fun facts... serotonin right there.. they're all so nice waaagh it's so cool that they like my stuff ><#<laughs> really grateful that the whole fandom's so sweet <3 thank you for your support TvT#alright!! off to mess about with chemistry. jiayou me.#oh yes. a post script about the cropping crisis: i wasn't sure how small i wanted to make him. in proportion to the crowd. so if you see it#on mobile ig it's tiny and on laptop it kind of makes sense ...
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Junicrane/Starstruck Ramble
I will not be brief, all under the cut
To clear some things right off the bat:
No corpse, no proof with Juniper. Obligatory this is set in a canon where he's alive and adjacent to the agency in some way.
Reggie & Juniper are just gay to me, but I don't mind any interpretation of their sexuality
The games are set in 1967/68 to me (based on a couple bits in game) which is before it was legal to be gay in America at least (1971), which is relevant to how I interpret canon as being somewhat grounded in reality, despite unrealistic elements.
This is just an insane amount of headcanons/elements of and AU all culminated into one post. I will talk about some headcanons like they're just facts because they are established in my head, and it saves me over explaining literally everything, however I will explain some parts a little bit for clarity.
Alright. Actual beginning of the ramble:
Juniper is a character to me who had gotten so lost in his job as an actor and a social presence that in the end his whole life revolved around that 'role'. Because of this, by the time he's put into the situation where he's around the Agency, he basically knows nothing about himself, though he doesn't realise at first. Furthermore, what little identity he had has changed in so many ways. He's no longer a beloved famous actor in the prominence of public light, he's legally dead and he tarnished his career just before he was supposed to die, with the bonus of that making him lose the majority of his estate. From that, he also has horrific facial scarring from the electrical burns from literally having his face fried. I believe a friend of mine made a post about this a while ago (I also think they were the first to think it up also), but, to me, Juniper has a permanent trimmer in his right arm (aka his dominant hand) from the electrical current and it is messing with his nervous system.
All in all, he's not doing great, but he's too proud to admit that he's not doing great, because if anything, what's left of his ego is all he has as a defense since he's deep in unfamiliar water.
Before ending up around the agency (I have multiple interpretations of this, so I'm just going to bring it up generally), he'd never actually seen Reggie, and his only impression of him is a single voicemail, which was his only reference he had to later impersonate him. Juniper probably has very little feelings other than the ones he projects onto him because of Phoenix and that, at the very least, he's physically attracted to Reggie to some degree (that's like the beginning of how everything else would tumble into place in this sort of interpretation at least).
And on Crane's side? His feelings towards Juniper are probably very intense and muddled. On the one hand, he adores musical theatre, and that's his now ex-favourite actor. The thought of just casually being around him blows the bit of fanboy in him away at first because THAT'S the GUY, plus the inklings of a celebrity crush which still poke at him. And then there's the rational side of him, which knows Juniper has committed absolute atrocities on the side of Zoraxis, and hates him for that. Then there's how much Juniper comes off as an asshole at first because he refuses to cooperate with anything the Agency tried to put in place. He finds Juniper endlessly frustrating, and yet he's stuck working with him since, afterall, he's the one who knows the Agency's history with Juniper the best. I imagine him acting a lot like how he does IEYTD 1 around Juniper.
At this point, I'm just describing the pitch for a romcom.
I think the start of their relationship with one another largely started with Juniper trying to wind Crane up. It was a way of getting his attention, and I don't think Juniper knows why he's so dead set on that at first, because I don't think he realises he has a crush on 'this grump' at first. (I think that's actually the fun part about these two, because it's almost like a role reversal of the celebrity crush dynamic. This ex-big name actor has a TERRIBLE crush on an average joe and it is KILLING HIM.) But of course the Agency keeps them together because Juniper is at least conversing with Crane, so it's a start.
Through one way or another, they actually get talking casually, at least mildly at first. It takes Juniper a long time to fully deconstruct the wall he's built, and the thing is, Crane isn't the one trying to deconstruct it, at least at first, because yeah, Juniper realises if he wants Reggie to actually like him in any way, he can't keep winding him up. So they talk. Small talk at first, something rhythmic and almost easy to keep to a script. And over time that turns into actual conversations. Genuine ones in which Reggie rips out the occasional one of his jokes which Juniper is endlessly endeared about. The way he smiles just before he makes them, like he wants to chuckle at what he's about to say before he says it. That's probably when Juniper realised that he does have some vague crush on him, and that it wasn't going away.
This is what kickstarts John I can't-buy-you-things-to-impress-you-so-acts-of-service-it-is Juniper to do little things for him. It mostly starts off as him trying to make Reggie his tea how he likes it. However, the nerve damage in his arm makes that hard, as the weight of the kettle and trying to pour is hard all of a sudden. And he refuses to accept that, so he tries for a very long while. Long enough that Crane would go to investigate what was going on. And when he does see Juniper leaning over a cup with the kettle as he uneasily tries to pour it, and when Crane asks Juniper responds so matter-of-fact that his intention is nothing but genuine. And it catches Reggie off guard because Juniper hadn't done anything like that up to that point, and his very apparent vulnerability is so clearly on show.
It shifts something between them.
From that point on, conversations are longer, more familiar. Both of their attitudes soften, and Reggie makes more jokes. Juniper learns how to better use his left hand while strengthening his right back to a point where it could be used again. Slowly, they're both spending time with one another not because they have to, but just because they can. Little bits at first, not too far outside what they already were doing, but those little bits turned into long bits to a point where the other person's company was genuinely desirable.
As time passes, Juniper probably realises that he doesn't genuinely know much about himself or what hobbies he's into, because he never really had the time when he got big, and his home life in his youth wasn't bad, but it wasn't picturesque. I think Reggie would pick up on it, and absolutely try to introduce him to some things he's into. Some things stick, other things don't (corn husking very much stays Reggie's passion, and John will go with him sometimes because it's him, but it's not something he strongly cares for). Crane introduces him to a lot of music, and it's something that becomes a staple between them, with tracks they listen to more than others (tragically, I know relatively little about 60s music so I couldn't really say what). Occasionally they dance, never anything intense, think slow dancing, but the closeness is nice.
Through all of it, Juniper is battling the worst crush of his life, and he can't stand it, because I think he struggles to read people since he doesn't have anything like a script or a director to refer back to, so he has no idea if Reggie likes him back or if he's just desperate for that to be true. I think because of that any sort of confession between them would be incredibly raw, not only because of the time they live in making it hard for them to be truthful about how they love, but because it's a complete show of Juniper who's worked to be this better person. I don't exactly know how that would go, mainly because I don't have one set version of their dynamic, this post is just a generalisation of main consistent points.
Reggie does like him back, because he's gotten used to Juniper being just this guy, not a figure in the public eye, not a Zoraxis lackey, and not any sort of Agency operative (despite being under their care to some degree). He's someone he genuinely cares for, because they've given one another the time of day to learn one another, and I think because Reggie was a field agent, he was a lot better at reading Juniper than Juniper was at reading him. Eventually Juniper's company becomes something he could see around him for the rest of his life, and I think he accepts that he likes Juniper a lot more gracefully.
I think any affection directed at Juniper would at first be met with him feeling a little muddled. Reggie was a very physically affectionate person when he could be, and sure the initial flirting with one another came with the occasional little touches, but everything now was so deeply intentional. I also don't think Juniper would almost ever get over the novelty of being able to kiss him, or many other gestures, because it made the fact that they were together so very real, and it was great. I do think it comes easier to Reggie, and it's a big way of showing how much he cares, so it's important for Juniper to try and show it back because he knows how much it means to the other.
I like the idea of them eventually living with one another, too. I think Juniper would have always had a quiet little daydream of sorts where he does just live a domestic quiet life, and he can with Reggie (well, as close as they can get between the Agency and Zoraxis always being at odds), and he loves that, and he loves him, and it's immense.
I think they cook for one another a lot, it helps Juniper work on his dexterity in a controlled environment, which means a lot because it's a huge point of insecurity (that and his scars). He does improve, and Crane is proud of that and shows it and it's great. I also think they'd probably cook together too, because they can deal with being in the kitchen together and they work well with one another. It's probably a good way for them to unwind because over time they can do it in relative silence.
As I said before, I also think music is a staple in their household, and that Reggie listens to things on vinyl almost all of the time because he likes the background noise. Sometimes Juniper will catch him chuntering along to the music which he finds endlessly endearing. I wouldn't put it past his dramatic ass to also join in to fluster Reggie, but I also don't think Reggie would mind that terribly because Juniper has listened to the music enough to know the lyrics, and that's huge to him.
I don't think they are without rough patches, no relationship is, but I think the good part about them is that they're willing to talk about it (... eventually). They're used to long conversations, and while they're often less fun conversations, they're needed and they know that, and it works out.
Alright. I think I'm done for now. I haven't mentioned everything, but this definitely got the worst of it out of my system. If you ever want to hear any specific thoughts my ask box is open but other than that, behold my general dynamic for these two which has been festering in my head for years. I think they're great
#ty right-agent for explicitly telling me that this would be welcomed you a real one#i had a massive babble to my friend abt what if they all feed me to the hounds for speaking#and he said “girl that fandom is like 12 people big they need you to speak” and yeah that also helped#i have a hard time talking if I'm not asked/prompted to that's why i adding tags is great for me. that and i like the format#anyways.#THESE TWO.............dear lord can you tell I have been unwell abt them forever..#this is propeganda (/j) for them. btw. please you have to understand the potential here. it's so good.#it's slowburn <- my (probably) demiromantic ass cannot handle romance without a build up and this set up is perfect (it will never happen)#also i find it easier to write ANYTHING between these two from Juniper's perspective because i find it easier to get into his head#idk reggie is like the gay version of the: what is he thinking of? i could take a bear in a fight. audio ive heard.#whereas with juniper i have him trapped under a microscope#im going to tag this now so i can use the remaining tags to RANT#ieytd#john juniper#reginald crane#junicrane#starstruck#i expect you to die#<- being BRAVE!!!#when I get really excited i start getting like this internal shaking feeling and uh. yeah this rant started that#the worst part abt that is it also triggers my tourettes so like. double whammy. excited about blorbos? jail :(#but. yeah I uh. yeah. sorry this IS so long..I did warn but . AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAHHHHHHHHHAUUUUUUAHHHHHHHHHHHHH#also i did this rant in 2 parts. last night and this morning so yeah uh. yeah.#god im so messed up about these two#make me a boat by the family crest came on while wroting this and while it's mainly a roxanix song to me......AUUUUUG.....#i struggle to find music for these sillies because they have such a specific vibe to me amd I've not quite managed to find something which -#- genuinely feels correct for them and it drives me up the WALL#GOD NIGHT SHIFT JUST CAME OF SHUFFL.....all my ieytd songs are coming out to drive me up the wall.......#FINISHED I've been adding tags as I've gone alonga#thank you for reading hope you enoyed and if you didn't im sorry
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I See the Light (Mike’s Version)
#byler#stranger things#mike wheeler#will byers#st4 dna board#visual parallel being the shot of ryder to the right while staring longingly at rapunzel as she talks looking off into the distance#then we have the very technical artificial lighting which is what I think drives this parallel home for me#in this scene in rapaunzel they’re singing about being in the dark for a long time and NOW ‘seeing the light’#and so the choice to illuminate will with light in 87% of the shots from mike’s pov here… is quite the choice#you’ll notice mike is not lighten up at all to this extent from will’s pov#this is bc mike is not will’s light! he is his heart (duh he just gave a whole speech about it)#for mike tho. will is his light!!#and so the implications that come with this song and the lyrics you just heard from ryder’s pov specifically#the character mike is being paralleled to here#are quite staggering#bc this choice could have the potential to add even more layers to what we are seeing here#this scene started with mike looking pretty depressed and hopeless as he has been looking for most of the season#this scene then ends with mike looking mesmerized. in awe and maybe the happiest we’ve ever seen him after hearing will’s words#and so what does this all mean?#was mike in the dark but now he’s starting to see the light?#at the end when the light is shining on will in the cabin and mike ends the scene resting his hand on will’s shoulder#is that to signify that mike is now in the process of stepping into the light with him?#the duffers saying in their emmy consideration that the show will end with the characters coming out of the darkness and into the light…#was that just a coincidence?#not at all related whatsoever to the culmination of two main characters taking 5 seasons to confront their feelings for each other?#after a season that made a point of focusing on their dynamic with light…#or is it really just that simple bc tangled is written and crossed off the st4 dna board?#like this is literally just one of several scenes that connects byler to romantic pairings from movies on the st4 dna board#basically#byler endgame
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talking to a friend about getting back into art and i think the #1 most important piece of art advice i could ever get or give is just "figure out what is FUN to you"
like i think there is sooooo much emphasis on how to build SKILL in art but a lot of it really treats art like a job or like video game grinding, like it's this thankless job that you have to work at in order to reach a Threshold and i know it's not EASY to make yourself have fun but like
imo a solid 70% of the reason i create art is because the Act of Drawing is fun to me. it's fun problem-solving and planning and putting down lines and playing with colors and tools. it's fun to depict little scenes in my head or to create outfits or to find ways to fill the canvas. never forget that creating can be fun. sometimes it's hard and sometimes you have to battle through your own blockades to get there but the ultimate goal should always be to ENJOY it, to find what you enjoy doing and then do it forever. improvement will follow enjoyment.
i think especially with all the debate about ML image generation it's more important than ever to embrace FUN. if you're only focused on the end result it's so easy to get in your own head- to think about what doesn't look good or what skills you don't have yet or to compare yourself to other artists. but photography didn't kill the art of drawing and AI won't either because, simply put, there will always be people who want to do the physical act of making art because it's fun to do! using paints and markers, splashing colors around, doing shitty pen doodles, using the symmetry tool in your art program to do abstract mandalas that are just squiggles formed into patterns. do art like you're 5 and you've been handed markers to pass the time. do art like you're bored in class and you're keeping your brain entertained by drawing stick figure comics in the margins. do art like an absent thing, do art because it satisfies your brain. the goal is not to make something beautiful and perfect, the goal is to make something because your hands need to make and your body needs to make.
#i know and love so many people who have intense anxiety about their ability to create art and who are so hard on themselves about the result#and i think that's a REALLY easy thing to feel because creating is also vulnerable & physically difficult and there is SOOOO much to master#but i think for me the people who churn out 300 colored pencil front facing hands behind their backs oc doodles on lined notebook paper-#are the ones with the right idea. they're the ones i aspire to be like#i'm not saying i never struggle either bc tbh#as someone with depression and adhd there are times where the Act of Having Fun is simply not possible#sometimes i CAN'T enjoy things because my ability to feel joy is locked behind a barrier of my mental illness#so i don't think it's an Easy thing to do by far and I don't think you can just Magically Make Yourself Happy And Having Fun#but i DO think that experimenting in a low-stakes low-pressure manner until you find something that clicks in your brain helps#doing things for the sake of doing them is the only way to figure out which ones WILL be fun to you#not all of them will. some things will feel like a slog#but i think you have to look for the passion before you're able to face the slog#if you jump right into the parts that are Hard and Challenge Your Limits it's easy to spin your wheels and get stuck#but if you focus on the super small stakes and the things that are thoughtless and focused more on Sensation-#the sensory experience of mixing paint or the scratch of pencil on paper or the smooth way a specific pen makes lines-#then you can lose yourself in the physical aspect of it FIRST#and then once you've started really ENJOYING those sensations you can start learning new ways to use them#because now you have the drive to want to do more#now you have the desire to find new ways to apply this thing you like doing#long post#even longer tags#art#drawing#artists#art advice
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tiktokers be like “I am going to create the most beautiful, relaxing, aesthetically pleasing video ever, with gorgeous lighting, and deeply satisfying content”. …….. “and then I’m going to cut the video fifty thousand times in thirty seconds-”
#chatting tag#WHY. WHY. PLEASE.#I swear like every gifset I ever see that comes from tiktok is like the most gorgeous shit I’ve ever seen in my life#(specifically those videos of food that have really sunny lighting. OUGH that’s my SHIT)#but then EVERY TIME there’s like 5 cuts in every single individual gif. and it drives me crazy#don’t get me wrong they are good gifsets and it is not the gif makers fault. and obviously I know why the tiktok makers do that#bc there’s such a short time limit on the videos and they want to keep their attention and what not#but I swear to god they will make cuts that are SO FUCKING UNNECESSARY like just cutting literal milliseconds out of a satisfying shot.#which makes it no longer as satisfying. why. why do you do this to me.#listen I just have this secret rule that I never use gifs that have any cuts in them at all in my boards#unless they’re like really really nice. but even then like only two cuts max or I go crazy. I don’t like how weird and choppy it looks!!!!#so then like all of the prettiest gifs ever. I can’t use. BC THERES SO MANY GIDDAMN CUTS#like there’s so many videos I’d want to make gifs of but you can’t even get like a millisecond long gif out of it without including cuts 😭😭#ugh. anyways. that was my unnecessarily petty and extensive rant that I’ve just been holding in for a while. sorry.#also sorry but the other thing that bothers me is that stupid logo taking up half the gif.#one of my othe hyper specific secret rules is that I cannot use any gif that has a visible logo or watermark on it bc it drives me nuts#and like. not to rag on gif makers. bc gif makers are the most wondrous thing in the entire world and everything they do is great.#but I DO know a REALLLYYY easy way to download TikTok’s without the watermark it’s so simple it would take like two seconds. please. for me#just look up tiktok video downloader there’s like four good functional websites immediately. it’s so easy#let’s all start doing this pls we could make the most perfect gifsets ever without that ugly ass logo#(again not mad at gifmakers. I love u gifmakers. muah.)
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obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog
Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️
Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D
#guys help is it time for a rebranding?? am I just gonna post about f1 now??#I still can’t believe this has all started because bestie and I were watching Ted Lasso (because I’ve been obsessed with that show for a#while now too) and I paused the episode to talk about how I really like the way Jamie interacts with kids (I’m sorry people being good with#and nice to kids is one of my weaknesses I work with kids now and have been invested in treating kids well forever)#so me saying that apparently reminded her of max and she showed me a video of him with p and yeah it was very effective in making me like#him and then we left the episode on pause and she told me a lot about f1 and max specifically cause I was interested now lmao (funny thing#is that she also got roped into it by our other friends I swear it’s speeding lmao#she also compared him to Jamie from Ted lasso (if you know you know) and showed me some heart wrenching Taylor swift edits (i haven’t#emotionally recovered yet) and yeah that’s how I started consuming way too much f1 content on YouTube and got into this whole mess lmao#oh yeah our friends also made me and another friend make a Tier list for all the drivers based on vibes alone (cause I only knew a bit about#max at that time and the other one knew nothing really) which was very funny too#especially looking back at it (we did some of them so dirty lmao 😂)#I’ve also come to the conclusion that tumblr is still one of the least annoying platforms to engage with other people (still)#YouTube is full of hate comments about drivers and stuff it’s so annoying actually#not to mention Twitter but I don’t go there and probably never will 😂#I personally don’t enjoy fics and scenarios and shipping of real people cause it makes me a bit uncomfy (not judging people who do#you do you as long as it doesn’t negatively affect anyone#but yeah I’d much rather just scroll by those here than have to look away from all the mindless hate and which driver is better discussions#everywhere else like I’m not one to engage with stuff like that but it does upset me to some#degree so yeah tumblr making memes and being rather positive about their drivers (most of what I’ve seen here of course there are gonna be#annoying people everywhere) is much more tolerable and a lot more enjoyable for me#whoops this post got away from me again oh dear#I’ve had the idea for a meme stuck in my head for days now: Max verstappen but make it if you don’t love me at my *swearing on team radio#giving spicy replies and attitude to the media maxplaining and complaining going for risky overtakes* you don’t deserve me at my *precious#interactions with p talking about his cats being a goofball with other drivers and especially danny defending other drivers driving#beautifully in the rain* it’s a package deal you can’t just pick and choose and personally I don’t even get why people complain about some#of the other stuff I appreciate someone who’s passionate and honest and genuinely kind where it matters 🤷🏻♀️#I think I’ve seen someone else say that but the more people complain about and criticize max the more I feel the need to defend him#god forbid women have hobbies for real (can’t believe I’ve yapped so much I can’t put more tags 💀)#also shoutout to Oscar Piastri and Danny Ric (I was so happy Oscar won even tho McLaren where being very silly in a not so funny way)
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sooo i gave FG his birthday present 😭🫣🥹
#sorry it’s been a minute since the latest update i haven’t really hung out with FG™️ for a looong time bc of exams but fortunately his bday#is the end of april soo i was able to do a lil celebration with him. sooo backtrack in february when he made me a LITERAL WEBSITE#i was thinking of what to get him so i prayed and the Holy Spirit said a playlist with a journal with all these Bible verses connected to th#songs which was fun to make but just took a lot#of work soo i was vvv busy doing that and classes soooo when i finally finished i surprised him outside his work place and then i asked if#he wanted to go anywhere specific to give him his present and he said no soo i suggested this cafe a lil outside our city soo we were#driving for 30 minutes and in my head i was like ok this is the perfect time to hold hands for a reeeeaalllllyy long time so i was just like#‘i want to hold your hand 🫣’ and he just handed his hand over and he was like ‘it’s that simple 😊 and i was holding his hand with both hands#bc i missed him sososo much so we got to the cafe ordered and i gave him his present and he was tearing up covering his mouth it was so swee#i couldn’t and he kept saying ty and this is exactly what he needed and i was like 😭🥹🥺🥺🥰🥰🥰 and he was sooo grateful and when we got in the#car he couldn’t stop looking at me and we held hands the whole time again 🥰😭🫣🫣🫣🫣#and then when he dropped me home we hugged for a reaalllyyyyy long time and he was just saying ty all over he’s such a darling sweetheart 😭🥰#so ya that’s the latest update i’m going to see him later today and hang out with him and another friend 😁🤗 i really want to hold his hand#again 🫣🥰🥺#vk overshares in the tags#friendly giant ™️#FG ™️
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It continues to give me the warm fuzzies that basically every person at work has said they'll miss me. And it's not really utility, even if I'm useful; I am not in a critical position. There are many people who can do the things I do, even if the majority are less experienced. I'm not management, or a lynchpin, just a long-time worker bee.
But people like me, and I just handled a Crisis Situation well enough that the AD took the time to personally thank me, and my manager was like 'not only am I willing to be a reference you can use my personal phone number if that's easier' and even some of the newest additions said they're going to miss me on desk, and I just.
I love my job and my coworkers and it's really nice that the people there know it and love me back.
#I told mom about Crisis Situation#and tonight when dad got home she was like COME IN AND TELL YOUR DAD#and then both of them were like WHEN COMPANY COMES NEXT WEEK TELL THEM TOO#haha#I mean dad did follow it up with 'no you may not drive across the country alone we will figure something out'#I'm gonna work on him about it we tried the thing where all of us are in one vehicle#Tuesday screamed the whole time and mom wanted to kill her and also me#I shall remind him of that#I think he will probably come around#if I could convince someone to come with I would probably make it an actual road trip#'come to TX for the eclipse!'#'we will drive through the deep south and hit some Neat Shit and then go up the coast!'#like you could make that a fun drive#I'm not gonna do the long version if I'm solo tho bc my parents are convinced I will be murdered#which is silly; I have not infrequently been in Situations and strangers have been kind#also the odds of getting strangermurdered for no damn reason are SO low#and the incentives to murder Me Specifically are also very low#and if a white cishet-passing woman dies 90% of the time it's a romantic partner and I'm aroace so like#I really wonder what they're imagining is gonna happen#babble tea (blacklist this for less chatter)#tea writes tag novels
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planning classes has me going "hehehe *kicking my feet*" but i know as soon as i actually have to attend those classes my brain is going to be like "😐😐😐"
#damien.txt#having a revival of a very specific academic fascination bc my brain decided that rereading if we were villains is a good idea#which is like. one of the main driving forces behind my interest in history & english#and now im like................. hehe shakespeare#to be fair. the plan was always to take shakespeare next semester. the plan has been to take the shakespeare class since i started undergra#because quite literally i have been interested in shakespeare since i was 11 so. this is a long term interest#but now my brain is like hehe...... what if....... shakespeare ma#BITCH. where did this come from. hello????#first of all. do you know how many shakespeare ma programs exist in the world? like 4.#second. brain what. where is this coming from#and now it's trying to convince me of stupid things like 'you should try and learn latin again'#in what WORLD have i ever enjoyed learning latin (<- i have literally studied latin 3 seperate times in my life)#the answer is never. i have never enjoyed it. and i have hardly retained any of it#but ohhhhh boy the urge.... The Urges....#this specific mood always comes up whenever i get back into dark academia stuff again bc i am predictable and not unique#and i always get back into dark academia when it starts to get cold outside bc it's like something awakens within me#that goes 'oh right. we like academia. also the aesthetic hits' and i go FUCK. YOU'RE RIGHT.#but also here i am. writing this tumblr text post instead of doing my actual academics. so. it's all fake anyways#oh! but im very hype abt this shakespeare class actually#bc i think we might have a performance project.... which probably im going to dread when i actually have to do it#but <3<3<3<3<3 i love performing shakespeare so much. it's so much fun to me.#said like a true theater kid fr but. truly and honestly i miss doing that the most from theatre. and i didn't even really get to do it much#mostly just when i got to pick monologues out to do in class in between performances and stuff like that#so. i am a little bit hype. to do that. hopefully it is actually fun and not a complete drag#okay okay im done ranting
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