#<- in case it’s needed—it’s rough; I understand filtering things can sometimes help

[worms-i-think]

just gonna ramble for a bit, if that’s okay. will be discussing pet loss and some grief processing so feel free to keep scrolling.

Sorry for the wall of text

it’s been a little over two weeks since you left us all behind with a gaping blank hole in our living room where you used to make your place. i miss you, and I can’t stand to go back home and look at that corner without seeing flecks of the soft bedding we got for you once your arthritis made the old type too uncomfortable, or the pen you always used to find ways to break out of when you were little. the metal made a super loud crash any time someone tripped over it, but I wish I could trip over it again million times again if it meant you were there waiting next to me. do you remember when I first saw you? the rest of the bunnies were playing around in the center of their enclosure, but you were too shy and cuddled next to the biggest one resting over by the side. I remember driving home in the car while my mom decided what to name you. I was four years old. Do you remember when my sister came? It’s strange to believe that as big as she’s gotten, you were here even before she was. She still feels bad for trying to pick you up by the leg when she was a toddler. I brought you to kindergarten with me—it was the best show and tell I could’ve hoped for, even when the cage we brought you in broke. But you didn’t leave, you just waited there until we brought you back home. And at that time you were small enough to stick your head out of the top of that log like a little ferret. You would break out of the pen all the time, ripping open the two Velcro straps that kept the pen closed so that you could wander around the couch and surprise us when we watched TV. Then, when we fixed the Velcro because we thought it might be a safety hazard when we weren’t around, you’d push your igloo around and use it as a step stool to climb onto the top of the cage, and then jump down to explore. My mom says that one time when we were at school, you ventured all the way into the kitchen to see her when she was on the phone. The stairs were always too big for you to climb, but we carried you up to hang out in our rooms anyway. I watched YouTube videos with you when you weren’t well enough to walk anymore. I wish that that last day I held you I could’ve held on for longer.

You were fourteen and a half; I barely have a memory from before the time you were in my life. I’m not sure how much rabbits think, but I know from the way you welcomed out care, from how you did your happy bunny dance around the ottoman, from how you were the rock of my brother’s life in his worst of times, that you demonstrated love in the best way you could. I like to think that you were a schemer; we’d been calling you a grumpy old man for years before now because you’ve exceeded all expectations with how long you were around. Every vet you went to see said you were the oldest bunny they’d seen, and you were doing so well despite your illness. I miss your silly hairstyle and your mustache and the few small spots that line down your butt. I miss you sitting on my stomach when I lay on the floor. I miss the way I filled your water bottle on school nights, even when I complained about how it was a chore, and I want to go back and find the little turtle charm that marked the water level. I should’ve fed you more treats, but I’m glad my sister gave you a whole banana like I suggested on your last morning. I hope you got your fill. I know you don’t miss me giving you eye drops and liquid medications, because I know you didn’t like it, but I miss it, sitting across from you before I went upstairs to bed. I liked to lower the lights when I turned them off so you weren’t suddenly in darkness, and my brother sang you songs in the mornings and evenings. Mom always made sure you ‘gave’ us special treats for holidays and birthdays. She cried over the phone the last time I called. Even though to my dad you started as a substitute for a cat (he is allergic) or a dog (he has a phobia), he loved you for being you and always made sure you had the best. We have been restless without you. Rabbits are wonderful but silent creatures (except for when you sneezed) and I think for that reason they are often overlooked in the realm of domestic pets because not many people take the time to view their personality. You were bursting with it. I want it back. I hope that in the time between your passing and mine you wait for me but enjoy yourself in wait; I hope you meet the old friend you loved and make new ones; I hope I stop being so afraid of my memory because the more times someone remembers things, the more the mind changes them. And I don’t want to change anything I remember about you, but I don’t want to forget either. I love you a million times over, and I will miss you forever, buddy

[featherwurm]

Your OC's Personality (Tav/Durge edition)

Thank you @joasakura you KNOW I love being tagged for a character questionnaire!

Zatavia “Tav” Felix

How would you describe Tav's personality?

Tav is an earnest, honest soul, and at this point her her life – all the way through a monk. She’s trained hard to have a body that meets her needs for freedom and travel, as well as to settle her own emotional core. She can be a bit brusk, and come across aloof, but she’s often just in her own head, and easily opens if plied with forthright conversation. She is hardworking for her monastery, traveling far and seeking out whatever knowledge, item, or information run they’ve sent her on, and constantly used to roughing it.

Some might find her a little strange – her deep voice with a sometimes flattened affect, her many ways of playing with her hands and her tail giving way to deep stillness, her unwavering commitment to fairness paired with an intense competitive streak can seem a bit contrary. She is simply a whole person, and very much is old and strong enough to simply be herself.

What brings Tav joy?

Tav is very much a creature of small, physical joys – she likes good food, good drink (in moderation in her case), sex, affection, travel, freedom, and peace. It takes very little for her to feel happy and content, a life on the road, new sunrises and sunsets, enough to eat, enough to drink, and she is living her best life. She also very much enjoys being physical in whatever ways – through practice, meditation, swimming, running, sparring, parkour, dancing, or outright kicking heads in. Let her run around, fight, play, enjoy the weather, eat, drink, and fuck and she’s happy as can be.

She also has quite a sweet tooth, loves the company of friendly animals, and has an insatiable curiosity she loves to fill (she’s nosy – both about the world around her and the people she knows.) She also loves books and will read anything that sits still long enough. She enjoys singing and playing the lyre from time to time as well.

What does Tav strongly dislike?

Tav can be very short tempered – that self-confidence manifests as a short fuse that is easily lit when her trust is betrayed or someone is acting out of greed, willful ignorance, or malice. She knows her own strengths (and has little filter) and is quick to stand up (usually with her fists) in situations she sees as unfair or cruel. To Tav – these are things like exploitation, suffering, denial of aid, and similar problems. Of course these are big things a singular person cannot always tackle alone, but she works to do better where she sees it, and will do so violently if needs be.

On the smaller side – she dislikes very wet spongy food, high-pitched shrill noises, too many people asking her something at once. She also has real problems with authority of any kind (she’s built to question it). She also has a hard time spelling (though reads well).

Is Tav scared of anything?

Tav is not fearful or fretful by nature (sometimes to a fault – eager to leap into dangerous situations) and by training she is even less so, having an internal acceptance of death as part of the cycle of life. She has no notions of walking a high path and escaping the cycle, but she understands and accepts it as best she can.

She can be afraid of loosing herself – the thought of becoming an illithid was utterly repugnant to her, as it would kill her and leave a shell of her personality in the world, fit to be puppeted by terrible masters. She also won’t deny now that Karlach’s decline in health towards the end of their journey prior to returning to Avernus made her fearful and worried (although she kept it mostly to herself) – Tav was ready to go with her to the hells as soon as it was presented as a possibility but tried to leave it to Karlach’s own decision. In the end Tav couldn’t help but beg her to please go with her, perhaps her biggest action done in fear in years (she is infinitely grateful Karlach relented and they sorted things).

What is Tav alignment?

She’s very much chaotic good – she will do what she can best figure to be ‘right’ in a given situation, even at cost and questionable legality. She’s not afraid to be mean or weird about it, but at the end of the day she’s a caring person who wants to walk a compassionate path (even if she still very much has teeth about it).

She, unfortunately, because of all of the above, is also occasionally chaotic stupid (high WIS low INT babeeee).

---

Tagging in return @holy-muffins @blackjackkent @sharp-fawngz if you'd like!

[proxythe]

Hi! I love your art style! What art program do you use and what sort of brushes are your favorites? Would you ever consider posting a coloring tutorial bc i think one of my favorite aspects of your art is how you put colors together! I hope you have a good day !

haiii thank u!! i use procreate !!

i’m really bad at explaining things, especially my process since i’m not a professional artist or anything and i just draw on autopilot 😭 but under the cut i tried to put some stuff together that i hope will make sense to u !!

ill put stuff in the alt text in case my handwriting is hard to read ‘^_^

first of all, these are the main brushes i use:

i’m sorry but unfortunately i can’t remember where i got any of them, so hopefully if you google it u can find ones that are similar if not exact. & btw all brushes i use are free downloads so there shouldn’t be any problems if u find & want the same ones i use

i like to look for brushes for my lines that remind me of pencils & honestly i’m still looking for a perfect free lineart brush bc my current one is unsatisfactory for me sometimes in my vision for a drawing.

now for coloring i put some visual “guides” together but, like i said i’m rly shit at explaining my process so i really hope this makes sense for u:

this is normally how i color skin:

& this is how i color hair:

if ur confused about any of it i can truly try my best to explain but i am Truly genuinely sorry if this shit makes no sense 😭

LASTLY, this is the finishing touches i put on my drawings:

i’ll try to explain further here if this is too little info.

so to begin my final touches on my art, i flatten the entire drawing into one single layer, then i duplicate that layer.

on the duplicate layer i apply this:

and i look for a gradient map thing i think looks best with my coloring. occasionally (and for this drawing specifically) i look for a layer setting that looks good with the gradient map. most of the time for me they’re kinda wack but for this one i enjoyed it and applied it

after the gradient AND layer setting are applied, the drawing looks like this:

and finally:

after the coloring & filters is all done with, i flatten the entire drawing into one layer and apply noise to it. like barely any tho, 1 % or 2 % is good for me, and then the drawing is done.

i hope this helped 😭😭 like i said i’m not a professional artist. i don’t study colors or color theory. my initial lineart is my lineart for the whole drawing, i don’t do a rough sketch. i honestly don’t really know shit about drawing i just do it LOL that’s why i needed to show u visuals bc i don’t know the actual names for any of this stuff. i hope u understand & enjoy

[minniepetals]

Yeahhh same. My parents don't speak English all that well so I usually translate for everything (any phone/internet, home/car insurance, mortgage, banking/credit card stuff all go through me) but my mom is very entitled. And likes to gaslight when I can't/won't help. (She'll ask me to do something she deems really important at that very second whilst I'm doing something else and then gaslights me for "not wanting to help/ using the classic " if I was in school/ had time to learn English, you wouldn't have a roof over your head and clothes on your back" but she'd ask me to figure out like doctor diagnosis' when our doctor speaks the same language... Or she'll ask me ask my sister or whoever about something when she can ask herself??? ) She has a horrible case of filtered hearing as well as being a busybody so she'd cut into my conversation with someone and ask me to tell her or explain what's going on even though it has Nothing to do with her; and then she gets upset when she doesn't understand or isn't included it's so dumb... But I do digress; I have a stupid amount of stories about her xD

that sounds so annoying, i'm sorry for that. she should appreciate your help more because it sounds like without you, there's nothing that can get done. luckily my mom understands my situation more so she's more accommodating but obviously there will be times when she needs things to get done. i'm just annoyed no one else seems to want to help her or sympathize with her situation. unfortunately for us, we're a small ethnic asian community so any professional translator is very limited and hard to find -- which makes it harder for me to translate cuz i don't even know my language that well and can't even learn it properly because there's only so little of us -- which is why my step father should be stepping up cuz he can translate better than i can, which is why it's even more annoying.

but i'd like to cease this convo cuz complaining on this platform is not my go-to lmao. wanna keep things positive around here and keep the good vibes.

i hope things get better for you though because that sounds really rough. parents can sometimes feel so entitled over their children and not realize that they also need their children's help and that without them, life would be more difficult than they are now, but they just feel the need to belittle their efforts and not recognize what they do for them.

[sequinsmile-x]

Day-to-Day

Emily is the glue that holds the family together, aka five times the Hotchner family needed Emily.

A story in the “5 times + 1″ format.  

Part of the Whatever Tomorrow Brings universe.

Chapter 1 - Amelia. 

Read on AO3 via this link, or below the cut

March 2010

Aaron wakes to his bed being empty. He rubs his eyes, trying to remove the last remnants of sleep, and he turns to check the alarm clock, groaning when he sees it’s 3am. He touches the other side of the bed and feels that the sheets are cold, indicating that his wife had been gone for some time. Amelia had been off the evening before, their usually happy baby grouchy and sleepy. Which was always the first sign that she was coming down with something. Theo had been ill the week before, a bug he’d picked up from school, and Aaron had naively hoped they’d managed to avoid it being passed on to the youngest Hotchner.

He sits on the side of the bed and spots light filtering out from under the ensuite door. He walks over, opening the door to find his wife laying back in the bath, Amelia dozing on her chest. Emily looks tired, a small smile on her face when she spots him. “Hey.” She rasps out, staying quiet so she doesn't wake their daughter.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Aaron walks in and kneels on the floor next to the bath. “Everything ok?”

“She woke up about an hour ago, she had a fever. I thought a lukewarm bath might bring it down, but she started to cry every time I tried to put her in here herself.” Emily says gently, placing a hand on Amelia’s forehead. “It’s come down a bit.”

“You should have woken me up.” He says, placing a hand on their daughter's back. “I’d have helped.”

“It’s ok, honey.” She says placing her hand over his. “You need your sleep, work has been rough on you lately.”

“Right.” He says, with a raised eyebrow. “Because your job is a piece of cake.” Aaron links their fingers and runs a thumb over her knuckles. “You don’t have to do it all on your own anymore, Em. I’m here now. We’re all here.”

She purses her lips together and nods at him. It was still her instinct sometimes to try and do it all by herself, especially anything to do with the kids. Memories of those months spent alone waiting for Foyet to be stopped were sharp, and sometimes it still took her breath away. How close they had come to losing everything.

“Can you take her?” She asks softly. “She should be fine for now.”

“Of course.” He lifts the toddler off of his wife's chest and wraps her in a towel. Amelia wakes almost immediately, grumbling at being removed from her mother. “Let’s go get you dressed sweetie.”

He takes Amelia to the nursery and puts a fresh diaper on her, and a thin sleepsuit. He frowns at the warmth still on her skin, and soothes her when she starts to cry again. “I know what you want, you want Mommy.” He lifts Amelia into his arms and kisses her forehead. “I don’t blame you, I always want her when I feel sick too.”

Emily is already in bed dressed in one of his shirts when he walks back into their bedroom. Amelia immediately reaches out for Emily, the little girl's face already scrunched up as she cries. He passes Amelia over, lets his wife take him into her arms. “Mama.”

“You’re ok, sweet girl.” Emily says, running a hand over the back of her daughter’s head. She kisses her forehead and frowns. “It’s gone down, but she’s still warm.”

“We’ll call the doctor if she’s still got a temperature in the morning.” He says. Emily nods, settling Amelia so she is resting against her chest. The little girl's favorite place to sleep when she was sick or sad. “Sweetheart, you aren’t going to get any sleep if she’s in here.”

“I know.” She replies, soothing the small coughs coming out of Amelia by rubbing her back. “I’ll get someone to drop some case files and paperwork here tomorrow, work from here until she’s better.”

“And if you get a case?”

She glares at him. “Then I’m sure the team can handle it without me. It’s not like they haven’t before.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I’m not leaving her if she’s sick, Aaron.” She says, her voice firm. “She only settles for me if she’s sick and I’m not putting either of you through that.”

He knew his wife somehow felt responsible for his delicate relationship with his daughter. Things were better now, so much better, but he couldn’t say it didn’t hurt when Ameila, or any of their kids, immediately reached for Emily when something was wrong. The six months they had spent alone together had formed a bond he loved, but that he was also, in his worst moments, jealous of.

He wants to argue, wants to say that eventually something would happen with one of the kids when she wasn’t there, but he knows this isn’t the time. That it can wait until it isn’t almost 4am and she has their feverish daughter pressed against her.

“It’s a good thing your boss is so understanding.”

Emily smiles at him. “Well, I do repay his understanding with blow jobs so I think it’s earned.” _________________

May 2024

Ameila was Emily through and through. It was something Aaron, and just about everyone they knew, said frequently. She looked like Emily. She had her nose, her dark eyes and hair, and the same smile that had always been able to convince Aaron to do just about anything. Amelia had inherited her fathers jawline and his seriousness, her frown, a pure ‘Hotch’ look that Penelope had often joked would serve her well in whatever she decided to do in the future.

She also had Emily’s attitude. A need to know everything, to push all the boundaries around her, that often drove Aaron to the edge of his sanity in a way neither of his sons ever had. Elizabeth often commented on how similar Amelia and Emily were, and he never missed the way she smirked at him when she said it.

Emily was fiercely protective of Amelia. Aaron knew it was because their daughter was the only one of their kids who didn’t remember the incident with Foyet. She was so small when it happened, only a few months old when her family was torn apart by the actions of a psychopath, and they were grateful for it. Jack and Theo still bore the scars of what happened, years of therapy had done them wonders, but it still surfaced at times, almost unexpectedly. Leading to Theo calling in the middle of the night, the now 21 year old plagued by nightmares that his mother was dead, only calmed down by the sound of her tired voice over the phone.

The first time Amelia really pushes the boundaries with her parents is when she comes home one day with her nose pierced. The ring in her nose was massive, big enough to allow for the swelling that would follow, drawing her parents attention to it immediately.

“What the hell is that in your nose?” Aaron asks, annoyance clear in his tone.

“It’s a nose ring, Dad.” Amelia answers, her eyes rolling as she hangs her keys up. “I got it done after school.”

“And who said you could do that?”

“It’s my nose. I didn’t realise I needed permission.”

“Ok.” Emily interrupts, placing a hand on her husband's arm to try and diffuse the situation. “I think what your dad is trying to say is that you should run this stuff past us, ok?”

Amelia scoffs. “Well it’s your nose I inherited, surely you understand why I wanted to do something to it.” She walks past her parents and goes up the stairs before the conversation can go any further. “I have homework.”

_________________

Aaron walks into their en-suite later that night to find Emily standing in front of the mirror scrutinising her appearance. He leant against the doorframe and watched as she turned her head side to side, running her finger down the slope of her nose. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at herself straight on again, her finger pressed into the tip.

“Em?”

She turns to look at him, taking her hand away from her nose as she does. He doesn’t miss the shy look on her face as she wrung her hands together. “Do you think my nose is weird?”

He frowns at her. “What? No.”

“I know it’s ridiculous. I’m 53 for fuck sake.” She mutters to herself.

He kisses the tip of her nose and she smiles at him. “You’re beautiful.”

“And you’re ridiculous.” She wraps her arms around him anyway, pulling him in for a kiss. “It will look better when she can switch to a smaller ring.”

“It will look better when she just takes it out.”

Emily laughs, shaking her head at him. “Come on, let's go to bed. Some of us have work in the morning.”

He raises an eyebrow at her as he always did when she referred to his early retirement, even though it had been years since he left the FBI. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

_________________

The casual mention of a boyfriend, a boy from Amelia’s art class called Chase, almost sends Aaron orbital. He manages to keep his opinions to himself until Amelia has gone to bed and he’s just in the kitchen with his wife, helping her with the dishes even though it was long ago established as her chore since she never cooked.

“She’s not that bad, Aaron.”

He scoffs at his wife. “She’s going to make me go grey.”

“Honey. Amelia is a teenage girl. A pretty well behaved one in comparison to what I was like.”

“Suddenly I feel a lot more sympathy for Elizabeth than I ever have before.” He mutters as he continues to put dishes away.

“What was that?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Nothing, sweetheart.”

She narrows her eyes at him as she passes him another plate, patting his cheek with her spare hand. “You’re already grey, Aaron. It’s got nothing to do with the fact our daughter has a boyfriend. Or a nose ring.” _________________

Emily finally loses her cool two weeks later. They are eating dinner, just her, Amelia and Aaron, when she spots something on her daughter's wrist as she reaches for more salad. Emily grabs Amelia’s arm and pulls her sleeve back slightly to reveal a, admittedly very small, heart tattoo onto her daughter’s wrist. It was crude, slightly wonky and clearly not a professional one.

“What the hell is this?” She asks, staring her daughter down.

Amelia tears her arm out of her mother’s grasp and pulls her sleeve back down. “It’s a tattoo, Mom.”

“A tattoo? When did that happen?” Emily looks over at Aaron, who to her annoyance looked slightly amused that she was finally reacting like he had been all along.

“We did them at school.” Amelia answers, taking another bite of her dinner.

Emily’s initial reaction of telling her daughter how dangerous that was, how stupid, was drowned out by her overriding fear of who exactly had done this. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

“Chase and I did them. We have matching ones.” Amelia says, looking at her mother with a challenge on her face. “I don’t see what the big deal is Mom, you have tattoos.”

Emily glares at her husband when he chokes out a laugh at that, and he quickly excuses himself from the table. She turns back to her daughter. “Amelia, it really wasn’t very safe to do that. You have to let professionals do this kind of thing.”

Amelia rolls her eyes as she takes the final bite of her dinner. “Whatever.” She gets up from the table, already half out of the dining room before she speaks again. “I need to go FaceTime Chase.”

Emily puts her head in her hands as soon as she is alone. Her daughter was too much like her for her own good, independent and wilful almost to a fault. Emily loved that Amelia was like that, that she was so sure of herself in a way that Emily certainly hadn’t been at her age. She took it as a testament to her and Aaron’s parenting, but right now she was struggling with it. She just wanted to sit Amelia down and tell her that not everyone in the world had her best intentions at heart, and Emily had an increasingly sinking feeling that Chase was one of those people.

She blows out a breath and stands up, starting to collect the dishes from the evening meal. Emily hears her husband re-enter the room. “I’m going to get her some antiseptic cream to put on it. Who the hell knows where they got the needle they did it with from.”

“Emily-”

“She gave herself a matching tattoo with her boyfriend, Aaron.” She says, putting the dishes she had been holding back down on the dining room table. “They’ve been together for 8 weeks.”

He steps towards her and places his hands on her hips. “What was it you told me last week? That it will work itself out eventually.”

“She thinks she loves him, honey.” Emily lamented, allowing her husband to pull her into his arms. “And I know he’s going to break her heart.”

Aaron kisses her. “Sweetheart, we can’t protect her from that.” He kisses her again, cupping her cheek with his hand. “All we can do is be here for her if it happens.”

Emily rests her forehead on his chest. “Now who's being annoying ok about all of this?”

_________________

“This is where I found out I was pregnant with you.” Emily says offhandedly, a wistful smile on her face. It was so long ago now, but she still remembered the joy she had felt when she first saw Amelia on screen. The baby she had always been told she couldn’t have was now this amazing person she couldn’t imagine her life without.

Emily looks at her daughter when she doesn’t get a response, and she stops herself from laughing when she sees how pointedly Amelia is ignoring her. “Oh really, Mom?” She says to herself. “That’s so interesting.”

“Mom, I cannot believe you are doing this.” Amelia seethes, looking at the floor of the clinic they were in. Embarrassment coming off of her in waves. “This is so embarrassing.”

Emily rolls her eyes, and bites back a comment about how if she found birth control embarrassing then she should think twice about having sex. “I just want you to be safe, ok? You’ve got a boyfriend now and whilst I am not exactly delighted at the idea of you having sex.” She says, not missing how her daughter grimaces. “I don’t want you to take any chances.”

“Amelia Hotchner?”

Emily and Amelia look up to see Joanne standing at the door to her office looking expectantly at them. Emily smiles at her, Amelia does not, and the latter sighs as she stands up. She takes a few steps towards Joanne, only pausing when she realises her mother isn’t following her.

“Well you may as well come in. This was your idea after all.” Amelia says, annoyance colouring her tone. Emily sees past it, spotting the way her daughter nervously wrings her hands, fingers digging at her cuticles in a way she had picked up from her.

“Of course, sweetie.” She stands and walks up to her daughter, and guides her into Joanne’s office with a gentle hand on her back.

_________________

“You did what??” Aaron asks, seething, as they get ready for bed side by side in their ensuite. He turns to her, a disbelieving look on his face.

“I took her to get birth control.” Emily answers around her toothbrush, spitting into the sink. She rinses it and places it next to his in the holder.

“Why?” He is glaring at her, and she's suddenly more glad than ever that she hadn’t broached this subject with him until after Amelia had a packet of pills sitting in her bathroom cabinet, with very explicit instructions on the importance of taking it correctly from both Emily and Joanne. “Is she sleeping with him?”

“I don’t even know if she is having sex yet. But you know these things happen. I bought the boys condoms when they were teenagers.” She purposely misses out that she had also bought Amelia condoms, thinking that admission might make her husband's head explode. “I wanted to make sure she takes precautions if she takes that step.”

“She’s 15, Emily.”

“Yeah, and so was I.” She closes her eyes and sighs, turning to look at her husband as she crosses her arms across her chest. She looks at him and bites her lip, trying to figure out what she’s been wanting to say. “Aaron, I just don’t want what happened to me to happen to her.”

Emily can see the moment it registers in his head. The way his brow unfurls, his whole body unclenching as the anger seeps out of him, replaced by concern for her. He takes a step towards her. “Sweetheart…”

She shakes her head at herself, wiping a stray tear away that had fallen at the admission. “She deserves better than that.”

He sighs as he drags her into a hug, one she gladly returns, wrapping her arms around his back. “You deserved better than that too.”

Emily buries her face into his neck, breathes in the scent of him that had comforted her for more than half her life. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” _________________

Three days later it becomes a non issue. Amelia is out with friends, and Chase, leaving Aaron and Emily with the house to themselves.

Emily is sitting in her husband's lap on their couch. His hands up her shirt and his tongue in her mouth, when she hears it. A car door slamming on edge of her consciousness, someone running up the steps of their porch. She pulls back from Aaron, the dazed look on his face surely matching the one on her own. “Did you hear that?” She breathes out.

They hear a key in the door and break apart like they’ve burnt each other, both standing as the front door opens.

Amelia bursts in, tears streaming down her face. She drops her bag at the front door, her school things abandoned in the foyer of their home, and as soon as her eyes land on Emily her face crumbles. The steady stream of tears turning into sobs. “Mom.”

“Amelia?” She closes the gap between them, concern for her daughter overriding anything else, any lingering hopes she had of alone time with her husband gone in an instant. Amelia is in her arms in seconds, clawing at her shirt to try and get as close as possible. She buries her face into Emily’s shoulder and weeps. Emily cups the back of her daughter’s head, and runs her other hand up and down her back. “Oh sweetheart, it’s ok.” She soothes. “You’ll be ok.”

Emily exchanges a concerned look with Aaron over the top of their daughter's head and she shakes her head at him slightly when he takes a step towards them, silently asking him to leave it to her. He understands, just like he always had, and leaves them to it despite wanting to know exactly what has upset Amelia this much.

“Mia, honey.” She says gently, hand still tangled in her daughter's dark hair. She tries to pull back slightly, cupping Amelia’s cheek, but she holds on to her tighter, sobs still tearing out of her throat. “Let’s move over to the couch, ok?”

Amelia nods against her but doesn’t separate herself from her mother at all. Emily carefully guides her over to the couch and sits down. Amelia curls into her, wrapping herself around her in a way she hadn’t done in years. Emily wraps her arms around her, and whispers random words of comfort into her daughter's hair.

“Sweetheart.” She says gently, pulling away enough that she can cup Amelia’s face in her hands. She wipes tears away from her cheeks with her thumbs. “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, not until you’re ready, but I need to know if you’re hurt.”

Amelia shakes her head. “Not hurt.” She says, her words choked by her tears. She leans back into Emily, pressing her face into her neck.

“Ok, sweet girl.” Emily says the old nickname, one she hadn’t used since Amelia was 9 and turned her nose up at it, slipping out without thinking. She presses a kiss on her daughter's head. “I’m right here.”

It takes almost 30 minutes for Amelia to calm down, for her sobs to dissipate into sniffs and a hoarseness in her throat as she takes in ragged breaths. “He broke up with me.”

Emily frowns, holding her daughter impossibly tighter. “What?”

“Chase broke up with me.” Amelia says, pulling back so she could look at Emily properly. “He said I was boring.”

Emily covers her reaction to that, keeping her surprise away from her face. Boring was not a word she would have ever used to describe Amelia. She tucks some of Amelia’s hair behind her ear. “I’m so sorry, baby. I know you really liked him.”

Amelia snuggles back down into her, sniffing as she lays her head on Emily's shoulder. Emily runs her hand through her daughter's hair, soothing her as she finishes calming down. “What do you want to do?” Emily asks. “We could get Dad to go out and get Taco Bell.”

Amelia chokes out a laugh but shakes her head. “I think I just want to go to bed.”

“Whatever you want.” _________________

Aaron is pacing their bedroom when she enters it, softly closing the door behind her. He stops and looks at her, an expectant look on his face.

“He broke up with her.” Emily says. “She is heartbroken.” She hears how her own voice breaks as she tells him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like that.” She shakes her head at herself. “The worst thing is when she told me what happened I felt relieved. She’s sitting there absolutely hysterical and I’m relieved?”

Aaron closes the distance between them and hugs her. “You’re a fantastic mom, Em. I won’t let you believe anything other than that.”

She chokes out a laugh, somehow still surprised after all these years that he was able to guess what was really bothering her without her saying it outloud. “You’re a pretty great dad yourself, Mr Hotchner.” Emily lets herself relax in her husband’s embrace for a little longer, she pulls back and looks up at him. “I’m going to go in and sleep with her tonight.”

“Ok, sweetheart.” He kisses her quickly before letting her go so she can get ready for bed. He watches as she pulls on pyjama pants and a soft t-shirt that once belonged to him.

Aaron admires his wife as she takes off her makeup from the day and puts her dark hair up, smiling as he catches sight of some grey flecks that she hates as she twists it into a bun. She never believes him when he says it, but he thinks she's more beautiful now than she was when they first met all those years ago. Emily had always been beautiful, from the 22 year old she was when they first met. Teasing smiles and flirty comments as she coaxed him out to a bar with her.

Emily always lamented aging, wondering where the time had gone. More self conscious now than she had been the entire time he had known her. All he saw in lines on her face that she thought made her look old was all the laughter and joy they’d had over the years. She was softer now, her hips wider, evidence that she had given him two of their children that made him find her even more attractive. The grey flecks in her hair, that he knew she’d get dyed again soon, that showed him just how long they had loved each other.

They had been together 31 years and sometimes Aaron felt every moment of it, every single thing that had happened to them since she kissed him at one of her mother’s events. It somehow also had passed in the blink of an eye, decades gone in seconds and he was still somehow lucky enough to have her by his side.

“You’re staring.” She says, pulling him out of his thoughts with an amused look on her face and a teasing tone to her voice.

He pulls her into his arms again, kisses her cheek, then her nose. Making her laugh as she tries to squirm away from him. “You’re beautiful.”

Emily rolls her eyes at him. “You’re ridiculous.” _________________

Ameila smiles shakily at her mother as she walks into her room. Emily walks over to her bed and climbs in on the spare side, settling down for the night. She lays on her side and looks at Amelia, tucking some hair behind her ear. “How are you doing, sweetie?”

Amelia sniffs, suppressing a sarcastic laugh. “I’ve been better.” She settles into her mother’s side, resting her head on her shoulder. In the darkness of her bedroom, with Emily’s arms wrapped tightly around her, she finally feels like she can admit the truth. “It’s because I wouldn’t have sex with him.”

“What do you mean?”

Amelia closes her eyes as she catches the tone in her mother’s voice, the dangerous edge to it that she was so rarely on the receiving end of. She had only ever really overheard it when she was talking to someone about work over the phone, or one the rare occasion her parents had a full blown row, their angry voices soon turning into other noises that Amelia thanked whoever was listening for the invention of noise cancelling headphones.

“That’s why he broke up with me.” Amela says, feeling tears build back up in her eyes. “Because I wouldn’t sleep with him.”

She feels her mother’s hold on her tighten, and the sharp intake of breath that she takes beneath her head. Emily kisses the top of her head. “You’re ok, sweetheart. Go to sleep.”

Amelia drifts off to the feel of her mother stroking her hair, something she hadn’t had happen since she was younger. She was surprised to realise how much she had missed it, regret for how she had started to rebuff her mother’s affection a few years back building in her chest. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too.” Another kiss to the top of her head. “Now get some sleep.”

She falls asleep, completely unaware of how Emily laid awake for hours, anger for a teenage boy she had only met once burning through her veins until she came up with a plan. _________________

Emily wakes in the morning to the sound of Amelia’s door opening. She opens her eyes to see her husband standing there, a takeout coffee holder in his hand, and an unsure look on his face.

She smiles at him as she sits up in bed and beckons him in. He switches the light on, which immediately wakes Amelia, her groans the first indication that she was up.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Aaron says kissing his wife before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Morning.” She murmurs against his lips, before lifting the coffee she knew was intended for her. Cold brew with enough sweetener in it to rot your teeth.

“You guys suck.” Amelia groans from below the comforter, voice still thick with sleep.

Emily chuckles. “I think you’ll change your mind when you see what your dad has brought you.”

Amelia lifts the comforter from off of her face and shoots up when she sees her favourite frappuccino in her fathers hands. “Dad, you are the best.” She takes a sip and moans, the sugar hitting her tongue. “No wonder Mom has put up with you so long.”

Aaron laughs, glad to see that she seemed her usual self after how devastated she had been the night before. “Are you ok, Mia?”

She smiles at her dad, a shaky thing that was always the first indicator from his wife and daughter that tears were on the horizon. “I will be.” ______________

Emily’s first thought is to set Penelope on Chase. Let her hack into his social media accounts and digitally ruin his life for upsetting her little girl. For trying to pressure her into something she didn’t want to do. She knew Penelope would do it without a second thought. She was the most trusted confidant of all of the younger Hotchner's outside of their parents. Jack had asked for her help planning his over the top proposal to his now wife. Theo had come out to her first, a nervous teenager in her office asking for help on how he could tell his parents. Amelia went to her for advice on everything from boys to elaborate hairstyles, and Penelope gently discouraged her from dying her hair bright purple when she was 13, knowing it would have given Aaron an aneurysm.

Emily was finishing getting ready for work, Amelia already on her way to school, as she started to formulate a text to her friend, a cryptic request to come see her as soon as she got to work, when Aaron snuck up on her in the kitchen.

“You can’t get Penelope to ruin his life.”

Emily jumps, cursing under her breath. “Damn it, Aaron.” She turns to look at him, a sheepish look on her face. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything of the sort.”

“Oh really?” He raises an eyebrow at her. “You weren’t thinking of having her hack all of his social media accounts and freeze his bank account?”

Emily flushes and puts her phone down on the counter. “I can’t just let him get away with it.”

Aaron smiles at her and pulls her towards him with his hands on her hips. “Baby, this is something we have to let her deal with ok?” He kisses her cheek, his smile deepening as she narrows her eyes at him. “No getting Penelope involved.”

“Fine.”

Plan B it was. _________________

Emily is never happier than when she has all of her family in her house. The boys were coming round for dinner, Jack and his wife Sara and Theo and his new boyfriend Zach, someone he had met at college. Theo texted her that morning, a list of strict instructions of things that absolutely couldn’t happen the first time Zach was meeting the family.

She had just let them in, hugging her son fiercely as he walked in and feeling love bloom in her chest when he hugged her back just as tightly, no embarrassment at giving his mother this affection in front of Zach.

She lets him go and turns to the young man standing next to her son. “You must be Zach, I’m Emily.”

He shakes her hand, a nervous smile on his face. “Nice to meet you.”

Amelia bursts into the house, slamming the front door behind her, and immediately breaks the first rule on Theo’s list. “Мама, какого хрена?”

“Не сейчас, милая. У нас гости. И не ругайся.” Emily replies, tilting her head towards where Theo and Zach were standing.

“Ты должен был подумать об этом, прежде чем угрожать моему бывшему парню!”

Zach leans in to Theo, a confused look on his face. “Are they speaking Russian?”

Theo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did so, and looks at his boyfriend. “Yes.” He turns to his mother. “Ne pouvons-nous pas le faire? C'est la première fois que Zach rencontre tout le monde.”

Amelia rolls her eyes and Emily smiles at Theo. “Je suis désolé, chérie. On va bien se comporter.”

“Are you speaking French?” Zach asks, looking even more confused at the complete nonchalonce all of the Hotchner’s were showing at the multiple languages being thrown around as if it was nothing. The slight look of amusement on Aaron’s face as he walked into the room. “How many languages does your mom speak?”

Theo grabs his boyfriend's hand and leads him further into the house, away from the rest of the family. “Six. Seven if you include English.” _________________

Emily eyes Sara curiously when she turns down wine with her dinner, a small look passes between her and Jack when she asks for soda instead. Emily shares a similar look with her own husband, a look on his face saying he had spotted what she had too, and she gladly gets an alternative drink for her daughter-in-law.

Amelia sulks all the way through dinner. Rebuffing her brother’s questions about school, a glare fixed on her mother almost the entire time. It’s when she refuses her favourite dessert, cheesecake, that her brother’s interest is piqued.

“Mills.” Theo asks, amusement on his face at his sister’s behaviour. “What’s up with you?”

“Why don’t you ask Mom?” She said, pointedly looking at her mother. “Мама пытается разрушить мою жизнь, вот в чем дело.”

“I did not try and ruin your life, Amelia.” She says, rolling her eyes at her daughter's dramatics. She looks at her sons and their respective partners. “All I did was have a conversation with the boy who made Amelia cry herself to sleep a couple of days ago.”

“Yeah. By explaining that you’re a Section Chief at the FBI, whilst you had your gun and badge on display.” Amelia exclaims.

There was a moment of silence at the table before it descended into laughter, confusion all over Zach’s face on whatever he had walked into.

“Oh sweetheart.” Aaron says, looping his arm around the back of her chair to place a hand on her shoulder. “Not again.”

Amelia frowns, looking at her parents in shock. “Not again? What the hell does that mean?”

“Mom’s crazy, Millie.” Theo says, a laugh bursting out of him.

“Hey, I resent that.” Emily says, sinking back into her chair slightly, glaring at Aaron when he laughs at her and kisses the side of her head.

Jack gives Emily a look with his eyebrows raised before looking back at his sister. “My first ever girlfriend broke up with me the day before homecoming, Mom scared the absolute shit out of her by showing up at her cheerleading practise the following day. She somehow managed to mention that Dad once killed a guy with his bare hands.”

“Your dad did what?” Zach asks, leaning in to Theo who just shook his head. A silent promise that he’d explain later.

“In my defence.” Emily says, crossing her arms across her chest, a slight flush to her face. “This one was really sick at the time and I was pretty sleep deprived.” She says pointing at Amelia. “I wasn’t entirely in control of my emotions, and you were just so sad.”

“She also made me very aware of what she does for a living when Jack and I first moved in together.” Sara pipes up, nothing but amusement on her face when she looks at her mother-in-law. She turns back to Amelia. “I think it’s sweet.”

Amelia shakes her head at them all and turns to Zach. “Run whilst you still can.” __________________

Emily closes the door behind Jack and Sara as they leave, promises of getting together soon uttered in between lingering hugs.

“Mom?”

Emily turns to see Amelia standing behind her, her hands in her pockets as she avoids her mother’s gaze. It’s the calmest she’s looked all evening, any frustration she had towards her and her actions having melted away.

“Look, I’m sorry, Amelia.” She says taking a step towards her daughter. “I know I probably shouldn’t have done that. But you were so upset, and he deserved to-”

Her ranting is cut off by Amelia throwing her arms around her waist and placing her head on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

Emily smiles and hugs her daughter back, kissing the top of her head as she pulls her closer. “You’re welcome, sweetie.”

“I always thought it would be Dad, or Theo or Jack who went after a boy for me.” She says against her mother’s shirt before she pulls away. “At least I can tell any future guys that my mom is crazy.” _________________

Emily turns to lay on her side as Aaron joins her in bed, she smiles at him and pushes some hair off of his forehead before running her blunt nails over his temples, the mix of dark and grey hair rasping as she goes. “When do you think Jack and Sara are going to tell us she’s pregnant?”

A laugh peels out of Aaron before he leans forward and kisses her, pulling back only to press his forehead against hers. “Whenever they are ready.”

Emily shifts so her back is against him and pulls his arm over her waist, sighing when he settles his chest against her. “You’d think they’d learn they can’t hide anything from us.”

He kisses the top of her head and holds her a little tighter. “We’ve got some pretty great kids.”

“We really do.”

“You have got to stop threatening anyone who hurts them though.”

“Sure, love.” She says, pulling his hand up to her lips to kiss his knuckles. “I’ll stop.”

They both know she won’t.

[dabis-57th-stitch]

SFW alphabet: Juuzou Suzuya

 I’ve been looking for a sfw version of this boy for so long that i decided to make my own 

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) Juuzou typically shows affection verbally, considering he has little to no filter. He won't hesitate to tell you exactly how he thinks of you, at anytime of day. Of course this isn't always such a lovely surprise, but more often than not Juuzou has something good to say. First thing when you wake up? You know it. The middle of a high risk fight? You betcha. With his mouth half-stuffed full of candy? Oh yeah. Sometimes his comments can be a little backhanded, but he's surprisingly good at reading people and will try to learn from these little mistakes.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend?) Juuzou would be an extremely loyal friend. Though he hasn't had the best relationships, he understands that loyalty and honesty are good qualities. However, while he may be loyal to a fault, he can get a little distracted on occasion so keep him leashed when out and about.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) Due to his past Juuzou isn't a very touchy person. He can stand the commonalities, and maybe a little more but generally cuddling is off limits. Now that's not to say he's never cuddled anyone, and that he doesn't want to. Every once in a blue moon, when he's with someone he trusts, Juuzou will indulge himself. He's like a deer when it comes down to it though, any sudden movements or the slightest sign of contestment and he's out. But if you're patient enough, and lucky enough, he'll slowly make his way into your lap, or better yet on top of you. He doesn't much enjoy spooning, and would rather both parties be more equals. Just as well if he's comfortable enough to cuddle with you, he's comfortable enough to do anything and very conveniently forgets what personal space is. He'll be all over you, hands in your hair or tracing patterns along your back. Oh, and a side note, he always smells of sweets and peppermint.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? ) To be honest, he doesn't even know what that means, really. He's not nearly as job oriented as some of his colleagues, but he's not family oriented either. So, supposing the idea was explained to him, he wouldn't be to interested. In other words, he has enough family at work.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) We all know Juuzou doesn't have a filter, so if he decided a relationship needed to end it would be short and sweet. This doesn't just pertain to any specific type of relation either. However, keep in mind Juuzou doesn't always know when bonds need to be broken, so sometimes, to those around him, it may seem as though he's dragging things out.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) Again, Juuzou doesn't completely get the concept of marriage, however he does understand commitment, and as aforementioned he is extremely loyal. Though it's unlikely Juuzou would ever be in some sort of adult relationship, if he did happen to date he would be an outstanding boyfriend. For the most part he's ignorant to such things, but if Juuzou knows anything about healthy relationships it's that they're supposed to make those involved happy. Just as well he's receptive to those around him, and if you happen to claim his heart he'll go to the ends of the earth for you.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) Other than during combat, Juuzou is a pretty gentle person physically. Not only is he a smaller person, but he doesn't see the need for constant strength; actually he prides himself in his gracefulness. So unless you're fighting him, no need to be worried. Emotionally, most people consider Juuzou to be cold, and for the most part he is. He doesn't get attached easily, it's just not his nature. When he does cherish someone he'll let them know, and oftentimes make it his duty to protect them if they're unable to do so themselves.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) As mentioned, Juuzou isn't usually one to be openly physical. If you do happen to be one of the rare few he's comfortable with it just depends on how he's feeling. Some days he won't hesitate to tackle you, and other days he'll leave you wondering if you've somehow upset him. On the days he's especially close he can't stand to be apart from you. Whether it's holding your hand, or draping his arm across your shoulders he has to be touching you somehow.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) He will not say it first, no way in hell. However, he's quick to say it back. Once it's said, it's almost as if your relationship has gone to the next level, no matter the type. Just as well, after the first time, you'll never hear the end of it. Juuzou is the type of person to tell you just how much he cares for you in more ways than possibly imaginable. Probably the sweetest thing about this, though, is the fact that it never loses its meaning. In other words, there will never be a time when he says "I love you" and doesn't mean it with every fiber of his very being. He can really only hope that he means as much to you as you do to him, but he'll love you either way.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) He isn't really the type to get jealous, more so, he'd probably just be confused. Unless it comes to food, he will get jealous of you having sweets very easily. Sharing is caring. When it comes to relationships and flirting, he does not understand, so don't even try it. Just as well, it's unlikely he'd ever give you a reason to make him jealous.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) Similar to cuddling, sometimes he's a love bug and other times he'd rather sit on the opposite side of the room as you. Traditional kisses, on the lips, aren't really his thing, he'd rather kiss you on the forehead or cheek. Just as well, he'd rather you kiss him on the forehead, or temples. When it comes to public displays of affection, he'll kiss you on the hand like a gentleman. Traditional kisses are saved for special occasions, so cherish them when they're given. An example of special occasions would be the first time you tell him you love him, and fyi it was his first.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) Considering he's still a bit of a child himself, Juuzou usually gets along with kids wonderfully. This can also be a problem because sometimes he forgets that he's in fact a full grown person, and therefore can't play as rough as they do. Just as well, sometimes kids will remind him of his past, and it's not so much that he's bothered by it, more that he doesn't know how to react to certain children. Now when it comes to the question of having kids he's not so well suited, not only in the fact that he can't have children the usual way, but also in the fact that his first parental figure was not such a good one. In any sense, Juuzou would actually be worried about being a father.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) Juuzou is most certainly a morning person. Up before his alarm and ready to face the world. If you're a morning person waking up next to him is splendid, full of loud, happy conversation as the two of you get ready. If you're not a morning person, its most certainly not as great, but by no means is it bad. He'll probably wake you, but he'll also lay with you longer just talking quietly or lazily stroking a hand through your hair. He's not much of a cook so don't expect breakfast in bed, but do try to give him the time of day for he's the person to share his dreams first thing so he doesn't forget them.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) Considering he's more of a morning person there's chance you'll catch him dozing off. Loud noises and the like don't bother him much, but if you so much as come close to him he'll wake up. It's one of those sad things caused by his trauma that he'll never shake. Luckily if you do wake him he'll flash you a small smile, and ask that you lay with him. The thing is, while you can't change what happened to him, or the residual effects of it, you can help him cope. If he's comfortable with you chances are he'll become rather fond of your body next to his. If, and when this happens try not to push him away, this boy doesn't have much concept of self value and will likely go throwing his life away for your sake.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) He doesn't have much issue revealing things about himself, his past included. Not much really bothers Juuzou because his concept of morality isn't very constructed. That being said, he isn't one to go out and preach his life story to those who will listen either. Unless you ask him about himself he most likely won't tell you anything.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) Simply put, it depends on the situation. When on the job, Juuzou tends to be patient, at least as it pertains to killing things. Most often he's patient enough that things don't always have to be happening around him, but that doesn't mean he's actually focused on anything important either. If he's preoccupied with something, like snacks, then chances are you'll have his attention. If that's not the case, then it's likely he'll be found on an all expenses-paid round trip to la-la land.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) It's safe to say that Juuzou does not remember everything. He's remembers most of the big important moments between the two of you, but every once in awhile there is some little off-hand moment that sticks with him for some reason. Just as well, he probably remembers, and thinks about a lot more than you'd imagine, but it's likely you'll never hear about such.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) It'd be difficult for him to choose his favorite moment. Naturally Juuzou cherishes a lot of your time together, especially fun ones like dates to amusement parks and the zoo. However his favorite moment is something you'd probably have forgotten about. To you it'd be nothing more than one of Juuzou's quirky, less dangerous adventures, but to him it's the time he let you in, and you embraced him. Most anyone who's been around Juuzou for more than a year knows his appreciation for heights especially ones with views of the city. All his colleagues know he goes to the roof if he's particularly distressed. His favorite memory happened to be one of those times, he was upset over a new protocol his group had to follow, and on his way to the roof you had caught him. To you, he was just showing you a good view of Tokyo, but unbenounced to you, he had just let you into his world, and you had accepted it. So yeah, that was probably his favorite memory.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) He would easily give his life for you, no questions asked. Frankly, if you were unable to protect yourself for whatever reason he'd be quite worried throughout the day. He's not one to mention it though. It's evident in his body language, but most often he feels that he's nagging you if he so much as mentions being more cautious, and Juuzou isn't one for nagging.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) Juuzou is the type for fun dates over formal ones. He'd much rather smudge his face against the glass of an aquarium with you than sit down and eat. Dates are one of those times to keep him leashed, else you'll have lost him in five minutes, tops. You'd think he would be easy to spot with his fashion sense but that is not at all the case. It should be understood that he actually puts a decent amount of effort into date ideas, of course he knows what he'd like to do, but he always asks you first because he wants the both of you to enjoy yourselves. Sadly that means none of your dates are surprises, however they're always thoroughly enjoyable.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) Most of his bad habits stem from the lack of humanity he was shown growing up, so it makes most of these habits impossible to change, no matter how much you work at them. One of them would be his running off. He just simply doesn't think about alerting you of his absence because there was a point in time when no cared whether he was or wasn't. So, probably his worst habit of all is his lack of self value, most times he just doesn't stop to worry if something may damage him beyond the point of no return because he doesn't care.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) He isn't worried about whether he looks good or not, but he does have his own, extremely evident style. Obviously he likes to take this style to heights most others wouldn't dare but most of the time this isn't all too much of a worry. Just as well, it should be mentioned that Juuzou is quite cleanly. Most people consider him dirty due to his self-inflicted stitches, but in fact he keeps them, and the rest of his body, very tidy.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) He doesn't much like losing anyone; friends, colleagues, or the like, but most times he can make the cut and walk out alive. However, there is a point where he starts feeling a loss. He isn't one to let a big loss tear him apart entirely, but it can definitely drag him down mentally. A lot of times these losses are a sort of wake up call. If he were to lose you, it would be catastrophic to his emotional health, not to the point of doing anything rash, but he would definitely feel it for the rest of his life.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) Shinohara once told you, to your confusion and horror, that Juuzou would sometimes compare you to his weapon, Jason. Naturally, your superior had walked away before elaborating on whatever type of information he had just dropped on you, leaving you to ask Juuzou for yourself. You can bet that conversation was awkward, but he was happy to explain. "Yeah Osa, you're just like Jason: strong, sleek, and sexy!" He wiggled his brows at the end, and that was that. The two of you continue to giggle about that incident.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) He couldn't stand a partner who constantly tried to change him. Especially if said changes were simply to benefit their personification of him. Don't try to manipulate him into changing either. Sure, sometimes Juuzou might seem like a box of rocks, but he's no stranger to the crueler ways of the world.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) Besides his inability to sleep without your company, he has an odd habit of moving his mouth, like phantom talking. From your point of view it seems as though he's speaking to some unknown third party, however he's never actually said anything, and reading his lips is nearly impossible when his porcelain face is all squished up against a pillow. Overall, he's just super cute when he's peacefully asleep.

[yan-twst]

Hello! You write scenario with vampire Vil, so... can I ask for vampire Rook this time?

rouge

warnings: mentions of death, blood, general yandere themes

word count: 2,588

a/n: the asker didn’t specify yandere here but, the vamp vil scenario they are talking about here was yan so uh, i’m making this a yan rook scenario.

----------

It’d been a while since any human dared walk into his home. It was akin to a mouse walking right into a trap, a bear stepping in a beartrap; surely by now all the villagers knew that those who entered a vampire’s lair were bound to never return. Killed, devoured, drained of their blood by the creatures who stalked the night- from time to time they’d find corpses, pale, cold and stiff, their blood drained to the last drop and expressions morphed into horrifying screams of terror for eternity.

And yet, he could see them as they nervously walked the darkened mansion with nothing but a candle on their hand, hot wax occasionally dripping into their hand and making them hiss in pain. He’d noticed them walk in; he could’ve leapt the second they stepped inside, he could’ve killed them at any moment, but he’d chosen to let them wander inside. Perhaps it was the sheer oddity of the situation, or maybe the hunter’s desire to observe his prey; whatever it was, Rook silently stalked the shaken human throughout his own mansion, watching as they cautiously looked around.

They were tired, clothes wet from the rain and dirtied with splotches of mud- they’d taken off their shoes, perhaps not wanting to leave footprints or dirty the carpets, but the rest of their clothes were soaked in rainwater. The heat from the measley candle they’d taken from a candleholder was clearly not nearly enough to warm them up- Rook rarely set up fireplaces, his undead body not needing the warmth mortals did- but now he wondered if they’d run towards one like a moth to a flame, in their current state. 

They were disheveled and exhausted, visibly scared- if he had to take a guess, he’d say they were a young villager who got lost and tried to find shelter in his adobe assuming it was abandoned due to its darkness and solitude. They very clearly had no clue they’d walked into the vampire’s den, judging by the fact that they were venturing in deeper; they had no weapons and no protection, they weren’t a vampire hunter or a soldier in any way, just a lost civilian who wandered into the worst place possible.

He watched for longer than he thought he would. There wasn’t anything interesting about this human, there shouldn’t have been, they were no different to the countless people he’d killed for sustenance before- they were prey and he was predator, easy as that, and yet he found himself almost fascinated. The way the moonlight filtering through the windows would illuminate them as they passed a window, their heavy breathing that combined with the chattering of their teeth as their body kept on growing colder and colder; there was something about them that kept Rook’s interest, far more than any other human had.

They were beautiful.

He’d lived a long life- he’d seen his fair share of lovers of all genders and backgrounds, met nobles and common folk alike who boasted appearances that went on to be legend- Rook had always chased for beauty, always seeking that ethereal concept; he’d turned more than one human into a vampire just because he believed their beauty had to be preserved, he’d collect decorations and paintings for his home to surround himself in art. And despite his current subject of interest clearly being a frightened commoner, dirty and shivering, he could sense it- by their quiet footfalls, their hushed breathing, the panic in their eyes, they were beautiful. How had such a human been living in proximity to his mansion without him realizing? He’d hate to think of the possibility that, had they not gotten lost today, he could have never met them and they’d have simply kept living their life until their time came to join their fellow humans in death; he was perhaps lucky fate had other plans for them, as they’d waltzed right into his grasp.

“Good evening, lapin.” Stepping out of the shadows, Rook finally spoke up- the terrified squeal that left the poor human echoed in the hall, almost dropping their candle in fright. They’d probably assumed the house was empty, and to suddenly come face to face with someone in the dark had almost been enough to frighten them to death. 

“A-aah, oh dear lord, are you the owner of this house...? I truly- I didn’t mean to intrude, I just- I went out to forage for some food for my family, but then it began to rain and night fell, and I couldn’t find my way back, and-” their panicked ramblings made Rook chuckle, as he waved a hand in the air as if to dismiss their justifications.

“Oh, no need to worry, I understand your plight. The forest can be so tricky once night falls, non?” he said, and he watched as relief melted into the human’s face, as they perhaps thought they’d managed to find an eccentric but kind nobleman’s home. “Besides, it’s dangerous for a weak thing like you to be out there at these times- the beasts that lurk the night would certainly make a feast out of you.”

“... Y-yes, I guess so.” they seemed shaken by his comment, perhaps their mind wandering to wolves or bears, or perhaps by the even grimmer image of their fellow villagers being found dead with two fang wounds in their neck, attacked by creatures of the night. It seemed to be the later case, as Rook instinctively licked his lips as he watched them bring a hand to their neck, perhaps remembering the images of carnage they’d seen on corpses left behind. “The village priest says it’s dangerous to walk around at night because of the vampires... He told me to wear my rosary and to carry holy water with me, just in case, but- lord, have you seen the state of the victims? I don’t think anything could protect the poor people who run into those beasts.”

Oh, it was so ironic- perhaps like the tragic comedies that sometimes ran in theatres in larger towns that he so adored. Watching the human talk about how scary and rough vampires were, thanking him for saving them, completely unaware he was biding his time until he’d sink his fangs into their flesh. He wouldn’t kill them yet, no, not yet; he had to consider if they should join his immortal ranks- after all, his sudden attraction to them had to mean they had the potential to shine bright. Perhaps he could turn them and keep them as a companion; bring them over to Vil so he could fix them up, or-

“... my betrothed was insistent I didn’t go out tonight, but there was no food left and nobody’s getting paid until next week, so I simply had to go see if there were any eggs or berries in the forest...” Rook’s eyes snapped open at the human’s words- a betrothed. It shouldn’t have been weird, not at all. Humans live so shortly, they marry fast and try to form families before their time runs out; in a small village, someone as beautiful as this human would certainly already be preparing to marry.

It made sense, and yet he felt a wave of jealousy permeate through him. For a vampire, Rook had never been one to particularly demean humans- he’d kill them, sure, but he wouldn’t go as far as to terrorize them for fun, or act as some other vampires did and consider them worms beneath him, inferior to immortals. But the flash of rage that coursed through him was undeniable. Usually he was content to hold beautiful things at arm’s length, to gaze at them, to keep around; he’d never been bothered if an ex-lover moved on, not if any of the humans he turned found other vampire lovers of their own. And yet this human, who he didn’t even know the name of, who he’d just met, was somehow bringing forth emotions foreign to him.

“Oh? Lapin, are you to marry soon?” he asked, trying to keep himself sounding friendly. The question seemed to make them cheer up a bit- despite the fact they were clearly shivering, too shy to ask if he could perhaps direct them to a fireplace.

“Ah, yes! I got engaged some weeks ago to someone close to me...” they blushed as they spoke, and despite the fact their face was adorable like that, the fact that someone else was causing it brought an acrid taste to Rook’s mouth. “... we’re going to get married next month, in the local church, and-”

“... Well, what a careless lover you have, then. Don’t they know that if they let their precious roam lose, they might be stolen by someone else?” Rook chuckled, a bit more darkly than usual. His words made them stop in their talking, as if confused. He went on. “If a rabbit runs lose on the forest, nobody should be surprised when the crow snatches it for itself.”

“... That’s, um-” the fear was back in their face now, eyes panickedly looking around; good. He much preferred that look on them, rather than the lovesick expression when talking about their betrothed. Perhaps this was bloodlust; maybe it’d been too long since he’d drank- it made no sense for him to find himself infatuated with a human like this, and yet the sight of their neck and their terrified gaze made him feel more alive than he’d ever been.

Without much of a thought, he pinned them to the wall- their scream was piercing. Perhaps they thought he was a creep, or maybe they’d finally connected the dots about his pale skin and the empty manor and realized he was a vampire; whatever it was, they didn’t vocalize it, instead choosing to scream for help. Even their scared screams were melodious, somehow; he didn’t know if he could truly blame hunger for the way he rejoiced in their squirming and crying.

“Now, now, lapin, you can’t blame me for this. If you’d kept on walking past my humble abode, I wouldn’t have seen you- I didn’t plan on hunting tonight. But what can one do when the prey saunters right into one’s grasp, hm?” he said breath ghosting over the juncture of their neck and shoulder. They struggled; but the coldness had numbed their body, hours of walking leaving them weak. Even at their peak, no human could overpower a vampire easily, not one as strong as Rook. “I’m afraid you can’t get away with no consequences just because you’re beautiful, lapin.”

Their blood was delicious. It had been too long since he’d gotten to indulge like this- to pin his prey down, to drink their blood leisurely without having to think about being caught, from the comfort of his own home. It’d been too long since he’d found prey he enjoyed so much- usually the human’s panicked cries and sobbing and begging were nothing but background noise, and yet, for once, he found himself spurred to bite down again and again by the helpless whimpering of his victim. His blond hair tickled their neck, the elegant fabric of his attire becoming damp upon coming into contact with their rain soaked clothes, but he paid it little mind.

“S-stop, please...! I don’t- please, no, don’t... kill me...!” they were hiccuping as they cried, feebly trying to fight back- by now, the natural numbing of his saliva had to have taken away the pain, but nothing could soothe their fear. Rook had never been bitten, having been born a vampire; but he’d been told the bite hurt, and then it went numb, only to then become pleasurable. If his little human was feeling any pleasure from the bite, they didn’t show it- their whines and cries could have very well been born from sheer fear or from an unknown pleasure.

“Ah, mon lapin, your words tempt me so,” he lifted his mouth, lips stained red with warm blood. Usually, villagers around him were malnourished or sickly- but this particular human’s blood was rich, comparable to the best he’d had. Rook never had qualms on turning a human; the value of human life, the importance of mortality, the essence of being human, those were things he cared little for; but he didn’t want to stop drinking this blood. And yet, the thought of them laying dead in the ground didn’t please him either; there was no proper way to preserve a corpse, not without the aid of magic he didn’t currently have in hand- and despite the nights being cold, the days were becoming increasingly hot; if he killed them, their beauty would fade so fast... “Say, lapin... Do you truly wish to live?”

Teary eyes stared right into green eyes with slit pupils. He could see himself in the reflection of their eyes- pale skin, red coating his mouth and chin, piercing green eyes almost glowing in the dark, his blond hair framing his face. They were shaking, only held up by his hands that pinned them to the wall- at his question they sobbed and nodded, begging, please spare them, their family needs them, please-

Before they could mention their betrothed and sour his mood again, Rook quickly bit down on his own tongue. His fangs drew blood easily- it tasted coppery and rather gross, but he wasn’t that unused to the taste of his own blood. Vampire blood was not tasty, at least not to other vampires, and it didn’t serve to quench their thirst; he almost lamented covering up the taste of the divine blood he’d just ingested with his own lackluster blood, but there was at least an use for his immortal blood.

When he lowered his head again to go at the wounds he’d created, the human writhed under him, probably assuming he’d changed his mind and decided to kill them. Rook hummed pleasantly as the taste of their blood coated his wounded tongue- and at the same time his own blood coated their injuries. He licked at the two puncture holes, making sure his wound kept on bleeding into them; he had to make sure it got into their bloodstream, after all. He knew it’d worked when the skin around his mouth grew hot, and a piercing scream fell from the human’s lips. Vil had told him once that being turned into a vampire was the most painful thing he’d ever felt- the burning, the cold, the feeling of their body dying and yet continuing to live; it almost pained him when he reluctantly lifted his mouth from their neck and watched their painstriken face as they shook and screamed in sheer pain at the feeling of their body turning.

“Shh, shh, it’s ok, it’s ok...” he said, letting go off their wrists and caressing their hair. Perhaps out of fear or pain, or maybe deep in a delusion brought on by the excruciating pain, they hugged him weakly. Oh, he could get used to this; perhaps it truly was time he got a companion for himself. Sure, it was lamentable he hadn’t even caught their name as a living human; but there’d be plenty of time for them to get acquainted with him.

After all, this wasn’t just his way to preserve their beauty- he had selfish purposes for his actions. For once, perhaps, he’d keep them by his side; if he’d gifted them immortal life, it’d only be fair they spent said time with him, right?

[agerestorybits]

I’m not little I swear!

  Roman was laying on his stomach on the floor coloring as disney music played in the background. His door left open in case anyone needed him. He looked up when he heard a knock on the door frame. Virgil stood there more, awkward than normal. 

 Roman smiled, “What brings you to my domain dark night?” Roman asked, shifting so he was sitting up. 

 Virgil stepped in hands in his hoodie pockets. “I...noticed that you...Well.” Virgil gestured to the coloring book on the floor. 

 “And? Would you like to join me?” Roman asked, already summoning a second coloring book for Virgil. Nightmare before Christmas themed. 

Virgil relaxed a little, “Yeah. I would. Thanks.” He sat down on the floor and pulled out a crayon from the pile on the floor.

Roman went back to coloring. They both worked in silence for a while before Virgil spoke up. “Just so you know..Um..I am too.”

Roman looked up at him. Virgil glanced at the coloring book again. What? An artist? Why didn’t he just say that? Was he embarrassed? Scared Roman would be mad at him. Roman smiles reassuringly, “Trust me when I say there is no problem with that. If anyone gives you any grief about it they’ll have me to mess with.”

That seemed to be the right thing to say as Virgil smiled a bit. “Thanks.” They went back to coloring. After a half hour Virgil finished his picture and stood. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Indeed!” Roman agreed. “The sooner the better!”

Virgil shifted on his feet, “So...you don’t mind if I tell Logan and Patton about..this? Do you? I mean if you want to tell them yourself-”

“I would never tell them something if you wanted me to keep it secret.” Roman promised. Why Virgil was making such a big deal about coloring he had no idea. He didn’t really understand Virgil that much but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to support him. “Tell they if you want. Do I need to be there for you?”

Virgil smiled again, “nah. It’s cool. I’ve got it….thanks.”

“Well good luck!” Roman said.

“I might need it.” Virgil muttered as he left. Roman rolled his eyes, Virgil could be so over dramatic. And that was coming from him!

Roman went back to coloring.

---

Virgil took a breath before blurting it out. “I age regress.” Patton and Logan looked at him. “So does Roman!” He added before they could say anything.

“Oooookay?” Patton said. “What’s that?”

Logan gave a brief explanation. “In all honesty I’m not surprised about Roman.”

“It does make sense.” Patton agreed.

“Yeah.” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, “So um..Alright. I was wondering if you weren’t too weird out by this-”

“Not at all.” Logan said.

“Full support kiddo!” Patton added.

“Thanks...Would one or both. I’m not going to pick..And if you don’t want to I won’t hold it against you or anything! I just..”

“Virgil.” Logan said, “Breath.”

“Will you be my caregiver….ers?” He asked in a small voice.

“Of course!” Patton said. He turned to Logan. “What is that?”

“Patton don’t agree to things you don’t know about.” Logan said before giving an explanation.

Patton frowned, “I thought I was already taking care of you.”

“I mean. While I’m little.” Virgil clarified.

“Well duh! I’m not going to stop just because you need a LITTLE extra help!” Patton said brightly.

“I agree to help.” Logan said.

 Virgil smiled. This was going better than he expected.

---

Roman was...confused. He wasn’t going to say anything in case he insulted Virgil but...He didn find it weird that he was wandering around in the middle of the day in a onesie with a..was that a pacifier????

Even stranger was Logan and Patton took it in stride and even seemed to think that Roman wanted to do that too.

Was this a prank? A joke he didn’t get? Was he supposed to comment on it?

“Are you sure you don’t want to try a paci?” Patton asked.

“Err...no thanks pat.” Roman said holding up a hand.

“Patton, he might not be little right now.” Logan said.

 Little??? What?? “Alright what is going on? Am I missing something? I feel like I’m missing something.” Roman said.

“You don’t have to hide it. Virgil told us!” Patton said.

“It wasn’t like you were trying that hard to hide it.” Logan said.

“Hide what?” Roman asked. Was this about the art thing? What did that have to do with dressing in a onesie?

“About your age regression.” Patton said.

“My...what?” Logan and Patton glanced at each other.

“You really don’t need to hide it.” Logan assured him. “As you can see we have already accepted Virgil for it. We aren’t going to judge you.”

“We can even take care of you too if you want!” Patton said excitedly. “Oh! You two could have playdates!”

“Back up. What is age regression? And Virgil said I did that?” Roman said. He wasn’t going to argue with Virgil….Yet.

Logan gave him an in depth description of age regression which raised more questions than it answered.

 Why did Virgil think he age regressed? Did he age regress and not know? No he was very sure that he didn’t age regress. He just liked to do kid activities. That wasn’t the same thing!

Roman shook his head, “I don’t age regress.”

Patton crossed his arms, “Now Roman lying isn’t a good habit.”

Roman blinked in surprise. “I’m not lying??”

“Do you need to go in time out?”

Roman froze. WHAT?

“Alright. Call me when you aren’t acting crazy.” He said leaving.

“Roman!”

He kept walking. He wasn’t watching where he was going; he was just getting out of a situation that was crazier than he liked.

Speaking of crazy.

Remus looked up as Roman entered the Dark side common rooms. He was hanging upside down over the back of the couch eating a confetti. “Oh. What are you doing here?” He’s mouth is full of colorful paper.

Roman groaned and collapsed on the couch next to his brother. “I just had the strangest conversation.” He threw himself into the story of what just happened as Remus half listened but paid more attention the more Roman talked about…

“Little space! I mean what even is that??”

Remus was silent for a solid minute. “I mean...I do that.”

“You do?” Roman asked.

“Yeah! I mean.” Remus flipped off the couch onto the floor then jumped to his feet, spilling the confetti in the process. “It’s great! No filter! No worries about anything!”

“Isn’t that you normally?” Roman asked.

“Well… I mean I’m a bit more...PG when it happens but other than that….yeah.” Remus said before offering Roman some of the small amount of confetti that remained in the bag. “Want some.”

“No thanks. So if you regress….Do you have someone who watches you? Like..a caregiver?”

Remus’ face dropped. “I asked Janus but...turns out I’m a ‘bit much’ for him. So...no.”

“Oh.” Roman frowned. Thinking through his offer. “Well Logan and Patton seem to want someone else to take care of.”

Remus snorted and threw himself down on the couch again. “You’re kidding right? There’s no way they would watch me. No one would.”

“I would.” WHY DID HE SAY THAT? He almost took it back but, The way Remus’ face lit up… He had to try.

“Really?” Remus said almost bouncing.

“I mean. I’ll try.” Roman said.

“Good enough!” Remus said. “I’ll see you in a couple hours! I gotta get in my head space!” He said running off.

Roman watched him go, a sinking feeling that he got himself in something he had no idea how to handle sinking in.

---

 Remus showed up at Roman’s door not wearing a onesie like Roman thought he might, but a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that he clearly made himself that was a mix of tye-dye and gory images with stains that looked like real blood. He had a stuffed octopus that was looking worse for the wear and a paci on a clip.

“Hihi!” He said moving past Roman into the room. Roman closed the door.

“Hi? So what do I do?”

“You watch me.” Remus said. “Duh.” His voice was higher...more kid like. Which made sense.

“Alright. So you want to do something?” Roman asked.

“Mmmmm I dunno.” Remus said putting the octopus on Roman’s bed.

“Does he have a name?” Roman asked.

“Yeah! Cephy!” Remus said bouncing. “He collects skulls!”

“Really?” Roman asked, playing along.

Remus nodded clearly having fun that someone was so interested in his stuffed friend. “He eats all the bones cept the skulls! Those he pol-....pol..”

“Polishes?”

“Yeah! Shiny and stuff.” Remus said waving his hands as he talked.

Roman looked over Cephy. “Mmm. He’s looking a little rough. Do you want me to patch him up?”

“Yes! We can make a octopus hospitel!” Remus said grabbing Cephy and shoving him into Roman’s hands. “I’ll be the mad doctor and you can be the real doctor who does the...surge- a- ge!”

“Surgery.” Roman said.

“Yeah! Dat!” Remus said beaming.

Roman had to smile too. Remus was just..lacking a better word...cute like this. Janus was missing out thinking that Remus was ‘too much’ to handle.

Roman sewed up Cephy and put a little magic in him to make him softer again. Remus was thrilled he watched the whole time asking questions about what Roman was doing and talking about other things that Cephy liked to do.

 “-and then bam! Dead!” Remus fell over onto Roman’s bed.

“Oh dear.” Roman said half listening to the story half focusing on the stuffie in his hands. He needed to put the finishing touch on. A spell that made it so Cephy didn’t get torn up again.

“There! All done!” Remus jumped up and grabbed his stuffed friend.

“Cephy! You’re alright! You lived Surge-a-ge!” Remus said hugging him. Roman didn’t bother correcting him. He was going to keep messing words up. As long as Roman got the gist of it he didn’t mind.

Remus looked at Roman suddenly, “I’m hunge.”

“Oh. Well it is getting late isn’t it? We should both get some dinner.” Roman said stand and without thinking about it took Remus’ hand and led them to the kitchen. By late it was LATE. Almost midnight.

Roman was kind of glad no one else was awake. He didn’t want to face Patton and Logan yet. Nor confront Virgil about saying he was little when he wasn’t.

He made eggs which was the first thing that Remus suggested that was edible. And toast. With jam….and juice.

Ok so he made breakfast at midnight. Remus didn’t have a problem with it. He even tried to feed Cephy some.

“Done!” Remus said, pushing his plate away. “Now we play something else?”

“I don’t think so you little gremlin, It’s bedtime.” Roman said.

Wait...did he just call remus a gremlin? Shit! He looked at Remus closely but the only thing he was upset about was having to go to bed.

“Ugh! But I wanna stay… stay…’yawn’ up!” Remus said before yawning a second time.

“Nope. Bedtime. Gremlin.” Roman said running with the nickname. Remus grumbled but agreed.

“Carry me?” He muttered. Roman picked him up and made sure he still had Cephy before taking him and tucking them both in bed.

“Goodnight gremlin.” Roman said, flipping off the lights.

“Night night.” Remus muttered half asleep.

 Roman turned around and jumped as he was met with Janus. “Gah!”

“You did good today.” Janus said. “Watching him.”

“I don’t get why you think he’s too much to be honest.” Roman said a little tense.

Janus laughed, “You haven’t seen his temper tantrum yet….besides I’m not very partenal….Not like you it seems.”

“Thank you?”

“Good luck Roman.” Janus said, turning, “You’re going to need it.”

---

Roman sat reading from a storybook as Remus played on the floor half listening. He noticed Janus out of the corner of his eye reading his own book. Only Janus hadn’t turned any pages in almost twenty minutes giving Roman the sneaking suspicion that he was listening. He read just slightly louder and kept an eye out for any movement from Janus.

Sure enough Janus closed his book after a few minutes and set it aside but didn’t get up and leave. Instead he just closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair farther. Roman’s smile widened as he continued reading.

“It’s lunch time.” Remus reminded him. Roman closed the book and saw Janus open his eyes and caught Roman watching him. Janus wordlessly got up and left.

“Yeah. Let’s get you some food.” Roman said, taking Remus’ hand and taking him to the kitchen.

 Janus had been hanging around Remus and Roman when a lot. More than Roman expected of him. He had never really thought of Janus as being sociable but it was clear that he was.

Roman couldn’t stop thinking about Janus’...warning? It felt like a warning. Like something was going to happen that he would NEED luck for. But he had no idea what. Were Patton and Logan going to become even more intolerable?

They were trying to get him to regress around Virgil and didn’t believe him when he said that he didn’t regress. They firmly believed he was just being shy about it? Why would he be? It didn’t make sense to him but it seemed to make some kind of sense to them since they would not drop it!

He sighed. Remus looked up at him from his lunch. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing you need to worry about gremlin.” Roman said, brushing Remus’ hair out of his face.

Remus hummed, Roman could tell by the look in his eyes that he was snapping out of his younger headspace. “Roman.”

 “It’s nothing!...Really! Just...you know. Them.” Roman said, waving his hand. At least for the most part Virgil seemed to believe that he didn’t regress. But Patton and Logan just would not let it go.

“Do I need to bust some heads?” Remus asked.

“No.” Roman rolled his eyes. He sat down and crossed his arms. He looked towards the hallway that Janus had disappeared down before leaning forward on the table. “Do you now what’s up with Janus?”

“Did he say something to you?” Remus asked confused.

“Well...no. I just thought it was weird that he was hanging out so much when you’re regressed when he thought you were ‘too much to handle’.” Roman said using finger quotations.

“Well he’s not handling me is he? That’s you!” Remus said. “Who is doing a good job by the way.” He muttered the second half before taking a quick bite.

Roman blinked at the praise. Remus was begrudging to give him any compliments when he was bigger due to their dumb slibing ravalry they had going on.

“Still…”

“If he didn’t say anything he’s fine! He’ll say something if he has a problem!” Remus said.

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Really? The master of lies and secrets is going to be completely open about his problems?”

“Yeah...why not?” Remus asked. “I mean you’re part of the group now.”

“The group?”

“One of us! You spend more down here than with the others at this point!” Remus said a bit happy about it.

Roman froze. He….he did. Didn’t he? He just wanted to avoid them from trying to baby him and he liked taking care of Remus and talking with Janus and-

He stood up so fast he made Remus jump at the sudden action. “I need to go talk to them!”

Remus waved him off. “Good luck.”

Roman paused. Why did they both think he needed luck so much?

----

  He ran into Virgil first. Who for the most part was regretful that he jumped to a conclusion and got Roman into this mess.

“Are you ok? You looked stressed out.” Virgil said.

“Fine.” Roman said.

“Right. Because you’re known for your one word answers.” Virgil crossed his arms.

“Alright so I’m not feeling my best at the moment.” Roman said, throwing a hand in the air.

 “Any way I can help?” Virgil asked.

“Oh I think you’ve done enough!” Roman snapped. Virgil flinched. Roman’s anger died down. “Sorry. You didn’t know this would happen.”

“Still...I should made sure I knew for sure what was going on first before-”

“Breath. It’s fine. I’m sure they’ll give up on me ‘regressing’ any day now.” Roman said, patting Virgil’s upper arm. “Hopefully.” He muttered as he moved past Virgil.

He found Patton and Logan in the common room. “Oh hey! You’re back!”

“Yep!”

“Are you feeling alright?” Logan frowned.

Roman took a breath. “I need you two to drop this whole me regressing thing.”

Patton and Logan glanced at each other. “Are..are you sure?”

“Very.” Roman said flatly.

Patton nodded to himself. Logan stood up, “Alright. It’s your choice.”

Roman was feeling hopeful that he had gotten through to them. Then Patton spoke, “If you ever change your mind about doing it alone we’ll be here.” Roman groaned.

Well...It was better than nothing.

---

While they did drop trying to get him to regress around them. They were checking to make sure he was regressing on his own and suggested he go regress to get rid of some stress when he was tense. He finally just agreed to going somewhere else, (them taking this as him going to regress) just so he didn’t have to bother with it.

He stormed into the dark commons and froze as he saw Remus regressed...with Janus. It was clear from his pacifier and childlike outfit that he was little too. Unless this was some weird joke he was missing out on.

 “Janus?!?” He accidentally yelled.

Janus and Remus both jumped. Janus looked up terrified, tears appearing in his eyes. Roman’s caregiving instincts kicked in. He dropped down next to Janus and quickly went about calming him.

 “Hey. No it’s ok. See? Everything is fine.” Roman said softly.

Janus stared at him with wide eyes. He slowly reached out and touched Roman’s face before reaching out with both arms. Roman pulled him into his lap. Janus cuddled up as close as he could to Roman’s chest.

 Remus whined, “Hey!” He crawled over and Roman hugged him to his side. Remus wasn’t that cuddly but he must have been a bit jealous of Janus at the moment.

Oh boy. Maybe this is what he needs luck for.

---

 Janus stopped regressing as Roman served them supper. He started shifting in his chair awkwardly and clearly wanted to leave.

“Hey.” Roman said gently. “We don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to. I can pretend it never happened if you want.”

That seemed to be the right thing to say as Janus relaxed a bit. He sat back. “No..This needs to be addressed.”

Roman sat down. “Alright.”

Janus stared at his plate of food, across from him Remus was eating quickly. His legs kicking back and forth. Those his eyes said he was older than he was acting.

Janus was quiet for a while before speaking. “I can’t handle Remus’ regression because I regress too.”

Roman nodded. “It causes it?”

Janus nodded. He looked up at Roman. “So….”

“If you want I can watch both of you at the same time. It’s not too much.” Roman couldn’t really promise that but today had gone well so why not at least try?

 Janus stared at Roman for a solid minute before speaking. “I’d like that.”

Roman smiled. Remus cheered. “Little friend!” Roman and Janus both smiled at that. “Maybe Virgil could join us for a playdate!” Janus’ smile froze.

Roman held his breath for Janus’ reaction. After a second Janus unfroze and nodded, “Worth a shot.”

---

Setting up the playdate was more work than he thought. Patton was sure that having Remus around a regressed Virgil would be bad for him. “I just don’t want him getting hurt!”

Roman assured him that he had been watching Remus, (“Like a big brother!” Patton said completely blowing over how Roman said he was Remus’ caregiver) and that he wouldn’t hurt Virgil or Janus.

Logan was the one who agreed. “We’ll both be there. We can watch them.”

“I’m so proud of you for doing this!” Patton told him. He was almost sure that Patton thought he was finally going to regress around them.

He just smiled tightly and moved on with setting everything up. Virgil was genuinely excited about it. While Remus and Janus had playdates together before, Virgil never had. So while he was nervous about it, he was also ready to play.

Roman held Janus and Remus’ hands as he took them to light side common room where there was a pillow fort set up, snacks were being made fresh in the kitchen and the t.v was set up for movies. Of course there were toys in a chest in the back of the pillow fort due to the fact that the t.v was most likely just going to be background noise.

 Virgil was waiting in the pillow fort. They had decided before to have them all small before getting them together in case an argument broke out and they couldn’t regress.

Janus surprised all of them by running over as soon as he saw Virgil and hugging him. Remus beamed and ran over to join the hug. Roman smiled at them.

“Do you want to go join in kiddo?” Patton asked.

Roman shook his head, “I’ve got to finish up the snacks so-”

“Pfft! You don’t need to worry about that!” Patton said. “Logan and I have that! Just go play!”

“I’m here to watch them. Not play.” Roman said firmly.

“You don’t have to.” Logan said. “We are more than capable of watching all four of you.”

Roman grit his teeth. “I am not regressing.”

 Patton gave him that stern look that said he wanted him to stop acting and just go along with it. Roman didn’t back down. He walked over and sat on the couch so he could keep an eye on Remus and Janus.

Virgil waved to him.

Roman relaxed a little. He could get through this.

---

He could not get through this! He was holding himself back from yelling at Patton, “I do not regress.” He said as he fixed Janus’ paci clip.

“You don’t have to hide it! We know!” Patton said. “I thought we got past this!”

“You are not listening to me! Neither of you are!” Roman snapped.

Logan frowned.  Janus tugged on Roman’s sleeve. He was getting upset at all the angry faces. Roman picked him up. “It’s ok.” He said soothing him.

He took a breath. He can do this. This is fine.

Until Patton tried to take Janus from him with a quick you don’t need to do that. “Oh! I think I do!”

 Janus started crying and Roman felt even worse. This isn’t how he wanted tonight to go. He walked into the other room with Janus to calm him down.

“You two really suck ass you know that right?” Remus said clearly not regressed anymore. Neither was Virgil who was glaring at them.

“I told you that I was wrong and he doesn’t regress! Why can’t you get that?”

“Virgil.” Patton said. “Then why does he know so much about it?”

“He doesn’t regress.” Remus said firmly. “He takes care of me when I’m regressed!”

“Well maybe if he didn’t have to he could regress! Maybe he’s so busy dealing with you that he doesn’t!” Patton argued.

Logan stepped between them before Remus could punch Patton. “Patton I think they are telling the truth. We were wrong about Roman regressing.”

“What? But..You said that-”

“And I was wrong.” Logan said.

Patton deflated. “Oh….oh no.”

“We need to apologize.” Logan said.

Patton nodded.

Roman came back in with a sleeping Janus. “Remus are you ready to go?”

“In a minute. These two have something to say to you.” Remus said.

“We’re sorry.” Logan said.

Roman’s eyebrows shot up. “I...what?”

“We didn’t believe you...we didn’t trust you to tell us the truth. And we’re sorry. We should have listened to you.” Patton said.

Roman smiled, “Thank you. Remus?”

“Yeah yeah. Time to go.” Remus said walking over and taking Janus from Roman. “I’ll get him tucked into bed. You can handle this.”

Roman nodded. Remus smiled at his brother and winked before leaving.

 They talked for a while. Both of them were really listening to Roman about how he wasn’t a regressor he was a caregiver.

“That….makes more sense.” Logan said.

“It suits you.” Virgil said.

Roman smiled. “Thank you. I’ve found that I have quite the talent for it.”

Patton shifted, “Roman...I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright Patton. I forgive you. You saw what you wanted to see.” Roman said. Roman looked at Virgil, “Not like I haven’t done that before. The important thing is moving past it.”

“That’s….good advice.” Virgil said surprised.

Roman looked at him offended. “I do have good ideas you know!”

“And we promise we’ll listen to them.” Patton said. “To you.”

Roman nodded. Guess he didn’t need luck after all. He just needed help from people he cared about. And who cared about him.

“Oh stop it! I can almost hear you being sappy!” Virgil said.

“What are you talking about?” Roman said.

“You’ve got that look on your face.”

“I do not have a look! I have looks!”

“Yeah sure-”

Virgil and Roman fell into their normal banter. The awkward air that had been between them was gone. They were back to normal. Or rather a new normal.

[pixelatedrose]

read this and respond (if you’d like) when you aren’t in the car anymore, i don’t want you to get sick :0 !

you don’t apologize for not be able to write a lot! you didn’t have to answer my ask in the first place but it means a lot to me that you did :) also! i wanna say two things! one, i think i’ve said this before but i really like how you explain things. i’ve tried to learn how to play d&d and i think i’ve got a solid understanding of it, but it’s still hard when people say things like “10 AC”. but i don’t have to worry about that when you explain things cause you sorta dumb it down in a way that doesn’t make me feel dumb.. if that makes sense. two, i love how you showed callahan being healed in your drawing cause it just adds so much more weight to the picture. and i can’t even imagine how that fight was, dancing with death the whole time, that must’ve been so stressful. anyway! that’s about all, but you still have a lot of explaining to do (if you want and when you’re ready) mister >:0 i hope you had a lovely day and you enjoy the rest of your night, love you ro :)) !

1st: dw bout me answerin asks in the car lol I have no fuckin self control sksjshs

2nd: thank you sm m8!!! I know you've mentioned in the past that you don't play d&d or know a ton about it so I try and give little explanations where I can and it's great to hear that I do it in a non-patronizing way

3rd: heheheee okay so imma go into some more detail on the Callahan & Shade training session-

Okay, so.

To understand how we got to this point in time, we have to understand where he was

The party entered the Shadowfell- a mirror plane of existence where everything is contorted and dark and just about everything wants to kill you. This is where we were trying to get to when Callahan first joined the party.

Now Callahan didn't have a full grasp on what the Shadowfell was, really, when he went through the portal. The only one who did was Sylas, and by all the gods did he try to warn us.

Callahan was still so very very unprepared...

The very first fight in the Fell- one of the first battles Callahan has EVER been in in his life- he gets one-shotted by this monster and drops below zero hp.

When you drop below zero hp in d&d, you're Ina state of in between life and death, right on the cusp of either one and a breath's wrong move could send you toppling over the edge. You stay in this state of dying until one of three things happen. 1) you get healed. 2) you succeed three death saves and you stabilize. Or 3) you fail three death saves and you die.

Callahan had succeeded two saves, but he had also failed two. One last roll would have determined his entire fate, and I'm not known for having the best of luck when it comes to dice.

Sylas, our lovely amazing wonderful cleric boy, barely made it in time and slapped Callahan with a healing spell right after the monster died and he regained consciousness.

This...messed him up.

Callahan was absolutely shaken to his core at this very close encounter with death and he did not handle it well.

He got furiously angry, ignoring the fact that it was him that brought him to the Fell, and instead shifting the rage to the rest of the party and blaming them for his being there and, by proxy, his almost dying.

He...said some things...that shouldn't have been said. At least not like that...

And the worst part? It didn't get better. He was fitful and angry and upset at everyone for weeks.

Finally, Haru was done with Callahan's baby-bitchfit and when Callahan snapped at Monty (again), Haru got up and dragged Callahan out into the forest a little ways away from the rest of the party.

And what did he do?

Well he punched him.

Well, more than that. He told Callahan to fight back too. Soon fist-fighting turned into hitting each other with sticks, which turned into Haru having to tackle Callahan to the ground, leaving Cal the perfect opportunity to steal the dagger off his belt and ramming the pommel into his ribs.

Cal would like to say he won that fight. Haru would have something else to say.

After laying there on the ground for a moment, Callahan started to laugh. A sound that Haru had not heard in weeks, and one he didn't know he missed.

Haru explained that he wanted to teach Cal to fight so that what happened with that first monster? Where Cal nearly died?? So that that would never have to happen again.

Something about it- maybe it was something about Haru- calmed Callahan down.

And then it really hit him.

Oh fuck.

I've been a jackass for weeks to literally everyone.

It also started to hit him just how weak he really was in a fight if it ever came down to melee.

So they came back to the party together, Callahan happier than ever with little scrapes and lookin very roughed up (I won't say but the rest of the party did not in fact think they were sparring-)

Callahan apologized to Monty the next morning. The things he said specifically to him were...well...let's just say it hit harder for Monty than the others.

Monty wasn't as quick to forgive and forget. Callahan doesn't blame him.

However, that night Callahan and this new party member- Shade- were on a watch together. Now Shade is a much higher level than everyone else in the party, and is far far more powerful. He's a Hexblade Warlock, but he's also a fallen paladin (or cleric I can't remember) as WELL as a fallen Aasimar (kinda like a fallen angel but watered down). But...also probably a Shadow sorcerer?? Listen Shade is an amalgam of magic and power and idk where all of it comes from-

In any case, Shade is big powerful lad.

Now Cal and Shade are on a watch together, and Shade begins talking about Callahan's magic. He picks up a small opal stone from gauntlets he wears and focuses his magic into it. The opal glows with a black light and swirls with shadows of purple and black. He then hands the opal to Callahan and instructs him to focus his magic like he did.

When he does, the opal changes again, but this time, it swirls with bright, ever-changing array of fantastical colors. A rainbow of things that have never quite been seen before. It's extraordinary.

Shade explains that his own magic is that of the Shadowfell, it's dark and thus his magic is sewn from the shade. And then he explains that he's met other mages- ones with powers of the storm, magic of dragons- but he has never seen someone with magic like Callahan's.

Why?

Well, cause Callahan has pure, unfettered, untained, raw magic inside him.

It's an inferno of unbridled magic and it is completely and utterly entirely untamed. It cannot be controlled and it is as wild as the wind and earth itself. And sometimes, that uncontrollablity lashes out and surges forth, and sometimes things that Callahan doesn't exactly want to happen, happen.

And Callahan listens. And his heart sinks. Uncontrollable? Pure?? Absolute chaotic force of magic??? He can't stand the thought of not having a handle on his magic, because if he can't control it, how the hell is he supposed to use it to protect people??

He expresses this to Shade and the "older" man tells him that he can and should use this to his advantage.

At that moment, Callahan's magic goes wild and he surges. The wooden log they are sitting on, under Callahan's hand it starts to faintly smoke. Callahan doesn't notice, but Shade does. He cuts a small piece of rope and asks Cal to hold it for him. The rope errupts into flames and Callahan drops it in vibrant shock and distress.

Shade calms him down and explains that he can use that. He gets Callahan thinking. Asks how he can use this to help in in battle- he can set things aflame with a touch, for God's sake, what can he do to use that?

And Shade looks at Callahan's small scratches and bruises and scuffs on his clothes and turns and says "I know that look...you've been sparring, haven't you?"

Callahan nods his head. He says that Haru said he'd teach him how to fight, that he wants to- needs to- be stronger.

Shade asks if Callahan would like Shade to help him as well, help him learn how to use his magic to fight.

Callahan says yes.

They start small, Shade borrows Haru's sword in his sleep and gives it to Cal to use. Shade goes through the motions of explaining how he uses his magic to help him wear armor and wield weapons- how he manipulates the pull of power inside him into his blade, into his armor, how he makes them seem lighter and easier to use and wear.

And Callahan follows suit. He goes through the motions of swordplay, focusing and directing his magic into it. And slowly, it seems the blade gets lighter and light in his palm.

After a little while of this, Shade says that he would like to try something to really help Cal in the middle of a real battle. And he summons a demon.

Now, as Shade summons this demon, he explains that he has control over it. That the demon cannot do anything that Shade does not want it to do. The demon is not pleased with this.

In fact, with shadowy chains around its neck and wrists and ankles, it seethes and hisses and spits that it will tear and murder and shred Callahan and Shade to scraps. Shade reassures Callahan that he won't let it kill him. But he asks one last time if Callahan wants to do this.

And with a glance at this horrible creature with blood and murder in its eyes, Callahan's grasp tightens around his borrowed blade and he nods yes.

And so the fight begins.

Callahan uses his magic and filters it into the blade in his hands and tries to strike the beast. He hits it a few times, but the monster keeps hitting Callahan back, and he drops down to 1 hp.

As the demon cackles and pulls back for one final attack, Shade pulls down on the shadowy chains and restrains it. It howls in fury at this.

Shade asks Callahan if he wants to stop, that if he really wants, Shade knows a way to help Callahan keep going.

Callahan, bloody, sliced up, fighting for consciousness and blinking red drops from his eyes, hands on his sword in a white-knuckled grip, the blade digging into the ground as the only thing keeping him upright, looks Shade deep and deadly in the eyes, his goggles hung slightly cracked around his neck. His eyes have a burning flicker to them and with no hesitation to his words, he speaks. "I need to be better."

Shade takes a moment and the faintest ghost of a smile flitters onto his face and he says "That was the right answer." And he begins to heal Callahan with Greater Restoration.

Now, I could be wrong either with what the spell does or what spell he actually cast, but what happened with this spell was this: he could restore an incredible amount of hp to Callahan, but he would TAKE half the hp he restored as damage to himself. So if he healed Cal for 10 points, Shade would take 5.

This first time he ended up healing Callahan all the way back up to full.

And back to the fight they went.

This happened four more times, where Cal dropped below 10 hp and Shade had to stop to heal him for a moment.

Finally, Shade asked Callahan one last thing.

"I can do one more thing to help you learn the movement of battle, but it would mean releasing him. You don't have to do it, but-"

"You're wrong. I do have to- what would that make me if I backed down at the first sight of risk?"

"...you've made a good choice."

With that, Shade released the Demon, who was battered and torn and nearly as destroyed as Callahan himself, if not far far more. And he let out a ravenous cackle, full of craze and bloodlust and victory. And he looked Callahan directly in the eyes and told him "This is where you die!!!"

Four more rounds.

Callahan had messed up his magic once before in the fight and his magic had surged, giving him the ability to teleport short distances for the next minute.

And his magic messed up once again, poisoning a random creature near him. Luckily, it wasn't Shade, but the Demon was immune to poison anyway.

But as Callahan took hits, he dropped below 10 hp again, but there was no more looking to Shade for help anymore.

He took one last swing, a move of the blade that felt more dance-like than any sort of movement to kill, and he cut the demon clean a sunder- a trail of the blade that ran from one shoulder across to the bottom of its boney hip- and the demon let out a croaking, creaking, collapsing gasp of air that could have been mistaken for a strangled last cackle of defiance.

And then it fell over, a position of defeat that Callahan may have been had he not made the surer move.

And Callahan stood above it all.

Alive.

Alive and by his hands alone was his enemy gone.

Alive and by a blade he used with magic in his veins was he that way.

Alive and the victor over a demon.

Shade healed Callahan one last time, nearly collapsing himself from the loss of life energy. He managed to gain some of it back by summoning small imps that he then proceeded to suck the life out of, but it still took a bit of a toll on both of them.

They went back to the party where everyone lay sleeping, none knowing the exchange that had happened that night.

The spoke for a while longer, Shade telling Callahan of his past while casting the mending spell on his destroyed and torn clothes.

Their shift ended and they woke up the next pair for watch and went to bed.

And now did Callahan forget to tell anyone else about what had happened?

Yes absolutely.

Did Haru end up finding out because 1) Callahan had a fresh magical scar on his cheek and 2) Callahan forgot to give Haru back his sword?

Yes absolutely.

Was Haru pissed off that Callahan basically almost died multiple times and go into full protective boyfriend mode after he found out?

Yes absolutely.

Anyway long story time but I hope you liked it ;D

[shoelace-noose]

# 122 | Making Four

Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz/Joe Al-Kaysani/Nicky di Genova. Two couples meet in a bar and have a chat. 

Word Count: 1242

It’s been hundreds of years with Joe, hundreds of beautiful, intimate, romantic years that Nicky wouldn’t trade for the world. Every day they wake up together is another blessing. He loves the way they know each other, know each other’s bodies. But sometimes it’s nice to change things up- it’s nothing they haven’t done before- and in the bright city of LA, there’s plenty to choose from. 

The city has grown over the years, into something modern and crowded in a way they’re both still learning to navigate. Nicky thinks he’ll always be a little out of place in the cities that have cropped up across the globe. He prefers the drift of sand in a small place, where the sun shines through glassless windows and vines creep across the wall. The modern steel and reflections on every building can make him jumpy. Especially since Merrick. That building had been too sleek, crisp and clean. Nicky doesn’t like being in the city, but duty called, and besides that, Andy thought it would be a good chance for them all to start to understand modern technology. Nile can’t be the only one capable of it. But that means sitting here, in this city, like sitting ducks and with nothing to pass the time besides fumbling with a prepaid phone and getting nervous over electronic keypads on the doors. 

Sitting at a bar with red lighting and aggressive music winds up being their preferred way to end the evening of a frustrated day. People filter in and out, but mostly, it’s the same groups in  their dark LAFD tee shirts. Fire fighters, Joe says, when Nicky watches them laugh and joke with a familiar kind of camaraderie to the family built on blood and pain. They’re happy, though. Team 118 smile and laugh and come up often for drinks. There’s two of them who Nicky especially finds familiarity in. The blond with the birthmark, and the dark haired one who never stops smiling. They touch each other casually, lovingly. Easily. Look at each other more than anyone else in the room. 

“They’re like you and I,” Nicky tells Joe, pulling him in a little closer to press his lips against his ear. “Do you think they’d want to?”

“No harm in asking.”

So they wait for the next round, taken by the blonde. He has legs for days, and the muscles of his body stand out so beautifully in the high-contrast light. His smile is bright and free, and he raises an eyebrow when he catches the both of them looking. 

“Uh, something I can help you with?” he asks. 

His voice is rough and beautiful. 

“You’re very beautiful,” Nicky says. 

That seems to surprise him, his cheeks going pink as he ducks his head. “Thanks. I um- I’m with someone, though.”

“He is too.” Joe presses himself up against Nicky’s back, pressing a kiss to his temple. A reminder that they’re never in this alone. Whether they take this couple back to the hotel and rock their worlds, or they return by themselves and have a beautiful night in the thousand thread count sheets, they have each other. “Your lover’s beautiful as well. Can we buy you both a drink?”

When he turns back, looking to his table of family, the brunet smiles at him, but his eyebrows are raised in a clear question. He’s asking if everything’s alright. In return, he gets a thumbs up, and then Nicky and Joe have his attention once more.

“Sure, that would be nice. I’m Buck.”

“Joe and Nicky.’

Joe reaches past him to shake Buck’s hand, slipping his free arm around Nicky’s waist as he does so. It’s safe and reassuring, even though Nicky doesn’t think he particularly needs that, here. Still, it’s safe. He leans his head back on Joe’s shoulder. 

“Your boy’s name?”

“Eddie.” 

“Eddie,” Nicky repeats. It rolls off the tongue. “What are you drinking? We can get a booth.”

Once again, Buck looks back to his team. “I’ll talk to Eddie, get back to you?”

“We’ll be here.”

They watch him return, laden down with the next round of beers, and slide in beside Eddie with a kiss to his cheek. Chaste, sweet. But their legs press together under the table, and there’s the barest slip of tan fingertips against Buck’s leg before it disappears between his thighs. Then the whisper. Nicky knows that whisper, has used it and watched others do the same when they get an opportunity. Buck’s mouth is close to Eddie’s ear, lips moving. Eddie looks over at Joe and Nicky. On a whim, he waves. 

“What are the odds on it?”

Joe hums. “Fifty-fifty. Buck is into it, Eddie’s unsure.”

Another shot of whiskey for them both butters the nerves that come every time they do this. Sometimes it’s just one person, but usually they go for couples. There’s a different understanding in it. Two people who love each other so deeply that they’re able to share. Nicky can see that in Buck and Eddie, wants it, craves it even. And he can feel, against the small of his back where Joe’s whole body is pressed up against him, that he’s not the only one.

It takes a few minutes, but Buck and Eddie come over to them, Eddie’s hand in Buck’s back pocket, and ask if they’re still interested in a private table and a drink or two. Of course. Joe taps Nicky’s hip, right above where his gun sits in his waistband. Stay on edge, just in case. But they’ll take this chance, and it seems the two strangers are more than willing to join. Buck asks the bartender for four shot glasses and the bottle. He promises to keep track of their shots with a wink. She doesn’t hesitate to trust him, which means Buck is here often, and has a good reputation. He’s probably not a threat. 

When they slip into the booth, Nicky leans his head on Joe’s shoulder and takes a moment to watch. The two really do love each other. And they have passion, excitement in that love. Eddie wraps an arm around Buck, keeps a hand tucked in against the dip of his waist and a careful watch on Buck’s lips. Joe and Nicky are both at the table, but he still only has eyes for Buck. 

“Where are you guys from?”

“Europe,” Nicky responds vaguely. They’re from everywhere. “We travel a lot. LA is a new one for us.”

Eddie hums. “Italian? Your accent sounds it.”

The safest response is to laugh, avoiding the question. Eddie seems to notice, but he doesn’t push, nor does he show any signs of discomfort. He still trusts them to do more than sit around and drink. Nicky glances at Joe, to make sure he feels it as well, and is rewarded with a hungry look that means a good night is ahead. 

“I’ll be honest, as nice as it is talking to you, we are not looking to make friends. Our hotel is a couple blocks away, do you want to come with us?”

They glance at each other with a thousand words that don’t need to be said. The two are made of the same thing, perhaps the very same as Nicky and Joe, when he reads the way they kiss like it’s second nature. 

“We’d love to,” Buck says, and the night is sealed in its lovely fate.

[kylo-hen]

Physical Education

A/N: This is my first fic I’ve ever published please be gentle lmao. Feedback is welcome though, I have no clue what I’m doing and it shows. 

Clyde Logan & Sadie’s Teacher!Reader

Warnings: None I can think of other than probable grammatical error and fluff

Summary: Sadie decides to bring her Uncle Clyde to career day and he hits it off with her teacher. 

Physical education

      Teaching is not a learned skill. It’s not taught like math or science, and it’s not something you can take as an extra-curricular in high school. Yes, you can get better over time and with practice but sometimes it just comes down to whether or not you have the gift. Patience.

     When I was younger, I used to wait in line at the bus stop dutifully like my mama taught me, hair tied up in an updo that probably took mama way too long to do in the ungodly hours of six am. She used her steady practiced hands to guide my hair into the place she wanted, and that’s when I learned I came from patient people. She would listen to my stories with rapt attention, nodding when needed, and interjecting her own wisdom only when she knew it was right. She was the most patient woman in the world and I learned everything I knew about teaching from her.

    When she passed, I knew she just wanted me to be happy, she never pushed me to be anything less than that. She waited out all the phases, the trials and errors of my college years, the rough patch of rebellion in high school, and even the short time after college when I had refused to do anything but take care of her in her final months of life. She urged me to go and work more than part time at big earl’s dinner down the road, she urged me to use my gift.

     After she was gone, the funeral was finished, and the casserole pans returned to the PTA moms who lent them, there wasn’t much tethering me to the once special town that I lived. The memories there were more bitter than sweet and I couldn’t bring myself to stay. So, when the time was right and the dust settled, I applied to teach in all parts and I promised the first job that gave me a green light would be the one to take. That’s what got me to where I am today, a third-grade teacher in Boone County, West Virginia.

    I enjoy teaching third grade; they have such big hearts and rarely ever is there an issue of behavior more than an over-excited kid in class. They look at the world so with wonder in every instance and my job is to facilitate that growth. This being my first year at Boone County Elementary school came with a rather big learning curve, with everyone knowing everyone else in town it was hard to break into the system the town had somehow set up. There was an unspoken understanding of respect and honor to some, not that those always earned it, and that others were destined to repeat the past.

    Sadie Logan was one of those poor souls labeled with a curse of some kind. The kids in her class mentioned it at all given occasions when Sadie proved herself smarter and stronger than them. Sadie was smart as whip, funny as all get out, and had a big heart full of love for the people in her life. She sat with me in my room before class and I taught her all sorts of things from checkers, to long division. When the spring came around so did the third-grade class’s career day, which Sadie’s usual excitement for school seemed to double.

     The morning after the day was announced and the forms were sent home, Sadie came bursting into my room with her usual intense excitement, “Miss L/N!” she called out.

    “Is that Miss Sadie Logan already?” I teased while she hung her backpack on her hook that lined the wall opposite of the board, “I could have sworn It was too early to have a monkey in class!” She flipped around with a loud laugh and a piece of paper in her hand.

    “I’m not a monkey, Miss L/N!” she approached my desk proudly, “I gotta question ‘bout career day though!” She swayed back and forth as she waited for me to respond.

    “Alright then Miss Sadie, shoot.”

     “Well, I told my mama ‘bout it and she wanted Moody-” at the mention of his name I felt my skin start to crawl. He wasn’t my favorite parent having already disrespected me on meet the teacher night back in October. His wandering eyes and condescending attitude made me want to cry by the end of the night. I just hoped he wouldn’t rub off on sweet little Sadie.

     “- to do it, but Moody said he can’t just stop workin’ for some stupid fair!” She sighed exasperatedly like he had personally offended her, which I’m sure he did, “which is st- it’s silly, Miss L/N! So, when my Daddy came by to pick me up for ice cream, I asked him!” she grinned ear to ear, I hadn’t met her father but Sadie spoke so highly of him I couldn’t imagine him to be anything less than a proper gentleman.

    “So, your daddy’s gonna’ be the one comin’ in?” I asked softly, after she paused taking a big breath.

     “Well, not quite! I talked to my daddy and he can’t because he’s gonna be workin in the mines that day and he don’t have enough time off to be able to come!” I frowned at her words, I was really hoping to have her father come so I could tell him how great Sadie was in and out of class. I also know how happy she would be to have her dad there to sit with her at lunch and tell stories and play with her at recess. “But don’t worry! He came up with an even better plan, but I gotta’ ask your permission first!” She beamed up at me in the thought of her plan.

    “Now what did your daddy think up for ya’?” I asked, excited to hear more of the shenanigans he had planned for the two of them.

    “Since he couldn’t come and Moody couldn’t either! And mama don’t have a job!” I gave her a look, telling her to respect her mama whether she had a job or not. “what? S’not mean if I’m just bein’ honest Miss. L/N!” She defended herself.

     “I know that Sadie, but it’s your tone a’ voice.” I spoke softly to the girl, “Your mama works hard to make sure you’re happy and healthy and that’s very important.” I explained and she seemed to take a moment to let the words sink in. “So, if your daddy can’t come and neither can Moody, and you don’t want your mama to come, then who’s comin’ in for ya?” I asked putting the girl back on track.

    “Well, My Uncle Clyde said he could do it!” She bounced excitedly, “And he’s real cool too! He was in the army and now he has one arm and he’s super tall and sometimes he puts me on his shoulders and walks me around and I can touch the clouds!” She rambled on about her uncle excitedly. Sadie had mentioned her uncle Clyde in passing, she knew he was a veteran, that he liked goin’ with Sadie and her dad to the fair, and now that he was super tall. A warm glow in my heart began to bloom at the idea of meeting someone from her dad’s side of the family. Sadie was such a good kid that the side of the family must be a good one.

    “That sounds like a great plan! What do you need to ask permission for?”

     “Well, my mama said that since he wasn’t my… legal guardian I had to ask.” She spoke like her mama made her rehearse it before dropping her off this morning. “So, is it alright if my uncle comes instead?” She pleaded with me.

     “That’s just fine with me Miss Sadie.” I spoke, taking her slip from her to sign off on the change of plans, as I finished my signature the bell rang and with it the rest of the class began to filter their way into the classroom. “Why don’t you put this in your take home folder and find your seat before we start the pledge?” I smiled down at her and she beamed back before heading to her desk. With Sadie in her seat and the rest of the class milling about, the day began.

    Career day came around quicker than I’d have liked. I had pushed of decorating until the morning of, which I’m currently regretting as I stand on a chair desperately trying to pin up the second half of the banner, I had made last week. I had already hung some streamers, set up extra seats, and re-arranged the desks so they’re in a semi-circle. I also lugged my old card table from my garage for the refreshments the parents were bringing.

    With not much time left before class I found the second half of the banner was going to be a bigger stretch than I was anticipating. Beads of sweat began to collect on my forehead, I thanked all that was holy I had extra deodorant in my desk just in case.

     If I stretched just a couple inches further the banner would be perfectly taught, as I pushed one last time to secure it, I heard the door open behind me.

     “Miss L/N!” Sadie shrieked in excitement, bounding into the class, unfortunately for me when I tried to swivel to greet her, I miscalculated the end of the chair. Once I was about halfway facing the girl my foot began to slip, and I braced myself for the impact of the floor beneath me.

    Instead of the floor meeting my impact I was embraced by a solid chest and the aroma of deep pine, leather, and a smokey bonfire. I felt the firm arm that circled my waste, it was warm and sturdy like my mother’s hands in my hair when I grew up, or my grandfather when he would come by to fix stuff around the house before he died. The feeling was like waking up on Sunday and it smelled like the first feeling of fall. When I opened my eyes, it was even more enchanting.

     When Sadie mentioned her Uncle Clyde, she should have said he was younger than her father. She also could have warned her how attractive he is. No, that would have been weird. Clyde looked down at me with concern in his whiskey colored eyes, a deep furrow in his brow, and I couldn’t help the heat that crept up from my spine into my chest and face. The awkward shame of being a complete clutz in front of this incredibly attractive man.

      “You alright ma’am?” He asked in a soft voice, oh god his voice, that only made me want to hide under my desk than confront the fact I’ve made an absolute fool of myself.

      “Yes,” I stammered out, re-gaining my upright footing on the ground and straightening out my clothes only to realize the man standing in front of me is well over six feet tall. I stared up at him with wide eyes before I realized he was waiting for me to say something, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Logan this isn’t how I expected to meet anyone today,” I looked around to make sure no one else was here but Sadie, “My name is-“

      “Miss L/N,” He finished for me with a small polite smile, “Sadie talks ‘bout you a lot, she loves your class.” He compliments and I felt my heart grow at the praise.

      “Well, I love having Sadie In my class, she’s a bright lady, and please, call me y/n,” I clarified, which wasn’t something I was planning on doing with parents, but he wasn’t Sadie’s guardian.

    “Well then, y/n, you can call me Clyde,” He extended his arm to shake and I took it happily. “Do you want me to hold the chair while you finish up with the banner? It’s too nice to be hangin’ from one side.” He complimented again which was sending shockwaves of joy through my veins.

     “That would be really helpful Clyde, thank you.” I replied, carefully stepping up to the chair and grabbing the end of the banner. With the steady help of Clyde, hanging the banner was a breeze. Once it was set and I stepped off the chair, with another helpful hand from Clyde, I was able to breathe fully.

    Sadie, who had been sitting in the back corner of the room I had set up for a comfortable reading center, popped up. “Uncle Clyde, what’d you pack for lunch?” She was dead set on the odd question.

    “Aunt Mellie packed us the same lunch Sadie bug, so I reckon’ I’ll have what you’re havin’.” He spoke in few words but I hung onto each as if they would be the last he ever spoke in front of me.

    “Miss L/n?” she turned her attention to me, “Are ya’ gonna eat lunch with Uncle Clyde and me?” She spoke, sometimes on special days teachers sit with their students at lunch, but today was not one of those days.

    “Not today Sadie, I’ve got to stay in here and guard the room from the hallway trolls!” I exaggerated for her delight. She giggled and when I looked up, I saw Clyde had a soft endearing smile on his face that made me want to jump head first into him.

    “We oughta’ leave her to that for lunch huh Sadie bug?” Clyde offered and Sadie nodded earnestly plopping back down in the corner to finish her book. Clyde looked back at me bashfully, like I had caught him in a private moment.

    “It’s real sweet for you to be here today.” I started as I walked to the refreshment table, “Would you like a coffee?” I offered him. When I turned back, he snapped out of the daze he was In and nodded silently as I poured him a cup into a cheap Styrofoam cup. “I don’t know many uncle’s who would step up like this. Cream?”

    “Erm- no. No, thank you.” He stammered and I handed him the cup, “Us Logan’s tend to be a tight knit bunch.” He affirmed my beliefs.

     “That sounds nice.” I hummed, sipping my own coffee from earlier.

    “That’s what families do.” He stated, underplaying the significance of his situation.

    “Not all families,” I murmured mostly to myself.

    “Hm?” He asked for clarification, I hadn’t even realized he heard me.

     “Oh! Nothing, sorry, I was talking to myself really.” I felt the embarrassment rise in me again. When I looked up at him to say something the bell rang. “Well, hope you enjoyed the quiet, I doubt you’ll be gettin’ any more of that here.” As if proving my point, the class, and their respective parents filed in for the start of the day.

    The whole morning was filled, one by one people explaining their job, how they got it, why they like it, and what the best thing about their job is. That’s followed by a series of questions from the students which almost never have anything to really do with their job.

    Clyde was the last to go, explaining how he was in the army, why he joined the fight, he told a story about one of his friends he met in Iraq and that he’s a bartender now. After a couple minutes of explaining what a bartender is, and what he does now that he’s not in the army, the kids finally asked about his hand. I expected him to get a little agitated maybe, or shy, but really, he took the questions in a stride.

    “How do you pee with one hand?” one of the kids questioned, his mother immediately blushing out of the second-hand embarrassment, but before Clyde could answer or the mother could reprimand him, I interrupted.

    “Mr. Bradley, you know better than that sir.” I began softly, “Remember last week we talked about boundaries, well you’ve gotta apologize for breakin’ Mr. Logan’s boundaries.” I reminded him, and he let out a disappointed apology at the man.

    “S’alright, I actually get that one a lot from people a lot older than you.” He joked and some of the parents in the back laughed it off. “’Sides I got this fancy arm here now.” He lifts up his sleeve to show off the dark green prosthetic. It looked incredibly high tech and impressive, but all I could wonder was how that metal would feel in contrast to his skin.

    Before I could go any deeper into that thought the bell rang and it was time for recess. I stood in front of the class, next to Clyde, and announced “Alright friends! It’s recess time, I want you all to line up with your parent’s behind Mr. Logan here, and we’ll go out.” I grabbed my keys and stood just in front of Clyde watching the mass of students and parents file into a nice line.

    Once everyone was set, I led the class out the classroom, down the hall and out a side door to the playground. I led them to a big oak tree next to a bench in the shade. “Alright friends! I know all my smart children know this but once the recess monitor blows the whistle we meet back here!” I announced, mostly for the adults. “Now, make sure you’re all careful and nice to each other, if your guests want to play, they can but if they don’t, we have to do what?” I asked, waiting for their response.

    “Respect their choice.” The class answered in a monotone fashion, just ready to get on the playground. So, I dismissed them and in a varying degree of excitement the crowd dispersed. Most parents went off with their kid but Clyde seemed to linger back.

    “Mind if I hang back for a bit?” He asked politely gesturing to the bench I was already seated on.

    “Not one bit,” I allowed and he sat with a gruff sigh, “I’m surprised you’re not bein’ pulled in a million directions. After the boys found out you were in the army, I thought they’d be buggin’ ya to play with them.” I wondered aloud, watching the young kids kick around a soccer ball in the field.

    “I think that’s Sadie’s doin.” He answered shortly, only elaborating when I gave him a confused look.

    “She talkin’ bad about you behind your back?” I asked.

    “No, I think she was hopin’ you and I’d be friends.” I stiffened, my quick little crush on him must be obvious for his third-grade niece to try and throw me a bone.

    “Oh, Clyde I’m sorry, if you don’t want to sit with-“ I began, but he cut me off.

    “Don’t worry Darlin, if I didn’t want to sit with ya’ I wouldn’t be.” He affirmed in his sturdy assured manner of speaking. I subconsciously moved closer to him. “I hope you don’t mind my askin but, what brings you to Boone County?” He asked innocently.

    “Well Clyde I’d tell ya’ but I think it would take me a couple drinks first.” I avoided the answer, knowing if there was any chance this man liked me back it would be squashed by me crying on him at the playground.

    “That does seem to be my specialty darlin’.: He replied smoothly, gaining a confidence I hadn’t seen in him earlier. Maybe he was being polite, but I hoped he was just getting more comfortable with me.

    “Well, then you should have no trouble making drinks strong enough to get my secrets from me.” I rebutted; it was a little too honest for my liking but the way Clyde was looking at me made me want to tell him all my little truths.

    “I’ve got different ways of gettin’ secrets out of a lady and gettin’ you drunk ain’t one.” He responded with an understated grin, it’s like he knows what he is doing to me.

    The rest of recess was spent under the sturdy oak tree on a bench talking to Clyde about trivial things. He didn’t bring up anything from my past that he may want to know and vice versa. I was curious how a man like him could be single until it hit me that he never really specified that he was in fact single. The thought of Clyde having a wife or girlfriend at home waiting for him made my stomach turn all throughout the lunch period. I thanked God that I was able to regroup in my room rather than stand in the cafeteria monitoring the kids.  

    I spent most of the period cleaning up the room and setting out a craft that would take a good portion of the rest of the day since the kids weren’t going to their usual elective class. This helped even my mind out of funk Clyde put it in. Just as I felt like my brain, and its hormones, mellowed out there was a knock at the door. When I opened it, Clyde stood there with none other than Sadie on his shoulders.

     “Hope ya’ don’t mind Miss L/n!” Sadie said excitedly, “Uncle Clyde and I finished lunch early and snuck out!” She let out a mischievous laugh.

      “Well,” a chuckle slipped past my lips, half in shock and half amusement of their antics, “Since you’re still with Clyde I can let you get away with it just once.” Clyde’s cheeks burned at my statement and I shot him an innocent smile. He ducked through the doorway enough to get Sadie through safely, then brought her down careful not to drop her.

      “Sadie, since you’re here would you out a worksheet at every desk for me?” She nodded and worked diligently to do what we asked. I turned to Clyde who was unceremoniously eating a cookie from the table of refreshments. “So, what brings you from the cafeteria? Mrs Lowells Cookies?”

    Clyde, not expecting to be seen mid-cookie, chokes a bit, “No-“ He pauses to regain composure, “No, I er- I didn’t want you ta be lonely in here?” His questioning tone and red cheeks told me it wasn’t the full story, but like we did under the oak, I didn’t push him.

    “Oh? That’s awful sweet Clyde, was its Sadie who offered to keep me company?” I asked knowing that it was most definitely not. Sadie was a social butterfly, and lunch was her domain in the third-grade class.     “Hm? Sadie?” Clyde smirked, knowing full well I was onto his schemes, “Of course Miss L/n, what are you trying to insinuate here?”

    “Nothing Mr. Logan,” I took a step closer to the man, being mindful there was still a child in the room, “What did you think I was insinuating?” I challenged his notion and was met with a blossoming blush and shy smile.

    “Nothing improper,” he raised his hand to show three fingers, “Scouts honor darlin’.” At that a burst of joy exploded in my chest. Clyde Logan was a gentleman through and through and it made me want to burst.

    “Alrightie then Scout, how bout’ you help little Sadie pass out papers, lunch is just about over.” He broke his gaze and it felt like the world around me faded back into view. I wondered how many women sat across his bar and felt the same. Am I just another girl falling under the spell of a charming, well-mannered, one-armed, bartender? I turned to look at him passing out the papers with all the seriousness of a drill sergeant in basic training. It was incredibly endearing.

    Yet again, the bell rang and the moment of wonder between Clyde and I was interrupted by the trickling stream of students.

    The rest of the day was surprisingly chaotic for a worksheet and a craft. Two bottles of glue were spilled, both by adults, and there was a cotton ball fight that led to two students’ clips being moved to yellow and two parents sent to the hall to cool off. The headache that was reverberating around my head after a day spent taking care of the students and the parents must’ve been the biggest one in a long time. As I was cleaning up, I found that Sadie had left one of her drawings on her desk, which was odd because Sadie always made a point to take hers home for her dad.

     I took the paper and put it on my desk to save for her, and once I was satisfied with the state of the room, I decided to see what the drawing was. On one side of the page was a nice tree over looking some flowers and a house, a skilled drawing for their age, but that was nothing new for Sadie. On the back however, it was a very different message.

Miss L/n, my uncle Clyde thinks you’re pretty. He works at the Duck tape bar every night except for Mondays (or whenever he gets sick).

p.s.: you should marry him so you can be my aunt.

I never did take Sadie for a match maker, but then again I can’t complain when I’ve got another reason to go visit a particular bartender, and hope that he felt the same chemistry I did.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Again, first fic so please interact or leave some feedback! Would love to hear if anyone wants more!

[hopeless-nostalgiac]

with all appliances and means to boot: ncis/tiva fic

for this challenge, @loudlooks​ requested Tiva + "I didn't know you could do that." thank you for the inspiration!! *hugs*

set summer between S3-4 w/ team dynamics & tiva (a LOT of tiva—they took over the fic, basically, and I’m not sorry about it) 

also, this turned out like eight times longer than I expected & was the most fun and freeing thing I’ve worked on in years, so

enjoy:) 

FFN

“I didn’t know you could do that!” 

McGee’s voice filtered over news-chattering televisions, incessantly ringing phones, and chicken-clacking keyboards to reach Tony at his desk. 

“There was no reason to mention it earlier. It is not exactly a useful skill, my friend.” Ziva’s full-throated chuckles were wind chimes amidst the office drudgery.

Tony shook off the eruption of gooseflesh on his arms. It was way too early for that. And McGee was babbling again.

“I’ve just never met someone in real life who could do it.”

“Really?!”

A boom of shared laughter enveloped them.

Glancing at the digital read-out on his monitor, Tony silently cheered. 9:07. Totally busted. Then he pretended to be busy with paperwork, so his attention was occupied ahead of time. 

The agents’ conversation lowered until it faded completely, coinciding with their entrance into the squadroom.

Tony had that effect on them now. The tables, as the saying went, had turned. They were the class troublemakers to his super-strict teacher. They, the unruly cadets, and he, the veteran drill sergeant. They were Agents; he was Boss. 

“Agent McGee. Officer David. You’re late.” 

McGee froze while swinging around his desk. Ziva froze after dropping her gear. Tony continued to stare yet not see the file in front of him, but he didn’t need visual confirmation to know the teammates were exchanging glances, coordinating their plan of counterattack. 

“Well, technically we were in the building on time.” The opening lob courtesy of McGee. 

“Technically, that’s not good enough, McTardy.”

“It was when you were wearing our shoes.” 

Tony fought an eye roll. “You can’t throw me off the scent with a well-timed idiom blunder, Officer David.” 

“Can’t I, Tony?” Ziva’s voice was louder, closer to him. 

Out of his peripheral vision, he spied her leaning on the divider between their workspaces. So close now, he caught a whiff of her lavender mint shampoo as she flicked at a cascade of curls that had fallen over her shoulder. If this was their strategy, well, it wasn’t the worst angle. 

But Tony DiNozzo was better. 

“No, you can’t,” he reiterated, finally gracing each of them in turn with his steady gaze. Calm, yet intense. Everything rumbling beneath the surface. “And it’s Agent DiNozzo. Or Boss.” 

Ziva stared back, golden-brown eyes matching his intensity, but not the calm. She rattled off a string of heated Hebrew, ending with a sharp snap of her teeth before spinning around on her heel and dropping heavily into her desk chair.  

Crazy chick.

“So, anyway. Just to be clear: If you’re here after me, you’re late. Period.” Tony slapped a case folder closed, causing his desk to tremble; he could emphasize his words, too. “For today, you can make amends by telling me whatever it is McGee didn’t know Ziva could do. I’m thinking it involves lots of stretching, but if there’s a video game reference, leave it out. Go!” 

And like that, authority forfeited for curiosity. 

McGee did roll his eyes and muttered something that suspiciously sounded like waste of time under his breath. Ziva scoffed, typing noisily at her computer and decidedly not looking in Tony’s direction. 

“That’s an order.” Even he didn’t buy the command. 

9:10. The day was shot. 

. . . 

If someone asked Tony how his first weeks as leader of MCRT were going, he’d say, “Good, considering the circumstances,” with a flash of white teeth. He didn’t like to lose face, sure, but he was pretty confident it was the truth, too.

Because when your boss quit and ran off to Mexico, leaving you in charge of a team that for years affectionately regarded you as The Class Clown, the circumstances weren’t on your side and ‘good’ was the most you could hope for.

. . . 

“What did you do?” 

Passing through the automatic doors, Tony came up short—as much due to the always assaulting antiseptic stench as the accusation. “Why do you assume I did something wrong? Can’t I come see my favorite Autopsy Gremlin with no ulterior motive?” 

“Sure you can,” Palmer called from the freezer section, where he was sliding a corpse home. “But I already talked to Abby, who talked to McGee.” 

Fantastic.

“So before, with the ‘what did you do?’...that was kind of redundant, huh?”

“Guess so.” A dorky chortle escaped the assistant. “I mean, seriously, they were only late by a couple minutes, Tony. Sorry, Agent DiNozzo.” Another hiccup of laughter. 

Great. Just great. 

“Gee, I was hoping I could escape some of the ridicule down here....” Tony pressed his palms against the cold steel of an autopsy table, shoulders hunched, depositing weight into the defeated stance. All his course-correcting tactics, including buying his team lunch, had done little to reverse the morning’s death blow. McGee and Ziva were ignoring him aside for a lone campfire, and then their interactions were clipped—aggressively so where the ex-assassin was concerned. Now the damage was spreading to the sub-basement, it seemed. 

“Look on the bright side, you’re the team leader. It’s what you’ve always wanted, right?” Palmer mirrored Tony on the other end of the table, adjusting his glasses before adding, “This is a bump in the road, but no one ever achieved greatness without first overcoming resistance.” 

“That’s wise, Palmer. For a man who talks to the dead. You wouldn’t happen to know—”

“What McGee didn’t know Ziva could do?” 

Tony blinked. Maybe they’d been underestimating the Autopsy Gremlin all along. “Yeah. Know anything about it?” 

“It’s not a big deal. We were at the bar last night and first the waitress got Abby’s drink order mixed up, but it was super busy, so I suggested that—”

“Sometime today, Palmer.” 

“Well, it turns out Ziva can knot a cherry stem with her tongue, and then...” 

Oh, it was more wondrous than he’d guessed (and that list was long).

Palmer’s rambling dissolved to the background of Tony’s thoughts. He couldn’t get to the audacity of everyone going out for drinks without him because the dexterity of Ziva’s tongue was front and center. As he was recently familiarized with that very tongue and the talented mouth it resided in, it was all too easy to lose himself in a sexy daydream of the alleged feat.

Until he remembered how pissed she was at him. Bubble, burst. 

. . .

If someone asked Tony how his first weeks sleeping with Ziva, his former partner and current subordinate, were going, he’d say, “What? I’m not—we’re not—how dare—what?!” 

Because when your boss quit and ran off to Mexico, some of his rules haunted you. 

. . . 

“Rough day?”

Tony looked up right away. It was best not to play games with the director, who emerged stealthily in the dim, empty squadroom. He’d dismissed McGee and Ziva at regular quitting time, unable to make eye contact with either of them—for different reasons—but stayed behind to catch up on last week’s case reports. Him, voluntarily completing paperwork. 

Rough was an understatement.  

“I see my shortcomings are making the rounds.” 

Jenny’s smile was beautifitic, the one she wore during news interviews. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t seeking it out. I was speaking to Ducky on a separate matter, and he happened to mention talking with Mr. Palmer, who—”

“Got the scoop from Abby because McGee blabbed to her,” Tony finished, barely restrained. “Yeah, I’m well acquainted with the watercooler daisy chain.” 

It didn’t slip his notice that Ziva was the missing link. The text he’d started writing to her the second she disappeared through the elevator doors was unfinished and unsent on his phone. 

“Did you also hear they went for drinks after work without inviting me?” It came out as a whine.

Jenny didn’t mask her amusement. “Did you always invite Gibbs for drinks? No, because he was your boss and you were probably venting about him.”

Touché.

“I’m trying, ma’am.” This he intoned with every fiber of professionalism and sincerity he could summon in the moment. The problem was that this wasn’t his first mistake since taking over—wouldn’t be the last—but he was trying. He wanted that noted. Also, there was an insane learning curve, and yes, big shoes to fill. Could he be blamed for that?

The redhead stepped forward, switching her smile for an expression of...not quite pity. Understanding? “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, Agent DiNozzo.”

“Robin Hood: Men in Tights?” 

“Shakespeare.” Jenny chuckled, her fair eyes sparkling in the light of his desk lamp. Tony could see why Gibbs was once head-over-heels for her, back when they were partners. He knew something of those complicated emotions, of which the text draft on his phone contained damning evidence. 

“It’s the nature of being in charge,” she continued. “You’re going to have crappy days and plenty of nights when you can’t sleep. My advice, from experience? When you screw up, apologize and do better next time.”  

“Isn’t that a sign of weakness?” It was a reflex, after so many years. 

Jenny caught his eye and held it. “No. It’s a sign of respect.” 

. . .

He was sober when he showed up on her doorstep. Stopping off for some liquid courage briefly flitted through his brain, but flitted out just as quickly. McGee, he could buy a NutterButter, eat some humble pie himself. All would be cool again. Ziva was a different story. 

Namely, a story with a lot of sex in it, and it’d barely been a month yet. That he spent a large portion of the day envisioning her tongue doing erotic dances with a red cherry stem wasn’t helping. It also further convinced him of a brutal truth: Things were changing. Things had already changed. 

Ziva, outlined by the glow from inside the apartment, crossed her arms over a baggy workout t-shirt. Curls piled in a messy bun. It was Tuesday, kickboxing night. “If you are here for a booty call, you will be sorely disappointed.” Each word was wrapped in her delicious Israeli accent, momentarily distracting him from their sum meaning.

He’d expected as much.

“See, when you want to get them right…” Tony’s attempted humor and roguish smile failed to earn him leniency. 

“Goodnight, Boss.”

The door hurtled toward him, closing on his chance to repent—and more than that, his chance with her. His left hand flew up, catching the wood with a few inches to spare. 

“Hey, whoa. Wait. I’m here to apologize, all right?” Breath whooshed in and out of him; sweat beaded instantly on his forehead.  

Okay, so it wasn’t just about the sex. He was enamored with her, and it hadn’t been a full month yet.

Ziva yanked the door back, though the arrangement of her features maintained dubious feelings. She raised her eyebrows in a way that said, Yes, and?

“I was an idiot, Ziva.”

A corner of her delicate mouth pulsed. “Good start.”

The heaviness in his chest released. He dared another smile, softer-gentler this time, and the door stayed open. “I was too hard on you and McGee.”

“You will apologize to him as well, yes?”

“Yes. McSweetTooth will wet himself with glee, I’m sure of it.” Tony shuffled his feet, bringing him onto her brown doormat, never dropping her gaze. “But seriously, Ziva, I know I messed up, especially, you know...I mean, you should be able to call the guy you’re sleeping with by his first name, even if he’s your boss. That is,” he sheepishly tagged on, “if I’m still the guy you’re sleeping with, after today.”

For a bloated handful of seconds, Ziva froze, as she had that morning in the squadroom. Eyes like lasers, drilling through him. It lasted long enough for doubts to creep in. Then—

“Are you?”

So simple, but coupled with her head tilted to expose honeyed neck, her popped knee, and the slight part of her plumped lips, the challenge was clearly set for him. 

This would be fun. 

Tony launched over the doorway, literally sweeping Ziva off her feet as he plowed into the apartment. An honest-to-goodness squeal filled his ears, then that wind-chime laugh took over and his knees wobbled in their sockets—nevermind her 100-something pounds hanging on his torso. 

It was the first time he’d carried her this way—any way—but her arms and legs wrapped around his body with an ease he would have analyzed if not for the supple give of her breasts against his chest, or her frizzy hair tickling his chin. Her mouth alternated between whispering the dirtiest promises in his ear and nibbling on his neck. Thoughts would have to wait. 

How they shut the front door, how they maneuvered the hallway to her bedroom, how they undressed and (eventually) found the bed was a haze of details that didn’t matter. The shudder that coursed through her at his every touch, mattered. The inverted bridge her back made when his lips and tongue met her center, mattered. His name on a gasp, woven into a sigh, lifted to a shout...

In this area, Tony DiNozzo excelled. He was damn well going to prove it. 

. . . 

It took two rounds to sate her. The first go was part of the apology; the second was because he had a young, hot lover who could run eight miles at the crack of dawn, kickbox for an hour after work, and still have energetic sex with him—twice. Who wouldn’t take advantage of that? 

“Guess I got that booty call after all.” He love-tapped her ass, which was bare to the air. He braced for retaliation. 

None came.

Hair mussed and cheeks flushed, Ziva glanced over, fixing him in her line of sight. A smirk hiked up the side of her mouth not buried in the pillow. “As did I, Agent DiNozzo.”

“Never going to live that down, am I?”

“Give it a few months.” Her smirk widened as her eyelids drooped, each blink taking longer and longer to pull back up. 

. . .

They dozed together in the dark of her bedroom. They weren’t cuddlers, per se. Their connections left them too sensitive, sticky and unspooled. They stayed close, though. Touching random pieces of her to him, him to her. His head resting on her bicep curled closest to the mattress. Her ankle molded to the arch of his foot. Sometimes as conventional as their hands laid one atop the other, fingers loose. 

. . . 

He began talking while they ate cereal in the kitchen at quarter to eleven. He was talking as she cleaned and put away their dishes and led him to the front room, his body going where she steered and nudged. What he voiced was nothing new to either of them. All the same issues that overwhelmed him on a cool May night, that propelled him to Ziva’s door in what would become a habit. He was drowning; she was refuge. 

For that, and so many other reasons, he trusted her without question. 

Ziva allowed him to talk now because that was how he worked out problems. They both knew that, too. 

“I think it comes down to the fact that...I don’t know how to be a team leader that isn’t Gibbs.” The admission floated and settled on the sofa cushion between them. It wasn’t often they said his name anymore. The memory was sore to the touch. 

“We have been over this, yes?” Ziva tossed a leg across his lap, the other tucked beneath her. He immediately claimed the tanned skin of her thigh, rolling it under his hands. “This is a chance to be your type of leader, make your own rules.” 

“Every time I do that, it blows up in my face.”

“Not every time,” she corrected, her eyes darting to his lips and lingering. 

His heart rate ticked up. Very true. They might not have happened if Gibbs hadn’t left. But… “We’re one thing, Ziva. The team is another.”   

She turned his chin with her hand, locking his gaze with her steady and fervent stare. An imposing combination. “Tony, you either keep trying or you quit, just like Gibbs. What will it be?” 

It was Tony’s turn to sneak a not-so-subtle glance at her lips. When she put it like that, the answer was undebatable. What he’d told Jenny wasn’t a lie. And giving up wasn’t an option. 

Didn’t mean he’d hand her the win that easily. 

“How about we make a deal?” While his eyebrows waggled, his hands roamed farther than her thigh. “I persevere with the team leader thing. In exchange, you show off your fancy cherry stem tying prowess for me.” 

Her mouth gaped, eyes narrowing. “Who told you?”

“Palmer. The guy’s actually not a bad sounding board.” He’d have to remember that for future thorny cases. 

Ziva deflected, “I do not have any cherries in the fridge.”

Tony returned, “That wouldn’t stop a true parlor trick magician like yourself.”

Her face reformed in an expression that always intrigued him. A cat devising the perfect trap for her prey. It didn’t surprise him when she stretched her leg out, straddling his lap properly. He circled her low back, drawing her hips over him and generating a spark of friction. There was extra verve in her fingers burrowing the short hairs at his nape, tipping his head upwards. 

“You must really want me to—”

Ziva covered his lips with hers, swallowing his words as they melted to moans. Instead of continuing hot and heavy, everything slowed. Each kiss long and needy, a continuous caress. Her heady spice invaded his senses. The tip of her tongue slipped by his teeth, running the roof of his mouth before pushing in further.

Tony’s spine straightened at the sensation of tongue against tongue, the rough texture, the strokes and flicks. He gripped whatever part of her was in his reach, would likely leave marks. She didn’t flinch. She was all around him, practically tying him in a knot. 

It was exactly how he imagined it, but also superior.

He was smiling when they broke apart, breath imperative for them both. “Your ingenuity is an inspiration, Ms. David.” 

Ziva winked, leaning forward to kiss him again, a casual closed-lipped peck in the wake of such an intimate encounter. And he knew, no matter what came of leading the team, he wanted this—them—to survive. 

“Now you must honor your part of the deal, Tony.” 

“Whatever you say,” he agreed, flipping her onto the cushion and following her down for round three.

. . .

The next day, Tony waited at his car in the parking lot for his team to arrive. He walked into the building with them, and didn’t check the clock in the mornings ever again. 

He apologized to McGee, which just freaked out the newly-appointed Senior Field Agent. As Tony predicted, the Nutter Butter made all the difference. 

By the end of the week, he brought Special Agent Lee onto the team because there was symmetry in four and they needed a probie to act as a buffer. Plus, she was good at meeting case report deadlines and Tony wasn’t.

He doubled-up on campfires and went to Jenny for advice more often. Palmer, too. 

The team went out for drinks, occasionally inviting him to join. Occasionally not. 

A month later, he and Ziva started keeping their love in each other’s hearts along with spare clothes in one another’s dressers. Soon, there would be no sense hiding them anymore. 

And when someone asked Tony how leading his own team was going, he said, “Our results speak for themselves,” and meant it. 

Because when your boss quit and ran off to Mexico, leaving you in charge, you wore the crown and made it your own. 

fin

[n5md]

Cloudwalker

In our newly relaunched "Learn more about..." interviews, we switch up the continuity slightly and focus on just one release: Gimmik's Cloudwalker. Martin kindly agreed to answer a few questions to kick off what we'll refer to as v2 of the "Learn More About..." blog.

While Entre Les Chambres was the actual return of Gimmik to the public eye, Cloudwalker is more of a return to form. It is undeniably Gimmik; however, Cloudwalker treads some new ground for you. Can you shed some light on how the creative process changed from Entre Les Chambres / Deux Nouvelles and how those two albums might have influenced Cloudwalker?

Very well observed - they did influence Cloudwalker! Entre Les Chambres and Deux Nouvelles were both produced under technically limited circumstances. On top of that, I thought that no one will ever hear this material. Luckily it was not the case, and I got the chance to become a member of the n5MD family. When you produce with the idea that the material will never get released, it gives you a lot of room and space. You are not concerned about expectations. The music can flow and evolve freely. The calm nature of those albums helped that process. It was research where I experienced myself more as a witness than a composer. For me, that is a new approach. This approach was still the same when I produced Cloudwalker. That is the reason why the tracks are so diverse. Short Wave Memories and In My Family do not have anything in common, but that is the way they evolved, without me constructing anything. The most significant difference is that Cloudwalker was produced in a proper studio environment. Plus, I took a step into eurorack, which brings a very unpredictable element. And yes, that is Mutable Elements "Rings'' what you hear on In My Family. I was working on a self-generative patch with "Marbles'' when all of a sudden, the melody appeared...

I think you sent me In My Family shortly after you finished it, and it was one of the darkest days of the early pandemic; where our local government-issued curfews and such. It was the track that I needed at that moment; it brightened my day. It's very cool that the melody was a generative experiment gone right. I seem to remember you have quite a bit of the Mutable Instruments modules. Modular, to me, seems like a bit of a wormhole of experimentation. So, how do you stay focused when experimenting with new sounds and textures to bring, say, one of your Modular Nature tracks, which you have on your Youtube channel, to life.

Working with a modular system is entirely different. My approach is always a question. What will happen if I connect this with that and modulate with this? Then you start patching, and the results are entirely different from what I expected - a lot more exciting and better! In the beginning, I thought modular was about rebuilding synth voices. So I started emulating the signal-flow path of a 101 for a start. I missed the whole point of modular... A system has a life of its own and takes you to completely different places, and sometimes I do not even understand the results. (-: But that is not important. The decision to work with modular is to avoid walking down paths I have taken too many times when composing. What keeps you focused is your ear. The trick is to learn when to stop. In the beginning, I lost a lot of great patches when the result was already at 90%. When trying to reach 100%, my tweaks destroyed that patch's beauty, and I never found a way back to 90%. That happened a lot of times in the beginning. A modular system really helps to learn when to let go… (laughing). I chose Mutable Instruments because those modules are very focused on musical and harmonic results.

So, going back to Cloudwalker, how did it feel getting back to basics as far as Gimmik goes. People may not know that Entre Les Chambres and Deux Nouvelles were made for very personal listening. Care to shed a little light on those two, and more importantly, what made you want to go past those themes and bring Gimmik full circle for Cloudwalker?

Entre Les Chambres and Deux Nouvelles were NOT a conscious decision. Those were a necessity! The title Entre Les Chambres means "between two rooms", the space that is between two rooms. That is nowhere! It mirrors how I felt at that moment. There were many significant changes in my life, luckily nothing concerning my family, but still major changes. In order to cope with it all, I started making ambient tracks. It was the only thing that helped me to cope and focus again. The tracks happened by themselves. Listening to them and working on those albums was a calming experience. When they were finished, I played them to Chris, and he convinced me that he liked them. That led to the decision to make those first tapes. Later I sent them to you. Your reaction was very motivating because the music got released. With that motivation and getting back into a studio environment, the Cloudwalker tracks just poured out of me very quickly - it felt terrific to go back to the studio. My family gave me the time to work in my studio, and you and Chris gave very motivating feedback! From my perspective, this makes Cloudwalker my most important album so far, and I am very thankful for this chance! Another key element is that you gave me total freedom regarding artwork, choosing tracks, and their order. Just great!

Well, I knew going in that you know what you are doing. So I shouldn't have needed to step in and manage such details. For release prep, I'm available to take care of the details that an artist doesn't have access to or the working knowledge. You and Chris ran Toytronics, and you are a graphic artist as well, so I knew that you know the drill. If something was glaring or didn't work under the n5 stylistic umbrella, it is my job to say something, but I was pretty confident that wouldn't happen. I also know that after you completed the tracks, you took a great deal of time to get them to flow perfectly and also fit on four LP sides—your care in craft shows, and it's been great to work with you.

You brought up Chris, and there is an Abfahrt Hinwl remix on Cloudwalker, so; I'm going to ask. Are we going to hear some new Abfahrt Hinwl soon?

Thank you, as I said, that means a lot to me. And I still think that it is a fortunate situation. The AH RMX of Sailing Everest on Cloudwalker was just me, to be honest. That is why I used an abbreviation - AH. It is more a hint. It has a lot of the Abfahrt Hinwil ingredients. We tried to revive the project and realized that working over a distance via the internet does not work for either of us. The key of Abfahrt Hinwil was that we worked in the same room, at the same time, with the same equipment - listening to what the other one does - giving an immediate reaction. The most important point is communication, which has to happen immediately - you need to respond straight away, not with a delay. Today we find ourselves in two different life situations. We both would like to continue. After an online experiment, we realized it would be only possible when we visit each other and then work in the same studio. That is not possible at the moment, and Covid plays a significant role in that.

Ah, I see; Abfahrt Hinwil was you and Chris basically feeding off one another; also, there are cheques and balances, which is great to have. I completely understand why it would not be feasible to do it from a distance effectively. So, I'd like to pivot to these little builds I see on your Instagram. You recently sent me a pic of a peculiar little box that looks to be a synth. Assuming this is something you built (loving the stickering, by the way). What is this, and does it appear on Cloudwalker?

(laughing) That is a drone box handmade by a guy in Russia. Six oscillators, each one with a kill switch. Three standard range oscillators and 3 Sub. A very rough-sounding machine, great for drones. The filter sounds very nasty, just great. There is a little bit in the track Cloudwalker itself but washed out by Big Sky. The downside is that there is no midi, trigger gate, or voltage control. It is more of an experiment tool. The important parts of the track Cloudwalker have Mutable Instruments: Plaits and Tides 1, using the Sheep mode. Both outputs went into Warps, modulated by Stages. The little melody was played live on the Yamaha DX Reface, going into the Big Sky. It was all recorded live onto tape to 4 tracks to a Tascam 234. Then it was mixed the classic way, patchbay, fx, analog mixer main out to digital. 75% of the album was recorded to a Sound Devices MixPre-3 II.

It sounds like your Big Sky gets some action! Strymon makes some exceptional pedals. It seems like you can almost entirely make music out of the box if you needed to, which is excellent. So one last question: When we collaborated on the Cloudwalker one sheet text, you added something about the production tools "representing technology from 1958 to 2019," and I asked if 1958 was a type-o that needed to be corrected to 1985 when it was not. When people read that, I think they will be very curious as to what technology you utilized from that far back…

Yes, it is a great pedal, I love the sound and the fact that you get nice results very quickly.

1958- (laughing) There is an on oscilloscope from Russia, which can be seen in some of the videos on HIDDEN REALITY, and 2 vintage function generators. I got those old function generators from a close friend, he is an electronic engineer and professor for physics at a university. They got rid of all their old equipment, and he asked if I wanted to have something. He could not throw those old machines away, so he rescued them to his cellar. He changed the connections for me, so I can use them with the modular environment, using my standard patch cables. I used them a lot as modulation sources, as they can modulate extremely slow (like MI tides). But I have to admit that I got them for their looks in the first place…(laughing) - Those machines look like the machinery you see in Qs research center in old James Bond movies...

Order Cloudwalker now: US / UK / EU

Learn even more about Gimmik

[newstfionline]

Thursday, February 25, 2021

COVID-19 cases falling (nearly) everywhere (Foreign Policy) New COVID-19 cases and deaths have dropped worldwide for the sixth consecutive week, according to figures compiled by the World Health Organization. The WHO recorded 2.4 million new cases last week, a drop of 11 percent compared to the previous week. The 66,000 deaths last week represented a 20 percent decline. Five out of the six WHO regions now show a consistent downward trend in new cases, although the trendline in the Eastern Mediterranean region remains flat due to continued case increases in Iran and Iraq.

Not to be sniffed at: Agony of post-COVID-19 loss of smell (AP) The doctor slid a miniature camera into the patient’s right nostril, making her whole nose glow red with its bright miniature light. “Tickles a bit, eh?” he asked as he rummaged around her nasal passages, the discomfort causing tears to well in her eyes and roll down her cheeks. The patient, Gabriella Forgione, wasn’t complaining. The 25-year-old pharmacy worker was happy to be prodded and poked at the hospital in Nice, in southern France, to advance her increasingly pressing quest to recover her sense of smell. Along with her sense of taste, it suddenly vanished when she fell ill with COVID-19 in November, and neither has returned. Being deprived of the pleasures of food and the scents of things that she loves are proving tough on her body and mind. Shorn of odors both good and bad, Forgione is losing weight and self-confidence. “Sometimes I ask myself, ‘Do I stink?’” she confessed. “Normally, I wear perfume and like for things to smell nice. Not being able to smell bothers me greatly.” A year into the coronavirus pandemic, doctors and researchers are still striving to better understand and treat the accompanying epidemic of COVID-19-related anosmia—loss of smell—draining much of the joy of life from an increasing number of sensorially frustrated longer-term sufferers like Forgione.

Biden to order sweeping review of U.S. supply chain weak spots (Washington Post) President Biden on Wednesday will formally order a 100-day government review of potential vulnerabilities in U.S. supply chains for critical items, including computer chips, medical gear, electric-vehicle batteries and specialized minerals. The directive comes as U.S. automakers are grappling with a severe shortage of semiconductors, essential ingredients in the high-tech entertainment and navigation systems that fill modern passenger vehicles. Biden’s executive order, which he is scheduled to sign this afternoon, also is aimed at avoiding a repeat of the shortages of personal protective gear such as masks and gloves experienced last year during the early months of the coronavirus pandemic. The president’s order, which had been anticipated, represents the partial fulfillment of a campaign pledge. But mandating a government study will be the easy part. Extensively modifying U.S. supply lines and reducing the country’s dependence upon foreign suppliers—after decades of globalization—could prove difficult and costly.

U.S. seeks to return to U.N. human rights body (Reuters) The United States will seek election to the U.N. Human Rights Council later this year, U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken said on Wednesday, marking the Biden administration’s latest international re-engagement. Blinken, addressing the council by recorded video, said that President Joseph Biden’s administration would work to eliminate what he called the Geneva forum’s “disproportionate focus” on U.S. ally Israel. The council, set up in 2006, has a stand-alone item on the Palestinian territories on its agenda every session, the only issue with such treatment, which both Democratic and Republican administrations have opposed.

Freedom of speech the real issue in Spain (Washington Post) Thousands of protesters have taken to the streets in some of Spain’s largest cities every night for a week, often clashing with police. In Barcelona on Saturday, authorities said they detained 38 people and recorded injuries among 13. The anger of the young protesters is centered on the arrest of a man who until recently was an obscure figure: Pablo Rivadulla, a rapper better known by his stage name, Pablo Hasél. But the demonstrations are about far more than one man’s arrest, speaking to growing concern inside and out of Spain about the effect of the country’s anti-terrorism laws and lèse-majesté statutes circumscribing the freedom of expression.

Covid inspires 1,200 new German words (The Guardian) From coronamüde (tired of Covid-19) to Coronafrisur (corona hairstyle), a German project is documenting the huge number of new words coined in the last year as the language races to keep up with lives radically changed by the pandemic. The list, compiled by the Leibniz Institute for the German Language, an organisation that documents German language in the past and present, already comprises more than 1,200 new German words—many more than the 200 seen in an average year. It includes feelings many can relate to, such as overzoomed (stressed by too many video calls), Coronaangst (when you have anxiety about the virus) and Impfneid (envy of those who have been vaccinated). Other new words reveal the often strange reality of life under restrictions: Kuschelkontakt (cuddle contact) for the specific person you meet for cuddles and Abstandsbier (distance beer) for when you drink with friends at a safe distance. The words also capture specific moments during the pandemic. For example, Balkonsänger (balcony singer) is someone who sings to people from their balcony, which was popular during the spring lockdown. Hamsteritis, referring to the urge to stockpile food, was also commonly used at the start of the crisis.

China uses patriotism test to sweep aside last outlet for Hong Kong democracy (Washington Post) Serving as a district councilor in Hong Kong means addressing everyday concerns such as pest control, traffic issues and helping elderly residents pay bills. One of the few perks of the modest office is having a say, alongside tycoons and Beijing loyalists, in choosing Hong Kong’s leader. On Tuesday, Hong Kong’s government announced that anyone running for these local positions will need to be a “patriot”—meaning they must swear loyalty not to their constituents but to Beijing and the Communist Party—as China moves to quash the territory’s last avenue of democracy. The changes, which are expected to be introduced to the legislature—where there is no viable opposition—next month and become law soon thereafter, will trigger the expulsion of several young pro-democracy councilors, even if they read the oath as instructed. Disqualified candidates will be barred from running in any elections for five years. With Tuesday’s announcement, the councils, the only fully democratic body in Hong Kong, fall in line with China’s broader reshaping of a city once known for its boisterous political culture as democratically chosen representatives are replaced with Beijing loyalists.

The Mekong River (Nikkei Asia) There are 60 million people who live along the lower Mekong River, and they were in for a rough surprise in early January when China drastically cut the discharge from the Jinghong Dam in Yunnan Province. The “tests”—which were slated to end January 24—entailed cutting the flow of the river from 1,900 cubic meters per second to just 1,000 cubic meters per second, but the final day of tests came and went and the volume is still down. That this occurred in the middle of the dry season was particularly rough for Thailand, Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam, countries that depend on the river. China has begun to draw international ire over their management of the river, which it has built 11 large dams on.

A Digital Firewall in Myanmar (NYT) The Myanmar soldiers descended before dawn on Feb. 1, bearing rifles and wire cutters. At gunpoint, they ordered technicians at telecom operators to switch off the internet. For good measure, the soldiers snipped wires without knowing what they were severing, according to an eyewitness and a person briefed on the events. The data center raids in Yangon and other cities in Myanmar were part of a coordinated strike in which the military seized power, locked up the country’s elected leaders and took most of its internet users offline. Since the coup, the military has repeatedly shut off the internet and cut access to major social media sites, isolating a country that had only in the past few years linked to the outside world. The military regime has also floated legislation that could criminalize the mildest opinions expressed online. So far, the Tatmadaw, as the Myanmar military is known, has depended on cruder forms of control to restrict the flow of information. But the army seems serious about setting up a digital fence to more aggressively filter what people see and do online. Such a comprehensive firewall may also exact a heavy price: The internet outages since the coup have paralyzed a struggling economy. Longer disruptions will damage local business interests and foreign investor confidence as well as the military’s own vast business interests.

Iraq’s struggling Christians hope for boost from pope visit (AP) Nasser Banyameen speaks about his hometown of Qaraqosh in the historical heartland of Iraqi Christianity with nostalgia. Before Islamic State group fighters swept through the Nineveh Plains in northern Iraq. Before the militants shattered his sense of peace. Before panicked relatives and neighbors fled, some never to return. Iraq’s Christian communities in the area were dealt a severe blow when they were scattered by the IS onslaught in 2014, further shrinking the country’s already dwindling Christian population. Many hope their struggle to endure will get a boost from a historic visit by Pope Francis planned in March. Among the places on his itinerary is Qaraqosh, where this week Vatican and Iraqi flags fluttered from light poles, some adorned with the pope’s image. Francis’ visit, his first foreign trip since the coronavirus pandemic and the first ever by a pope to Iraq, is a sign that “You’re not alone,” said Monsignor Segundo Tejado Muñoz, the undersecretary of the Vatican’s development office. “There’s someone who is thinking of you, who is with you. And these signs are so important. So important.”

Syria’s economic woes (NYT) In a private meeting with pro-government journalists, President Bashar al-Assad was asked about Syria’s economic meltdown: the currency collapse that has gutted salaries, the skyrocketing prices for basic goods and the chronic shortages of fuel and bread. “I know,” he said, according to two people with knowledge of the discussion. “I know.” But he offered no concrete steps to stem the crisis beyond floating this idea: Television channels should cancel cooking shows so as not to taunt Syrians with images of unattainable food. As the 10-year anniversary of Syria’s civil war looms, Mr. al-Assad’s most immediate threats are not the rebel factions and foreign powers that still control large swaths of the country. Instead, it is the crushing economic crisis that has hobbled the reconstruction of destroyed cities, impoverished the population and left a growing number of Syrians struggling to get enough food. Food prices have more than doubled in the last year. The World Food Program warned this month that 60 percent of Syrians, or 12.4 million people, were at risk of going hungry, the highest number ever recorded.

The Deadliest Middle East Construction Project Since The Pyramids (The Guardian) On December 2, 2010, FIFA announced that Qatar would host the 2022 World Cup —- a first for a Middle East nation. Over the next ten years, thousands of migrant laborers from India, Pakistan, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka came to Qatar to work on the elaborate preparations for the world’s biggest football tournament. Sadly, during that period at least 6,500 of those workers died, according to an analysis by the Guardian. The findings were compiled from government sources, and mean that an average of 12 migrant workers from the five South Asian nations have died each week since the announcement was made. The total death toll is significantly higher because the figures don’t include deaths from other countries like the Philippines and Kenya that send large numbers of workers to Qatar. Also not included are deaths occurring in the final months of 2020. More deaths have undoubtedly occurred since preparations for the 2022 tournament continue.

The value of housework (Foreign Policy) In a landmark ruling, a Beijing divorce court has ordered a man to pay his wife for five years of unpaid housework during their marriage. The award does not amount to much, roughly $1,100 dollars per year, but marks a new era in Chinese divorce law after the government introduced a new civil code. Under the new code, an aggrieved spouse is entitled to seek compensation if they shouldered more domestic responsibilities—with no prenuptial agreement necessary. The case follows a similar one in Argentina in 2019, when a divorce court ordered a husband to pay his wife of 27 years $179,000 in recognition of her unpaid domestic work. According to Organisation for Economic Co-Operation and Development (OECD) figures, Chinese women spend roughly four hours per day on unpaid work—with their U.S. counterparts clocking in nearly the same amount. American men are closer to closing the gap than Chinese men, however. American men spending about 2.5 hours per day on unpaid labor, while Chinese men spend just 1.6 hours.

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Faetal Facts || Deirdre and Kaden

LOCATION: Strawford Park TIMING: Before the full moon nonsense PARTIES: @deathduty and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: How to care for your banshee 101

The last person Kaden wanted to stop by and see was Deirdre. His car was all packed and ready for him to just go straight to the woods after this. Spend some time in nature, just him and Abel, away from fucking everyone. Figure out what the fuck he wanted to do. But before he got to do that, he had questions. Lots of questions. Questions about fae and banshees that he knew Regan couldn’t answer, not if she wouldn’t admit there was no fixing this. It occurred to him that meeting a banshee who hated him in a graveyard probably wasn’t this best idea but he was too tired to care or argue. “Deirdre,” he said as he saw her standing on the crest of a hill in between headstones. Part of him considered just walking away. Maybe it was better if he didn’t know. Instead he huffed out a small sight and leaned against one of the taller monuments, not meeting her eye to eye just yet. “I know. About--” He still couldn’t say it out loud. Not yet, not to her. Tears were already pricking his eyes thinking about it. Shit. He didn’t want her to see him this fucking vulnerable already. Too late. He knew they mentioned being there sober, but he was getting the feeling that flask he’d brought with him was the only smart decision he’d made today.

Between two graves, at the top of a hill, Deirdre looked out over Strawford; gravestones that marked the land in even rows and columns. There was a peace in the space between them, a peace Deirdre once knew much better--a peace she missed. The sight of Kaden approaching her broke the serenity, and she had to hold back a laugh. She would have thought he’d learned his lesson about approaching Deirdre while she had higher ground. Was a being pushed down a hill so much different from a flight of stairs? But in seeing the pain that tore across his features, she felt an odd pang of sympathy. And with it, she held her joke. Her own eyes were red, and ringed with a lack of sleep. She didn’t look much better than he did, which was an insulting enough thought. “About…?” Deirdre tilted her head. “I know Morgan told you about…” She trailed off, that couldn’t have been what was bothering him. “Cigarette?” She held out her hand. “I know you smoke. Do you happen to have one? For me. I mean. I want one. First. And then you go explain why you look like a dejected dog.”

His brow furrowed as she mentioned Morgan. Huh Kaden thought it would be obvious. “Yeah, I know about that, too.” He reached into his jacket pocket for the pack he had on him, pushed past the flask for them. “I meant about Regan. I know.” He pulled out two cigarettes, one for her and one for him. “Dejected dog? You’re going soft on me.” He took a quick look over at her. “Look a little rough yourself.” He’d ask why but that would involve caring. A heavy breath escaped from his lips as he shook his head slightly. This was fucking surreal. All of it. “Anyway. Banshee, right? She, uh… showed me the wings.” He could feel his throat choking as he held out the light for her. Was that the first time he said it aloud? Probably. After she took it, he shuffled the pack back into its home inside his pocket and fumbled around before fishing out the lighter. God, he had so many things he wanted to know but he needed a little longer before he could bring himself to speak them. He lit his own cigarette before handing her the lighter. Drew in a deep breath of nicotine, held it, and then slowly let it out. It helped. A little. Guess she had good ideas sometimes. “I guess it’s pretty obvious how little I know about them. Uh, you. ...her.”

Deirdre took the cigarette, holding it curiously in her hand. Though she had smoked once or twice before, the very things were an affront to her family and heritage. Deirdre, your lungs are a gift, she could almost hear her mother’s voice, your body is not your own. “I’m going soft. Period.” She replied bitterly, sticking the cigarette in her mouth and waiting for him to fetch the lighter. Her mother would hate this, her mother would hate a lot of things. “Regan…” she breathed, taking the lighter as he finally offered it over, lighting her cigarette before she handed it back. She drew in a slow breath, and expelled it even slower. “Yes, banshee. Congratulations on finally learning what half this town seems to already know. If the death-appreciation, Irish heritage and cold skin couldn’t help you, I’m so happy those wings did.” She made no efforts to mask her distaste. She had tried to break them up, she had tried to avoid this outcome and most of all she had tried to tell Regan who she was. Now, just as she predicted, someone had come back to grovel for information...except it wasn’t who she expected it to be. “What do you want, Kaden? Did you come here to ask me questions about banshees? So you could...what? Hurt her?” Deirdre paused, “help her?”

There was the smug attitude Kaden hated so much. It would have almost been comforting if it wasn’t so fucking annoying. “You’re right. I’m an idiot. By all means tell me something I don’t fucking know.” He kicked a small pebble near his foot and watched it roll down the hill. She had to know as much as he did just how desperately he didn’t want to see the signs; didn’t want to put the pieces together. Then again, maybe not. She thought so little of him. “Hurt her?” he spat, turning to look at her. He huffed and shook his head. “You’re smarter than that. If I wanted to hurt her, I would have done it already. I wouldn’t be bothering with you.” He bit the inside of his lip to hold back tears at the word help. Fucking help her. He’d tried. And he’d failed at that just as much as he failed at living up to his duty to rid the world of supernaturals. Maybe more. “I don’t think I can help her. I mean, I wish-- I tried.” A lump formed in the back of his throat. He tried to push away the image of her on the floor sobbing the other night. “I just need to understand. What she is. If I--” If he what? Wanted to try to be with her? He still wasn’t sure that was possible. But he wasn’t about to weigh the options without any understanding of what he was getting into. He sniffed. He wasn’t completely sure what he was asking anymore. “Look, I don’t know what I want to do yet. That’s why I’m here. But I’m not going to hurt her.”

Then she was laughing suddenly, she couldn’t help it. There was something about this that was so pathetically familiar and Deirdre couldn’t help but to laugh. So he did love her. Deirdre could tell he hadn’t hurt Regan by the lack of Blanche screaming in her inbox. And the only answer as to why was that funny word ‘love’. Horrible thing. Poor, pathetic, Kaden, victim to feelings he probably didn’t think existed---feelings he probably didn’t think he deserved to have. Why was that so familiar? She took a slow drag of her cigarette. “Information doesn’t come for free, Kady.” She whistled out smoke from her nose. “If you want me to talk, I want a promise first and...as it happens…” Her arrogance fell, her body, a victim to love itself, conceded. “I want you to promise not to physically harm Regan and…” she swallowed, “...not to hurt Morgan either. Not to...go tell Alain what she is so he can---” the thought alone rendered a sob through her. She brought the cigarette to her lips again. His conundrum was the same because she’d gone through it too, was going through it still. “Are you sure? You know you can’t love someone if you think they’re a monster, Kaden. And you know that if you choose this, choose to go back, help her--love her--whatever it is...in some way...you turn your back on what you were raised to be. And it’s good, in a way, but life becomes a lot more complicated than ‘supernatural bad, human good’.” Deirdre sighed, “I ask you, Kaden, that if you really want to talk to me about what banshees are, and if you truly have no intentions to harm Regan...then you understand what you’re doing. What you’d be admitting to me. To yourself. Is it something you’re prepared to do?”

The laughter stung, even if it was coming from Deirdre, one of the single last people whose opinion on him he carried in any sort of regard. Kaden pushed it away with another slow puff of smoke from his cigarette. Of course she wanted a fucking promise. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted her. He was about to throw the light to the ground and stomp off when he caught a glance of her, vulnerable, breaking... and talking about Morgan? His brow ceased, trying to put the pieces together. Morgan protecting Deirdre; Deirdre protecting her. He knew they’d both mentioned girlfriends. Could it be? His head tilted slowly as he looked at her, and then his head shook a moment. “You fell for a human.” He huffed out a laugh and took a long draw of smoke. “That’s funny. Granted I guess that’s not the case anymore but still. Funny. I thought fae hated humans. Correct me if I’m wrong. That’s been happening a lot lately. Wouldn’t take it personally.” He let out a deep breath. “I’m not making you those promises, though. I don’t need your shitty fae magic to give me nausea at the thought of hurting Regan or killing what I assume is your girlfriend. That happens all by itself. Cause I fucked up.” He really wished he could find the moment he’d started caring and just nip that in the bud then and there. “I don’t plan on telling Alain. Or any other slayer. So long as I don’t see her going on a full on rampage eating brains in the streets. I don’t want to lose my friend. Can you just trust that?”

One last breath and the cigarette was already down to the filter. Kaden threw the butt to the ground and stomped it out beneath his heel. At the word “love” he froze, heel twisted halfway out. Love? That was-- big word. Huge word. A word he hadn’t let himself think let alone dare speak out loud. He felt a pit drop in his stomach. Love. Commitment. That was all so foreign to him. He hadn’t even let himself consider if that’s what he wanted, what he was doing, let alone rejecting it. What the fuck did love even feel like? Did it lead to this much fucking pain? Putain, maybe he didn’t want that. And here he was all the same. “I, uh… you said love, I don’t-- I don’t know…” Fuck he was going to need another cigarette if that’s how this was going to go. Or the flask. “Look I haven’t even told that’s what it-- I mean if that’s how I f--” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “If I’m saying that word, the first person who’s hearing it is Regan, not you.” Yeah time for another fucking cigarette. “But yeah, I know what it means. Really fucking do. My mother-- her ghost. She made that damn clear the other night.” Not that he needed her to, he'd know either way.

Deirdre flinched, she stared back at him with wide eyes and a tense jaw. It wasn’t much of a secret, but logic meant nothing to the kind of panic it set in her. She turned her gaze, finding more peace in the less judgemental blades of grass. So he figured that out quicker than he could realize his girlfriend was a banshee? “And you fell for a so-called monster. But if there’s anyone who knows something about failure in this way...it’s me, Kaden. Believe it or not, I tried not to like her as much as I could.” And yet she still did, and while Kaden didn’t know Regan was fae, a relationship itself must have been a violation of duty too--. She lifted her head up. “How can I trust you?” Her voice turned soft and her eyes pleading. His expression wasn’t particularly dishonest, but that hardly mattered. “You’re right about fae, about fae like me, at least. We don’t like humans. We don’t trust them. One guess which type we trust the least.” She turned back to the grass, expelling another stream of smoke. She left the cursed thing burning between her fingers for a moment. “I don’t want to lose her again, lose the only thing I can say without question has been good in my life…” she sighed, “I think you can understand the feeling.” A promise would have been nice, would have calmed the fear that curled around her insides. She should have known better than to be granted that one gift from a human like Kaden.

She watched him stomp his cigarette, leaving the butt there. Strange how a man so uncaring about the world could love; strange that he could crush a cigarette under his feet and leave the remains there to mar the earth but not admit he loved a woman. “Whatever it is,” Deirdre took a slow drag of hers, nearly done, clearly more savored than Kaden’s, “you have a choice to make. And if some part of you thinks you can still be the good hunter you were born to and love a monster by all accounts you should hate...you’re wrong. You have to make your choice, Kaden. It’s not too late to go run back, pretend like the fae seduced you with her wiles. Isn’t that what fae do? No one would blame you. Your mother might be happy enough to go off to the otherside. Finally, her son is the hunter he’s meant to be.” She paused, “or you could go chase the thing that makes you happy, you can figure out how to reconcile your past with the future you want. You go tell Regan that her wings are beautiful--because I’m sure they are. You tell her that whatever is happening to her, you’re okay with it. Maybe you get her to understand that she’s not human, and you show her that’s okay. But you can’t do any of that if you still think she’s some creature. You know that, Kaden. She won’t appreciate all that you’d be giving up to be with her properly, no one will. They don’t really understand what it’s like to be born one way, and find you want to live in another.” She crushed her cigarette against a gravestone, holding the litter in her hand. “You were meant to be alone. We both were. That’s the kind of thing we were born to do. But you’re happy with her...and you can have a life that isn’t so lonely anymore. You can be more than the murderer you were born to be. But that starts here, starts with accepting I’m not a monster either. If you’re prepared to do that, Kaden. If you understand what I’m saying…you may ask me whatever you’d like.” She paused, “I’m sorry about your mother. At least you’re just disappointing a ghost.”

It was hard not to just bristle up and dismiss everything she was saying, not listen. Kaden told himself that was because it wasn’t what she was saying, it was who was saying it. Every part of him still wanted to just push her words away out of his mind. He came here for what he thought was simple information on banshees that he hoped could help him make a better, clearer decision. Instead he was getting this. Finding out they might have similarities. It felt wholly wrong. But somehow she just kept hitting the nail on the head about him. It was harder and harder to deny. He lit his second cigarette and thought for a moment. How could she trust him?  Fair enough question. He barely trusted her. But he didn’t want his decisions to be bound by fae magic. That-- it felt wrong. Like they weren’t his anymore. And he wasn’t here to make Deirdre feel better. “Well, Morgan was stupid enough to trust me,” he said, his voice smaller. “And she read me like an open book. So maybe trust your girlfriend’s judgement,” he said with a small shrug. It was strange to admit some of these people in this town might have a better idea on who he was than he did but somehow it just kept happening.

And as she kept talking, it happened all over again. It was like she was voicing his inner thoughts. Every single one of them. Out loud and so painfully real that way. She had a point. Kaden could just cut and run. Call this a failed experiment. But the thought of that cut him to the core. That meant never spending time with Regan the same way ever again. Maybe never getting to feel that small slice of happiness he felt around her. Then again, that was still tenuous, wasn’t it? Wings were hardly the last hurdle they had to jump. And of fucking course Deirdre thought they were beautiful. He wondered if she had her own, hidden behind a glamour. It was strange to think as human as she looked standing next to him, that might not be her true form. But he was so sure there was nothing more Regan had to hide from him. Maybe not. That uncertainty still made his stomach drop. But still, he was having so much trouble conjuring ways to make that matter. Her eyes flashed into his mind, the last time he’d looked at them. Still her, after all that. Was it worth giving that up for a calling that kept cracking at the seams every time he turned around? He took a deep draw of the nicotine, let it out slow and steady, mulling her words over in his head. “You really think we get to be happy?” It wasn’t something he’d ever really considered so much because he’d tricked himself into thinking that he had been. This whole time. He knew who he was, what he did, and that was fine. Killing monsters was all the satisfaction he needed in life. That had been happiness. Until he opened the door to alternate possibilities and everything got more complicated. As evidenced by the fact he was standing in a cemetery talking to a banshee about his fae girlfriend who didn’t think she was fae. Putain.  “I… I think I understand, though. I just, I need to know. The scream? I’ve always been told it causes death. I-- If…” If he knew Regan was a threat to humanity, that, god it would hurt. But he had to know. He had to. He could sacrifice some morals for selfish reasons but the line had to be drawn somewhere. “But like I said, my track record for what I’ve gotten right and wrong seems to be stacking up lately in favor of fucking incorrect. So you tell me. Do banshees really bring death and pain in their fucking wake? How doomed am I?”

“She’s stupid enough to trust a lot of things. I imagine that’s how hope works. But she’s been wrong before, she died that way.” Deirdre breathed, closing her eyes. She’d first gotten lost talking to Morgan over how stupid she thought her judgements were, and bold-faced, Morgan told her that she didn’t care--that there was nothing else for her to do but hold on to those stupid judgements. “I was a stupid judgement too.” She opened her eyes and smiled gently. “How kind of you to turn that around. I wouldn’t be trusting her, I’d be trusting you. You and I both know how wrong hope can be. You won’t give me a promise; that’s fine. Understand your life is forfeit if something happens to her. I don’t care how much Regan likes you, I won’t let you live if you prove Morgan wrong.” And unlike threats of the past, there was no anger held in her words, no hint of a joke that only she found funny---she meant every word with her heart just as true as her love was. She held her hand out, “give me another cigarette.” If she was committing acts of treason, it felt right to defile the temple of her lungs again. “People like us? I didn’t. I told Morgan as such over and over again, and she said we had to be born for more than that. That people were alive to do more than break. All I know is that I am happy with her, I can’t deny that. And you are happy with Regan. That---” She gestured haphazardly. “--other stuff isn’t...isn’t happiness like this. I know. I told myself it was too. A purpose, maybe, but it’s not a happy one. It can’t be, if the truth is you’re happier the moments you’re not doing it---the moments you feel like you’re worth more than the carnage you were born into.”

And Deirdre couldn’t help the laugh that left her again as he asked his question. Wasn’t it funny how hunters did that? Did they have to tell themselves these people they killed were monsters just so they could sleep at night? Did they have to invent tales of evil just to make it fair? “No. We don’t. We’re seers, that’s it. We see death before it occurs, we scream when fate has made its call. We do not cause it.” Deirdre shook her head, “she’ll never harm anyone more than some hearing damage and whatever flying glass does.” She purposely neglected to explain how powerful the scream could be, and the breadth of effects it could cause--in this case, as much as she hated it, it was probably better to up-sell how benign they could be. “We’re drawn to death, sometimes to places it has not yet touched. I couldn’t tell you if some part of me liking Morgan had to do with her eventually dying, it becomes hard to separate. We do not carry anything with us, Kaden. Moths to a flame, that’s all we really are.” She broke out into a lopsided smile, “aren’t we all a little doomed though? If you die early, it won’t be Regan’s fault. And for this, you’ll just have to be stupid enough to trust me.”

Oddly enough, Kaden didn’t have too much trouble believing that what he’d been told about banshees had been more than a little colored. His family was far more versed in beasts first, vampires and the undead second, and fae fell to the wayside, left for the warren families to study and deal with. He knew the broad strokes but details, well, clearly those were fuzzy. Still, part of it almost felt like she was trying to comfort him, ease into the idea that maybe this was fine. Then again, he glanced over and remembered who he was talking to. Right, she wasn’t about to sugar coat shit for him. At least he could trust that. He gave her a contemplative nod as he let out another puff of smoke, it was all he could manage after all that. She was the expert after all. “She’ll know though, won’t she?” It just hit him, then and there. They’d both know, wouldn’t they? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know that. Ever. Guess it was too fucking late for that. Putain. “But, uh, why is this-- I thought you were born fae. You can’t become one. Why didn’t iron-- I mean, I tested. When we first started dating. And her skin, pulse, you know. And I know she didn’t always have wings. It changed. After… How?”  

“Hm. She’ll know, I suppose. She might not be trained enough to properly decipher it, but she’ll know. I’ll know, and I’ll replay your death happily in my head.” Deirdre smiled, for once, intending her words of his (fortunate) end to be light-hearted. Not that she could be sure she came across that way. “We are. She was still promise-binding and stealing names every which way...but fae grow into their traits. For most, this simply takes age. For banshees, there are a certain set of circumstances that trigger it.” And Kaden was a fool if he thought Deirdre would suddenly spill coveted banshee secrets to him---even if some were probably in every warden book out there. “It happened to me when I was eight.” A fact she normally held with such pride, she now spoke matter-of-factly. “I’ll let you take a guess what causes it. But she is a full banshee now, there’s no going back for her. No way to get rid of her wings, no way to warm her skin or make her heart beat any faster or stop the way iron suddenly burns.” Deirdre sighed, “the only thing that’ll really help her now is accepting she’s not human. And you Kaden, have to be prepared to tell her that doesn’t make her...lesser.” Something he really couldn’t do if he still thought of them as monsters. He wouldn’t lie to her twice, would he? “Anything else?” She asked.  

“Hope it’s at least entertaining for you.” Some things never changed. Small comfort in that, he guessed. Still, his brow creased as Kaden tried to get a clearer picture of the puzzle, connect the dots he didn’t want to piece together before now. The name stealing, promise scares she’d had, of course it had been her. Blaming Deirdre, the mimes, it had been easier. And safer. Not unlike that promise bind she wanted earlier. There was no doubt what had triggered Regan’s change, though. The death of her father. It had to be. The timing, even he’d figured that one out long before he was willing to admit the truth. For a moment, he wanted to tell Deirdre he was sorry. Ask if it was hard for her, too, when it happened. Something about her, though, it felt like she took pity about as well as he did. Nothing pissed him off more than that look people gave him when they found out about his childhood and how much it differed from theirs. Like they were better than him. So he let it lie. And listened.  

Tears pricked his eyes as she confirmed everything Kaden already knew. “Yeah. I-- I know. She’s not--” His “human” girlfriend was gone. Forever. Not that she ever was. Stil, it hurt knowing how much he wanted it not to be true. Knowing how much she wanted it not to be true. Knowing she’d never feel warm next to him ever again, he’d always have to wonder if she was still breathing in the middle of night. And he had a feeling he knew what caused the lightbulb casualties now. He bit the inside of his lip as the lump in his throat returned. “That’s uh... That was the main thing. I wanted to...” He swallowed back the new wave of hurt. “Thanks. For. You know. I just, I couldn’t… Not without knowing how it all...”

“Oh, It will be,” Deirdre grinned. Though, the happy expression didn’t last. She glanced over at him curiously, he seemed...not as happy about confirming his girlfriend was a banshee as Deirdre would be. But she could understand some part of it, she thought. Morgan had gone from human to zombie. The differences between them laid in the fact Deirdre never saw one as better than the other--she wouldn’t allow herself to. How cruel would that be? Weighing pros and cons when the simple truth that she loved Morgan was more than enough. It didn’t matter, exactly, what she was. The difference between them had to be that: she fell in love knowing who Morgan was, completely, facing the fact she was human and accepting that she loved her despite it. She took no space to mourn, knowing it didn’t matter in the end; Morgan would always be Morgan. Deirdre let silence wash between them, giving Kaden his space to mourn where she couldn’t. “Regardless of what you think about the cold skin and the slow pulse…” she frowned, “you can’t let her think it’s terrible, Kaden. You--what if she hated herself? You wouldn’t---You can’t want that for her. Regardless of what you think. It’s not...it’s not all bad, being this way. It’s good. It can be good. It can be even better if you’re there with her.” She sighed again, looking out over the horizon. “You’re welcome, Kaden. You know, I’d recommend you swing by that supernatural sex store...” Deirdre turned back to him and smirked. “I’ve heard some things about banshee gags.”

[hardcorejackson]

It’s important for me that I do some research on HOW I want him to survive his wound. From what I’m reading, he’d be impaired if one side of his brain is shot by the handgun, which is what Abby used to shoot him (thankfully the speed and damage a bullet does means that her firearm choice there would have been the reason I wouldn’t have to change it completely just have it lifted up to avoid it tearing through his brain stem, which is what her shot did). 

“A bullet that damages the patient's right hemisphere can leave the victim with motor and sensory impairments on the left side and vice versa. Many other functions such as cognition, memory, speech and vision are controlled by both sides of the brain.”

“The right side of the brain is responsible for spatial perception and movement of the left side of the body. Injury to the right brain hemisphere may result in difficulties determining spatial relationships (for example, how far away an object is or how fast it’s moving).”

“With right hemisphere brain damage (known as RHBD or RHD), a person may have trouble with things like attention, perception, and memory, as well as loss of mobility and control on the left side of the body, since each hemisphere controls functions on the opposite side of the body.“

“In general, the right side of our brain is in charge of visual awareness, imagination, emotions, spatial abilities, face recognition, music awareness, 3D forms, interpreting social cues, and left-hand control. It performs some math, but only rough estimations and comparisons. The brain’s right side also helps comprehend visual imagery and make sense of what we see. It plays a role in language, particularly in interpreting context and a person’s tone, staying on topic in a conversation and organizing thoughts and ideas.“

Attention — Difficulty concentrating on a task or focusing on what is said or seen.

Visual & Spatial Perception — Processing information in the left visual field, resulting in trouble judging location and objects in their surroundings. This is called Left Neglect.

Reasoning & Problem Solving — Difficulty identifying that there is a problem and generating solutions.

Memory — Difficulty recalling previously learned information and learning new information.

Social Communication — Difficulty interpreting abstract language such as metaphors, making predictive inferences, understanding jokes, and nonverbal cues. Affect, or emotional expressiveness, is often flat and reduced. There may be difficulty filtering comments during conversations.

Organization — Difficulty arranging information and planning, reflected in communication difficulties such as telling a story in the right order, giving directions, or maintaining a topic during conversation.

Insight — Difficulty recognizing problems and their impact on daily functioning.

Orientation — Difficulty recalling the date, time, or place.

Musicality — Trouble picking up on certain sounds, which could result in miscommunication or inability to appreciate the musicality of speech and tone.

Speech — Voices can sound monotone or unnatural.

Emotional Indifference — Acting as if nothing serious – physical or mental – needs to be addressed, when this may not be the case.

Loss of Mobility & Control of The Left Side of the Body — Damage to the right side of the brain can result in a loss of functionality or weakness (called hemiparesis) in the left side of the body.

His survival of this happening to him would be based on LUCK and that his skull would have possibly cracked from falling to the ground, thus making it possible for the swelling to be relieved. He’d be delicate from it all, though, which is something not common for a leader-type like him, but they’d need to make sure they kept him bandaged, secured, and in sight. When he returns to Jackson, he’d spend most of his time just recovering, readjusting, and trying to find some normalcy in his life again.

Needless to say, he’d be unable to go back out into patrol for his OWN safety, which he’d absolutely hate. Would he agree with it? Yes, because it’s smart to not risk his life and the life of others because of pride ; he knows better but it’d still greatly upset him. Not only does he forever live with issues just remembering things on a daily basis (sometimes he’ll need to be reminded at least three times to accomplish something, but his social skills start to falter and, for a long while, he becomes incredibly depressed over just how much his mind has changed. His emotions are lacking, his mind struggles with imagination, he tries to pick up on cues, and don’t even get him started on the limp and difficulty on his left body’s side.

Let’s not even get started on the ableism he’d feel toward himself and how others around Jackson might start to act (because if we get bigoted sandwiches, then we know there’s more stuff there that’s going to be said that puts him down)