#And I was so hoping we'd get more than two this season

[candied-cae]

All I have to say about tonight's episodes is that I deserve a new Frenchie song RIGHT GODDAMN NOW

I have been waiting oh so very long, looking forward to my little guy's delightful little jams, and now that The Revenge isn't just the most depressing boat sailing across the Caribbean, he better put that fucking lute in his hands and get to work.

I need a new sprightly little pirate song to play when I need a dopamine hit. Please, Frenchie, have mercy on me.

Please, David Jenkins and Joel Fry, have mercy on me.

[confused-pyramid]

Coming Up For Air | s1

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, death of a spouse, slow slow slow burn, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 1x01, 1x06, 1x07, 1x08, 1x15, 1x16, and 1x22

a/n: I started rewatching Criminal Minds from the beginning, and this is what came out of it heh. This is the first part in a little series I'm starting that follows Hotch and his childhood best friend in the BAU, beginning with the pilot. If all goes well, this will continue through the rest of the show, with ~1 part per season :) Title is from Coming up for air by Signals in Smoke

series masterlist

You haven't used your oven in over a year. It's not that you don't like cooking - because you do - you just haven't had the time. If you could, you would blame it on the extra hours you have had to put in after starting at the BAU, but that wouldn't be fair. Your transfer to the unit was the only thing that got you through his death at all.

After your husband was shot and killed in action while tailing a kingpin of one of the New York mobs, you couldn't bear to be in this house at all. You had gone back home to stay with your father for a couple of months, but eventually you had to get back to your real life. With a month remaining on your bureau-mandated leave, you returned to the home you had shared, before one of the lower-level mob soldiers misfired -

You didn't let yourself think about it for almost a year, but time heals all wounds. The poets were right. At least you hope they are.

Even back at home, you still couldn't bear to be there alone, other than when you were sleeping. That's why your peloton was gathering dust and your kitchen went untouched, until just now.

So, of course, the call from the office comes when you're making dinner. It takes five minutes to change into slacks and a button-up, and two more to toss your half-cooked vegetables in the trash, before driving down to headquarters.

A fourth girl has been taken in Seattle, and the local PD only now decided to invite your team. You know the BAU isn't well-liked by the other departments, but that doesn't mean you aren't effective.

When you enter the building, you rush through the I.D. check and jog over to the lecture hall, where Morgan and Reid are standing outside of a neighboring office like children waiting for their father to come and get them.

Shooting them both a thin-lipped smile, you step inside just as they finish discussing the unsub's pattern.

"They want you back in the saddle," Hotch says to the man beside him after greeting you with a nod.

Your eyes are so immediately drawn to Hotch that it takes you a moment to realize that you recognize the man standing next to him. You haven't seen him since the day you were assigned to the BAU, mostly because you were technically transferred to this unit because of his extended leave.

What was supposed to be one month became six, before Hotch informed you that your temporary placement would be permanent, if you were willing to stay in Virginia.

It was a no-brainer.

You turn your gaze to Jason Gideon as everyone in the room stares at him expectantly. He looks self-assured, but you're sure the confidence is a front. "They sure they want me?"

"The order came from the director," Hotch says simply.

"Well," Gideon states, "we'd better get started, then."

Hotch glances over at you as everyone files out of the room and you raise your eyebrows momentarily, a quick check-in between the two of you. He nods imperceptibly and it's enough for now. He didn't tell you Gideon was coming back today, but now isn't the time to give him hell for that.

***

Hotch is the last to board the plane, and he takes his usual seat beside you, this time in the aisle, a few rows away from the rest of the team.

"I was going to tell you," he says as soon as you close the case file in your hands. "The section chief wants me to evaluate him to see if he's ready to return to the team."

"That's a lot of pressure." They have to know that Gideon will be able to smell him out within the day. "You sure it won't get in the way?"

Hotch makes that face you hate, the one that says he knows you're deflecting. "I was going to tell you."

It doesn't take much for you to forgive him. It helps that you trust him completely, especially after everything he has done for you.

"Still," you smile, bumping his shoulder with yours, "it would have been nice to know about the sudden change to my job security."

You're mostly joking, but his frown is genuine. "Don't be silly. You'll always have a place on this team."

He takes everything so seriously these days. You suppose it's only fair, given the files he has to sort through on a daily basis. Picking which case deserves the team's attention the most.

But he wasn't always like this. You're the newest member of the team, but you've known Hotch longer than any of them.

You still remember the first time you met him, at eight years old. He was your first real friend at school, and you became inseparable easily. Your shared love for The Beatles and Law and Order made you fast friends, and as you grew older, your interests shifted in tandem.

Sometimes when you look at him, you still see that little boy who knew too much, but still managed to always make you laugh.

***

The team disperses soon after you land in Seattle. You've never had to come up with a profile in one afternoon, but it's also been a long time since your ticking clock to find the victim was just over a day.

When Gideon and Morgan head to the latest crime scene, you join Hotch and Reid to interview the victim's brother. The moment the three of you step into his house, his dog, Sandy, starts barking up a storm.

"It's what we call the Reid effect," Hotch smiles, walking over to pet her. "Happens with children, too."

You can't help but smile as well, peering over at Spencer, who looks about as uncomfortable as he usually does.

It doesn't escape your notice that the brother looks looser now. Hotch has a way with people that traces back to his childhood self. He was always wiser than his years, something you chalk up to his need to grow up faster than he should have, but his paternal instinct comes from practically raising his brother, Sean, after his dad's untimely death.

The casual interview reveals enough about the victimology that when you head back to the station, Gideon calls the officers in to explain the profile.

You can feel Morgan's agitation wafting off of him as he watches Gideon state his assumptions with startling clarity and confidence. Hotch, on the other hand, looks contemplative, which reminds you that he's been tasked with the returning agent's evaluation.

He can see your furtive glances in his direction, even as you try to remain secretive about your interest in his demeanor. He presses his lips together to keep from smiling as he thinks about how lucky you are that you went into profiling and not covert operations.

You have never been especially good at keeping your own thoughts or intentions to yourself around him. While some would call that a weakness in this field, he sees it as your greatest strength, because it clearly shows how much he can trust you.

As a kid, you were outspoken about every idea you had, and you used your strength and willpower to look out for him when he needed it. It took him a long time to admit how much he used to need you (maybe too long), but you always knew.

***

Gideon's profile leads to the arrest of Richard Slessman and Tim Vogel, and Elle manages to save the last girl while she's still alive. You catch your breath for the first time in 36 hours as you stand with Hotch in the shipyard, watching the paramedics and local police clear the scene.

"What are you going to tell them?" you ask under your breath as his gaze turns to Gideon, who is getting patched up in the back of an ambulance.

He had goaded the unsub into shooting him instead of the girl, but your mind can't seem to focus on the silver lining.

Hotch sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, as though to hold his coat closed against the breeze. "They want to know if he's fit to be a field agent again."

Normally, you would give him shit for using that tactic. Avoiding a question by providing more information. This time, you know he's just thinking out loud.

"What would you say?" Hotch asks as Morgan walks over and sits on a barrel next to you.

"Gideon saved her life," Derek shrugs, his eyes flashing to you for a moment. "That's good enough for me."

Hotch seems to ponder this for a second. "Do you know what Gideon means in Hebrew?"

"Mighty warrior," Reid interjects, popping in to the conversation with the subtlety of a tiger.

You're confused at first, but then you remember the baby names book that was sitting in Hotch's living room the last time you visited him. "You cannot let Haley name your child Gideon."

Hotch laughs suddenly, and you can tell you surprised it out of him. Your chest warms comfortably as he smiles, his cheeks flushing softly in the chill air.

He looks over at Gideon again, deciding in real time that he's going to recommend him to come back to the team. He would never admit it to you or anyone, but he knows that if your position on the team was in jeopardy from Gideon's return, he wouldn't have been able to complete his evaluation fairly.

It was Hotch who recommended you for the open position after he was promoted into Gideon's role as unit chief. You deserved the spot, of course, but Jeff's death had still been fresh and he knew better than most how much the job can take one's mind off of the other aspects of their life.

While Hotch watches Gideon, you watch him. You can tell from the look on his face that it's a done deal. Jason's coming back to the team. It will be a change of pace for everyone, but that doesn't mean it won't be good.

Having joined the team right after the bombing, you saw exactly how Gideon changed after getting the profile wrong, but so did everyone else. What people didn't talk about was how Aaron changed too. Rising into the rank. Growing to fill the hole that Gideon left in the unit, but somehow also shrinking into himself at the same time, because that's what this job does to you...it takes and it takes and it takes until you have nothing left to give.

But sometimes that's what you need: to give something up so you know you aren't losing everything.

***

Gideon settles into the team faster than you anticipated, and soon it's almost like he never left. Even though you can see the vein on Morgan's neck pulsate every time he hijacks a profile, you can't help but appreciate the support he gives to Spencer and Elle, both of whom are becoming incredible profilers before your very eyes.

That's also why you find yourself a little worried when Hotch tells you that Reid failed his weapons recertification.

"I thought you said you were helping him practice," you say as the two of you walk past security and toward the bullpen.

"I was," he emphasizes, before correcting himself, "I did. I'm sure he was just nervous."

You nod, pushing open the doors and spotting Reid sitting quietly at his desk. "He can test again in two weeks. He'll be fine."

When Morgan hands him a whistle with a quippy joke, you sigh into your coffee tumbler, but don't bother stepping in. He's being childish, but if you try to intervene, it'll just embarrass Spencer more.

"Okay," JJ starts, "Franklin Park, Des Plaines. Yesterday afternoon."

She dives into the case, but you have already read the file (and you know Reid has too) so you scoot your chair over to his desk and lean forward so only he can hear you. "I failed my first weapons certification at the bureau too."

Spencer looks up immediately, his face colored with surprise. "Really? You're one of the best shots I know."

You smile with a shrug. "The tests aren't real life. When it comes down to it, I get the job done. Just like you will."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, but then his lips curve up into a small smile. You both turn your attention back to the front just as JJ finishes explaining the case details.

"Wheels up in 30."

The flight to Illinois is filled with heated discussions about the bureau's fruitless history of trying to profile long distance serial killers.

"L. D. S. K.s are so rare, we haven't been able to build a standard profile," Hotch explains as the jet reaches cruising altitude.

Gideon chimes in immediately. "Here's what we do know: they're always male, and they frequently have law enforcement or military experience, and they always contact the police or the media."

Elle looks confused and you echo her sentiment as you lean your hip against her armrest. "To take credit or relive the experience?"

"Both," he says simply. "All serial killers attempt to relive the ecstasy they get from their killings. Some use souvenirs taken from the victims, and others return to the dump site to interact with the body. Both modes require contact with the victim, contact which, by definition, long distance serial killers don't have."

"Our unsub hasn't contacted anybody," you point out. "What do we do until then?"

"Sometimes it's not what the unsub does that reveals the profile. Sometimes it is what they do not do."

Reid glances up from the file in his lap, and you notice that he looks at Gideon first. "He doesn't kill his victims."

"Underkill's a unique signature," Hotch ponders, standing up and walking along the cabin. He only paces when he's deep in thought. "The question is, does he shoot them in the stomach intentionally just to wound them, or is he just aiming at the biggest part of the target?"

The team is silent as you take in this new analysis. You're not surprised when Gideon is the first to speak up. "Specifically, does the unsub lack the skill to make the head shot, or simply the will to take it?"

When the plane lands, you check out the last crime scene before spending the day talking to the local police and the victims' surgeons at the nearby hospital.

That night, when you check into your hotel room, the click of the door lock closing behind you is a welcome relief from the tension of the day. Many of the Des Plaines police officers were unhappy with the team's initial assessment, because it heavily implied that the unsub may have been a law enforcement official himself.

You wash your face and change into a tee shirt and a comfortable pair of sweatpants, before climbing into bed and opening the case file back up again. The rest of the team has also gone to their own rooms, but you can't help but wish you had another set of eyes looking at this with you.

As though reading your mind, a knock thuds on your door and you stand up quickly, in case it's an emergency. When you check the peephole, you see Hotch standing way too close to the door.

Unlocking it slowly so you don't startle him, you open the door to find him in still in a full suit.

"Is there a problem?" you ask immediately. "Do I need to get dressed?"

He shakes his head, glancing around the hallway so quickly that you almost miss it. "I was just looking over the profile and I wanted your opinion on some thoughts I had."

The corner of your mouth twitches and you open the door further to let him in. He doesn't miss a beat as he takes a seat on the armchair in front of your bed and flips open his notepad.

"I was thinking about the bullet we recovered on the scene," he says slowly, like he's thinking through every word he's saying.

You nod, sitting on top of the bed covers and crossing your legs under you. "Garcia called after you left the station. The bullet was a .223 fired from the M-4 variant of the M-16."

"That means he's military," Hotch says, reaching his hand out without taking his eyes off his notepad. You close the case file you had laid out and hand it to him. "M-4 is a shorter barrel than the M-16, so it's less accurate and a lot harder to fire, especially at these distances."

"This level of skill indicates specialized training. That means..."

"It means the underkill was on purpose," Hotch says, finishing your thought. "What is he trying to prove?"

You purse your lips as he sits up in the chair to give himself room to remove his jacket. His pinstriped button-down is slightly crinkled under his arms, but you can tell it was freshly ironed this morning.

"Maybe he's in a fast-paced occupation," you suggest, "which would fit with the profile that he has a big ego."

"Then we're back to law enforcement."

You lean forward, your eyes following his hands as they fidget with his cuffs and undo the buttons, one at a time. You've always been attune to every one of his movements, but maybe it's just because you've spent so much time around him.

"Hotch," you whisper-yell, snagging his attention from your case file, which he tosses back to you.

He hums and you take that as an invitation to continue speaking. "Be careful tomorrow, when you're giving the profile."

One of his eyebrows lifts and you can tell he's holding back a smile. "It's just in front of the Des Planes PD. You'll be there too."

"It's not that," you sigh, shaking your head. "Everything about this profile points to the shooter being either current or former law enforcement. I'd be surprised if they didn't take it personally."

His eyes flit up to yours, his brow furrowing. "I can handle myself."

"I'm sure you can, Hotch," you say with a breathy laugh. "Doesn't mean I don't still look out for you."

He pauses and it's like his whole body takes a beat. "I know."

***

You're talking to Dr. Landman with Derek, Elle, and Jason the next day when a gunshot rings out through the hospital. Last you checked, Hotch and Reid were in the E.R., but you haven't heard from them since you arrived.

"It's Phillip Dowd," a nurse informs you when you meet with local police outside the closed E.R. door.

After a quick call to Penelope, the profile becomes clear.

"He joined the army at 18," Gideon recites, pacing around the room in a vaguely reminiscent manner, "went to ranger school, did 6 years before being dishonorably discharged in '95 for conduct unbecoming. Obviously lied about it, joined the Arlington P. D."

"You were right," the police captain sighs. "He was a cop."

His hopeless tone is disheartening, and you find yourself upset for not the first time that your team was correct in their assessment.

After the initial commotion, the E.R. is silent except for a few muffled voices. You can't hear what's being said, but the lack of gunshots or loud noises is all that's keeping you from falling apart.

"It'll be okay," you hear whispered from next to you. You turn to see Derek, who presses his shoulder to yours briefly. "Hotch will know what to do."

You know there's nothing you can do from out here, especially with how precarious the situation inside is, but doing nothing has never been your strong suit.

"I know," you tell him, echoing your thoughts. "I just wish we could help."

Derek cocks his head at the S.W.A.T. team readying themselves to break the door down. "We can help. We need to give Hotch and the kid time to wear Dowd down."

His tone is light and you feel yourself laugh, ignoring the thickness that swells in your throat. "That shouldn't take long."

Derek bumps your arm again in a silent extension of comfort, and you mouth a silent thank you.

You can feel Gideon losing patience as he reasons with the captain, but he eventually buys them three minutes to do what they can. When the final five second countdown starts, you unconsciously hold your breath, only to be released when Hotch's voice calls through the door.

"Hold your fire!"

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you squeeze Derek's arm before rushing forward. Hotch stumbles past you with a murmur that sounds obscurely like "help Reid", so you push your way through the throng of civilians moving to escape until you see him.

"Spencer," you gasp, crouching down to help him into a standing position. You would never admit it to him, but ever since he joined the team, he's been something of a little brother to you. "What happened in here? Are you okay?"

"You were right," he says with a surprising steadiness to his voice. "I got the job done."

You don't ask what he means, knowing that Hotch will fill you in when the time is right. Instead, you decide not to fight the vaguely maternal urge rising within you and you pull him into a tight hug. It's more of a quick squeeze, because you don't want to push past his physical boundaries, but he doesn't complain, instead looking over at you with a small smile that's more than enough for now.

***

You find Hotch where the departed ambulance that patched Reid up was parked. All of the hustle and bustle of the paramedics and local police officers and bureau agents comes to a standstill as you walk over to where he's sitting on the edge of the curb.

"I heard what happened," you say as a way to announce your presence. "Can I sit?"

He nods without looking up, and you crouch down next to him, settling on the curb with your shoulder pressed to his. You can feel the tension in his muscles as he grips the sidewalk, his palms digging into the concrete like he could break through if he pressed hard enough. "Reid.."

"..is fine," you whisper, nudging him so he looks up to where Spencer and Jason are chattering excitedly. "He's more proud than anything."

He doesn't say anything, so you bump your knee against his. "I guess all of the physical training classes you made him take at the academy paid off."

He knows you know exactly what is running through his mind, so he doesn't bother trying to articulate it. Instead, he lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, and looks over at you. "Do you remember that self-defense class we took before law school?"

You're not expecting this question, and you almost laugh. "You mean the singular self-defense class you dragged me to before dawn in the summer before we started at Georgetown?"

He levels you with a look that you would think is serious if you didn't know him so well. "You don't regret it, though."

"No," you smile, your eyes blurring with emotion. That's where you met Jeff. "I don't."

He was your instructor that day. He only taught that class twice a week, between lectures at Georgetown Law, and it doesn't escape your mind that you so easily could've missed him. One day earlier or later and you never would've met him, never would've been his girlfriend, or his wife, or his widow.

Hotch remembers meeting him that day too. He had to literally come to your apartment and drag you out of bed to make the seven AM class that he had signed you both up for, and you had been grumpy the whole drive over.

There wasn't much, other than coffee, that could get you alert before eight in the morning, but the moment you walked into that gym, it was like you were wide awake. He spent the rest of the class trying not to look as the man he would later come to know as Agent Adler kept coming over to give you extra pointers, and he pretended that the coil of ice slithering up his spine was there just because he was watching out for you.

When he found out the two of you had started dating, he continued to pretend the nausea rising in his stomach was from the day-old sandwich he had had for lunch, because it wasn't fair. Especially since he was with Haley, and he was happier than he had ever been, even if the new law school course load was making it harder to see her as often as he wanted to.

But eventually, your happiness with him overpowered every protective urge he felt, and he realized that even if there was a feeling in his gut that he didn't recognize when he saw you two together, Jeff was perfectly suited for you.

***

"He's so gorgeous!" JJ coos, her hands twitching at her sides like she's trying not to reach forward and take the baby out of Haley's hands.

She brought Jack, their newborn son, in to work today to show the team, and Hotch looks prouder than you've ever seen him. "Thank you."

"If you find baldness and wrinkles attractive."

"Reid!" you chastise, swatting at him. He dodges your hands without even looking.

"Look at his widdy biddy nose," Garcia squeals, before turning to Morgan with an inquisitive look. "Don't you want one of these?"

He just laughs as he rests his chin on her shoulder. "Mm, I'll stick to practicing."

"Congratulations," Elle chimes in before returning to Gideon's side to continue discussing the new case that came in. She's always on top of things, and it's something you respect greatly about her.

"Thanks," Hotch smiles, his gaze returning to Jack after looking away for only a moment. Jack is like a siren, the way each of his little sounds or movements holds Hotch's attention so steadily. He's the most focused of all of you, but you've still never seen him this enamored. "She's amazing. I'm a little terrified."

"You're glowing," you tell Haley as the rest of the team heads to the briefing room. "How is it that you had a baby just a few weeks ago?"

"You're sweet," she smiles, before tilting her head forward. "Do you want to hold him? You're practically his aunt."

You gasp quietly, so as not to wake little Jack. "That is a title I will carry proudly. And yes, I would love to hold him."

Haley hands him to you slowly, and you make sure to support his head carefully as you cup your arms around him. He looks so much like Haley that you almost make a joke about Hotch's genes not even putting up a fight, but that nose...that nose has Hotch written all over it.

When you glance back to where the team left from, you see him turn back at the same moment and offer you an encouraging smile.

"How are you holding up?" you ask Haley, barely able to focus on your surroundings with a newborn in your arms. Maybe there is something to the siren thing.

"Jack's been incredible. He barely cries, it's kind of a godsend...but I do wish Aaron could take time off with me."

You give her what you hope is your most comforting smile. "We've been super swamped with cases here, but in all my years working with him, I have never seen him so eager to leave every night."

She laughs, a pretty sound you remember from your youth. "I know. I feel so unfair when I complain about these things, but I appreciate you humoring me."

"Not at all," you assure her, glancing back down at Jack, who is mid-yawn. "I understand completely. If I had one of these little guys, I wouldn't be able to think about anything else."

You hear her breath catch and you open your mouth to reassure her that it's fine, but she is already reaching forward to squeeze your arm. "You and Jeff would have made amazing parents."

When you both joined the bureau, you were so busy with work that kids weren't on your mind at all. It wasn't until you got settled at the BAU, and Jeff found his place with organized crime, that you even started talking about it.

You want kids, don't you?

Only a few. Maybe four or five. Yeah, five's a good number.

"I should get back to the team," you say softly, blinking away the memories.

Haley sees your face and she smiles sadly as she takes Jack back from your arms. "I'll see you soon. Tell him I'm heading home, will you?"

You nod and watch the elevator doors close in front of her, before joining the team.

***

"I can't believe you went bar hopping without me," Derek shakes his head, feigning offense as he leans so far back in his chair you're afraid it may tip over.

"I think hopping is kind of a strong word," you say, glancing over at Elle, who is perched on the edge of your desk. "We only had one bar in mind, but it closed earlier than we thought, so we went somewhere else after."

"This was a much needed girl's night," Elle grins, patting Morgan on the shoulder as he continues to pout. "We'll invite you next time."

"How was your weekend, Dr. Reid?" you ask, turning around to face him.

Spencer doesn't look up from his crossword.

You say his name again, recalling the attention of Derek and Elle, who had started talking about some trip they've been planning for what feels like months.

When he still doesn't look up, you pick up one of the BAU-provided pens on your desk and chuck it at him, just hard enough to bridge the gap between your desks, but not so hard that it hurts on impact.

"Ow!" Spencer yelps anyway, glancing up with a look that's somewhere between confusion and indignation. He picks the pen up off the ground and turns it over to see the tiny insignia on the cap. "This is FBI property."

"How was your weekend, Spencer?" you ask again, ignoring him. "Didn't you say you had some fun stuff planned?"

"I did," he lights up, instantly forgetting about the pen incident. "My local movie theater was showing reruns of the first season of the original Star Trek, so I got to experience it on the big screen."

Derek laughs and walks back over to his desk next to yours. "We have very different definitions of fun weekend plans, kid."

You're about to tell Derek that no one wants to hear what his idea of fun is when the office door upstairs flies open and Hotch and Gideon walk out.

Reid hands you back your pen, and Derek sits up in his chair so fast it's almost comical.

"We have another case," Hotch announces before coming to a stop.

Gideon takes it away. "Our unsub is male, intelligent, organized and methodical. He has the confidence of a man who's been killing for a long time."

"Only victim removed from the scene is Freddy Condore indicating some tie to him."

Hotch turns to you. "You, Elle, and Reid stay on Condore's background with Garcia. The rest of us will head to the crime scene."

You nod before standing up. "Let's go, kids."

Penelope's lair is just as eccentric as you remember it.

"Take a seat," she instructs before logging into her computer and opening up her criminal history database. "Just don't get too comfortable."

Your lips quirk up as Elle flashes her eyes at you, and you nod your head at the empty chair on Garcia's opposite side. Reid is already sitting on a desk chair by the back, spinning in aimless circles as he rattles off a list of markers to search for.

After a minute, Penelope stops typing. "Credit card receipts show Freddy loved crab cakes, preferred light beer and used to spend his Thursday nights with a woman in Fells Point."

You pick up a stress toy shaped like a tomato from one of her shelves and bounce it in your palm, just for something to occupy your hands.

"What about his associates?" Elle asks, grabbing a pen with a pom-pom on the end and poking it at Spencer's knee.

"Most of them have criminal records."

Elle glances up. "That much I guessed."

Penelope frowns, and looks pointedly at the pen in her hand.

"She's holding the tomato!" Elle complains, throwing a finger at you.

You lift up your hands in surrender, dropping the stress toy. "Thanks a lot, Greenaway."

"Anyway," Reid interrupts, to everyone's surprise, "One of these guys is particularly interesting. Pull up James Baker's rap sheet."

Penelope turns back to her computer as Spencer reads over her shoulder. "He spent time in juvenile detention for attempted murder, was released at age 21, and then subsequently arrested for, and this is in order, armed robbery, petty theft, burglary, narcotics sales, and rapе."

"What's so interesting about that?"

"When it comes to psychological behavior, anything is possible but this criminal history? It just isn't probable."

Elle nods in agreement. "I mean, as a minor, he began with attempted murder and then devolved into pettier crimes?"

"It's the criminal history of a fractured schizophrenic with multiple personality disorder," you sigh. "It just does not make sense."

***

Hotch calls you into his office when he and Morgan return from Baker's address. You can tell something is off before you even step through the door, so you shut it behind you and take a seat in front of his desk.

"What's going on?" you ask, your eyes glancing over his face to see if his micro-expressions can give you a hint. "What's wrong?"

He looks up with a sigh, his hands clasped on his desk. "Baker's place was an artificial dwelling, and the weapon we recovered on the scene was standard law enforcement issue."

It takes you a few seconds to comprehend what he's trying to say - a few seconds longer than usual - and your breath stutters in your throat. "He was undercover?"

"That's what it looks like," Hotch agrees. "I wanted to inform you before telling the rest of the team."

You nod, pressing your eyes closed for a beat.

He missed his pick-up, Mrs. Adler.

We'll call you as soon as we know more.

The memories start to flood back in and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter before opening them. Hotch looks blurry for a moment until your eyes adjust to the light again.

"Does organized crime know where he is?" you ask, desperately needing to fill the silence.

He looks down at the case file. "We assume so, but it's not like they would tell us. They weren't too happy that we were taking on this case at all, and now we know why."

"Maybe they'll talk to me," you suggest, even though the idea of talking to Josh Cramer makes you taste bile. You haven't seen him since a month after the funeral. It's not for his lack of trying, you just couldn't stomach looking at any of them after what happened. One missed call turned to ten and eventually they stopped trying.

There's a piercing pain behind your eyes and you squeeze them shut for a momentary relief. "It was only supposed to be three months."

Hotch's brow furrows and you don't look up at him just yet. You can already picture his expression, the anguish you know he feels for you whenever you bring up Jeff.

"It was a three month operation," you continue, knowing you won't be able to discuss it later if you stop talking now. "That's all we signed up for. Three months away from me and then he was on leave for the rest of the year, so that we could focus on us again. Maybe even start a family."

Your voice cracks on the last word and you tilt your head down to hide your face. He hates it when you cry, but that's not fair. He knows how important it is to get your emotions out, so they don't pile up inside of you, but if he had his way, you would never have had a reason to cry in the first place.

"I hadn't seen him in over a month when he was..."

He can hear the tightness in your voice and he resists the overwhelming urge to reach his hand out and take yours. You're sitting a foot back from the desk, and it's not he could reach you from here anyway, but his fingers still ache.

"I don't want to blame them, Aaron," you sigh. Your words sound watery, and he pulls a handkerchief out of his inside jacket pocket and hands it to you. He's almost surprised when you accept the gesture, pressing the cloth square under your eyes to catch the tears leaking out. You were so self-reliant as a kid, never wanting or needing anyone else's help. "I don't want to blame them, but I do. I can't help it, I just do."

Someone else would have consoled you. They would have assured you that feeling this way was natural, and that no one could blame you for feeling what you do, but that isn't who you two are. "Jeff wouldn't."

His name is like a dagger to your heart. You practically wince as Hotch digs further. "That team was his family, just like we are yours. He wouldn't blame them, not for this. Not for something he chose."

Something he chose. This is why you don't let yourself remember that day. This is why you kept that day - the day you got that horrible call - locked up inside your brain, where not even you could reach it. Because if you let yourself think about it and remember, then you will remember that it wasn't really Cramer or his unit or the bureau that you blamed. It was him.

For choosing to miss his pick-up. For choosing to go undercover. For choosing to join organized crime.

You take a deep breath and re-adjust yourself in the uncomfortable chair Hotch refuses to replace, even though it's literally splitting at the seams. Something about your tax dollars hard at work. "What are you going to do about Baker?"

He lets you change the subject. "We have to contact Agent Cramer before-

"What the hell is wrong with you people?"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Sorry?" Hotch frowns, both of you standing up immediately.

Cramer doesn't take his eyes off Hotch as he seethes with anger. "I told you, this is my case! You ran my agent through IBIS?"

"Because I wanted to know who he worked for and now that I do, I'd like to talk to him."

"You don't have him?"

You can hear your heartbeat in your skull.

Hotch looks at you then, and finally Cramer notices your presence. "Y/N...it's been a while."

Your lips press into a thin line. "Almost two years." The anger you've been trying to avoid seeps into your voice against your will and you sigh, returning to the investigation. "How long has Baker been missing?"

"About 12 hours."

"You think he ran?" you ask, watching Cramer closely as his jaw ticks.

"No, Jimmy's too experienced to run without contact."

He realizes his misstep immediately and his shoulders fall. To his credit, he doesn't break eye contact, even as his expression softens. "That's not what I meant. All I'm saying is that I think someone's keeping Jimmy from calling in."

You can feel Aaron looking at you, but you avoid his line of sight. If you're going to have to interact with organized crime, you might as well make yourself useful. "We all want the same thing, Cramer: to get Baker back to his family."

You wait outside as he explains the situation in more detail to Hotch and Gideon, and you're surprised when he's the first to leave. "Can we talk?"

Hotch comes out behind him and raises his eyebrow for a fraction of a second, a check-in. Swallowing thickly, you nod your head and follow him down the hall to the top of the stairs.

"I'm sorry I haven't reached out recently," he says as soon as you're out of earshot of the others. "You know Jeff was one of our top guys."

Your eyes shut at his name, as though someone clapped their hands too close to your face. It's almost laughable how sure you were that you were past your grief. You passed the bureau's psych evaluation after your six month leave with flying colors (because your team practically wrote the answers yourselves), and as each new day passed and you weren't so debilitated by just the thought of him, you thought it meant you were fine. Because time heals all wounds. At least it's supposed to.

"I know," you whisper scratchily, before clearing your throat. "I know that. And it's okay. We've all been busy." You look down at the bustling bullpen where his agents are interacting with your team. "Clearly."

Then you remember you're job here in the first place. "We really are just trying to help. It wouldn't hurt to keep us involved."

Cramer sighs and you know he won't refuse. "We'll loop you in."

***

James Baker is found and Vincent Perotta gets taken into custody, but you can still hear the end of the interrogation ringing in your ears.

"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent.

When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers.

And some people grow up to catch them."

You can't pinpoint exactly what you're feeling, but if you had to guess, it would be sorrow. Sorrow for that little boy who got dealt the worst hand you can imagine, and still turned into the best version of who he could've been.

Hotch can't get the interrogation out of his mind either. He had grabbed his briefcase and headed out to the elevators as soon as Perotta was taken away, in the hopes of avoiding everybody. He's about to let out his breath when a hand reaches between the doors and sends them flying open again.

Normally your appearance is a welcome sight, but tonight, he's had enough talking. Perotta took everything he had to give, and then some, and he doesn't know if he has the strength to go through the proceedings again with you.

"I just want to get home," he says as you stand next to him without a word and face the doors. To my family.

You don't say anything as the little fluorescent floor number ticks down - has it always been this slow - and he feels his nerves tighten with agitation. You're never silent, especially not about something like this.

Just before the elevator reaches the second floor, you reach forward and pull the emergency stop button. He whispers your name, half irritated half relieved, and you step in front of him, focusing your eyes on his. It's a classic profiler technique, both to mentally establish trust and to physically block him from the keypad.

"You're a great father, Aaron."

His mind flashes back 25 years, but he squeezes the hand in his pocket into a fist to keep himself from succumbing to the memories. "I'm trying."

He knows what you're doing, and he would normally be open to a healthy exchange between two adults, but tonight he just can't. It's too fresh.

You seem to understand at least a fraction of what he's trying to convey. Your next words are gentle. "That already makes you a thousand times better than him."

That almost makes him smile. "You can say his name, you know."

You shrug, looking at him with a glint in your eye. "Honestly, I don't think I can. I'm afraid I'll turn into a pile of ash, with the fury your father instills in me."

That's what gets him. He coughs out a laugh that echoes around the elevator, and you return to his side, giving him a moment to breathe on his own.

This time, when his mind spirals back to his childhood, he's not as equipped to block it. The memories come in flashes, a blackening bruise on his abdomen, a split lip explained away through roughhousing in the backyard, the thin scars on his hands and elbows as he finally started to fight back. He would've taken it all forever if he had to, if it meant that he could keep the horrors away from the people he loved. "I really should go."

"Yeah." You push the emergency stop back into place and the elevator hits the ground floor in no time. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hotch."

He steps out, half expecting you to follow him. Instead, the doors close and he's by himself again, and he suddenly can't remember why he wanted to be alone in the first place.

***

When the Keystone Killer is finally caught after 18 years of inactivity, he finds himself expecting for there to be some sort of celebration, either in the form of a commendation, or a much-needed break. Instead, what he gets is a mountain of paperwork.

He usually doesn't mind the paperwork that comes after a long case. It's a helpful way for him to sort through his thoughts on what went down, and to learn from mistakes that were made along the way, whether in the profile or in the capture of the unsub.

Lately, paperwork has felt like an added torture to the long hours he already spends at work. It's not that he wasn't excited about going home before, but ever since Jack was born, he hasn't been able to get out of the office fast enough. But being the unit chief of the BAU has its responsibilities, and this is one of them.

He's drowning in consultation files and case reports when you knock on his door, two coffees in hand.

"Thought that was you," he says, finishing the sentence he was writing.

You frown, setting one steaming cup down on his desk. He hasn't even looked up yet. "How'd you know? Or do you just say that to everyone who walks in here?"

His lip twitches and he puts his pen down. "I could smell the coffee. It always smells the same when you make it."

"Oh?" You weren't aware you had a method. "And how's that?"

"Burnt."

You take the lid off your cup and chuck it at him with surprising accuracy. It would have thwacked him in the forehead if he hadn't swatted it aside with his stupid catlike reflexes.

"What are you working on?" you ask after taking a scalding sip of perfectly brewed coffee.

He looks up for a beat before diving back into the file he was skimming. "Paperwork for the Keystone Killer case."

"But we just finished that," you point out before reaching forward and taking the file out from under his nose.

He huffs. "I was...looking at that."

"This is a report on what happened a couple of hours ago," you say, ignoring his remark. "You can easily do this tomorrow, or later this week."

"It's fresh in my mind now. I don't want to forget any details."

You shrug in a motion that says 'fair enough'. "Or, you could actually go home before midnight for once."

You slide another file off the top of his pile and flip it open, reading over the notes Hotch has scribbled in the margins. He's so meticulous about his job that you almost forget he was promoted just a little over a year ago. He became unit chief at the same time that you joined the team, so you didn't get to see him in his early days, but looking at him now, you almost can't imagine it. It's like he's built for this, for taking responsibility and leading people with kindness and respect.

"Elle said something on the plane today," he says suddenly, jerking you from your thoughts.

You close the file and look up as he runs a hand over his head, pushing his thick hair back just for it to bounce forward again. "She said that she's scared she's going to look up and see that her life has passed her by while she was chasing monsters."

Something cold runs through your veins and you sit up straighter in your chair. "And what did you say?"

"I told her the truth."

You smile in an effort to keep your eyes from shining. "What, that we're all doomed?"

He looks at you candidly. "That this job will eat you up if you let it." Your smile falls and he continues. "You just can't let it."

"I'm sure Elle loved hearing that."

He shrugs. "She was surprisingly receptive."

That gets a laugh out of you, even if the good humor doesn't last long. "I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?"

"This job, while also being a husband, and a father." You sigh, and you can almost feel the weight of the air as it leaves your body. "When I go home, I don't have to be anything to anyone. Most of the time it feels awful, but sometimes, after an especially bad case, I'm almost relieved when I can go home and just check out."

You aren't talking about him anymore, and he can tell. He doesn't mind, if this is what it will take for you to work through your emotions.

"We were gonna start trying for a baby."

That surprises him. Not that you wanted to be a mother - he knows that - but that he didn't know you were already thinking about it, especially because of how you grew up. You don't talk about it often, but after losing your mother to a drunk driver when you were ten, you almost transformed into her, becoming the emotional support for your family when there was no one else to fill that role.

You press your lips into a thin line and take a deep breath, your coffee cold and forgotten on the desk in front of you. "We had been talking about it for years, but with the paths our careers were taking, there just wasn't enough time before then." Your eyes look far away, and you don't seem to notice that your lips have unconsciously curved up into a reminiscent smile. "Jeff wanted five kids. Five. God, can you imagine?"

He can, but he doesn't say anything, because he knows you aren't looking for a response. Just for someone to listen.

"I'm an only child," you say with a laugh. "I don't even know what it's like to have one sibling, let alone four." But Jeff had come from a huge family, and he had wanted you to experience that. He loved how full his home always felt growing up, never without someone to talk to. Now you won't ever get to experience that. "I guess I just wish sometimes that we had tried earlier."

"You'll have it someday," Hotch says simply, practically reading your mind. "If that's what you want, you'll have it."

"I waited so long," you whisper, closing your eyes for a long moment. "I was just so afraid that I wouldn't do it right, because I didn't have my mother anymore to help me."

"You would've been a great mother," he assures you, his voice confident. "One day, you will be."

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you clear your throat to keep the tears at bay. "How do you know?"

"I just know."

***

When you push through the doors to the bullpen the next morning, you are greeted by a familiar head of blonde hair.

"Sean?"

He turns around slowly, clearly recognizing your voice, and pulls his lips up into a smile that you return. "Hey, Y/N, how's it going?"

You weren't close to him as a kid, mostly because of the age gap between him and Hotch. You had tried to make more of an effort after graduating college, but Sean was fierce in his convictions, and there were a lot of things he didn't understand about his childhood that you certainly weren't going to explain to him now.

"Good, good," you say, leading him away from the throng of staring women. You shoot them a look that makes them disperse. "You here for your brother? He's upstairs."

He nods, glancing up at the closed office door. You start to lead him to the stairwell when he stops in his tracks and turns to you. "What mood's he in?"

"Why?" you ask, your brow furrowing. "You got bad news? Nothing I need to worry about, I hope."

Sean shakes his head, glancing up at the closed door again. "Nothing like that. I'll just go up."

You let him walk up on his own, knowing he doesn't want you getting involved in whatever he's thinking about. Before you have a moment to catch your breath, the three women return to your side.

"That's Hotch's brother?" Penelope asks, standing so close you can feel her breath on your ear.

"Maybe Hotch is adopted."

"What do you mean?" you ask, unconsciously glancing up the stairs. "They're honestly pretty similar." You're only half joking. They don't look anything alike, but that Hotchner brand of righteousness runs deep.

JJ frowns. "I don't see it."

"Yeah, he looks...like that," Penelope murmurs, before looking at you. "Did you know him when you were younger? Was he hot then too?"

You choke on your own spit. "He was nine years old when I left for college, so...no."

Her eyes widen and she lifts her hands in surrender.

"Ooh, here he comes."

You look up to see Sean storming down the stairs, Hotch hot on his heels.

"Sean, listen to me."

He turns so fast, you're afraid they're going to crash into each other. "Don't profile me, Aaron."

Sean stomps out of the bullpen while Hotch watches him leave, and you can't get the striking feeling of deja vu out of your head. Two boys, 15 years younger than they are now, standing in the same positions, with the same looks on their faces.

You imagine that you and Hotch probably act the same way around each other as when you first met, at eight years old.

The memory comes easily, even with more than two decades of time standing in the way. The little boy with dark hair who had sat next to you on the school bus, just because there were no other empty seats available that day.

You hadn't said anything for the first few stops, just watched him out of the corner of your eye as he nodded his head unconsciously to the music coming out of his large headphones. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you tapped on his shoulder. "What are you listening to?"

He had taken his headphones off quickly, as though caught in the act. "What?"

You repeated your question before leveling him with a pointed stare that meant 'there is a correct answer'. You were a feisty kid, and you weren't always the best at making first impressions, so his steady response impressed you. "Beatles. Revolver album."

"I love that one!" you had gushed, leaning in closer without a warning to press your ear to one of the speakers on his headphones. "Is this Yellow Submarine?"

He had nodded, the confusion in his eyes slowly transforming into delight. "You know their stuff?"

"Of course. My favorite's Eleanor Rigby."

He had frowned then. "That one's too sad."

You weren't surprised by his opinion. You had yet to find a boy your age who could appreciate serious music, but liking The Beatles was a start, at least.

"I'm Y/N," you had said, extending your hand like you were starting a business meeting.

He shook your hand furtively. "Aaron."

"Maybe I'll see you around."

The school bus had stopped at your street then, and you had gotten up without another word to this boy, who would one day become your best friend in the world.

Luckily, the next day, Aaron chose to sit next to you again, this time with a second pair of headphones to attach to his compact cassette deck. Two days turned to three, and before long, you had a new friend.

***

"I can't imagine what two weeks away from this place is gonna feel like," you sigh, packing some essentials into your bag and snapping it shut. "I might actually miss you guys."

"Not me," Morgan grins, before pressing a kiss to your cheek as he zips around you. "Two weeks of pure heaven with nothing but young, beautiful adults looking to make vacation memories."

"Your friend's resort better be as nice as you say it is," Elle says sternly as she wiggles her finger at Derek, who is busy inviting Reid to join their vacation.

"Thanks, but I'm going home," he says quickly, without looking at any of you. "Have a good one, guys."

"I'll head out too," you announce, grabbing your things and following him to the elevators. "Wait up, Spence."

He doesn't seem to hear you, but you slip through the doors just before they close. "You okay?"

"Huh?" he says, finally looking up. "Oh, yeah. I'm just not looking forward to the Nevada heat."

You can tell he's lying, but you don't want to press him right before the long break. "You can always call me if you need anything. Seriously."

"Yeah," he nods. "I know."

You wave goodbye to him in the parking lot, and you're back in the silence of your home by the end of the hour.

The rest of your day is spent lazing around the house, and you're asleep when you hear a knock at your door. After Jeff's death, you started keeping your gun in your nightstand, more out of a general sense of security than any specific acute fear, but its proximity during late night calls has given you the peace of mind you needed to finally sleep through the night.

Lifting it from the drawer, you hold it behind your back as you tiptoe to your front door and look through the peephole. When you don't see anyone, you carefully pull the door open, only to find a small packet sitting on your welcome mat with your name scrawled on the top.

After bringing it inside the house and locking the door again, you pry open the seal and extract a large piece of paper covered in a series of numbers and dots.

That's when the phone rings.

***

"How's it going?" you ask Reid and Morgan as you enter the conference room where all of the Fisher King's clues have been laid out. Neither of them have taken their eyes off the paper you brought in since you tacked it up on the board.

As expected, Reid doesn't look up. "The answer to what book we need has to be in here."

"Yeah," Derek sighs, glancing over at you, "but we sure as hell can't see it."

"Yet."

You look at the numbers again, hoping that your short walk to the coffee station and back would have been enough to unlock something new in your brain. Nothing. "The answer has to be based on specific details of each person's clue." A small sound turns your attention to the couch, where Elle is lying on her side. "Is Elle asleep?"

"I'm awake!" she starts, sitting up lethargically.

At the outburst, Hotch walks into the room and points at her bags. "I'm sending you home. You need to get some rest."

"No-"

"We won't do anything without you, I promise."

"Elle, seriously, we're not any closer than we were."

She nods, her lack of sleep seeming to dawn on her as she yawns again.

"Anderson," Hotch calls out, before you stop him. "What is it?"

"I can take her home," you suggest, looking over your shoulder as she lugs her bags down the hall with bleary eyes. He looks like he wants to protest, so you speak up before he has the chance. "She barely knows Anderson. I'll make sure she's settled, and then you can send him to watch her house, so I can come back here."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he sighs, his eyes still trained on Elle's silhouette lingering by the elevator. "We may need you here."

You cock your head at Reid and Morgan, who have been sitting in the same positions for so long, you're surprised their necks haven't locked. "It's like they said. We haven't made any progress in over an hour. I'm not helping here."

He still looks unsure, but you know it's just worry. He'll always worry about you. "Okay, go. Call me in an hour to check-in."

You dip your head in a nod and jog through the bullpen to catch Elle as she's heading out.

"So you're my bodyguard, huh?"

You laugh, pressing the button for the ground floor. "Something like that."

"Good," Elle says, trying and failing to stifle a yawn, "you're much more fun than Anderson."

"Prettier, too."

The car ride to her house starts off silent, but eventually you break your internal promise to let her come to you. "How are you feeling after last night?"

She just shrugs. "It was more annoying than anything. I'm just glad I got to enjoy at least some of my vacation."

"I heard there was blood all over your room," you point out lightly, trying to broach the subject in a delicate manner. "That can't have been fun to wake up to."

"It was all on the outside. That's part of why they weren't able to hold me. That, and Hotch's lawyer chops."

You raise an eyebrow, glancing over at her as you pull over to the sidewalk. "His lawyer chops?" You know he used to be a prosecutor before joining the bureau, but you never got to see his skills in action.

"Yeah," Elle gushes, her face brightening considerably, "you should have seen the way he walked in there. Those beat cops had no idea what hit 'em. He was in full prosecutor mode, went all rainmaker on them until they released me."

You can imagine it. If any of you were in trouble, he wouldn't let anything get between him and your safety. "I wish I could've seen that."

When you put the car in park, you help Elle with her bags and walk her up to her door, where she insists that she'll be fine on her own.

"I promised I would wait with you until another agent could come and relieve me," you emphasize, instinctively scanning the vicinity around her home as she walks inside and drops her things on the floor.

"In about thirty seconds, I'll be passed out on this couch right here," she points at the window seat behind her, "so you'll just be watching me sleep for an hour."

You open your mouth to argue but she cuts you off. "Y/N, I'll be fine."

If there's one word to describe Elle, it's stubborn, so you let her shut the door behind her and you walk back to your car. Even if she won't let you sit with her inside, you still can't bring yourself to start the ignition, so you lean your seat back halfway and close your eyes, just for a few moments.

You haven't gotten much sleep either, and you're about to doze off when you hear a loud thud from outside the car. Jerking up, you undo the clasp of your holster and push open the car door. The world is silent, except for the rustling of leaves in the wind, but you start making your way up the drive, just to be sure. There's another thud, quieter this time, and you reach for your sidearm as you ascend her porch steps. Then comes a gunshot.

You start running.

[breathing-the-same-air]

Hey, lovely souls. Just here to spread a kind word for anyone who's feeling (understandably) down today🩷

So OFMD has been officially cancelled. Is this the end? Of course not. It will never be.

I mean, even if we'd got S3 there would have been an end to it too. Is it unfair that our awesome cast & producers didn't get to finish what they started in the way they envisioned it? Of course. Is the tv industry absolute shit? Hell yes! So many good shows are cancelled every day, and so many more never even get to exist. We got OFMD for two seasons, a blessing none of us ever expected, that changed our lives in so many ways, that saved so many lives. And if you think about the ending, even though the last episode was rushed and budget was cut and all, we still got such a wonderful, poetic ending, Ed and Stede are together in their inn, love in their eyes, they're safe, they're happy, honestly I couldn't have asked for anything better.

The thing is, things in life are limited (apparently), but the underlying truth to that is that things that truly matter are infinite.

How so? I'll tell you a scientific truth: time does not exist, at least not as we understand it. Because time is just like space, ever-present, every moment in time is actually forever alive. Nothing can ever truly die.

Which leads to another truth: we are infinite, just like the Universe, for we are Universe too. We are stardust and love, and Love is infinite.

We are all one, you and I and everyone out there, we're one same thing. There is no end to something that was created with love. And damn, I've never seen such an outrageous, wonderful outburst of love in my whole life! There is true magic in what we created together, fans, cast, crew, producers... we healed one another, we came together because one day someone just as crazy as us envisioned this absolutely mad world of kindness and inclusion and diversity and sheer joy and against all odds the moment we saw it we jumped on the ship without thinking twice. We made it possible for this show to get a second season, and more than anything, we built this wonderful world around it.

Stories are so much more than imagination, they're not just actors playing a role, there is a point where it stops being just a story and becomes a world on its own, and that world translates into our world, and when that magic happens, when that bridge is created, something so much bigger emerges that forever merges both worlds. It's magic and it's a blessing and I can't but be thankful for it.

My loves, I know you're sad right now. I know we all are struggling for one reason or another, we're all fighting our own battles, be it about physical or mental health, work, study, family, discrimination, or anything else. And OFMD has fought by our side and helped us win so many of those battles already. So when you're in middle of the darkness and can't imagine there could ever be light outside, remember this: we are all with you, right here, right now. Wherever you are, we are with you, and OFMD is with you. Because the things we love do never truly leave us.

We keep saying that OFMD changed us, right? That means that it's become a part of us.

OFMD is and will forever be a part of who you are—and in you, it will live on forever. Be grateful, be immensely grateful, for gratefulness is the vibration that heals the fabric of the Universe and makes miracle happens. Crew, we got something we could never have imagined to begin with!! We are so, so lucky to have had this blessing.

Take the time you need to heal, cry, let out all your pain. But then please be brave and choose kindness, just like OFMD has taught us to. Choose to raise your vibration to that of love and gentleness and dare to believe that life has wonderful things waiting for you. There is hope, there is light, there is magic in your future, a whole life just waiting for you to have the courage to take the next step.

What do you think the crew of the Revenge would have done if they had been told their ship was going to forever stop sailing? They would have thrown another Calypso's birthday party just to celebrate the chance they had to spend so much time there together, and they would have looked forward, found new reasons to be happy, and a new life. Open an inn, for instance!

They would not want us to cry, they would like us to smile and be happy because of the journey we've shared. Or at least, smile through our tears!

You are loved, you are important, your very existence is an absolute blessing to this world. Please never stop being your awesome, beautiful, magical self, because the world needs you exactly as you are- that is why you are here!

Cheer up Crew - we have been so immensely blessed. Can only be thankful 🙏💜🏴‍☠️🖤

[xoxoemynn]

Sleep helped, but ngl, my heart is really heavy today. And I know fandom isn't going anywhere, and I know we were lucky to have the two seasons we do, I know the renewal efforts were a long shot. Rationally, I'm well-aware of all of those things.

But emotionally? OFMD was such a light in the darkness. The thought that we could finally have this, have a story that truly celebrates queer people and also emphasizes that it's not too late, it's never too late and you're not too broken, that we'd finally be able have a story like that and see it through to completion, was so, so sweet.

OFMD came to me at a time when I was feeling a bit stuck in life. It was one of the only things that got me through one of the heaviest seasons of my life. The world is an utter hellscape. Knowing OFMD was there, and the thought that we'd get to see them all again, just one more time, was one of the few thoughts that got me through one of the worst mental health experiences I've had in recent years.

I dunno. I feel like more than anything, the heaviness I'm feeling is the loss of hope. And hope had been doing some serious heavy lifting in keeping my head above water, both personally and in terms of the general state of the world.

We'll be okay. I know we will. But I'm really going to miss that hope.

[teenwolfmarvel-obsessor]

Who Did This To You?

Full Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist

Summary: After a long and stressful hunt, all you wanted to do was take some time off at a local bar, primarily you and Dean rather than Sam. So, while Sam is at the motel, you and Dean decide to hang out at a bar in town. The two of you hang out for a while before it's time to head back to the motel. While Dean is in the restroom, you get an unwanted conversation from someone, but you can handle yourself, right?

A/N: Not sure if I like this that much, but I thought I'd post it anyway. Stay tuned for more imagines!! If you'd like to be a part of the tag list, there's a form in my bio you can fill out, or you can DM me!

Notes:

Y/N/N: Your Nick Name

Established a relationship

Not set during a specific season

Warnings:

Unwanted flirting (guy at the bar)

Dean Winchester x-reader

The music played in the background as everyone talked around Dean and me. We had mostly kept to ourselves, occasionally speaking with the people around us. Since we were never really in town for long periods of time, Dean and I thought it'd be funny to make up different stories.

For instance, this time, 'we' had just gotten married in Las Vegas, and we were doing a road trip across the United States. It was stupid, but it was always fun to make different lives that we might never have. "Wow, so, this trip must be fun," Maria said, the woman we met. I smiled and nodded my head.

Dean had his arm around my shoulder, leaning to the side to kiss me on the cheek. "You two are just adorable," Maria said, grinning. The two of us thanked her, telling a few more fake stories about how we had met. "Well, as much as we would love to talk more, we have to head home," Maria said.

She and her husband, Jeff, stood up from the table. "It was so nice meeting you two. Congratulations on the marriage," Jeff said. The nice woman winked at me before leaving the bar. Dean kept his arm over my shoulders. His smile never left his face as we sat there. He sighed and checked his watch.

"Shit. It's eleven-thirty," Dean said. He took his arm off my shoulders to have the last bit of his drink. I grabbed my purse from the chair beside me, putting my arm through the strap. "I'll be right back," Dean stood up, "You good to take the bill?"

I nodded. Dean winked at me and kissed me on the cheek, then headed to the restroom. I shook my head at his actions. The bartender stood to the side as she was tending to some other customers. I pulled out my wallet to close our tap.

We had kept it open for a bit since we had bought Maria and her husband a few drinks, with them doing the same for me and Dean. Lexi, the bartender, spotted me. She held up a finger to tell me she'd be right with me. I gave her a nod and leaned against the bar. I still had a few sips left of my drink.

The music had died down a bit as the night went on. Dean and I hadn't planned on staying out this late, but we had a long day, so it was worth it. Surprisingly, we hadn't drunk that much, mainly because we knew we had about a nine-hour drive the next day. I grabbed my phone to text Sam that we'd be over in a few.

He replied with a thumbs-up icon before telling me that he'd probably be asleep by the time we got to the room. I chuckled at his response, putting my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. "Well, hello," a man said, sliding to the spot beside me. I nodded at him and continued to wait for the bartender.

"Why're you here by yourself?" he asked. I was able to see him from the corner of my eye, noticing that he was already out of it. I looked over my shoulder at the bathroom door. Part of me hoped Dean would spot what was going on, but the other part of me hoped he wouldn't, knowing that he'd cause a whole scene.

"I'm not," I replied. As soon as I said that, I realized that answering his statement gave him even more reasons to continue. The man looked around to find whoever was with me. "Well, I don't see him," he said. "Well, he's in the restroom, so.." my sentence trailed.

I tried to fly down the bartender, but she was now talking to another customer. The man chuckled and turned to the side to get closer to me. I took the last sip of my drink, trying my best to hint that I wasn't interested. He sighed, reaching a finger for the loop of my belt. My hand put the glass down on the counter and tightly grasped his wrist.

He was taken aback by my reaction but gathered himself and tightly pulled my hand away from his. "I'm not interested," I said, "I've got a boyfriend." Now that he was closer, I could practically smell the strong scent of alcohol on him. I mean, we were in a bar, of course, but this was an unpleasant smell.

The man's grip grew tighter at my response. He flipped his hand so my forearm faced up. I looked him directly in the eye before stomping my foot onto his, thanking myself for choosing heavy boots. "Lexi!" I called the bartender. She turned to me with raised brows, her expression changing when she saw the man beside me.

Lexi walked over and glared at him. The people she was speaking to stepped to me, taking the unwanted man away. I thanked Lexi, giving her some money for our drinks tonight. She nodded her head after making sure I was alright. I glanced down at my arm, taking notice of the red marks already forming.

I quickly pulled the sleeve of my jacket down, covering my arm, just in time for Dean to step out of the restroom. I smiled at him as he approached me. "Ready?" he asked. I nodded. The two of us said goodbye to Lexi.

_________

(The Next Day)

I stood in front of the mirror in the motel, doing whatever I could to stop the red marks from becoming visible. But as expected, there wasn't much I could do. Rather than wearing the T-shirt I usually wore. I thought it was best to just keep the sweatshirt I had on yesterday.

The boys had already packed up and were in the car waiting. I told them that I was going to look through the room just in case we forgot anything. Since last night, I hadn't told Dean or Sam what happened, mainly because Dean would freak out and spend the day trying to track whoever that guy was.

I didn't want that, and I knew Sam wouldn't either. We knew how Dean got around things like this. Especially when it came to guys flirting with me. I grabbed my backpack and left the motel room, making sure that my sleeve wasn't pushed up by the backpack strap. "There she is," Dean cheered, gesturing to me with wide arms.

I smiled and got into the backseat. Dean got into the driver's seat while Sam, as usual, was in the front passenger seat. I set my backpack beside me. We were headed to Kentucky after getting a call from a friend of the Winchesters. As Dean was driving, I kept an eye on my arm, wanting to hide it at a good time whenever it began to bruise.

A couple hours passed, and it was time for lunch. We still had about two hours till we arrived at the motel. The three of us found a booth in the back of the diner. Typically, we'd try to find a secluded table in case anyone heard us. Sam pulled out his laptop.

During the whole drive here, Sam and I had been doing some research while Dean drove like usual. "I'm gonna head to the bathroom," Sam told us. We nodded and looked down at the menu. I kept glancing at my sleeve, worried that it would slip down.

I probably should've worn a better jacket, but I had limited choices. Every so often, I noticed Dean glance at me. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Nothing," I answered. He stared at me for a few seconds before scanning his eyes over the menu again. Dean didn't take long to figure out what he wanted for lunch.

"Y/N/N, I've known you and hunted with you long enough to know what's wrong with you," Dean said. He set the menu in the middle of the table, taking mine out of my hands. My boyfriend ignored my glare when he prevented me from choosing my lunch. "Nothing is wrong," I replied.

His unamused expression never dropped. Instead, Dean leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed. "Don't bullshit me," he said. "I'm not bullshitting you, Dean," I replied. Before the two of us continued, Sam came back over to the booth. Pam, our waitress, made her way over.

"Afternoon, sweethearts. What can I get ya'll?" she asked, holding a notepad in one hand and a pink pen in the other. We each told her what we wanted. She smiled and took the menus, turning around to the diner's bar. I caught Dean looking at me as Sam explained what we found.

About an hour passed, and we finished our lunch. Dean left the money at the table, including a tip for Pam. As I was walking out of the diner, Dean grabbed my wrist and pulled me aside. I hissed in pain and took my hand out of his grip. Dean's face turned to concern when he heard my reaction.

The last thing he wanted was to hear me wince from his touch. He told Sam that we'd be right there. He waited a second before turning back to me, wanting to know what the hell just happened. He knew me too well that everything was fine, especially from what we do.

Dean didn't waste a second. He pushed my sleeve down, revealing the hand-shaped marks. Dean looked at the marks and then up to me. "Dean, it's fine," I lightly pulled his hand away from mine, but he didn't back down.

He carefully held my hand, not wanting to let me go. "Who did this to you?" Dean asked, his voice slightly stern. I was glad that we weren't in Virginia anymore since I knew that Dean would leave the diner to go after you know who.

His brows raised when I hadn't answered his question. "Who did this to you?" he repeated. "It was a guy at the bar. It's fine," I replied. I took my hand out of his grip. Dean looked at me and sighed as he put two and two together, turning to the side (GIF Above).

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, looking back at me. "I didn't want you to worry," I replied. Dean sighed, again, and took my hands into his. He leaned down and kissed the top of my head, bringing me in for a hug. "I'm sorry," Dean said. "I'm okay, I'm okay," I repeated.

Taglist: @nix-rose @nyotamalfoy

[ingravinoveritas]

No but can you imagine Michael keeping this a secret from David and surprising him when it’s all finished and they’ve moved in. Just Imagine the look on David’s face when he realizes what Michael’s done and the happiness at the realization that they get to see each other everyday whenever they want. It’s so beautiful and I’m so happy and excited for them.

Aww. Well, this certainly is a lovely thought. I will say, though, that in the interest of balance, it's also likely that Michael is renting the house, since he does not live in London full time. I'm also not sure that he and David would be living together necessarily, but I absolutely do love the thought that he surprised David with the initial news of renting/buying the house next door. It's likely that a decorator was hired to furnish the place, but I could also see Michael having one room kept aside for him to decorate himself, and that room being one that is just for David.

So I think both of those things--the house itself, and then the room Michael picked out and decorated on his own--would make a beautiful surprise, and I could picture David being utterly overwhelmed at realizing he and Michael can see each other whenever they want. Because it's not like filming a show or interview where they have to see each other...with this, they are choosing to see each other. Again, calling back to this interview from 2019, which now seems incredibly prescient:

"We'd have to do it by choice from now on, wouldn't we?" "It'll be quite embarrassing to go, 'Can we just...see each other? For no reason?'"

It honestly leaves me breathless to think that this was five years ago, and now this is exactly what's happened. The tentativeness from Michael--so unlike him--quietly hoping for something that he wasn't sure would ever happen. Two seasons of Good Omens, three seasons of Staged, and an entire pandemic later, the whole world has turned upside down, and despite so many things falling apart, Michael and David's relationship seems deeper and stronger than ever before.

That they have chosen this, chosen each other--whether as friends or as something more--becomes clearer every day, and I very much share your sentiments of happiness and excitement for them...

[shaynawrites23]

I feel like Sirius Black was classically taught how to dance. Could you do a HC based on the reader not being good at it so when somone asks her to the yule ball infant of her friends she said no then tells the marauders she can't dance so she won't be going.

I Don't Dance... Or Do I?

Sirius Black x reader

Word count: 877

A/N: i turned this into a fic instead bc i was feeling the format more than a HC, hope you don't mind! it also turned out longer than expected lol

You love and hate the Yule season.

Love, because all the most gorgeous ballgowns go on sale, the excitement is palpable in the air, and the school grounds always resemble a winter wonderland straight out of a fairytale.

Hate, because the big event is a ball, and you can't dance.

Well, strictly speaking, you can. You're not very good at it, though; you always end up at least two steps behind your partner even when you swear you did everything exactly as all the other girls did. It's a sight, watching you flounder on the dance floor attempting to catch up, and it's a sight you refuse to give Hogwarts the pleasure of.

So usually, you skip the ball.

Or sometimes, you sneak in for a few minutes, just long enough to soak up the atmosphere before you go back to ensuring nobody asks you to dance. Which they can't if you're far, far away from the dance floor. The harder part, honestly, is coming up with reasons not to go if someone asks you to the ball.

This year is no different. You manage to dodge the few invitations you receive; your potential dates suffer the case of disappointment that so often accompanies (gentle) rejection, but you know they'll get over it. And as the Yule Ball grows ever closer, you're beginning to believe you're in the clear for yet another year. Your secret is safe, just as you wanted it to be.

Until someone asks you in front of your friends.

The boy—you can't even remember his name, that's how little you've spoken to him—takes your answer as expected, and while you do feel a twinge of guilt for turning him down like that, your fear of humiliation is stronger.

"You're not going to the ball?" Is this the first time your friends realize you aren't going? See you turn down a date to the biggest event of the winter season? Judging from their reaction and the three pairs of incredulous eyes on you, it probably is.

"No," you huff, sitting back down on the floor of the common room, where you'd been sitting when what's-his-name approached you, and you lean your head against Sirius' thigh. Sirius, who only smiles and pets your head affectionately from where he's taking up half the couch.

When you don't offer any further clarification, the boys share a look, and you swear you can pinpoint the moment they decide they want to hear the reason.

"Well, why on earth not? You love Yule, and as Sirius here always says, you'd look beautiful in a gown." James skillfully dodges the pillow Sirius throws at his head. Sirius concludes James has had too much practice dodging bludgers during Quidditch.

"Would you believe me if I said I just don't feel like going?"

The reason feels weak already on your tongue, and you gather from their similarly raised eyebrows that the answer is no. Darn it.

"You don't have to go," Remus starts, "but if you don't, we'd like to know why so we know you aren't missing on the fun over a small thing we could have helped with."

Fun. The Yule Ball does sound like fun, a lovely night off among all the beautifully dressed students and faculty alike, enjoying the decorations and the music and the atmosphere...

"I can't dance," you groan into Sirius' thigh before you can help yourself. "I can't dance, and it's a ball, and I don't want to humiliate myself in the middle of the dance floor."

Because the fear of the embarrassment far outweighs your desire to take part in the festivities.

"Is that all?" You look up for just long enough to see Remus' surprised expression, mixed with something that looks half-smug, the way he does whenever he wins complicated debates. "See, I knew it'd be something solveable. Just have Sirius teach you. Then you'll know how to dance, and you can come to the ball."

"Sirius?"

"Despite what you might think, princess, I am qualified to teach ballroom dancing. Or to take you to the ball. Or both," the boy in question chimes in with a wink. The disbelief must still be plain on your face, because he adds, "All members of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black are formally trained in more styles of formal dancing than I want to count. You've heard tales of my mother, do you really think she'd be able to live with anything less?"

That is a good point. Sometimes, it's easy to forget Sirius' high-society upbringing. And honestly, what do you have to lose?

"You'd really teach me?"

"Would the condition of going to the ball as my date be pushing my luck too far?"

That one, you don't even have to think about. Who wouldn't want to go to the ball on Sirius Black's arm?

"No, Siri," you laugh, using your hand on his leg to help you sit up. "But you better teach me properly."

"Don't worry, princess," he chuckles. "You won't be disappointed."

That evening, when you receive your first dance lesson from Sirius Black, you can only conclude he isn't as good a teacher as he made himself out to be.

He's better.

[snacksizedgates]

Proof Mike Picked Up on What Will Was Saying in the Van Scene from the Very Beginning.

This is a pretty long post but there are some really interesting things I noticed while finally properly analyzing this scene. I breakdown all of Mike's facial reactions and even other visual clues in this scene that points toward Byler. Hope you enjoy!

Here's screencaps of when Will asks Mike if he can show him "something." He keeps glancing up and down between Will's face and the poster, indicating nervousness/curiosity. He does this because he recognizes the poster from the airport. He also knows Will was painting something and El heavily implied it's for someone he likes.

They didn't just throw these two scenes/lines in the season for no reason. They put them in there to set a precedent that Mike knows about the existence of this painting, not just through El but also by physically seeing it. This establishes that he knows what this painting is and what type of person it's for (a crush).

His reaction to the painting. He's happy as indicated by the open mouth smile instead of the more flirtatious close mouth smile. He's genuinely happy that Will made him this, because at this point that is what he's assuming. He believes what El said (the truth), so at this point he's thinking "he painted this whole painting for ME."

Then this scene. He definitely knows Will's lying. As soon as he starts saying it was El's idea, Mike get's confused and looks back down at the painting. Kind of like "there's no way he's telling the truth cus the math just dont add up." When he looks back up, his lips are pursed, in a disapproving way. He knows Will is lying to him. And then he looks back down to reexamine the painting again. He's perplexed.

Not only that but this part is seen through the perspective of Jonathan, who definitely knows Will is lying. So when they flip to Jonathan's POV we can assume whatever Will's saying, is understood by both Jonathan and Mike, because they're the only one's on screen beside Will and they're both intently listening to him. (by on screen I mean Jonathan was just previously on screen intently listening to Will, creating a comparison between Jonathan and Mike, that essentially they are the same in this scene. Quiet but intently listening and having at least an inkling of the truth) Plus we already established other reasons why Mike knows. So this shot just emphasizes that point even more.

So now, since Mike understands the El commission thing is a lie, and that this painting was made for him by Will, he can reasonably presume that other things Will is about to say are lies or taken out of context. He can assume when Will refers to El, he's referring to himself, because Will has already set that precedent and Mike picked up on it.

Now, since he knows Will is lying, he gets nervous. Will starts talking about heart and pointing to it drawn on Mike's armor and that's when Mike get's excited. At first he's gazing down at it with a happy and inviting facial expression . Then it cuts to Mike looking at Will explaining how "we'd" all fall apart without (mikes) heart and Mike literally takes a huge deep breath. You can kind of see it in the screencaps, but I would suggest just rewatching the scene after finishing the thread with everything I point out in your mind.

Anyway, his chest rises and his throat gulps. Nervous. His demeanor slowly changes from lighthearted and happy (when Will gives him the painting and he can easily assume its for him from Will and nothing else) to a more hardened, serious expression (when he realizes Will doesn't feel comfortable enough to say it's from him, he's lying to him and he realizes the implications that creates.)

He's overwhelmed with feeling in this whole entire scene, just like Will is. Except Will has better access to his emotions than Mike who represses his. So that's why he's so quiet/stunned and doesn't say anything. Not because he's clueless but because he has TOO MANY clues. Lol.

This is right after Will finishes talking about heart and for the first time since Mike understood he was lying under the guise of El, he references El. He says "Even El (needs your heart) Especially El." Mikes reaction is pictured above. His face changes from overwhelmed/nervous to a serious expression. Almost confusion but more like an epiphany, like he's thinking. When Will mentions El again, he immediately looks back down at the painting. Like he can't understand how what is being explained to him is true. Look at the eyes. In the previous pictures, his eyes are just ever so slightly squinted which gives off an inviting, warm expression. In the pictures above, his mouth closes and his eyes "harden." He's looking back down at the painting realizing that Will has feelings for him. He put a damn heart on Mike and only Mike. That's why he's looking at it seriously and intently.

Because either he realizes that wow, my internal feelings were being reciprocated this whole time and I didn't notice or he's just beginning to understand that Will is gay and likes him.

However, Will is basically telling Mike I Need You, something Mike always wants to hear, and it's throwing him over board with feelings, so I honestly think this scene is more about reciprocation. Mike's too mixed emotions for me to believe he's not having gay panic inside.

Now either he didn't think Will had feelings for him or he didn't think they were that strong. But this scene is essentially a wake up call for Mike.

Now in the top two screenshots, it's from Jonathan's perspective again. And once again, he's referencing El by using the pronoun "she" to describe his experience not hers. That's why it goes to Jonathans POV because Jonathan knows his secret (so he knows his lie) and it only goes there when he starts referencing El. Happening more than once indicates meaning to the shot, and that meaning is Mike knowing Will is calling himself different not El. And then he switches to "you" pronouns to make it more vague, but at least it's not lying. And it switches right back to regular audience POV - so he's being truthful now and Mike can discern between the two. Not to mention, Will has his faced turned away, indicating whatever he's saying now is emotional for him, and then he turns back around with slight tears in his eyes. Most people would pick this up in a best friend so it's safe to assume Mike does too. Also Mike's completely focused on what Will is saying, so it's very important to him. He's not even slightly smiling, he has a completely serious look on his face meaning he's really taking in what Will is saying and he knows the implications of everything Will is saying is serious.

This shot pretty much sums it up like lets be real. Will basically apologizes for being a douche/being distant (even though he never was, Mike was) and Mike looks guilty because he feels bad for doing this exact thing to Will in the beginning of the season. He realizes how similar they actually feel. And he starts smiling/heart eyes in the last frame because 1) Will's apologizing to him when he doesn't even need to making him so selfless 2) his feelings are being reciprocated. Notice "seemed like she was pushing you away" Mike now knows Will wasn't intentionally pushing him away and that also makes him smile. He breaks his serious expression once Will admits he wasn't intentionally creating distance between them, meaning this is something Mike cared or thought about. This is the first time he breaks his serious expression since Will started explaining the heart metaphor, which initially caused Mike to be nervous.

Not to mention if he didn't know before this, then he definitely knows at this point. Many people have pointed it out but let me reiterate it: El never acted distant towards Mike, until the end of season 4. In fact she was heavily concerned with Mike most of the time, wanting HIM to be less distant, so it's quite the opposite. This means he 100% knows Will is talking about himself.

They don't pull away to Jonathan's POV even though he's talking as if he were El here because 1) they want the close up reaction from Mike, meaning its IMPORTANT and 2) Mike isn't thinking about why Will is using El as a cover anymore. Jonathan may be but we've already seen his POV for the last time, so at this point that fact that he was lying about certain things has been understood and moved past by Mike, as conveyed by the different shots. He doesn't care at this point because he's too engrossed in what Will is saying. He isn't thinking in Jonathan's POV anymore that "Will is lying" because he realizes Will's being more honest than he ever has in the entire series. Jonathan stills cares about Will lying, and we know that from the last shot in this scene being Jonathan panning out of the frame looking slightly upset. But they didn't go back to the mirror POV to indicate Jonathan was worried about Will - meaning there was a specific reason they were using the POV shot (to indicate Mike knows Will was lying just like Jonathan).

This is right after Will saying the bandaid line. Mike gulps and breathes heavy. Since Will is in this scene and we've established Mike knows Will is talking about himself and that he reciprocates the same feeling, he gulps because he thinks about losing Will too. He remembers losing Will. He doesn't want to lose will.

Then we have the "El needs you Mike. She'll always need you" with Will's tears about to pour down his face. And I know I sound like a broke record, but Mike knows he means "I need you mike. I'll always need you."

Then the "Yeah" "Yeah" which mirrors saying I love you to someone because you typically repeat it back to each other. You can't compare it to hello, or goodbye, or good day because it doesn't fit in the context. So what other comparison is there? Not only that but they also say it in different tones. Mike says it in a slightly questioning way, like he's needs reassurance that its true. He still doesn't believe it fully. But also with a smile indicating he's happy with this. That Will (the protected) is never going anywhere because he'll always need Mike (the protector). He's smiling because of this. Once Will reassures him, Mike's face soften with adoration for him. There's no other way to describe his face than adoration. He also glances back and forth at Will which I think indicates nervousness, uncertainty, awkwardness. Regardless it indicates Mike is feeling a lot in that moment.

Will, on the other hand, says it with finality, like end of discussion it will never change. It mirrors their relationship dynamic because Will knows he's never going to not need Mike in his life but Mike doesn't know that... Until now. We assume he does know things like this because to us, the audience, it's obvious but Mike doesn't see Will the way we see Will. It also goes back to the connection between Will and El (read my theory about that here if you're interested). They mirror each other. And just a few minutes ago he was talking about how scared he is of El not needing him. Their scenes are so byler coded this season if you really look into them. Lowkey has me thinking this is the most byler-y season lol.

And really quickly back to Heart Eyes Mike Wheeler - he's smiling yet he doesn't say anything else. He returns his focus to the painting and stays quiet. This is very atypical of Mike who also usually has something to say.

This is because he just realized his feelings are reciprocated and he's overwhelmed with Will liking him back. He's literally holding his feelings in this whole scene between the deep breathes and serious faces and slightly opened mouths.

And lastly we have the crying scene. People say Mike just ignores Will and goes back to looking for El but that's not at all what happened here. Look deeper.

Before I analyze the actual actions in the scene I first want to point out how this shot references Will's Boys Don't Cry poster, because it's very important and is more queer coding for Mike. Basically, boys crying = accepting of their feelings, boys dont cry = repressing their feelings, toxic masculinity etc. So while Will is accepting his feelings and having less shame about them, Mike is repressing his. Or at least has been. That's why he's rigid. He's not moving and only just glances at Will. He's feeling a lot too. Furthermore, the poster is yellow and blue, with blue in the bg and yellow in the fg, along with a pyramid in the sunny desert with three trees. Mike in the bg with a blue shirt, Will in the fg with a yellow shirt. The pyramid represents the Love Triangle between Byler and Mileven and the three trees represent each one of them. They're also in a sunny desert and majority of that time they're by themselves until they find El. After that, they're in a nightime desert along with El and we don't get to see them in the sunny desert again I believe (don't quote me on this). Mike went from being in the light with Mike to being in the dark with the both of them. The visual references are actually insane once you start looking into them. A lot of thought was put behind this.

But let's get to analyzing the actual scene.

Firstly, he's staring down at the painting.. They never moved it off his lap so he's literally in silence, kind of stunned just looking at Will's painting. All he said was "You painted this? It's amazing" and "Yeah?" the entire conversation. He barely had a response. To me that indicates nervousness/being overwhelmed. To Will this probably indicates his feelings aren't reciprocated :(

Secondly, he glanced at Will for a second. This doesn't show he's "ignoring" him; if anything the opposite. He most likely heard him sobbing quietly and was checking on him because he cares about him. He can't resist taking a glance at Will. But he knows how Will is, and the fact that they're not alone, so he just lets Will cry quietly.

Thirdly, he's most likely dealing with his own feelings in this scene internally. Mike and Will are queercoded very differently (as I have mentioned in my other posts). Mike represses, ignores his feelings, hence why he is shown just staring at the painting in silence not moving. Will accepts his feelings but letting them out both relieves and upsets him. It's overwhelming but he had to finally say it.

So, imo, Mike's glance at Will wasn't judging or ignoring, he looked over and saw exactly how he wanted to react but couldn't because he's still scared of the repercussions of being gay/dating Will. As seen by the his heavy breathes and mixed facial expressions.

Lastly, why would any of Mike's behavior be appropriate if he thought Will was talking about El by the end? It wouldn't. How would any of Will's behavior be appropriate if he were really talking about El? It wouldn't. There's no need to cry over someone else's relationship and Mike knows this. He saw Will with tears in his eyes and then breakdown. Those have PERSONAL implications. If he thought Will were really talking about El, it would've been a discussion not a Will speech. He would've chimed in like "yeah but I don't know if I actually believe she needs me" "im nothing in comparison to her" or SOMETHING because this is typically what people do when they're being praised, especially someone with low self esteem.

So the fact that Mike lets Will ramble about "El's" feelings completely uninterrupted, with comments that are praising him, is sus on it's own.

The fact of the matter is he recognizes that Will is way too emotionally attached to what he's saying.

And that's the end. This is soooooo much longer than I thought it was going to be. Mike Wheeler is definitely gay. And no one can tell me otherwise.

[zeep-xanflorp]

ok i'm just gonna ramble ab unmortricken bc i have exactly ZERO COHERENT THOUGHTS AB IT

evil morty backstory - i rlly like that they just made him some random morty who rose above everything after getting sick of rick's abuse. it makes what he did feel even more earned and weighty. i think his motivation is a bit extreme still but i can't rlly blame him.

it's cool seeing infinity beyond the central finite curve. the jetsons inspired bit was v amusing bc i forgot about them lmao. but otherwise it seems absolutely wild west beyond the curve and i LIVE for that.

i also didnt imagine that we'd be seeing him again. i thought the way he left the show was perfect and if they brought him back it would just feel cheap but it DOESNT in this episode i love his appearance.

i rlly like seeing our morty be supportive of rick. he's literally trying everything to cheer him up and it's very important to me.

the prime decoys confuse me. like do they all share a consciousness? is prime just very very good at fucking with ppl that he's made all the decoys communicate w each other?

evil morty outsmarting rick is a great recurring theme in the episode. "filter for probability stasis" YEAH U TELL HIM LITTLE DUDE. we've never seen a morty like that EXCEPT for him and i think it's wonderful.

the exchange between rick and evil morty. "you're such a narcissist" / "literal glass house" / "you think you're better than me?" / "jesus i HOPE SO" SHITTING

i didnt initially like the decoy trap thing being full of loads of other ricks. it made me feel like our rick wasn't very important to this dude and rick just made an enemy of a guy who didn't know he existed. BUT i don't stand by that anymore. the rest of the episode made me change my mind very quickly with.

the omega device. holy fuck this is the worst reveal to come out of this episode. she wasn't just killed, she was ERASED by prime in every reality. like she is GONE gone. that's why we've never seen her, save in flashbacks and memories. she's gone.

and i'm pretty sure it's our rick's fault that he did that. we see his beth and his diane be killed by a bomb, not wiped from reality like slo mobius is later in the episode. so his family was killed BEFORE all the shit with the omega device. ik correlation ≠ causation, but it rlly explains why our rick in particular is so hungry for revenge. if he was the one that made prime kill diane everywhere then he had to be the one to make prime pay for it.

i like how the multiple monitors seems to be prime's signature move. it happens here and in the s6 premiere.

and oh fuck the parallels. "when i invent something it works, it's called being talented" in story train vs "when i make a weapon in works."

oh man the diane head weapon thing. it's interesting that it was programmed to mock rick sexually, but even on our rick who knows it's a trap, it still affects him seeing her face again. "god i missed that face." and then the blank stare when she asks for a kiss. pretty sweet and fucked up.

rick and evil morty having to work together to get their portals working. the contrast between our morty freaking out and evil morty blank staring.

the bit with the portal closing too soon. i know it happened earlier this season and i think it's so funny lmao.

I CANNOT STRESS TO YOU ENOUGH THAT I WAS SO MADE WHEN I WORKED OUT THAT INSTEAD OF YELLING WHILE GOING THROUGH THE CURVE THING IN THE MIDFLE OF THE EP HE WAS SCREAMING "PRIME" THOSE DIABOLICAL LITTLE BASTARDS AT ADULT SWIM.

prime calling rick the Wife Guy. hilarious. raises questions. makes me gnaw on my cell bars.

AND THEN the second incredible reveal of the episode: "Honestly, Wife Guy, I do miss when it was just us. The only two Ricks who actually invented portal travel." WHAT bestie prime bby girl u need to say that again. you guys were the ONLY ones who invented interdimensional travel, every rick's claim to fame. but no they just got the technology from prime who started a boys club of ricks who wanted to leave their lives behind that our rick refused.

but the reference to a time when they were closer, when it was only them - HELLO?? maybe i'm grasping at straws bc i want them to bang but holy shit.

the confirmation of the fan theory that rick based his AI voice on his wife. 10/10.

and then the fight scene. oh gods the fight scene. rick just screaming that he'll kill prime. prime regenerating constantly, looking unscathed as our rick becomes more and more dishevelled. it's too perfect i CANT. but otherwise they both seem pretty evenly matched w all the implants and stuff so without the regeneration i think rick would've had him. oh well.

rick like literally died during the fight.

the cool grandson/shitty grandpa exchange gives me breath. i LOVE how it's a morty that outsmarts prime. it's what he deserves.

prime still trying to be a smartass to evil morty, growing more and more panicked as it goes on bc he doesn't know what to do with the situation and control for once is not in his hands.

"what are u gonna 'aw geez' me to death?"

evil morty not even explaining his plan, just silently dragging in our rick and reviving him. saying "knock yourself out" with the intended double meaning. prime's almost scared expression as rick gets dragged in.

and then our rick has a choice. he can stop evil morty from keeping the weapon plans or he can kill prime. but that's a choice he made already. it's not even a decision. so his other enemy gets away.

the brutal brutal scene at the end when rick is just hitting prime. no tech, no implants, no gadgets. just fists. and rick beats him literally to a pulp as prime screams and laughs at him and taunts him further. it's meant to be sickening. it's meant to be personal. and it accomplishes that perfectly.

they don't even show prime's body in great detail. it's RIGHT in the background but we heard the sounds of the punches, we saw his nose break and his bloody teeth and haemorrhaging eyes and his brains coming out the side of it head and all we can make out is his fucked up swollen and broken face in the background as he sits still attached to the chair, a river of his blood pouring from the room.

but its not triumphant. they made rick's revenge hollow and bittersweet. its over but it destroyed rick in the process. who is he now that he isn't hunting prime? fucking no one.

then "look on down from the bridge" starts playing. we heard this in season 1 in rick potion #9 after morty had to bury a version of himself. he was struggling with the purpose of his life after switching universes. but he deals with it and overcomes it.

i think that scene is rick, for the first time in the entire show, struggling with his nihilistic philosophy. bc yes, he's shown to be an existentialist in the show (the difference being existentialists are "nothing matters but this matters to me" instead of "nothing matters so i don't have to do anything"). he had a drive. he had ppl he cared about. but now he's reached his goal he just feels empty and hollow. everything's meaningless and he's NOT okay with that. he never has been, but he has to grapple with that finally now he doesn't have a distraction. i don't think he can just bounce back and move past what happened.

ppl are saying this episode felt overstuffed and maybe it was but i'm very pleased with it and want to know where it's going.

i feel we still don't know the full story with prime. i'm predicting a flash back episode in the future explaining what the nature of their relationship was like before the bomb incident.

we also know that evil morty has this weapon that could destroy all ricks. so that is just a ticking bomb.

anyway i can't wait for angsty rick.

i actually watched unforgiven for this episode bc i'm a big fan of westerns anyway. the only real parallels i can see is they both have a group of three (two are already partners and the other one is the call to adventure) and an unsatisfying ending. bc that's the nature of westerns. they should NEVER end happily, and if u think so then ur wrong (/nsrs enjoy media how u want).

some things i haven't mentioned but enjoyed nonetheless

the schematics for the omega device is titled <SCHEMATICS BOOGER-AIDS-V2>

the arm/leg swap best in the fight

the comparison between the song at the end playing here and in season one shows with just visuals how the dynamic of beth and jerry's (and beth's) marriage has evolved since then.

everyone freaking out when indiana jones rick shoots and it ricochets off the wall and evil morty just stands expressionless until it hits his forcefield.

morty going to hug rick covered in blood, realising, hesitating, and then doing it later anyway to try and make rick feel better.

evil morty making a point to say that he doesn't want vengeful summers coming after him for omega devicing rick. not vengeful mortys, vengeful SUMMERS.

just evil morty in this whole episode was an absolute delight i need to see him more.

THE TEAR MARKS AFTER RICK EMERGES FROM BEATING PRIME TO DEATH

slo mobius' wife almost going down the same path our rick did only to find someone she loves and focus on that, saving her. makes me wonder if they're gonna try putting rick in a relationship.

this ended up being way longer than it should have. anyway. very pleased. this season is hitting all the marks for me overall.

also don't be too hard on me i didnt edit this 😭

[izzysillyhandsy]

Thoughts about the finale, and my utter confusion about Izzy Hands

What I hated about Izzy's death wasn't him dying. I love a tragic arc, and although Con O'Neill elevated every scene he was in, it would have been ok if they'd handled his death better.

To have him die with only 10mins of the episode left (and this might even be the last ever episode!) was the first terrible decision. Everything that was built up over 2 seasons had to be resolved in a few minutes, we don't see any repercussions for anyone Izzy was important to - Ed, the crew and even Stede.

But the main criticism is the 180° turn the show made for his character arc in the last episode (or more precisely, in Izzy's last scene) and in David Jenkins' latest interviews.

Since season 1, I kept asking myself the same two questions:

What function does Izzy Hands have in the narrative? What is the nature of his relationship with Ed?

And the answers changed drastically from S1 to S2, and got more and more complex and intriguing.

Until the finale.

Izzy Hands as a plot device for the main couple

In S1, Izzy was an antagonist. His function in the narrative was to stand in the way of the Ed/Stede romance, of Ed growing and finding happiness and to move the plot along. He brought a lot of humour to almost every interaction he was in - he was such a fish-out-of-water character, clashing with everyone and constantly losing.

He was barely human - he was a pirate cliché.

But there was also so much going on in the background - his quiet desparation, his obvious love and longing for Ed, and these hints of a fascinating backstory between the two of them. This is what many fans picked up on, and going into S2 we hoped that we'd get more of this (for me personally the most important thing was clarification on Izzy's importance to Ed).

And then S2 came along and boy, were all of our expectations exceeded.

Suddenly, Izzy wasn't a plot device anymore. He was one half of the most intense (and interesting, sorry Stede) couple in the show. It was even confirmed by the showrunner that he was in a love triangle with the main couple!

In the first 2 episodes, we got so much more than we ever expected. At the end of Ep2, Izzy broke the lifeline with Ed, both of them almost dying in the process. He went on a journey of discovering who and what he even was without Ed (and right up to his death he was still deeply unhappy and broken, even though he was on the right path).

Izzy suddely became a fascinating character in his own right, with his arc of healing and self-acceptance and his inability (for now) to keep himself from sliding back into this relationship with his other half. He was blaming himself for everything that had happened. He was still so entangled with this man he built his whole life around. He still had a long way to go and a lot to work through (the same also applies to Ed btw).

But he also became the crew's unicorn, doing Izzy things (still related to Ed, always to Ed) but you could feel him becoming more himself. Slowly, Izzy's real personality started to shine through and we realized - this man is fascinating on his own accord. He's a respected and very capable pirate. He came from nothing and fought his way up. He's a really good teacher. He's creative and sensitive. He also cares about other people than Ed a lot.

Viewers who hated him or were indifferent to him in S1 suddenly became interested - this man's journey was fascinating and, most importantly, it wasn't at all finished. There was so much yet to come, and we wanted to see it.

Does this sound like a plot device to you? If it doesn't, bad news.

At the end of the final episode, Izzy is suddenly back where he was in S1.

He dies in a completely unnecessary way - almost as if how he died didn't matter. And it didn't matter, because in the end, Izzy Hands' journey didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was that he died and how it affected the main couple.

On his deathbed, Izzy is saying exactly what Ed needs to hear to move on. He absolves him of any guilt. Ed is ready. Izzy has played his part, he's ready to die.

Notably, nothing is really resolved for poor Izzy. Even if Ed says he doesn't want him to go, it's because Ed is losing his only family. He doesn't tell Izzy he loves him, or that he's important to him as a person, as his oldest friend, as the one who knows him best.

In the end, Izzy's function in the narrative, even after everything that happened in S2, was to be an obstacle to the Ed/Stede romance, to Ed growing and finding happiness. He had to die to free Ed of his Blackbeard persona and because "it's nice that Blackbeard is upset by it" (WTF).

The problem is, for the rest of the season, that wasn't Izzy's role in this show at all and I felt completely blindsided.

More than a spurned, jilted lover

"I guess it's a journey of redemption, but I think it's more a journey of finding out, who is he to Blackbeard?" According to Jenkins, Izzy is "more than a spurned, jilted lover." "What is that relationship about? And I think by the end of the season it kind of becomes a little unexpected of who they are to each other and what they mean to each other." (source)

I also made a poll about that question after Ep3 if anyone's interested.

The answer is, apparently, the two of them were Blackbeard. Or, Izzy was the brains behind the operation. Or, Izzy egged Eddie on to give in to his darker impulses (which, I think, was alluded to quite strongly in the murder/suicide scene).

I mean, yes. That was one of the options on my poll that I was quite sure of, and I think most of us suspected this even in S1.

Izzy was Eddie's only family. Ok, I think family doesn't quite express what was going on between them in S2, but that certainly was one aspect of their relationship.

This is all fine. I can see that being built up to over the two seasons.

But.

"And then there was the realization that [Izzy] is kind of a mentor to Blackbeard and that he is kind of a father figure to Blackbeard. It felt nice to have him die and have Blackbeard be upset by it, because Blackbeard killed his father. But this is a father figure that he’s losing that it’s hard for him; it's sad and he doesn't want him to go." (source)

This is not fine. Not at all.

Izzy is not Blackbeard's mentor. Izzy is obviously in love with Ed (and Ed is fully aware of that). Izzy might have been a mentor-like presence in Ed's life when they were younger, but when we meet them in S1 Izzy is more like an overworked housewife cleaning up behind her disinterested husband. Izzy would do anything for Ed (apart from killing him) and is ready to die at one point because of him. Izzy is desperate, grabbing onto the scraps Ed throws his way.

Where, where does Izzy seem like a mentor to Ed in all of this? A mentor is supposed to be at least at the same level or above but Izzy is clearly not.

And in the death scene, suddenly, that's all there is left of their complex, intense dynamic.

Izzy took young Eddie in and fed his darkness. He was Eddie's only family, binding him to himself out of selfishness in the process.

So that's their unexpected "who they are to each other". Izzy taught Ed everything he knows (which is actually bad for him) and it'd probably been better if they'd never even met.

And don't get me wrong, I don't completely disagree with this take. As a part of their dynamic, this is a fascinating concept - but only if this wasn't the end.

Because there was so much more, so much promise of a complicated, mutually destructive relationship that nevertheless was also full of love. Those two seemed so intertwined (and I'll never forgive Stede for stealing that for himself and Ed). Ed is Izzy's missing half and Izzy is Ed's.

And I still believe that, without Izzy, Ed isn't complete.

And with this rushed conclusion, and all the mess left behind and never even looked at, Ed will never be happy.

Conclusion

I think what hurts the most is, that with Izzy dead and their last conversation being that reductive, all possibilities of an exploration of all these complex and fascinating aspects of their relationship are now closed. I know this show isn't about Ed and Izzy. But Izzy is a big part of what made Ed interesting, and he's a brilliant character in his own right. We could have gotten so much more (even if it's only allusions, we really don't need everything spelled out).

I guess I expected too much from this show - but with good reason. The actors gave it their all. S2 set up such an intricate dynamic (and it was probably overly ambitious with only 4 hours of screentime!). I've never gotten so much of what I wanted from an outsider character in any show.

And then it let us down in the last 10 minutes.

And even if we hadn't gotten a season 3 - the setup was all there for meta, for fanfiction. Why ruin it all with killing off Izzy for all the wrong reasons and making their last conversation all about Ed "outliving his mentor".

To quote Prince Ricky: "Oh, my goodness. You've just grown so tedious."

Still, I love everything they've done in this show except for the ending. I will watch it again, many times, and enjoy the drama, the humour and the complexity. But I will try to forget these interviews and convince myself Izzy's senseless death was just a dream :).

[wigglepiggle]

object show dashboard simulator(unreality!!!!)

📒 waves-and-spirals Follow

🔄 the-truest-treasure Follow

Nov 22

🪙 the-truest-treasure Follow

Aug 30

HELP!!!! last challenge one of the contestants in the show I'm in just straight up ran away before the challenge was over and we cant find him. I feel pretty bad because he was really mad at me and maybe that's why he ran away? I don't know but can somebody please offer guidance I'm kind of worried about him we haven't seen him since August 12th 2022 and I don't think anyone else is even trying to find him!

📒 waves-and-spirals Follow

Oct 18

Oh no!!! D: Is there an update to this story? Did you find him yet?

🪙 the-truest-treasure Follow

Nov 3

No unfortunately, it's about to be two challenges since he disappeared! I don't know why nobody's looking for him not even the host is! I want to but I think he's still mad at me so I'm a bit nervous. Well hopefully he turns up tomorrow because there's another challenge? I don't know. I really want this to be over. Thank you for your concerns though.

#i hope he gets back safe and sound!!! good luck with finding him and your challenge! #love from pericolo!

♦️ wand-erlust Follow

47 notes

Oct 22

what the fuck so sometimes I visit the object show I used to be in's contestant grounds at night when objects are asleep to fuck around yk but I swear I walked past the waterfall and there was just someone crying in there.. I did not go in because I didn't feel like getting my ass kicked or something I have no idea who that was

why is everyone depressed on paper puppets what are they doing to you objects

⚫ kill-nerdsdeactivated20231025 Follow

Oct 22

LMAOOOO ITS CAUSE MOST EVERYONE ON THAT SHOW ARE PUSSIESSSSSSSSS ITS SO FUNNY

♦️ wand-erlust Follow

Oct 22

yeah well watch this cool shit

⚫ kill-nerdsdeactivated20231025 Follow

Oct 23

ACE WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS GET THIS FUCKING THING OUT OF THE CABINS RIGHT NOW

[various really blurry pictures of a small creature with straight ears and big back legs in a cabin room. they're taken as if the photographer is running around while taking the picture]

♦️ wand-erlust Follow

Nov 22

almost 1 month since I grabbed a random small creature from somewhere along my journeys and placed it in the cabin chainsaw was in for paper puppets and it scared him so bad he yelled on here about it and everyone clowned him so hard he deactivated🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉 (dw I got the creature out out it is unharmed I have it with me right now)

[one picture of the creature, it has the same straight ears and big back legs. you can now see that it is white. A hand is petting it on the head and it seems happy]

📌 theooze Follow

16k notes

🔄 coincreature Follow

Nov 22

📌 theooze Follow

Nov 22

Does NOBODY remember Teardrop Burger and the incident I swear that's all we'd talk about in like 2019...

🏀 bouncingboundingaround Follow

Nov 22

I still don't know if that was real or not or we just made it up to make fun of Gelatin's Steakhouse

⛵ sailingalong Follow

Nov 22

Hey I'm not from Goiky but I'm curious, what's Teardrop Burger?

🥇 coincreature Follow

Nov 22

Eh it was more of an objblr thing than a Goiky thing but basically Teardrop opened a burger stand near the inanimate insanity 2 filming grounds to compete with Gelatin's Steakhouse and she accidentally or on purpose poisoned a bunch of people with how dirty everything was. or so they say. it basically a huge inside joke lmao Teardrop Burger never existed but it's cleanliness was about the same as Gelatin's Steakhouse heh gelatin was pissed for weeeeeeeks after

#my mutual explains this best! love td burger best joke objblr has ever made #we should bring it back it would make the new season better if everyone was dying of food poisoning #/j

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1k notes

Nov 21

🥳 partyrockers Follow

200 notes

🔄blueshieldz Follow

Nov 22

🛡️ blueshieldz Follow

Jan 26

the dead guy was my great great great great great grandpa too HELP his name was rook btw

🛡️ blueshieldz Follow

Nov 22

coming back to this post I always I thought everything seemed slightly haunted in the boto grounds I guess this was why hehehe

🥳 partyrockers Follow

Nov 22

Shieldy. my friend and mutual. what do you mean it seemed HAUNTED???

#PREV YOU CANT JUST LOREDUMP ON ME LIKE THIS WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE DROWNED IN THE LAKE YOU WERE GONNA SWIM IN #WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE SPOKE TO YOU IN THAT MOMENT

🪣 dontkickthebucket Follow

28k notes

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Nov 5

🥩 gelatins-steakhouse Follow

Nov 1

Come on down to Gelatin's Steakhouse for our special 2-for-one deal if you buy a shirt from Flower's Fashion Store!

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Nov 4

K

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Nov 5

U

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Nov 5

N

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Nov 5

G

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Nov 5

P

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Nov 5

O

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20 notes

Nov 10

WHO HIT MY DIMENSION MACHINE WITH A CROWBAR

0 notes

[chibrary]

ARTICLE: "How to stay friends when you're F1 rivals" (Autosport Plus, 2019)

There's always one, isn't there? Just after you've comfortably settled into your seat, clicked the seatbelt across your lap, and are scanning for a decent film on the seat's screen in front of you - someone asks you to move.

It was on the late-night flight out of Bahrain after this year's race that F1 Racing became aware of such a scenario unfolding: passengers being politely asked if they wouldn't mind moving seats so two chums could take up seats together. The architects of this kerfuffle, the two friends who became reunited at 30,000 feet, were none other than Pierre Gasly and Charles Leclerc.

"We grew up together," explains Gasly. "We first met in 2005, when I was about nine and our parents became really close. As families, we spent holidays, staying on boats together in the south of France and five years later we became team-mates in karting. That year I probably spent more time with Charles than I did with my own parents.

"One of my first F1 memories was when I went to visit Charles at his Monaco home during the grand prix weekend. His parents' house was miles away from the track and yet I could hear the cars, 3-litre V10s, in morning practice. We were so far from the circuit - yet it was super impressive."

Perhaps it was no surprise Gasly was so enchanted by the sound of a racing engine, as he comes from a family steeped in motorsport. In fact, he is the third generation of Gasly to become successful on four wheels.

"I don't think a lot of people know this, but my grandmother, Yveline Gasly, was a karting champion. My father was also a racer in karting, rallying and in endurance events - and a French champion too. I also have four older brothers and three of them raced in karting.

"So, from three years of age, my mother used to take me in a buggy that she pushed around and I would make engine noises. From a very young age, I was always part of motorsport."

Gasly won the French karting championship in 2010 driving for Sodikart when he was team-mate to his younger friend Leclerc, who was runner-up that year. It is the pictures of the two of them together (aged 14 and 13) that Gasly has shared with F1 Racing this month.

"We had a really good fight for the championship and it was a good time testing on tracks together and racing," says Gasly. "Although I moved on to single-seaters before Charles, we still have a very close friendship as he's a nice, kind guy."

Fifteen years after they first met the pair find themselves racing together in Formula 1, and following their recent graduation to Red Bull and Ferrari, they could easily find themselves sharing a podium once more.

In the early part this year, it's been Leclerc that has made more of an impression with his assured performances for Ferrari, while Gasly admits he still isn't yet fully comfortable behind the wheel of the Red Bull RB15.

Pre-season was blighted by two large accidents in testing and it's taken him time to get up to speed.

"It's fair to say that I don't feel as comfortable in the Red Bull as I was in the Toro Rosso last year," concedes Gasly. "In a way I found a direction quickly in the Toro Rosso to get the best out of it.

"But I've found it's a bit tricky in the Red Bull. I don't feel I can have the input I want inside the cockpit - it's quite inconsistent. It doesn't do what I expect it to do in one corner and then in another it's different again. The main thing is trying to drive the car as I would like it to be."

The environment at Red Bull is notably pressurised, as former drivers and power unit suppliers will attest, but Gasly hopes he will be afforded the time to adapt. Before the season began, team boss Christian Horner admitted Gasly has been "elevated 12 months before we'd ideally like" but more recently suggested his confidence had been growing.

"He had a tough pre-season, with the two incidents in testing putting him on the back foot, but at each grand prix he's got stronger and stronger," says Horner.

"I think more seat time will be extremely beneficial to him and as we come back to circuits that he's more familiar with, I think we'll see him make further progress."

The continuity for Gasly after his first full season at Toro Rosso has been the Honda power unit - which Red Bull is using for the first time in 2019. In addition, his engine engineer has moved over from Faenza to Milton Keynes with him.

Gasly has a familiarity with the Japanese manufacturer's working practices and culture, learning much when he spent most of 2017 racing in Super Formula in Japan.

Gasly made a surprise F1 debut in Malaysia that year when Daniil Kvyat was dropped by Toro Rosso, and he was surprised again when he was promoted to Red Bull for this season when Daniel Ricciardo made his unexpected decision to quit the team for Renault.

"When [Red Bull consultant] Dr Marko called me I could not believe it," says Gasly about the turn of events last August that led to his drive at RBR.

"I was so sure he [Ricciardo] was going to stay at Red Bull. At first Marko told me they were going to take their time and look at the options for next year - he said to enjoy the summer break and to try and disconnect from everything.

"Of course, it's not possible when you have something like a Red Bull drive in your mind.
I was waiting and there were two clear options, either to stay at Toro Rosso or move to Red Bull. Then Helmut called me back about two weeks later to say they had decided to take me for this year and that they thought I was the best option for the team for 2019."

Gasly's promotion has pitched him as a direct rival to his old friend Leclerc, but don't expect their on-track duel to come between their friendship. Indeed, don't be surprised to see the pair holidaying together again this year.

"We still text a lot, although it's harder now with our agendas to organise things, but every year we try and plan a trip away together in the summer," says Gasly. "It didn't happen last year, but we'll try again this year."

Better make sure they book the plane tickets at the same time then, to avoid any more last-minute seat-swapping...

[billthedrake]

DAD'S HABIT

It had become a birthday tradition. Ever since my parents' divorce, Dad would treat me each year to a guys' night in the city. I was a hockey player, and my father the textbook hockey dad, and we were both big Rangers fans. So every year, Dad would drive me to New York, where we'd spend two nights and catch a home game.

I think Dad thought I'd outgrow it as I got closer to graduation, but I enjoyed the father-son bonding time as much as he did. My father is a brash, blue-collar kind of guy. Very heart on his sleeve, but also not good at talking about emotional stuff. The divorce made him even more closed off, but I knew he always looked forward to his custody weekends with me. Even at the pissiest, moodiest points of my teenage years, I got it.

I could tell Dad was surprised after I went off to college - on a hockey scholarship at a New England college - when I asked if we were still doing my birthday trip.

"You bet, buddy," he beamed with barely contained excitement in his voice. "Though I guess we'll need to wait till your season's over."

So that's what we did. A few days later he got back to me wondering if I'd want to catch an away series in Boston later that spring. That's how a new tradition got started, going to different cities each April.... Chicago, Montreal, and now that I'm 22 this year the trip is in DC.

The first night, Dad and I found a sports bar, where we watched a couple of games, but mostly caught up. About school, life, and just boring stuff. Dad seemed to be in a good mood, chattier than normal, and just happier with life. His contracting work was going well, and he promised that he'd take me out for a nice steak dinner the next night.

I asked him if he was dating any one, but he just cocked a grin and shook his head. "Nothing serious," he said with an uncharacteristic blush. "I mean, your old man gets out there for a little fun now and then, but I don't know if I'm ready to date."

"Dad!" I objected with a laugh. The man had given me the birds and bees talk and had checked in with me a couple of times. I'd admitted to him that I'd become sexually active, though I made up more experience with women than I really had. But we weren't the kind of family who talked much about sex.

"Goddamnit, Joey," he chuckled. "You're not a kid any more. I figure you know the score."

"Yeah, I guess," I said, pressing my leg against my father's next to the bar. "Guess you don't get used to the idea of your parents having a life."

"Could probably use a little more of one, to be honest," Dad chimed. God, he was really opening up this evening. "What about you, son? I thought you'd be going steady with someone by now."

"Nah," I hemmed and hawed, trying to hide my embarrassment. I'd gotten real good at bullshitting with my buddies and my teammates but for some reason had a harder time lying to Dad.

My father's hand clasped on my shoulder. "s' OK, I'm not gonna pester you like your mother does," he said. "I guess I wouldn't be a good Dad if I didn't want to know what's going on in your life."

Looking into his gruffly handsome face and his puppy dog brown eyes, I was THIS close to telling him. About the gay thing, about my doubts, about how I wanted to tell everyone but was too fucking scared. How I seemed to be putting my life off until after college.

Instead I gave a silent nod of acknowledgment and turned my head back up to the big TV screen behind the bar. Dad followed suit.

***

We were three beers in when Dad said the day was catching up with him. "It's early though, you should stay out," he urged. "Have some fun."

I almost said no, but it was barely 9 o'clock, and a part of me wanted to take advantage of some independent time. I told Dad I'd maybe stay out for a while longer.

"You got the spare room key, right?"

I told him I did. "I won't be out long," I said.

"I hope you are," he chuckled. "Seriously, enjoy yourself, Joey," he said as he got up from his bar stool. I try to not to perv on my old man but seeing him in his casual jeans and sweatshirt, it was hard not to admire his sturdy body. I mean, Dad's got a beer belly but otherwise is pretty damn solid. I felt his strength as he gave my shoulder one last squeeze before bidding me good night.

I gave it maybe five minutes after he left, then I downed my drink and found my way to the Metro to Dupont Circle. I'd only been to a gay bar twice before, and each time was nerve wracking as hell. But something about being in a different city made me feel anonymous. I felt giddy and excited as I walked the blocks to some bar I found on Google.

Maybe I picked the wrong place, or maybe it was too early, but the bar was dead. I may have been anonymous, but I stuck out in the place, the only dude under 40 in a place of older man. That would have been fine. I mean, I kind of get turned on by men in their late 30s, or 40s and 50s. But a couple of obnoxious guys made a beeline for me in turn, as soon as I got my beer. I tried to do the thanks but no thanks, thing but they wouldn't fucking let up. It brought out my whole anxiety about being in the place to begin with. I didn't even finish my beer, I just bolted out of there.

The whole way back to the hotel, I was frustrated and maybe a little mad at myself. I maybe should have tried another bar, but at this point I wasn't in the mood.

I tried to be quiet when I got back to the hotel room. There was the click of the key card, but other than that I slipped into the room silently, so I wouldn't wake Dad. It took me a second to realize that the light was on, and that Dad was hardly asleep. I was a few steps in the room, far enough to see half of the beds, when I realized what the fuck was happening.

"You like that cock, Daddy?" the voice was youthful and masculine, and it seemed to match the very attractive athletic younger guy who was boning my father doggy style.

My beefy bodied old man was bracing himself on all fours and actually bucking his meaty ass back against every hard thrust. If I wasn't hard yet, that sight alone made my cock feel more rigid than I'd ever felt.

"You know it, buddy," my father growled in that deep, loud voice of his. "Pound my fucking hole." God, Dad was being really loud and his sex talk seemed to echo off the walls. I hoped to God there was soundproofing, then realized I hadn't heard anything before stepping into the room.

The young dude just gripped Dad's waist and used the leverage to pull my father's body back and forth onto his shaft. "You wanna do the scene we talked about, man?" the guys asked, quiet in his voice now.

Dad nodded and blushed beet red. "Yeah, let's go for it."

The top's chest seemed to puff proudly. I couldn't believe they'd not noticed me. Hell, I couldn't believe I had the balls or the stupidity to just stand there and watch them. But they were so caught up in their mating. The man's hips now slowed to a slow sexy grind and he leaned forward and kissed along Dad's thick shoulder and neck. "I've wanted to do this for so long, Dad," he growled. "After every hockey practice."

"Oh god, yeah, Joey!" my father hissed, not as loud this time.

WHAT THE FUCK!?!

My heart pounded and my dick throbbed, but my mind was in a major head-fuck place now. I was actually hyperventilating, and the voyeurism had gone from a sexual turnon to a sense of invading Dad's privacy, or seeing something I shouldn't have seen. I backed out as quietly as I entered, and let the door open and shut as silently as I could.

"Fuck!" I hissed to myself as I stood in the hallway, feeling my heart race. I tried to gather my thoughts to something that would get my dick to go down. It half worked, but not fully. I thought of going somewhere else for a while, even the hotel lobby. But I had to know. Know who'd been fucking Dad. Probably not a boyfriend, cause Dad never came to DC. Maybe some dude from Grindr, I don't know.

It took ten minutes, maybe a little more. I waited down the hall, by the elevator bank, and when I heard the click of the door, I peered out. The first one was a different room, but the second, a minute later, was from ours. I pretended like I was I just coming from the elevators and walked slowly down the hall. The dude was busy with his phone as he walked, texting or something so I could get a good look at him. I'd seen his body in profile, but now that I saw him head on, wearing joggers and a zip up pullover, I could make out that he was almost a dead ringer for me! Blue eyes to my brown, and higher cheekbones, but otherwise there was so much similar. Same height, same athletic build, same dark brown hair, same jockish demeanor.

"Hey," he grunted in acknowledgement as we passed. Bro to bro.

"Hey," I said, nervously, trying to pass it off as a normal exchange. He kept on his way, and I paused at the room door, wondering if he'd look back. He never did.

I wasn't quiet this time. I wanted to give Dad time notice. I shut the door loudly and called out, "Hey Dad."

"Hey, buddy," he called out. He was lying back in bed, watching some sports news on the TV with the volume turned down. Wearing only a thin pair of gym shorts, his body was relaxed and I got a good chance to admire his muscle. Big bulging arms, rounded shoulders, and full hard pecs. Dad's surprisingly smooth for a guy his age, but there was a dusting of hair on his chest and torso... finer and lighter colored than my own body hair. Below his pecs there was some extra weight... more than middle aged spread, I guess, though his beer belly was shy of a full gut. On Dad it looked hot. The thin fabric didn't leave too much to the imagination, but my father's genitals were soft so didn't form too much of a package. And in some ways those thighs stole the show, with a rounded curve and palpable meatiness. They were hairier than his upper body but not outright furry.

I couldn't believe this man, my father, had just taken dick like a porn star.

I snapped out of my perving reverie and rifled though my bag for my own pair of shorts. No way was I sleeping in just underwear tonight. I even pulled out some compression to layer underneath, to keep any boner in check.

I ducked into the bathroom to piss, change, brush my teeth, and just collect myself. When I got out, bare chested as Dad, he was still on the other bed, absorbed in whatever boring sports talk program was on. I couldn't believe how nonchalant he was being. Then again, maybe getting laid puts you in that kind of mood.

I settled onto the other double bed and pretended to be interested in the TV. I'd sneak glanced over at my father, to get a look at his half naked body but also to imagine that forbidden spot between his legs, deep in his ass. No way did he have the chance to shower off after sex, and I just knew that cleft and hole were still wet with lube.... and if the guy didn't put on a condom, then cum as well.

I had to lift my leg and surreptitiously reach down to pinch the base of my cock to tame the hardon. Compression would only do so much.

"Have fun tonight?" Dad finally asked. "I thought you'd be out longer."

The messed up thing was that I felt guilty for coming back too early, of not giving my father enough time to hook up with a dude. "It was all right," I said. "Just wasn't feeling it."

He looked over at me, his brown eyes filled with normal fatherly concern. "Yeah, buddy? I figured a good looking dude like you would be able to score a hot girl for the night."

"Dad!" I objected.

"What?" he asked. As if his concern were just a normal dad's male bonding with his son. In another instance it might be, but I knew now that Dad got off on the idea of me fucking. That's why he was always asking me about girls.

I had every intention of playing dumb. Of just filing this evening back into my memory bank for stroke sessions. Because this was potentially explosive stuff.

Instead I picked up that stick of emotional TNT. "I, um, saw you guys... just now... earlier," I eked out through a shaky voice.

Dad's relaxed, happy go lucky face turned dead serious. "Oh," he said. "I thought I head the door click." He looked at me and I just knew what he was thinking. He was trying to figure out just how much I'd seen. "Sorry you had to see that Joey."

"Guess I should have picked up the hint you wanted some alone time," I said. Trying to pass it off like Dad was my dorm roommate needing to get laid. I even forced a chuckle to make light of the weirdness.

Dad turned off the TV and turned toward me. God, I wished he wasn't looking so hot just then. Chest and arm muscle bulging as his body pivoted toward me. "I'm serious, Joe... I didn't mean.... Damnit... I guess you know now... your old man likes to have a little fun now and then."

It was none of my business, but curiosity won out. "He wasn't your boyfriend or anything, was he?" I mean, it didn't seem likely but I had to know if I was getting a step dad my age.

He shook his head. "Nothing like that, son," he said, pausing before adding, "It's just, well, sometimes I splurge on a hustler."

It was a weird first reaction, but I was a little mad that Dad paid that dude when any number of men would be lucky to fuck him. But as the memory of that primal scene flashed in my head, I was getting rock hard again. "Dad, I'm pretty sure you don't need to pay anyone."

Dad's eyes were on me intently now. Deciding how to take my comment. "Sometimes I want someone who's not gonna pass judgment," he said quietly. Damn he was making himself vulnerable now, for sure.

I was too. Meeting his gaze, I said, less quietly now, "I'm not gonna pass judgment, Dad."

"No?" he asked. I could hear his voice catch in his throat.

"Nope. And I hope you don't pass judgment on me," I replied.

"What would I...?" Dad started to ask before he let out a surprised, "oh!"

I'd pulled my legs out and was revealing my hardon to dad. Even beneath the shorts and through the compression, my ridge of college-jock cock was visible. My heart raced nervously but I also sat up proudly in bed and spread my legs further to show my dick off to my father.

"Fuck, you're big, Joey," he gapsed, without thinking before he took his eyes off my crotch and looked back up at me. "How long?"

"I dunno, Dad," I said. "Maybe 7 and a half inches. Almost eight."

"Shit," he grunted. Then shook his head. "But I meant how long have you had a thing for me?"

"Honest, Dad?" I replied. "I don't know. Maybe longer than I realized."

He nodded, taking in the information.

I looked over at my father and could see his dick firming up to a spike again in those shorts. "How long have you had a thing for me, Dad?"

"Maybe longer than I realized, too," he shot back, now sitting up on the bed, facing me. "I swear Joey, I tried not to go there, but you grew into such a hot fucking stud."

I'd had sex with men a couple of times before, and I'd enjoyed the naughty thrill of it. But this just seemed to click, the mutual sexual attraction. The fact Dad was as boned for me as I was for him made me wish we weren't father and son.

Then again, that was the thrill of it, too.

With a playful grin, I hooked my thumbs in my shorts and pulled them up over my boner. Dad was silent and his attention fixated watching this simple, taboo act. I slid off the shorts and the compression and let my long, thick cock ride up. It was fully engorged and stood up from my treasure trail at a rigid angle.

Dad gulped again and looked up at me. "We doing this, son?"

"Yeah, Dad," I hissed, scooting off the bed and standing up. Horniness winning out over my nerves. "We're fucking doing this."

I heard a low rumble as my butch father scooted over and with one hand on my leg to guide me, he took me into his mouth.

"Holy fuck!" I gasped. At first it was just the sheer forbidden fact that my own father was licking and now sucking my bone. But quickly I was going wild at realizing how frickin' good Dad was at this. Not going for the kill, he gave slow, sensual head that seemed to be worshipful and did the trick of working me up to a boil without sending me over the edge.

I'd had guys suck my dick a couple of times, but I'd never fully gotten a blowjob, not for real. Dad was giving me my first.

"Dad," I hissed, spreading my legs to brace my body and running my fingers softly through his light-brown hair to encourage him. I rode out the incredible incestuous pleasure, then had to put on the breaks. "Dad..." I urged, using my fingers to nudge his skull back off me. "I don't wanna cum yet."

My father let out a soft, deep growl as my wet thick prick cleared his lips. And just as quickly as he'd taken me into his mouth, his face dove down to start tonguing and kissing my balls.

"You've turned into such a stud, all right," I heard him say between kisses. "Big fucking balls, too."

I'd had two hookups with older men. Men Dad's age. One was fun, the other I felt a little skeeved out by the man's lecherous fixation on my youth. But with Dad, I responded instantly to his worshipful lust for me. Something about it brought out both my loving and aggressive side. Holding the back of his head, I pulled him roughly into my crotch, then relaxed my grip and patted his head affectionately. Dad seemed to love that.

"I wanna fuck you, Dad," I let out. As I said the words, I knew they were a messed up thing to think, much less say. I was so horny, though, and after seeing Dad practically slut out earlier, my dick was doing the thinking for me.

Dad pulled back, spit on his lips and excitement in his brown eyes. "Yeah, Joey?"

If I didn't know before, I had a pretty good confirmation that Dad had thought a LOT about that very idea. His hand stroked my spit-wet prick, as if he was sizing up how much he'd feel my size.

A nagging doubt hit me. Not incest, but my inexperience. "I might not have the moves that hustler did, but I wanna bone you, Dad."

Dad leaned back, his burly body on display for me, with its hard blue-collar muscle and that extra bulk. He was beautiful and my cock twitched seeing his masculine build offered before me. "How you want me? On all fours?"

I stepped back for a better view, shaking my head. "Face to face," I growled, feeling my cock twitch. I'd had my experiences with men and a hell of a lot of self time with porn. This was better than both combined. "I wanna make out with my dad while I fuck him."

"Joey," Dad grunted, scrambling up to lie back on the bed. I was following him, already greedily tugging at the waist band of his shorts. The elastic snagged on his erection, but he helped me work it over and off his thighs, before I pulled the shorts off and tossed them aside. "This is SO fucking wrong, son," he hissed, and I knew we were on the same wavelength. Riding that taboo.

"Fuck yeah, it's wrong," I growled, the words almost catching in my throat I was so turned on. "A son shouldn't wanna fuck his father."

Dad honest to god whimpered at that. Or maybe it was the feel of my hardon nudging along his thigh as I leaned down and claimed a kiss.

This itself was a line crossed, more than the cocksucking, more than the sex talk. I was French kissing my own father and he was sucking my tongue into his mouth before battling it with his own. We grunted into our kiss, humping our heated bodies and feeling that incredible flesh-on-flesh contact.

This desire had been bottled up so deep inside me, but this evening had brought it out so quickly, I knew it was always there. Knew my father had been deep in my psyche as I masturbated all these years. Knew he was an implicit comparison for any man I went for.

I'd have to ask Dad where I fit into his fantasies, or if there were other men, young men, in his life. All I knew now was how hungrily he held me and felt up my hockey-jock body and spread his legs, inviting me in, then wrapping those feet around to guide me to enter him.

I wasn't hustler-skilled, so I had to reach down and guide my rigid cock to root around for his entrance. But that escort had left a good amount of lube there, and as I nudged my father's recently-fucked pucker, I could tell there was a good deal of cum, too. The idea excited me and made me jealous at the same time. That fucker should have been paying Dad for the privilege...

I thrust inside my old man. Between the suddenness and my size, it was a LOT for Dad to take. Turns out the man liked it that way. He growled into our kiss and used his heels against my strong ass to urge me on.

I didn't need my invitation engraved. I let my body and my hormonal need take over. I fucked Dad, maybe just shy of rough, but definitely hard. And the faster and deeper I went the more the big man's body responded beneath me.

"Fuck me, Joe," he grunted as I broke the kiss and leaned up to get a good look at the man I was shafting, the man who made me.

"You love your son's cock in you?" I prodded.

"Fuck yeah," Dad replied. "Hot fucking incest."

That alone about got me to cum. My hips were a blur of motion and I was THIS close to orgasm.

"Open your mouth, Dad," I urged. I don't know what possessed me to do this, but I think I'd seen it a porn video and something about Dad's need made me wanna try it.

My father opened his mouth and I did it. I spit right into it, hitting the back of his throat like a bullseye target.

Dad actually fucking whimpered once I did.

I hawked some more spit and let it fly once more. And that did it, I was cumming HARD. Harder than I ever had in my life. My hips were now longer thrusting madly but giving a couple of deep jerks into my dad's guts to add my seed to that hustler's.

Dad was rock hard against my abs as we made out and held each other. Holding on to each other and not wanting this father-son fuck to end.

After a couple of minutes I realized I didn't have to end. Dad hadn't gotten off, and I was still rock hard. I could probably go for another... yeah, I could definitely go for another. My hips began a soft, shallow thrust, enough for Dad to feel it inside him.

"You going for another, Joey?" he asked, surprised and excited.

I nodded, smiling down on my father. His hair was matted down with sweat and he had a vulnerable edge to his handsome looks. I felt a strange sexual domination over my old man, but a hell a lot of love, too. It was all in the mix.

"You ever been fucked all night, Dad?" I asked, putting on my deepest, sternest voice I could manage. Yeah, maybe it was a boast, but at that point I felt I had it in me. In any case, I wanted to try.

"God, Joe," Dad hissed. His hands openly massaged my arm muscle, not as big and round as his guns but still with that athletic harness from sports and working out regularly.

I grinned, feeling playful as hell. "Is that a 'God, Joe,' I can't handle that? Or a 'God, Joe, please fuck me all night, Joe'?" I teased.

I felt Dad's heels on my ass cheeks again. "God, Joe, please fuck me all night, Joe.... son."

"You got it... Dad."

[impossiblycolorfulpanda]

Atla Netflix Trailer

I ain't gonna lie, that had me feeling jittery inside but still a bit bothered that Zuko's eyebrow isn't completely covered up to show that it's permanently missing.

Some believe that Zutara needs to be canon now since we got a full glance at the size comparison between Aang and Katara and it confirms what anti-kataang people were saying all along. It's a weird, self-inserting, kid-has-a-crush-on-minor-babysitter, dynamic that focuses only on Aang's perspective and attraction.

Y'all may call me hypocritical for agreeing with them and obsessing over Azulaang since Azula is the same age as Katara but the main differences between Kataang and Azulaang is that it's not gonna be framed with one acting parental and coddly to the other, we'd get insight into what those two feel for each other, Aang would be trading his child-like infatuations with Katara for a more mature love for Azula, though she deeply cares for him, Katara mostly sees Aang as a powerful symbol of hope than a person, Azula, at first, sees him as a dangerous enemy that needs to be neutralized by any means necessary which is no better, but once she looks past that, she'll see Aang for who he really is and value that, they would call each other out for their mistakes and directly and indirectly inspire each other to be better, I invented the concept of Aang and Azula becoming more spiritually bonded which allows one to know when the other is lying, and Azulaang can be endgame in their late teens or even early 20s.

As for Zutara, if they plan on going that route, they have to add in a season 4: Air. Otherwise, it'll come off as forced as Kataang, if not more so. If they add in a season 4 then I hope it becomes a part of the war arc and not-post war like most season 4 takes I've seen.

I always imagined Ozai, in any way possible, being the true instigator of the war and the antithesis of each member of team avatar as a whole, not just to Zuko. I'm anxious about that not happening but at the very least, he had better not get emasculated like he was in season 3. Let Ozai be a badass. Let him have a personal/thematical connection to all of Team Avatar, be a complete antithesis to Team Avatar, and prove to be the stronger, greater, more dangerous, and more competent character in comparison to both Azula and Iroh in any other way possible.

[justin-chapmanswers]

hello there! love your work :) i'm wondering how much you personally contributed to bot's backstory, and however much that may be, what you think of it - why do you think the decision was made to have bot be created by test tube and fan, as opposed to some other entity? the pair had already gotten an arc in ii2 about learning not to project their desires onto a child figure (fan's egg) so it's interesting that the same was done with them again in ii3. my love of the season is not really diminished by that decision (i still absolutely love ii3!!!) but it has bugged me haha :'D but anyway, i hope you're doing well!! thank you and have a lovely day <3

- clover anon

Hihi, love the question. Honestly, while I did contribute a bit to the Bot backstory, I'll say I had a lil less to do with it than a couple other writers. It's an element I've been excited about since we got some momentum on it conceptually, but since it's not my baby I can't give suuuuper definitive answers here.

We started with the character's existence before the backstory. "Bow has the votes, what now?" The initial thought was "welp, Purgatory Mansion'd, that's that. Who's next-up on the list?" I wouldn't wanna meddle with her s2 story by suddenly making her able to be a part of the competition. There was strong-enough pushback on this that we decided to consider our options and come to a fun compromise. Robot was pitched, and it opened up a lot of options, and we wanted to have a fairly firm grasp on which we'd run with before we wrote episode one.

To your question, there was debate on what element of the world Bot would fall under. Meeple-made was considered. Contestant-made was considered. And some additional options. Ultimately, we landed on the direction that'd keep Invitational's story a little more grounded and character-focused, which was an early goal, and kept it as a personal story between the contestants.

The Meeple option was, of course, very alluring. So-much-so that half the community was guessing that Bot was Meeple-related. Might've been the obvious conclusion based on how we've set up our lore thus far (not that I think this would necessarily be a negative, so long as the execution is strong). Besides this, we still have a lot to hit on with Meeple and we weren't looking to complicate it. It felt like a breath of fresh air to us to explore a mini-mystery that didn't tie back to where our past ones have.

While, again, I didn't add as much to the story of Bot's creation as others, I do think it's nice to let Test Tube take a lead in the story as opposed to Fan. In season two with Egg, it was largely a Fan story that Test Tube would step into. Here, it was fun exploring Test Tube get so caught up in the excitement of creation for the sake of creation that she didn't connect the dots on how her creation may not experience that same excitement. It felt like a nice evolution of where we left her off, now that she's better-equipped to empathize, while also giving her a story that directly hinges on everything she's prided herself on since the start of the show. But I totally get how the parallels to season two's story with Baby Shimmer could lead anyone to feel that we're treading similar ground.

I think that one of the most notable differences is that the story of Bot is Bot's story. I enjoyed the lil mystery and all, but to me the element I've been most excited about has been allowing Bot to have a pleasant time being themself and existing in a way that feels freeing to them. I had made some pitches early-on in the conceptualization of Bot that were more baked-into the pre-established lore, and would tie them more closely with Bow, but honestly I couldn't be happier with where we landed, because my originally route wouldn't make it easy to tell a story about Bot NOT being Bow, and this has meant a lot to me.

More to come!

[trentsixtysix]

can you write some trent fluff where you both spend the day with each other before he leaves for Qatar?

Perfect Night

WARNINGS: Language, mentions of sex

Word Count: 2.0k

Fluff

It had been a nerve racking couple of months for the two of you.

You were both aware Trent hadn't been having the best start to the season so far, he wasn't hopeful at all with the World Cup coming up, and to add to his worries his manager wasn't at all showing any sign of faith in him.

You were both also aware of the endless amounts of hate he was receiving online, which was the very reason you were elated when he had received the phone call, alerting him that he had made the team and would be jetting off to Qatar in a few days - a new opportunity for him to prove himself.

As happy as you were for him, you'd definitely miss him for the week before you flew out to see him, as you had both been so busy with work recently that you hardly saw each other. You had just now taken time off specifically to support him whilst he was out there, hoping to relax on your last day together.

'Can't believe you're leaving me.' You joked, watching him pack his belongings into a suitcase - even after all the years you'd been together, and all the times he had been flying, you still couldn't figure out how he managed to fit all of his things into one tiny case.

'You'll see me soon.' He smiled, zipping it up as he pulled you in to an embrace, he was due to leave you for England camp tomorrow morning, where he'd be flying away with them later.

'It's been so long since we've had a day like this to ourselves.' You pointed out, pulling him in extra tight.

'Yeah? Let's make the most of it then.' He suggested.

'What are you thinking?' You asked, curious as the two of you hadn't even been on a proper date in so long; even on his birthday you both just ordered something in, which was more than enough for Trent, who was a homebody.

'I'm taking you out.' He said, kissing your forehead.

'Where?' You asked, hoping to get some clue so you could plan your outfit.

'You'll find out.' He replied.

'But make sure you wear that dress I like.' He whispered, before heading to pack away the rest of his stuff.

You assumed he was taking you somewhere fancier than usual, even though he knew you'd probably be content with a McDonalds and a movie night, as long as you were both in each other's company.

The sun had set now, and you began getting ready, leaving the skin tight black dress which Trent had bought you to hang whilst you did your hair and makeup.

He was ready almost immediately, who only had to take a quick shower and put his clothes on before lounging around on the bed waiting for you.

You walked into your shared bedroom after getting ready in your closet, and you instantly had him captivated when he saw how you looked; his mouth agape as he scanned over your entire body in awe.

'Fuck me.' He admired, smirking as he approached you.

'But then we'd be late?' You joked, with a smile as he leaned in for a kiss, even though you seriously considered it with how good him and his muscles looked in the unintentionally skin tight shirt he was wearing.

'You ready to go?' He asked, taking ahold of his keys off the bedside table as he led the way to his car.

You simply nodded and followed behind him after grabbing your purse, meeting him in the driveway.

Trent was full gentleman mode tonight; rushing to the passenger side to open the door for you, making you laugh as he did the exact same thing on your first date, going out of his way to make sure it was perfect for you.

'Where are we going?' You asked him, again.

'Patience.' He responded, with a smile as he looked over at you adoringly, before you shyly turned your face away - no matter how long you'd been together you still couldn't hold eye contact with him, he would always have this effect on you.

The drive was long, and you weren't sure how long you were in the car but it must've been over an hour, not an issue for the two of you as you could talk for hours about nothing with each other, and with how busy you had been you had a lot to talk about for the journey.

Eventually he pulled into the restaurant, which you didn't recognise during the drive as the darkness left you unable to make out your surroundings, but after parking in the private sector you soon realised he had taken you to the same restaurant you both went to on your first date.

You were both ushered in by the man at the door, who took you both upstairs to the top floor, which is where you found out Trent had booked a table on the terrace, where you could both see the busy city beneath you.

It wasn't the fact that it was incredibly fancy and expensive that wowed you, it was the fact you were sat at the exact same place as all those years ago, and he had remembered something so intimate and managed to arrange it last minute just for you.

The waiter took your orders, and you couldn't help but blush when Trent ordered for you, knowing exactly what you wanted without you even having to tell him - it was a superpower of his that he could read your mind.

'This is beautiful.' You told him, as he looked extremely chuffed with himself.

'Do you remember it? Brings back memories.' He reminisced, whilst you waited for your food.

'You were so shy you were tripping over your words.' You reminded him, laughing.

'I was young! and there was a beautiful girl here with me.' He revealed, flustered, as you continued to laugh.

'That was the best date I've been on you know.' You admitted.

'Really? Even though they forgot your dessert and we didn't realise until we left?' He chuckled.

'It was worth it because I got a McFlurry in the end, much better.' You said, remembering he felt so bad he took you to McDonald's to make up for your missing dessert.

'Always had a sweet tooth, probably why you're still with me.. I'm quite sweet too.' He said, winking as you rolled your eyes, and you didn't even cringe because you were so smitten with him - he could do no wrong in your eyes.

'I'm so proud of you, I knew you could make the squad.' You told him, taking into account he'd be at the World Cup again.

'Thank you baby, I just hope he'll let me play.' Trent sighed, as the waiter placed your food down infront of you guys.

'Don't be negative, you're one of the most talented players on that team.' You assured him, swirling your fork around your pasta.

You knew he wasn't confident at all with his performance recently, and you couldn't blame him as every little thing he did would be picked on by people online, the guy only had a small amount of faith left in himself no matter how hard you tried to restore it and remind him of his excellence.

The rest of your night went by amazingly, but it wasn't a night out with Trent unless someone spotted him and asked for a picture, which they did as you prepared to leave the restaurant and gathered your things, allowing Trent to tend to his footballer duties.

'You got some room in there?' Trent asked, as you got seated in the passenger seat.

'Always.' You smiled, knowing exactly what he had in mind.

Your suspicions were confirmed when he pulled into a McDonald's drive through, and although your dessert was remembered by the restaurant tonight, you couldn't pass up the opportunity for a McFlurry, which excited you more than the entire meal before.

You leaped at the chance to snatch your ice cream from Trent's hands, making him smile in reaction to how eager you were for it, and the rest of your journey home was filled with nothing but the sounds of your shared playlist in the background - although you could talk a lot, you didn't need to be all of the time, just knowing you were spending time together was more than enough for you both.

As soon as you got in the door you trudged to the kitchen, opening the fridge to get yourself a drink, tired as it was late night now.

He could see you were exhausted, gesturing to your shoes, which made you fling them on his knee whilst he knelt down and unstrapped them for you, instantly relaxing you.

'I love you.' You said, thankful in response.

'You look stunning tonight.' He told you, eyes glued to how you looked in your outfit.

'Only tonight?' You teased, holding back your laughter as he jumped to rectify what he said.

'No I mean you always look stunning, just extra stunning right now.' He corrected, kissing your forehead.

'Go pick a film whilst I run us a bath.' He added, ushering you to your shared bedroom, and you almost felt bad that he was doing that for you, as you wanted today to be at his service instead of yours.

You did as he said, scrolling through Netflix whilst you took your makeup and dress off, hearing the sound of the water running in the back whilst Trent got the bath ready for you.

You walked into the bathroom to see him toying with the temperature, and the sight was too cute, you couldn't help but gawk whilst stood at the frame of the door.

'Let's get in baby.' He said, taking your hand as you both undressed, sitting yourself comfortably between his legs in the vast tub, something you made sure you had when you were designing the bathroom together.

'You are amazing.' You told him, whilst he played with your hair.

'You excited for Qatar?' You whispered, noticing he hadn't shown his excitement for it enough, and all he did was shrug from behind you, making you turn back to look him in the eyes.

'One mistake and it'll start again.' He said, trying to sound unbothered, although you knew it affected him.

You pulled him in for a kiss, it saddened you to see him sad over this when he should be jumping for joy, he deserved to enjoy this moment.

'You will prove everyone wrong, you've done it many times.' You told him, as you both shut your eyes and lay with each other for a while.

The two of you ended the night with a shower, where he didn't initiate anything and instead you both headed straight for your bed, where the movie you picked played silently in the back as you both talked, something you always did before bed.

'You had a nice night?' He asked, as you lay glued to him and his arms and legs remained wrapped around you.

'The best, but I wanted tonight to be about you.' You revealed, grateful of how generous your boyfriend was, but wishing you could've gave him a special night before he left.

'You know I enjoy doing this for you Y/n.' He smiled, admiring how you were making a fuss out of such a small thing.

'I know I know, and I love you. I just wanted to help you relax on your last day.' You explained.

'Oh?' He asked, sarcastically.

'Oh?' You repeated, confused.

'I know a way you can help me relax.' He started, as you soon caught on.

'Hmm are you not tired?' You mocked, wondering why he left you hanging in the shower.

'I can't keep my hands off of you, you look so beautiful.' He admitted, grinning.

'What? I look better in my pyjamas than I did naked in the shower?' You joked, finding amusement out of how random he could be.

'Exactly, the most beautiful woman alive.' He complimented, kissing your cheek.

'Well.. in that case I can do something for you.' You smirked, leaning in to kiss him as he flipped you on top of him, allowing you to help him unwind one last time before he had to leave you early morning..