#and a solid two and a half have been me wallowing and accidentally (not really) ignoring them

[alxclaremont]

meh

[wordsandsound14]

Switchfoot albums ranked (not including interrobang)

I've been thinking about this a lot too recently. Ik I'm late to the party on this one but I don't get on reddit often. Only got on since the band did the ama. I won't include interrobang since it's so new and ranking it seems difficult. (worst to best)

11. Learning to Breathe - While this record has some of the best written songs (Learning to Breathe, The Loser, Love is the Movement), it also has some of my least favorites (Poparazzi, Innocence Again, Living is Simple). I often just find myself bored with this album and disappointed. There are plenty of dipping of toes in ideas and then abandoning them. For instance, the beginning of Erosion is such a cool unique sound and then it's abandoned for the rest of the song. The themes of this album are also really boring to me, even when I was a christian. I just found it wasn't taking a unique perspective or doing anything different with its themes when they have done so before.

10. Where the Light Shines Through - I feel this was the band when they were the most uninspired. It feels like it was trying to sell itself to the CCM crowd and make some waves there since it's been the most consistent place of making waves and it still didn't do that. Don't get me wrong, there are great songs here (If the House Burns Down Tonight, Float, Holy Water). The first half of this album is super good. It's that back half that feels like an axe to the first half. Every song on the back half has something that disappoints me. And I'm fine with christian themes and all but it felt like this album had more just praise songs vs the questioning of faith. Would've been a great EP and it kinda made sense that they went into hiatus after this album. I also feel that the themes of the album didn't really make it to it. Jon talked about how he was in a some struggle and storm before the album and then by the time they got recording it more so became an album after the storm. And I just wonder what was going on. Cause there's only small hints. I can only feel that an album that actually talked about that or coming out of the storm would've worked but we got way after the storm and leaving a lot of good inspiration behind in a ball of mystery that we still don't know about. I don't need to know every information that he went through but the songs got effected by it.

9. New Way to be Human - I think what holds this album down the most is it's lack of direction. I can feel them trying to tackle all of their ideas from folk to pop to indie while maintaining their identity. I just don't feel these ideas get fully fleshed out. But these songs are really well written and the philosophy bleeding into these tracks and ending up being a basis of many future songs can all be tracked back to this album. This album is just a very specific listen so I don't often turn to this album. I do think Something More is the most overlooked song, with Amy's song being a close second. I also think Incomplete is a just a better version of I Turn Everything Over so it feels like a repeat track. But I really appreciate what this record represents in their career and see it as a stepping stone of sorts. (Company Car is one of their best earlier works)

8. Native Tongue - Seems a lot of people have very different feelings about this work. I think the biggest thing that makes Native Tongue feel distinct is that it feels like a Jon Foreman project with Switchfoot. Like Jon was the only one who couldn't stay away from the studio and was calling the other members. They came and were happy to but it was Jon with the initiative. At least, it's how it sounds to me. A lot of these ideas are incomplete. But when they aren't, they hit really well (Native Tongue, Dig New Streams, Oxygen). And the amount of trying different things! Granted a lot of ideas of modern production ideas but I'm glad they happened. But some I'm not too fond of (Joy Invisible, Wonderful Feeling, The Strength To Let Go). I feel this album also really fell short without a good producer. It's not the production value that doesn't work but Switchfoot works best when there is a producer there that works with them and pushes them. I fell they could have been better but it also has some solid songs in here.

7. Legend of Chin - This is one of the most fun Switchfoot records but has such a distinct sound and charm to it. I understand that a lot of songs are about girls that Jon doesn't even know any more but there isn't a bad song on here. It's all just fun from 3 guys jamming in a room. I used to not like the closing track but it's grown on me and I crave that sound more and more. Some standout tracks are Home, Chem 6A, You. With Underwater being a super creative song. I don't have a ton to say other than this is root Switchfoot and their cores are on display here.

6. Fading West - I feel this is their most misunderstood record. The struggle this album went through is tremendous. Take the two best things Switchfoot is known for and strip them away and they still make a record worth listening too imo. It's not their best but it's really ambitious, even if accidental. Originally, they were going to only strip the guitars away but when you listen to the story of Fading West, going on a journey to feel inspired. There are plenty of lines hinting that Jon was having writer's block (blood clot pen). It does mean the lyrics suffered some here but I don't think they suffered a ton. They achieved the california surf music. However, I do think they missed a huge part that I feel the fans were wanting. It's the sound that's on the ep. It's the one we were advertised and didn't receive on the album. I would loved if the album had the sound of Edge of the Earth (the song). But I really appreciate the risk cause it's a huge one. (stand out tracks: Love Alone Is Worth the Fight, BA55, Slipping Away).

5. Vice Verses - This was the best they have ever been as musicians (you could argue this for Oh Gravity too tho). But the amount of pushing their musical talent is very apparent on this album. The bass lines and drum rhythms are amazing. The only songs I'm kinda eh about are Rise Above It (still has great production and energy) and The Original (still has amazing bass and guitar parts). This album does have a weird issue with the lyrics either hitting really deep parts of your heart or being a very vague or simple line. The production is also the best imo and everything is layered super well. The only production that I disagree on is on Where I Belong (the digital claps for why and some parts sounding a little inconsistent with the rest of the album). But the choices in the sounds of the guitars and genre jumps and the grunge. Still lacking in some areas but still a solid record. (Holds my favorite Switchfoot song Thrive)

4. Oh! Gravity. - Oh yes, the golden era as I call it. I pin this album as the core Switchfoot sound. If you want to hear what Switchfoot sounds like, this album nails it. Guitars, fun, great lyrics, and musical variety. I don't have much words like I did for Chin. It's a pretty simple album to digest and it's the quickest made one (from what i'm aware of) and it shows but in the best way possible. It's also only made better by the podcast series they made. The only things that hold this album down a bit is American Dream and Burn Out Bright being repeat tracks of another (American Dream being the better one) and the double edged sword of it being simple when surrounded by high effort long works that are beyond exceptional.

3. The Beautiful Letdown - The Classic Foot album that defined their careers. It's not a joke tho that everything went up a whole level with this album. Something clicked in Jon's head that turned out some of his best lyrics and the song formats and sound just grew a ton. Jerome being an essential new member. And only one song that's a little meh (Redemption) and even the meh song is still catchy. Overexposure might be why it's not higher but I feel I have more reasons being that it does sound dated. Most of the time for better but a little for worse. I also feel that if Drew was a part of this album, it would be up a another level also. There's just a slight amount of incompleteness to this record. Not sure exactly but regardless the songwriting on this album is amazing and the questions and the way they are asked remain timeless.

2. Nothing is Sound - Grunge at its best here. I'm still not certain what Jon was going through here other than what the lyrics mention but whatever he was feeling hits hard. It resonates so much. To this day, these songs hold my throat. Not a bad song on here. It's a really good album that only gets beat by it's production value. Some songs could've been produced better (ironically Jon mentioned that recently too lol). Golden, The Setting Sun, and We Are Young Tonight are the forefront of those. And it's not like they are terribly produced but they are missing a little from what they could be. But literally it. Front to back, this record just rocks while wallowing in despair from the fallen world and the loneliness and helplessness it brings. It also represents a huge decision on what to do after a breakout record and is one of the best records after a band reached public success.

1. Hello Hurricane - The whole sound of this record is the most complete the band has ever sounded to me. The writing on this album is so great. Not one song is a waste and process this album went through is amazing. I get that they can't (prob shouldn't) do this process but damn was it worth it. This project sounds so complete and so organically made, even with two songs that I feel could have been switched out. (Always isn't my favorite but I may having it be a song for a past relationship. But it also does still have a lot of raw emotion in it that I appreciate and can get past my own perceptions. It's the lesser of the offense. Free is the other one only cause it kinda is booty in studio. It's live version makes ya wish it was that way on the record). But i adore these lyrics and I love the sounds they used without washing it up with production but still using production (Sing it Out) as a tool. It's so good and I love this album so much

quick review of interrobang is that it’s a very solid record and I love the sound of it so far. It doesn’t take my top record but it’s an insanely catchy album with a lot of listens in the future. I’d probably rank it as 2 or 3. Not sure if it’s above or below nothing is sound. but really give it a listen. It’s exactly what i’ve been wanting from the band for so long

[sierraraeck]

Return to Normalcy (Pt.1)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Returning to normal has never been so hard. Just as Aundreya is starting to make amends and fit back in with the group, something gets in the way. Story twenty-two.

Category: Angst, but there’s some fluff too

Warnings: Cussing. CM talk. Mentions of death and suicide as a COD. Break-ins.

Word Count: 5.5k

It was odd, how quickly things seemed to go back to ‘normal.’ It was a new sort of normal, like if you’d moved out of your house and years later the new owners invited you over for dinner, but it felt familiar nonetheless.

It seemed to me that we were all more focused on the cases coming in, and while the rest of the team still went out for drinks after a long case, I no longer took part. It didn’t feel right, and above that, I had to get home and prepare for whatever new guest decided to grace me with their presence.

The nice way of saying that people were breaking into my apartment.

It started the Monday I had returned to work with the BAU. Once we got home, my apartment was trashed with a lovely note carved into my bedside table letting me know that this was only going to get worse. I had no motive for them either, but I had three guesses: they were working for DeLeon, they were working for Archer, or they were working for me. If they were working for me, they were probably pissed that I went back to the BAU, or they were clients that held a grudge.

Either way, it didn’t really matter, because if I wasn’t already having trouble sleeping, I definitely was now. I never knew what day, what time, or how many people there’d be. I hate to call it a game, but that was honestly what it’d become. I tried to track their pattern, but they were good, keeping everything very random. I started making bets with myself about the day, time, and number of people, just to keep things interesting.

I walked into work with new bruises and cuts all the time. I tried my best to cover them up, but I wasn’t stupid, and I didn’t believe my teammates were blind. But none of them pushed, they only ever gave me weird looks, which I promptly ignored.

It wasn’t until I was so tired and in pain that I couldn’t do my job correctly.

I was chasing down and unsub, but I couldn’t keep up. He turned a corner and when I followed, ambushed me. We started fighting, but I couldn’t hold my own. Had it not been for Derek following me and shooting him off of me, that man would have strangled me with his bare hands. Only then did Hotch pull me aside.

“Chambers, what is going on with you?” he had those stern, yet caring eyes trained on me.

“Do you want the real version, or the boss version?” I sarcastically asked. He raised his eyebrows slightly. “I’m having trouble sleeping. I wake up every night from nightmares if I’m lucky enough to fall asleep in the first place.”

“Do you expect me to buy that, or do you also fight your furniture in your sleep?” he asked.

“I do expect you to buy that, because it’s true,” I shot back.

“But that’s not everything,” Hotch pointed out.

I shrugged, “It’s close enough.”

“Chambers,” he warned.

“I’m okay,” I assured.

“You almost died today in hand to hand combat. I’ve never seen you even come close to losing to someone in that area. You beat Morgan on a regular, and he’s one of the best fighters I know,” Hotch acknowledged, “What is going on?”

“Hotch, please-”

“I will ask you to take time off if this is not something that can be solved.”

“No!” I barely let him finish, “You cannot confine me to my apartment.”

He gave me a quick once over, and I tried my best to look composed. “I will order you to tell me if things get worse.” I nodded and gave a small ‘thank you’ before walking away.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I did everything I could to prepare for the intruders, but it was another long night. I was never sure if they were out to kill me or just scare me, but it usually ended up with me fighting two or three people at the same time. Usually they fled before things got too serious, but I ended up having to drag out a body every now and then.

Last night was no different, fighting two masked people until they decided to leave. The one upside of all the constant fighting after a while, was that it was allowing me to sleep better. I was so exhausted by the time I was done, that I could actually get three or four solid hours of sleep. Ironic how the same problem causing part of my lack of sleep, could also help me sleep.

The one thing different about last night, though, was that I finally got a look at one of their faces, unmasked and alive. It wasn’t much, but it was something to go off of.

I convinced Garcia to help me find someone who was hopefully in the system. I gave her a description; a man in his early thirties, red curly hair, about five foot eleven, scar behind his ear. She pulled up known felons and those in the prison system, but none of them were him. I didn’t want to have to raise suspicion by asking her to do it, but I had to know who was coming after me. So I went out on a limb and asked her to search for people in the Bureau, and those who worked closely with Agent Howard Archer.

And then I saw him. Some new assistant of Archer’s that also happened to work for the MI6 before moving to the US.

I played it off to Penelope, but I now knew who was coming after me. He must have been nearly as pissed as DeLeon was about Xena, and even more so about the fact that I weaseled my way out of charges, out of DeLeon’s grasp (if he knew about that), and all the way back to the BAU.

But I had a plan, one that would grant me more peace, and help keep the BAU team together.

Things just worked out even better than expected when Emily accidentally dropped information to one of the deputies that was helping his son get away with muder. Not like I wanted her to make a mistake, she was already feeling more guilty about it that she needed to, and I did want to be there for her, but it also just so happened to serve a bigger purpose as well.

We boarded the jet on our way home after using a couple extra days to catch the deputy and his son. Emily sat by herself in the back, clearly beating herself up. I saw JJ say something and squeeze her shoulder, but Emily was not having it. I gave her the first half of the trip to wallow, and then made my move.

I approached her seat and went to sit down when she waved me off, “Chambers, I really can’t go through another ‘it’s okay we still got him’ pep talk right now.”

I sat down right next to her and put my feet up on the other seat. I crossed my arms over my chest, mimicking her movement, and said, “Nah, man, I came over here to tell you that you majorly fucked up. Didn’t you hear? If you’re in the FBI and wrongfully trust your fellow law enforcement officers who are supposed to be helping you catch the bad guy, you’re immediately terminated?” She glared at me from the corner of her eye and I smirked, “I’m serious, Emily. If you ever make a mistake and then end up solving the whole case for us like that again, I think we might just have to fire you.”

“You’re hilarious,” she deadpanned.

“No, not really,” I smiled, “I only think I am when I’m massively sleep deprived and my badass coworker makes the coolest unsub takedown of the century.” She rolled her eyes. I looked across the aisle to where JJ was seated and asked, “Come on, JJ. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” JJ absentmindedly sang, not even bothering to look up from her magazine, “It’s not like she launched through the air, tackled him, and rolled on the ground a couple of times before handcuffing him from her position on top, then stood up like it was nothing.”

I shrugged, turning my attention back to Emily, “Ooh! So, does this mean, now that you’re obviously leaving, that I will be the best at the shooting range?”

“Okay, please stop,” Emily finally spoke back up. She still wouldn’t look at me, but I could see the beginning of a smile creeping up on her face.

I lightly poked her in the side, and she finally cracked a smile, looking over at me. “Look, historically I’m not the greatest at giving pep talks, but I’ve fucked up enough time to know the usual bullshit that they entail, and I know that not a single ounce of it is helpful. It’s gonna feel crappy for a while, that’s just how it goes, but trust me when I say that you have a lot more to be proud of than slipping up once in your seven years of being with the FBI. Not to mention that you personally got to kick his ass anyway.”

“Yeah, but,” she shook her head, “next time, things might not end as lucky.”

“God damn it, Emily,” I tsked playfully, “You’re starting to sound like me. And I can tell you with confidence, being me, that I do not recommend that path.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying but-”

“But you don’t want to come out with me and the girls tonight,” I sighed, posing it more like a statement than a question. “I get it.”

JJ perked up at this, and asked, “What is this you’re saying about girls night?”

“Oh, I guess it’s not that exciting. Emily doesn’t seem interested,” I feigned a grimace, reaching into my pocket to produce five ticket.

“What are those?” Emily asked.

I hummed, “I guess I’ll have to sell yours, or refund it or something, you know, since you don’t want to come out with us.”

“Aundreya, I swear to god,” Emily started, reaching for the tickets in my hand. I jerked them back, but Tara yanked one from my grasp.

“Alanis Morissette? Are you for real?” she asked.

“Dead serious,” I grinned.

I turned to Emily whose mouth was agape, “How’d you know? I’ve been trying to see her for years, but we always have a case!”

“Look, we have tonight and then the extended weekend off. I figured we could get some sleep this afternoon, get ready, go out to dinner, and then go to the concert,” I suggested.

“Absolutely!” Emily’s excitement was enough to make all of us smile, “This is amazing. Does Garcia know?”

“Does she ever,” I murmured. “She nearly wrecked the surprise about twelve times already!”

The girls laughed, and the prospect of getting away and doing something fun seemed to put everyone in a much better mood.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I woke up on Garcia’s floor completely exhausted. But for once, it was a happy exhaustion. No break ins, no nightmares, just the five of us girls having the night of our lives. I checked the time, and the brightness of my phone blinded my eyes. The time read 9:24, and my head hurt a little, but I knew how to drink. Emily and Tara would be fine by the end of the day, but I wouldn’t be surprised if JJ and Penelope were hungover until the weekend was over.

I started cleaning up the place, trying my best not to make any sound or knock into any bottles. When it felt sufficiently cleaned, and I did everything I thought I could that would be quiet, I went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Emily was the next up, and walked into the kitchen rubbing her eyes and holding an empty tequila bottle. She placed it in the trash, then walked over to where I was flipping pancakes.

“Damn, aren’t you tired?” she asked.

I gave her a look. “I’ve adjusted to the constant pounding in my head.”

“Right,” she rasped, “I forgot. You’ve got that super power that allows you not to be affected by drugs and alcohol and stuff.”

I just nodded. “How was it, though?”

She looked at me confused for a moment, before realizing I was talking about the concert. “Aundreya, it was amazing. I can’t believe you did that for us.”

I shrugged, “I just figured we all needed a break.”

“Amen,” Tara said, finishing the last of her beer before placing the empty bottle on the counter.

“Beer before pancakes?” Emily asked.

“My head already hurts, I don’t think another swig’ll change that,” she pointed out. When the other two woke up, we ate breakfast and finished cleaning Peleope’s apartment. It was the first time since I’d been back that I actually did something with the group, and it was actually really fun. We were all Alanis Morissette fans, so we practically screamed the lyrics all night. Not one of us could talk properly, our vocal chords probably wrecked for eternity.

When we finished up, we all decided to head back to our own places. I dreaded leaving, knowing that there was a 50 percent chance that mine was raided yet again.

I was the last one out, and right as I was about to leave, I felt Penelope’s eyes on me. She’d been acting a little strange around me the entire night, and I was wondering if she was ever going to talk to me about it. I turned around to face her and saw that she was looking at me with very nervous eyes. I offered her a small smile, hoping that she would come out with it on her own.

When she just kept looking at me, shifting her eyes between me and the door, I carefully asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she quickly said, seeming to pull out of her thoughts. “Sorry to keep you. You can head home if you need to.” She rushed over to me and started to open the door but I slightly leaned back on the door so she couldn’t fully pull it open.

“If you want me to leave, I will,” I looked her straight in the eyes, “But if you have something to say, or ask, please do. I don’t want you to be nervous to talk to me.”

She struggled for the right words for a moment before she sighed. “Do you want to sit?” I nodded and followed her to the couch. She took another deep breath before starting, “It’s about your ring of people.”

“Okay…” I invited her to continue.

“Um, Deen, that’s his name right? Deen?” I nodded, “Well, he mentioned something to me about you wanting to recruit me before I got offered a job at the FBI.”

I pressed my lips together with understanding. Of course Deen would slip up when it came to ‘The Black Queen.’ I already knew he had a not so little crush on her, and now that he’d met her, he wouldn’t shut up. “Yeah, I did. You were just starting to get really big around the same time the Cloaks were going under, and I knew you’d be a big asset to our team. Once I had the ring up and running, I made a plan to reach out to you and ask you to join us. It was a bit of a long shot considering you were using your skills to do good and you’d probably think we were on the opposite end of that, but we really wanted you. Well, I really wanted you and Deen was really pushing for it. Honestly, we were only three days out from inviting you in when you got caught. We were hopeful, but when you accepted the job with the FBI we weren’t surprised. Still sad, though,” I admitted.

“So, had I not got caught, or you’d gotten to me a few days earlier, your life could’ve been my life?” she asked, a bit of wonder in her voice.

I joked, “Hopefully not. But you would’ve been in the room with me whenever I was planning something new or we were tracking a client or mole. You probably would’ve been our lead in operations considering you’d have access to all of their information and security cameras we’d need to hack into, not to mention some of our own.”

“That’s… wow,” Penelope stared out the window as if she could see her other life playing out.

“But I think you ended up where you belong,” I smiled at her.

She mirrored my expression and agreed, “Yes. I think you’re right. It would’ve been interesting though, to see how different my life would’ve been.”

“Maybe,” I reminded, “But you might not have even said yes to us to begin with.” She looked deep in thought, understandably. It was a lot to process, especially since she had some idea of my lifestyle and the amount of trouble I got into. But it was still a possibility that she’d never had the opportunity to ponder. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yes. Thank you for last night and, for answering my questions this morning,” she stood up with me as I went to grab my stuff and head out the door.

“If you want to know anything else, just ask,” I smiled.

She nodded and was about to close the door behind me she shyly questioned, “And Deen?”

I grinned from ear to ear. “Great guy, super loyal, funny, and a natural leader and protector. Oh, and super into you.”

She smiled to herself, looking down a little bit, then gave me a wave as she shut the door.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

When I got back to my place, and saw that the door was already cracked, I sighed. I swung open the door to see that things only continued to get worse.

Sitting there on the couch was Spencer. There was broken glass and knocked over furniture strewn all around, and he was like a rare diamond sitting in the middle of the rubble.

“Aundreya, what is going on?” his voice was soft and concerned, eyes wide.

“Spencer, please-” I tried.

He shook his head and gestured for me to sit down next to him. I swiped off some of the stuffing coming out of a read and sat down. “Please. Please tell me what all of this is. I want to help.”

“You can’t help,” I said.

“Only because you won’t let me,” he pointed out. “You’re coming to work with new bruises all the time, you’re clearly more tired than usual, and your ability to think and physically perform are decreasing.”

I looked down at my hands, spinning the bracelets around my wrist. “People are breaking into my place. It’s completely random but I can fend them off.”

The shock and concern in his eyes grew, “How long has this been going on?”

I purses my lips, “Since I came back.”

“And how many times has this happened?”

I looked around my apartment and shook my head, “I stopped cleaning after four.”

“Aundreya-”

“Don’t say anything,” I pleaded. “If you do, then I’ll have to take time off and leave this place defenseless, or you’ll assign people to stand guard which will likely only get them killed. I’m handling this.”

“You call this,” Spencer gestured to the disaster I called an apartment, “handling it?”

“I’m trying to handle it,” I corrected, “And it’s actually been getting better.”

“I know that’s not true,” he accused.

“Well now I’m too tired for nightmares and can actually get some real, solid sleep, so I’d call that a win,” I snapped. He looked at me hurt, “I didn’t mean to sound like that.”

“My point exactly. You’re too tired to control your emotions. You’re irritable,” he stated.

“I’m okay,” I insisted. I could tell he was not buying it, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want him anywhere near my apartment. Anywhere near me. It would only put him in harms way.

“Is this why you always insisted on going out to meet me instead of going to one of our apartments?” he asked.

We’d been meeting up for food or just walks when neither of us could sleep. He was still dealing with prison, and drugs, and Cat Adams with his mom (which I didn’t know about until I came back), while I was dealing with Xena, and DeLeon, and Agent Archer. We quickly realized that there was no one else to call at 3am in the morning when we couldn’t sleep besides each other.

“That, and I didn’t want to intrude on you and Maeve,” I whispered.

“She actually hasn’t been staying over these past few days,” he murmured. It threw me off guard, so I just stared at him with my head tilted to one side. “Yeah. I don’t blame her though.”

“Wait, it was her decision?” I asked.

“No, well yes,” he stumbled. “I mean, I felt bad constantly being away, and the only time I was here I was waking up with nightmares. She deserves better than that.”

“And you deserve to be with who you want. Don’t push her away because you feel guilty, let her make that decision on her own,” I finished with a yawn.

“God, you need sleep,” he said, effectively dodging my previous statement.

“Yeah, but then who’s gonna protect you if they come back?” I attempted to joke.

He reached down and produced his gun, then flashed the other one around his ankle along with a small dagger. I raised my eyebrows at him. He shrugged, “I think I can hold down the fort for tonight. The team needs you to be rested to chase down our unsubs.”

I laughed, “Yeah, but they need you rested to actually find them in the first place. I can pass the whole chasing them down thing back to Morgan for a while.”

“You’re not going to be able to sleep with me here, are you?” he asked.

I shook my head, “In your defense, I wouldn’t be sleeping if you weren��t here. But now that I know there’s more than just vases in here to protect…”

“Fine. How about we take shifts?” he offered.

“No, you should go and get some real sleep on a bed, not a couch that’s falling apart,” I suggested. He gave me a pointed look, and I knew he wouldn’t be sleeping either now that he knew what was going on. “Fine. Shifts it is.”

He stood up to go shut and lock my door, then came back to sit next to me on the couch. I put my head on his shoulder, and before I knew it, I was out.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I woke to the sound of ringing. I looked up to find that somehow, we both ended up asleep on my couch, my head on his chest, curled up in his side. His arm was around me and I wanted to believe that the ringing was just a part of another nightmare, but when it went off again, I sprung up off the couch. I quickly scanned the windows and all the doors, waiting for someone to jump us.

“It’s okay,” Spencer rasped, sitting up, “It’s just our phones.”

I looked down at the coffee table near the couch to see that he was right. “Oh.” I answered mine and walked into the other room while Spencer answered his, cursing myself for being so jumpy in front of him.

It was Penelope, “You need to get here fast. There’s been a death.”

“Be right there,” I answered. I shuffled back into the main room where Spencer was already grabbing his stuff, running his hands through his hair.

“Do you want to ride with me?” I asked.

“Sure,” he replied.

When we arrived at the bullpen, Hotch ushered us up to the round table room, and locked the door behind us.

“Hotch, what is going on?” JJ asked first.

We all looked at him expectantly. “Early this morning, the body of Associate Deputy Director Howard Archer was found in his apartment.” He flashed a picture up on the screen. Archer was hanging from his ceiling fan by his bed sheets. “It has been deemed a suicide, but we’ve been asked to confirm that COD.”

“Why? Is there any evidence of foul play?” Derek asked. I stayed completely silent.

“No.”

“Then what do they need us to investigate for?” Emily prompted.

“His wife swears that he wasn’t suicidal. He had been happier these past couple years, and only recently seemed on edge, but she said he seemed scared, not depressed,” Hotch presented.

“Yeah, but can’t fear and sadness sometimes appear to be similar?” JJ asked.

“Sure, but she claimed he seemed jumpy. Like looking over your shoulder scared,” Rossi answered.

“Chambers, you’ve been awfully quiet,” Derek looked at me.

I shrugged. “It looks like a suicide to me.”

“No more?” Derek pushed.

“Look, Reid, don’t you have some fact about people who subconsciously make stuff up when a loved one dies to cope? It’s like transferring but-”

“There are all different types of memory bias and false memories. Sometimes as a coping mechanism, victims can convince themselves that something different happened, or there were warning signs when there weren’t. Inaccurate recall, especially one of a key eyewitness causes almost-”

“Exactly,” I veered back to the point, “And if there is no evidence of foul play, I’d say we give it a little time and close it.”

“I agree,” JJ backed me, which I found slightly surprising.

“Okay,” Hotch said, “Rossi, take Reid with you to the scene and assure them of our conclusion unless anything else turns up.”

They nodded and left for the scene, while the rest of us went to our respective desks to get a jump start on paperwork.

I was relieved that I had played it off, and so far, it seemed like no one suspected a thing. I mean, I was with the girls for the entire night, or most of it anyway, and would have a clean alibi.

But I did kill him.

When we went out to dinner, I told the girls that I’d left my jacket at home. They all knew how tired I was lately, and didn’t question my forgetfulness. JJ offered me ker keys, which I took, but dropped in Heidi’s pocket. Heidi was one of the girls that I used to dance with, and she and I looked remarkably similar. If she kept her head down and away from cameras, you’d think she was me. I had her drive back to my place to get my jacket while I pickpocketed our waiter for his keys. I drove to Archer’s place, sneaked in through the window of his bedroom, and grabbed the sheets off his bed. I had gloves and shoe covers on, and my hair pulled back, so I was in the clear. I came up from behind him, and strangled him to appear the same way a suicide would. Tying him up to the ceiling fan was the fun part. At least I got to use a ladder I made sure to push over at the end. I then headed back to the restaurant where I grabbed my jacket from Heidi, and took back JJ’s keys. Entering the restaurant, I ‘bumped into’ our waiter to replace his keys, then sat down for dinner and went to the concert.

I didn’t plan on getting questioned, but if it got that far, I knew the girls would vouch for me. I mean, I was with them for the entire night except for the 20 minutes I left to get my jacket.

I was lost in thought, reconfirming to myself that there was no way I would get caught, when Derek viciously called across the room, “Chambers, what the hell?”

I looked and noticed the team and I were the only people left in the room. Rossi and Reid had returned, but I couldn’t figure out what he was so mad about.

“What do you mean what the hell?” I fired back.

“What is this?” Derek demanded, walking over to me and shoving his phone in my face.

It was the recording of me, sitting in the nursing home chair, saying the shittiest things I could think of. And I looked stone cold serious, “I don’t really have to think that much when it comes to that pathetic, riddled with daddy-issues boy. All he really adds to the team is a pretty face and a body that can chase down unsubs. Now that I can do that, I don’t really see his value on the team. I think the team just keeps him around because he’s funny to watch at bars surrounded by women.”

“Shut that off,” I croaked. The rest of the team had circled around me, looking hurt and shocked and betrayed.

“How could you say those things!”

“Derek, I can-” explain. But he cut me off before I could speak.

“Do you have any idea-”

“Yes!” I interrupted, “Yes, I know what I said, I know what I did! But if you’d just-”

“Don’t turn this on me,” he shouted back. Unbelievable. He’s not even gonna let me explain. I’m back to ground zero, and they won’t even give me a chance. “Penelope is by herself crying right now because of what you said!”

That was the last straw. “She almost died because of what I didn’t say!” That shut him up long enough so that I could finish, “God, one thing goes wrong and every single one of you flips on me in an instant.”

“I don’t know how you expect us to constantly forgive you for all the things you’ve done.”

“I don’t. Okay, I don’t. Not anymore,” I hissed, “Don’t expect me to do the same for you.” I shoved the last bit of paperwork into my bag and picked it up to leave.

“Do the same?” Derek’s voice was littered with irritation and sarcasm, “What do you have to forgive us for?”

I was almost halfway to the door when I spun on my heels, “Leaving me to rot in prison.”

“Yes, that was a mistake,” Emily jumped in, “But we realized that and came to save you from DeLeon.”

My mouth was agape, “You think that makes up for it? If you wanna play that game, how about this: I saved Spencer’s life that day, and you repaid me by forgetting about me behind bars. I got myself out of that DeLeon situation alive, and not like you’d care, but I got the rest of you out alive too, so don’t try to use finding me and carrying me out of that place as a remedy, because if I wanted to, I could have saved myself the pain and the torture and just let you all die.”

The team was in shock, and I started taking backward steps toward the door again when Derek recovered and spoke up, sounding slightly confused “So that’s it? You’re just gonna leave?”

“You don’t seem interested in anything else I have to say,” I spat.

“Look, we just-” Derek tried, his voice softening a little.

“No! No, I’m done with you constantly turning on me without hearing my side and then expecting me to accept your half-ass apologies. But I’m supposed to be understanding, right? I’m supposed to cut you slack because I’m the problem, right? I’m always the problem, with you, with the team, with every single relationship I’ve ever been in.” I huffed, “With me. I’m always the problem, okay, I get that. I’ve received the message loud and clear.” I continued on my path to the door, and I felt all of their eyes on me. Against my initial intentions to just walk out, I spun around and continued, “Just so you know, those things that I said saved your lives. And I didn’t mean a single word of it.”

“What do you mean saved our lives?” Emily asked.

Then I laughed. For profilers and FBI agents, I was surprised they hadn’t picked up on it. “How do you think he knew where you were and what you were doing, huh? Who did you think shot Penelope?” They still looked at me with empty faces. “He had snipers on you, and it seems I just couldn’t lie well enough when it came to her.” I turned toward the door.

“Chambers-” Emily tried.

I didn’t even turn around when responding, “Have fun at your little outing tonight. I won’t wait up this time.” They always went out after paperwork days, and I finally thought that tonight would be the night I’d join them again. But I was wrong.

Part 2

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[cordytriestowrite]

Floating Away (Until You Catch Me)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

One shot

Summary: Set somewhere after Civil War if you squint really hard. Festuring house arrest, a bad relationship with gravity, and telling yourself "you need to get out more"

You woke up on the ceiling. It wasn't surprising, more like a depressing, sigh-worthy familiar step back to when you were fifteen and you couldn't stop your feet from lifting off the ground and rising and rising to some confining limit. You were older now and happily slumbering cuddled up to gravity every night, until three days ago. 

Getting up was like unsticking yourself from a gluey fly trap. Every muscle strained to lift an appendage from its stubborn place and by the end you were hurtling toward the ground, too exhausted to even protect yourself from the impact. With a groan you let yourself lay face down on the plush carpet and imagine if you fell asleep right here you wouldn't wake up to the same cycle.

Eventually you got up, feeling guilty wallowing when you heard movement through the shared wall of the room next to yours.

You heard him, every night, moaning and sobbing and screaming in his sleep even through the thick wall. Everything he did was loud, as if he did everything against your shared wall. Oddly enough he was only ever loud in his room. The few times you had seen him around the property the man, Bucky, looked like he only ever learned to talk through wide, soulful puppy dog eyes and a tiny crease between his eyebrows. He was surprisingly light on his feet, barely heard moving between rooms. You weren't the only two here, hiding from something beyond the safety of the hidden house, masqueraded by magic and foliage, but sometimes it felt like it with his pained wimpers lulling you into an uneasy sleep. 

Steve was visiting today. He did that now that Bucky was here. Every day he stopped by he offered you a stilted smile and a cautionary onceover before dropping formalities and going for the true reason he was here. Today they decided to take a walk and what a good day for such a thing. You could feel the warmth when you pressed your hand against the window, could see the gentle cotton clouds rolling leisurely across the vast blue sky. Neither man seemed to be appreciating their surroundings as you were stuck inside, they were too wrapped up in their conversation. Their voices didn't carry but Bucky's expression gives away enough to follow its tumbling path downward to what very well could be an argument. 

You knew who Bucky was to Steve, had been to the museums and were told the stories by history books and teachers, but history books couldn't capture what you were seeing firsthand; a friendship, crumbled and made weak with time and tragedy, being rebuilt brick by brick. Except Bucky wasn't helping Steve rebuild sometimes, instead snatching brick after brick and building his own walls higher and higher. It was happening now, even at a distance you could see Bucky's gaze harden under a heavy brow. 

Bucky's eyes drew away from Steve with an exaggerated roll and fold of his arms and when they stopped tumbling those eyes landed right on you. 

Like a shot you moved down out of sight, as if his eyes had not been trained on you but a gun with an eager finger on the trigger. Lightning bolts of pain bloomed upward from your knees where they harshly landed on hardwood and your breath left your lungs as if being chased out by your galloping heartbeat. Danger, your brain was screaming, Danger! 

Danger never came for you, but eventually Wanda did, prying you from the floor with gentle fingers digging into your ribs. 

Steve was gone by dinner but Bucky's bad mood remained. You could feel it. It lingered in every room he left, making it impossible for you to relax. When the sun went down and the hour ran late you still felt him, his frustrations coming out as sharp yelps through your shared wall. By the time you fell asleep your tired body wasn't even touching the mattress.

-

Consciousness eluded you hours after you would usually be awake. There wasn't a need for an alarm here, no job to get to or people to meet. You were here day after day developing a circadian rhythm naturally, one that was thrown off cycle by the late hour the night before. 

Your eyes pried themselves open, feeling strained and crusty. You had to stop and wonder for a second if you were hungover. Between your heavy lids and foggy mind it felt eerily similar. And then there was the fact that you were stuck to the ceiling again.

Right arm, left leg, right leg, left arm; your method was tried and true to get you down in the least precarious way possible. It would take you double the time it usually did with how sluggish your body was moving, might as well close your eyes and stave off the burgeoning headache while you work. With a groan of relief you managed to get your right arm free and dangling below you. Maybe you'd take a break, catch your breath, before starting on the next limb.

"Is this why you're so noisy in the mornings?"

The question startled your eyes open, searching wildly for the source. The voice stood on the edge of familiarity and the person speaking stood at the edge of your vision. Your eyes and neck strained to see just a little further before a throb behind your temples forced your surrender. With warmth in your cheeks and a frantic tug to your next limb you decided to ignore the question until you could answer it with some dignity. 

A hand wrapped around your dangling forearm giving it a gentle, experimental tug. You couldn't help the small noise of discomfort from escaping as your shoulder pulled away and your body felt precariously off center. 

"My leg next. Left leg."

If Bucky was going to try to help, and now you knew it was Bucky as he entered your line of sight, you would have to let him in on your extraction methods. He nodded, not looking up at you but staring beyond where you can see. He walked toward your lower half and a few moments later he reappeared within your vision holding the room's uncomfortable desk chair. He set it down just below your legs and stepped up, hand ghosting over various parts of your legs before grasping your ankle.

He pulled gingerly, testing your body's resistance. His force increased steadily until you could feel your leg losing contact with the uncomfortable plaster. From there it seemed Bucky had figured out your method of extraction as he moved on to your other leg without needing to ask. 

The thing about having three of four limbs free is that gravity starts to overpower your own stubborn powers. Your back was losing its hold and soon you would be suspended by less and less until bam, you're face down on the floor making all that noise Bucky mentioned earlier. 

Except this time it's different, Bucky was here and Bucky was below you grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his waist and when the last of your body was let go it landed straight onto Bucky Barnes' strong, warm back. You took a moment, leaning your full weight against him with languid relief. He didn't seem to mind, letting you take deep breaths that ruffled the hair on the back of his neck. His hair was clean, still slightly damp from his morning shower, the one he managed to take before you even woke up. As if reading your mind Bucky's chest rumbled underneath you with an almost soundless chuckle. 

"I wondered what you did every morning to cause such a racket."

He couldn't see your face but you hid it in his back anyway muffling your voice.

"Sorry about that."

Bucky's hands loosened around your thighs and you could feel yourself slipping down to the floor. Reluctantly you set foot on solid ground and let your arms fall away from the broad shoulders they were wrapped around. No part of you was touching Bucky anymore and you were just standing there, looking at his back trying to find the right words to say after what just happened. You should thank him, you should maybe explain yourself, tell him this doesn't happen all the time, just when he yells and moans in his sleep. Bucky doesn't seem to find any words either but instead of dwelling on them he casts a quick glance at you over his shoulder and walks away, closing the door behind him.

-

Bucky takes another walk outside but this time Steve isn't here to join him. He enters and leaves your vision intermittently. Sometimes he's visible through the windows, allowing you to track him from room to room. Sometimes he treks just beyond the treeline and you hold your breath until he can be spotted again. You knew there was danger beyond the property and a shield of magic separating you from it, but in your mind's eye you imagined Bucky walking right through that barrier and out into a world that wished to lock him up, the same world that wanted to mark you as different and thus dangerous. Your toes scrambled for purchase on the tile floor of the kitchen, sudsy hands grasping the lip of the sink as you took desperate breaths until those thoughts quieted. 

You weren't even like them, those you hid with and those hiding you. You had asked for help is all, but in asking for help you brought about an attention you never wanted and now your "powers", as useless as they were, would forever define you as a threat. An accidental fugitive, a bystander-turned-victim, and a further prisoner of your own, uncontrollable abilities. 

Bucky was back from beyond the treeline and your feet were falling back to solid ground. Your grip on the sink was the only thing keeping your full weight from rolling your ankle unnaturally. 

The front door opened then closed and you could hear the muffled voice of Wanda then Bucky's, though just barely, in response. Words were few here between the three of you; you and Wanda had a couple weeks of conversation before Bucky's arrival a few days ago and Bucky wasn't a man of many words. You resumed your chore as silence yet again engulfed the house, making quick work of the remaining dishes now that Bucky wasn't catching your eye through the window. 

"Something wrong with the dishwasher?"

You half turned, offering Wanda a smile before realizing Bucky had joined you as well. With silent steps he maneuvered around Wanda to the refrigerator. With his head now blocked from view by the open door you blinked and turned around, clearing your throat before answering.

"Dishwasher's fine, just goes too quick."

Wanda makes a sound of understanding. As a comrade of boredom she too has found herself stretching out menial tasks. Wanda kept you company as you finished up, a silent but friendly presence just over your left shoulder. If you went by instinct you would say it was only you and Wanda in the room, but the few times you dared to glance to your right confirmed Bucky was still there as well.

-

It was Vision who visited today and Wanda's eyes lit up in a way they rarely do when he wasn't around. You tried not to watch them, but there was so little else to do when you had spent weeks cooped up in the same house. It's why Bucky took so many walks, why Wanda and Vision had snuck away to her room after breakfast and hadn't come out since even though it was long past lunch time and rapidly approaching dinner. 

You hated staying in your room. Minutes after waking up and, more recently, ungluing yourself from the top of it you would high tail it out of there like it was a burning building. Now you were intimately familiar with every other room in the house except those occupied by your housemates. Outside, you wanted to go outside again. You had taken it for granted in your early days here, before your feet left the floor on their own accord. You had walked the property only a handful of times not realizing you would be made hostage of the house. 

Maybe you envied Bucky, maybe that's why you watched him so intensely through the windows. You wanted his freedom to walk in the open air, beneath a blue sky, unhindered and uncomplicated. You wanted to feel the sun on your face and the wind in your hair and your hand in his as he pulled you between copse of foliage and kissed you breathless, the bark of a tree digging into your back as he pushed your body against it with his.

Envy. Envy and Lust. Stemming from two sources and culminating into one vivid fantasy that was as new and confusing to you as a foreign language heard for the first time. You shook your head and sat straighter against the sunken couch cushion and turned the volume up on the television. You should close the blinds, at least to get Bucky out of your mind. And if you were going to imagine stolen kisses between the trees you could at least save yourself the embarrassment of looking Bucky in the eye after. 

A body planted itself heavily next to you, causing the cushions to sag with the new weight. Bucky let out a deep sigh and stretched his arms across the back of the couch. You were practically nestled into his side as he settled in, spreading his legs wide and connecting you from shoulder to knee. Bucky always seemed like a guy who appreciated personal space, keeping himself at arms length from others with few exceptions, your first granted exception occuring the other morning. You opened your mouth, intending to ask Bucky if he was okay, like maybe he hit his head outside or had a bout of heat stroke, but before you could utter a word Bucky spoke. 

"Think they'll take a break for dinner?"

He wasn't looking at you, his eyes affixed to the tv. He's brow was furrowed as if he was concentrating on being brooding and serious but the upward twitch of his lips clued you in. Bucky was making a joke. 

"It's sweet." You counter, thinking all to easily back to your own wistful fancy.

He made a sound from deep in his chest that you couldn't quite interpret. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Bucky's metal thumb tap tap tapping over your shoulder.

"They're lucky." you started, your voice cracking as your mouth was suddenly dry and tongue heavy.

"To find each other with everything that's going on."

He was looking at you now, brow still furrowed over stormy blue eyes. He searched your face, eyes flitting from one side to the other in quick movements. You held your breath the whole time, and Bucky was taking his sweet time if the burning in your lungs was any indication. He eventually emitted another chest-deep note and turning back to the tv.

Wanda and Vision didn't come out for dinner and neither you nor Bucky moved from the way you had settled together.

-

"Let's go for a walk." Bucky said out of the blue over breakfast. 

This was unexpected in multiple ways; one, Bucky had joined you and Wanda at the table for breakfast instead of grabbing a plate of food and eating it with his hip against the counter and two, because he had never once extended an invitation to join him in doing anything. Your eyes met Wanda's mirroring her expression of surprise. She swallowed her mouthful of toast before offering Bucky a warm smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Sure. After breakfast?"

Bucky nodded and hunched back over his plate, effectively walling it in like he was afraid someone would knick something if he let his guard down.

-

You were back in your room putting on your shoes. It felt odd, moving the laces into the well practiced tangle and knowing that once you were done you were going outside. Maybe you shouldn't go. 

"Ready?"

Bucky's knuckles rapt against your doorframe, his other hand nestled in the front pocket of his jeans and his hip cocked outward with casual ease. 

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. Totally"

You shrugged off the nerves but they only migrated lower into your stomach leaving it aching and jittery. You smiled through it, clenching your jaw tight to keep your teeth from chattering. Bucky's mouth remained full and pouty but his eyes warmed. He tilted his head back to the living room and the front door beyond.

You let out a breath, feeling it stutter in your chest. And your hands, how were they so sweaty? You scraped your palms down your thighs as you passed Bucky, hiding the action from his view in an attempt to save face. Bucky's steps were close behind yours and Wanda was already waiting by the door effectively preventing escape. But you didn't want to escape, not really, not this moment. How many hours lately had you spent wistfully staring outside?

It was just a few steps. Six, actually. You counted each one in your head until you were there with your toes peeking over the threshold.

There was no porch, no overhang beyond the front door to transition slowly away from safety. Wanda was already strolling right into the thick of it, the sun shining off her vibrant red locks. She looked radiant.

Your right foot raised, ready to just go for it, when a sudden weight fell upon your shoulders. Your heart jumped against your ribs leaving a painful, organ shaped bruise just beneath your skin.

Bucky's face was tilted toward you, forehead just barely glancing off your temple. His breath came out in gentle puffs into your ear as his baritone voice whispered

"I won't let you float away out here."

You let out a laugh, more like a nervous squawk, and nodded moving forward when Bucky pulled you both out of the doorway and into the sun.

There is a warmth you can only get from the sun shining against your skin and it gave you a burst of energy you hadn't realized you were missing out on until now. You were suddenly giddy, practically jumping with each step to catch up with Wanda. Unspeaking you all fell into step on an unmarked path, weaving through trees and navigating over fallen branches. Bucky's arm was a welcome presence, especially during those steps when it felt harder to bring your foot back to the earth. During these missteps you gripped Bucky's waist just a little bit tighter and when you did he chuckled low in his throat and knocked his head tenderly against yours, like the moment was an inside joke and not the man literally saving you from floating off into the sky like an untethered balloon. 

"I wish you could always do this for me."

Your tongue was loose with an almost drunken glee, but Bucky only smiled back letting his eyes crinkle at the edges. It made you want to kiss him and in a moment of delirious exuberance you did.

It was only on the cheek, at least the first one, but then Bucky turned his face and leaned in and your lips were against his in a real, full on kiss. 

"It's hot. I'm going to uh, go back inside."

Neither of you could get a word out before Wanda practically jogged back toward the house. 

-

A rather sudden snore woke you from your deep sleep making you groggily wonder if it was you who let out that rumbling snort. You turned onto your side willing your brain to stay in sleep mode when your body was pulled back over onto your back by a forceful hand on your hip.

"No." Bucky mumbled, pulling against your hip harder until you close enough for him to toss a leg over. 

Who knew Bucky was such a cuddler?

Sleep covered you like a warm blanket soon enough, only for another sound-barrier-breaking snore to jolt you back to consciousness. Bucky's breathing quickened and when you cracked one eye open you could just make out the features of his face screwed up. Like lead your hand moved slowly to cup Bucky's cheek giving him a sleepy sush. 

"I got you Buck."

He let out a noise that you decided to accept as an answer. You waited a few minutes but Bucky didn't let out any more pained noises or heavy snoring. Satisfied you could finally get back to sleep you turned on your side and pressed your back flush to Bucky, making sure his vibranium arm was ironclad over your stomach keeping your body pinned to the mattress. The ceiling wouldn't have you this time.

"And you got me."

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[in-tua-deep]

How would Ravenclaw! Klaus react to the ghosts in Hogwarts? Like, would he ignore them until he realizes everyone else can see them? Does he discover that he can make ghosts corporeal and/or levitation and telekinesis now that he's not on drugs? Does he accidentally talk to a ghost that no one else can see, like the ghost of a muggle, and everyone thinks he's crazy? Basically, what are your Klaus headcannons for your HP AU? (Sorry if this was too long, I've just been thinking about this alot.)

asdfFGDH no worries - I also like the idea of Ravenclaw!Klaus but for the purpose of this au he is a baby Slytherin bless his heart

okay okay okay

So the thing is, while the kids stay at the school for winter break and that’s fine, they have to go somewhere for the summer. Headmistress McGonagall took them for the remainder of the summer before they went into their first year, yeah, but she wasn’t exactly planning on housing seven magical kids. She was just the best bet to transfigure them seven beds (can you say bunk beds?) as a temporary measure

The summer between first and second year they end up with the Weasleys who have an empty nest after Ginny moved out. They have room for seven magical kids at least, even if they kind of tiptoe around one another and it’s kind of an awkward placing

Molly Weasley is very physically affectionate and loud. The kids are very used to violence and getting yelled at so this is not a fantastic combination. Five thinks Arthur Weasley is an idiot of the highest degree after several questions regarding muggle things (and the other won’t say it but they’re kind of thinking it as well) not to mention their general wariness of male parental or authority figures. 

Diego volunteers to cook with Mrs. Weasley and likes it but then immediately feels guilty because that’s something he did with Grace and he misses her so he swings wildly between liking Mrs. Weasley and hating her for not being Grace and then feeling guilty for liking her AND guilty for hating her and it’s a vicious cycle 

Luther still resents the fact that they can’t go home, even if he’s starting to clue in to the fact that the way Reginald treated them was way beyond not normal and that he’s actually way safer than he’s ever been before? It’s weird and he feels guilty for what he perceives as disloyalty for enjoying himself and having fun and so he’s kind of moody like Diego is

(this combination is somewhat explosive oops. at least they don’t share a room unlike they did at McGonagall’s place)

now this is a somewhat long winded way of saying that during the summer, the Weasley kids do come and visit their mother of course! And, one fateful day, one half of a matched pair shows up to cheerfully cause chaos. George Weasley comes home with a big smile and free samples from the shop to distribute among the little kiddies under his parents roof - have to keep them on their toes after all!

And Klaus sees ghosts. Which, if you said this to any wizard or witch, they would nod and tell you that they also see ghosts! Except Klaus sees more than the ones like Nearly Headless Nick and the Bloody Baron. He sees souls that are only wispily tied to the world, who haven’t had time to solidify their presence. Who follow behind their family.

Now, Klaus doesn’t mention this. It’s not normal, after all, and all of the Hargreeves have agreed to keep their... extra issues under wraps in case the grown ups decide to return them or something, or decide they aren’t magic after all, or whatever. They’re eleven going on twelve they’re allowed to be afraid.

So Klaus doesn’t mention anything when the red headed man comes in followed by an identical (albeit slightly younger) man. Klaus only cottons onto the fact that this man is a ghost because Molly Weasley introduces George to them and not the other one. No one notices the other one. And they’ve seen pictures, they know that there used to be Fred-and-George until the war happened and then there was only-George. 

(related: Klaus is actually very happy with the wizarding world ghosts and also very pissed off about them. On the bright side, the killing curse leaves no visible wounds! So there’s not as many incredibly disturbing traumatizing ghosts to look at! Downside here is that Klaus cannot tell if a ghost is a ghost. Unless they’re wearing fancy ass historical period clothes :/

Klaus memorizes pretty much all the years students out of sheer self defense. If there someone who Klaus knows Is Not a Student, he just quietly asks the nearest sibling who is In The Know about his powers

He gets anxious when they’re out in like, hogsmeade or diagon alley though, or when there are a lot of strangers. his general rule of thumb is to only interact with people his siblings interact with, or people who he touches first. He’s perfected the ‘accidental bump’ move thank you

The other sibs are all very accommodating because if Klaus’s secret gets out, then all their secrets get out)

Anyway so Klaus’s modus opperandi is to ignore ignore ignore! Usually if ghosts don’t realize he can see them, they leave him alone. Unfortunately, Klaus is sharing Fred-and-George’s old room with Ben (they organized themselves this way so that Ben can wake Klaus up when he has nightmares)

and Fred floats up to reminisce while Klaus is in there and Klaus would ignore him except he keeps making comments and looking sad and just UGH and he’s lurking in front of the door and Klaus can’t just walk through him to leave. That’s weird and gross. So eventually, eventually, Klaus snaps at him “Can you please move?”

and he’s tired and he had nightmares last night (he can’t just ask Five to carve the good dream runes into some random lady’s son’s bed) and he just wants to go downstairs okay?? and he’s not thinking about it and the guy looks young and friendly and almost alive and it just slips out

and Fred stands there in shock for a solid second before finally whispering a simple - “You can see me?”

and this is a mistake

Fred tries to convince Klaus so hard to tell George and to pass messages and and and - he’s just so excited! He’s been following George around, watching him wallow in grief and watching his family wallow in grief and he’d thought that ghosts were just. Ghosts. He didn’t realize it was even possible, this invisible existence. He’s been silent for so long 

But Klaus is a traumatized eleven year old okay he is Not About Any of This

eventually Fred gets it into his head that he’s freaking the kid out and softens, because Fred’s always been pretty good with kids anyway. He listens when Klaus haltingly explains why no one can know and then kind of hedges, because Fred is really nice, so he makes a deal

He’ll tell George about Fred, but only when he’s 17 and a legal adult in wizarding society with no chance of being sent back into Reginald’s grasp. Fred thinks this is stupid, but he’s waited fourish years already and didn’t expect to have any chance so (and Klaus is very adamant about keeping away from his ex-Dad and Fred knows there’s a reason)

anyway Fred follows Klaus when he goes back to Hogwarts to start second year. Well, kind of. He splits time between the shop/lurking after George and then going to bug Klaus. Klaus is very resistant to this at first, because if the other ghosts realize he can talk to Fred, then they’ll want to talk to him.

Fred fixes it though by basically just going around (because Fred is still legendary and his pranks are to be feared and all the ghosts in Hogwarts uniforms with haunted eyes that fell defending their school know that) and warning them off. He takes requests and messages and passes them to Klaus to write down in a notebook to be distributed when Klaus hits 17 - so Klaus isn’t bothered by any ghosts

besides being bros with Fred is actually a very excellent thing to be because Fred knows everything about the school. He knows all the secret passageways and all the trick steps and trap doors and empty rooms. He mentions missing having a map in passing, but tells Klaus it would have been so much cooler to have an invisible ghost to scout ahead and warn them about professors or anyone coming

Klaus doesn’t keep Fred secret from the others, so the whole family gets to benefit from Fred’s vast knowledge

(Klaus’s written test grades increase, to the bafflement of his professors - it certainly helps having a ghost to help you cheat!

none of the family are above cheating tbh, they are all very wary of the concept of failure in general and are willing to do a lot to avoid becoming acquainted with the consequences of failing)

Klaus probably figures out making ghosts corporeal when he’s hmm. 15? There is. a lot of drama in Klaus’s fifth year and it’s stressful and there is an Incident where Fred going corporeal saves Klaus’s life

(Fred helps out a lot in Klaus’s fifth year, actually, the kids would probably be in serious trouble without him)

anyway this sparks another freak out where Fred says they HAVE to tell George - because this changes everything!! They fight and don’t speak for like two entire weeks before Fred comes back and grudgingly apologizes. After so long hanging around the Hargreeves, he knows very well that they were Super Fucking Abused and are fearful of being returned for Good Reason

so Fred gets to be the one that Klaus practices with and figure out corporeal ghost stuff with

I’m going to say no levitation/telekinesis in this au (pending the results of season two maybe?) but I will say that the first year flying class? Klaus fucking excels. You think about Klaus on a broom and it should be a disaster, but Klaus is the best flyer in Hogwarts, he treats the broom almost as an extension of himself

Slytherin keeps trying to recruit him onto the quidditch team but Klaus always laughs it off saying that he’s not a jock - also his flying skills do not translate into catching/throwing skills thanks. He’s graceful as all fuck but if you try throw him a quaffle or whatever, he will drop it

i feel like it should be noted that with all seven of them, the Hargreeves could form their own quidditch team lmao

But yeah to sum up, Klaus ignores ghosts (his housemates tease him about being scared of ghosts and he laughs them off), he does discover his ability to make ghosts corporeal due to no drugs, no levitation/telekinesis, he can absolutely see ghosts that wizards can’t see (and not every wizard/witch who dies becomes the wizarding version of a ghost), and I have headcanons about Klaus being very good on a broom lmao

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Logically Speaking: Three

Each visit to a jail in a trek to start with but the process of getting in and out is fucking hellish. Things that hadn’t changed now that you’re a card-carrying superhero. You sit across the table from your mom and wait for her to talk.

She’s back on drugs again. How exactly they get drugs into jail you don’t want to think about, but you know that she is. Her pupils are fucking blown out and she’s twitching. “Need anything mom?” you ask finally. It takes her a few minutes to answer and when she does speak, it’s like she doesn’t even realize who she’s talking to. “Just another Margarita please.” You sigh and hang up the phone. She’s so fucking high she thinks she’s at a goddamn restaurant.

You leave without another word. There’s no point. If your mother ever did really love you, the stress and strain of having a sick kid and two other kids. The drugs and the violence had all sapped it away. Love was conditional. There was no such thing as loving someone for themselves. Or at least, not loving you for yourself. The drive back to the compound gives you time to think and dry your tears. None of the team had ever seen you cry and you wanted to keep it that way. You prefer not having your emotions used against you.

You slip into the tower and pause at an unfamiliar voice. Great. There’s another one. Just what your life needed. You take a deep breath and try to slip past, keeping your head down and moving quickly. You can’t handle anything else today. You need a shower. The jail always makes you feel disgusting. It smells of mold and unwashed bodies. Desperation and pain. It clings to you in a way you can’t ever quite explain. Not even to yourself. You make it to the elevator just barely. The doors are already closing when someone calls out to you. You really need to start carrying headphones with you at all times. Even if you aren't even listening to anything. It makes it a lot easier to ignore people. 

Thor looks after you wonderingly and Bucky smirks a little, “New recruit,” he explained, “Stopped a speeding train, leveled half a city block. Fury told her it was us or the raft.” Thor nods and frowns, The Raft is for terrorists. You don’t look like you fit the bill. “We stuck our foot in it,” Clint said with a sigh, “she’s currently doing her best to ignore us all. It’s easier than dealing with all of us being fucking assholes.” Thor nods, that made sense. You didn’t seem to be the kind to enjoy conflict. You looked like you were used to hiding. To getting quickly out of the way. “Has she got anyone she talks to?” he asked. You looked upset. Sad. Tired. The kind of tired that needed peace. Nat shrugs, “She’ll let me talk at her. Sometimes. Most of the time she doesn’t leave her room. She’s just kind of uncomfortable anywhere else.” Thor nods, “Perhaps I could get her out of her room,” he said shrugging, “I wasn’t here when you were all being... unfriendly.”

“You are a giant ray of sunshine,” Tony says with a snort, “But I think this is going to take more than a smile and a bone-crushing hug.” Thor smiled, “Indeed, but it’s worth a try.”

_________

In your room, after a shower and a change of clothes you still feel gross. You don’t want to be around people. At least not these people. You miss your people. Your found family that was all too afraid of you now to reach out. You just want to sit by a bonfire, drink your way through a case of cider, and eat food that doesn’t taste like plastic. You just want to go home but there is no such thing as home any more. That’s all gone. The one thing you had. The life you made for yourself out of the slag heap you were handed. The work you could do was gone. You weren’t a hero. You just weren’t. 

As you curled up in your bed and stared out the window you ignored the knock on your door. No training today. No prying. You just want to wallow and be sad for a while. No one wants you here. “Y/N,” Nat says quietly, “C ‘ mon, I know you’re there.” There was a pause and when there was no answer she sighed, “Look, Thor’s back from Asgard for a while so we’re going to go out tonight. Come with us?” You haul yourself off the bed slowly. The general ache in your body tells you your depression is hitting critical mass. Opening the door is hard and you have to lean on the wall. You’re fucking starving. Almost literally. It’s so hard to eat when nothing sounds good or tastes good. “No,” you say simply, “I really don’t want to.” She winces. You’re pale. Really pale and the puppy fat on your face is melting into angular cheekbones and a more defined jaw. She’s willing to bet your clothes are all too big too. You manipulate energy and it happens all the time whether you think about it or not. So your metabolism needs feeding. She nods, you don’t look like you could go out, even if you wanted to. “Thor really wants to meet you... I showed him the video of you throwing Steve around. He thought it was great.”

You nod. Betray nothing. No emotions. All she gets is a blank stare and Natasha wonders if your first words were 1,000-yard stare. And how you managed to be so bright and sharp working with your clients. How you pulled off the bubbly effervescence that had marked all your work when it was clear that you were being eaten alive. “Come downstairs and meet him at least,” Nat encouraged, “He’s like a giant alien labrador retriever puppy.” That description makes you smile a little. At least your lips twitch. You pull on a cardigan against the chill you felt and nod, not bothering to do anything with your hair. Or put on shoes. You’ll be running away again as soon as you can. Nat walks next to you and you try to master the anxiety in the pit of your stomach. Anxiety makes it hard to control your powers. Some of it is reflexive. You need to maintain control. In the commons, Bucky jerks his head towards where you’re standing with Natasha and Thor turns. He bounds over and goes to pull you into a hug. It’s a fraction of a second. Not even a whole moment but he found himself swept off his feet and tossed backward. Away from you. It’s not like Steve. You had had control then.

Thor was 4 feet off the ground and hurled backward. Roughly through a glass door. A human would have been injured. Seriously injured. You slap both hands over your mouth and start backing up. You look terrified. That had been completely unintentional. You’d been trying to shift yourself out of the way and thrown Thor instead. The Asgardian slides to a halt with a booming laugh and brushes himself off. No one is looking at him. Everyone is staring at you and you’re backing away. Hands over your mouth. You look like you’re trying to find an exit. Any exit. Any door to get out of this room before someone hurts you. He stops laughing. Careful to move slowly and keep his hands where you can see them. He sets his hammer down. “Lady Y/N,” Thor says, smiling, “I am unharmed. My apologies. I should not have tried to touch you.” Thor wonders how long it’s been since anyone touched you at all. Since you let yourself be close enough to someone. “I’m sorry,” you say swallowing hard. Tony looks from you to the broken glass to Thor, “It’s fine. I have a better idea for that wall anyway.” You stand frozen when your back hits another wall and slide down it slowly. Your knees just can’t hold you. Throwing Thor backward had taken the last bit of strength that you had. He was really fucking solid and so it took energy to move him. A lot of it. Your face is so pale you almost blend in with the wall. 

Natasha is closest to you and she kneels next to you. She touches your forehead carefully and you’re cold. “Y/N,” she said, “Hey.” She taps your hand and your face as your eyes close. You can’t keep them open any more. You slump over and she hisses. “FRIDAY!” Tony yells, “Grab Bruce. And medical. We have a situation.” You were breathing. But unconscious. Bucky helped Medical get you upstairs. He figured if you came to, you were less likely to hurl him through a wall. You never really talked to Bucky either, but Bucky hadn’t been antagonistic towards you.

______

Bruce looks up from the file. Detailed accounts of the medical experiments they’d done to you and glances at Natasha. She was waiting anxiously. The spy felt responsible for you. You were still a baby, really. At 23 you were the youngest person on the team and this wasn’t anything you wanted. “Dehydration and malnutrition... Starting weight 145 pounds. Current weight 120. In less than 60 days. She winced and took the file he proffered. “What’d medical say?” she asked. “Not much,” he says, “They all think she’s a terrorist and don’t really think she deserves the help.” She nodded, “I really wish Fury had nipped that story in the bud. I don’t think it’s helping her at all.”

The scientist shrugged, “Well. Regardless. She’s not in fighting shape. And won’t be for a while.”

“Yeah,” Natasha sighs, “That’s obvious. We can’t send her on missions like that. If she doesn’t accidentally hurt someone she’ll hurt herself. Possibly on purpose.” Bruce’s turn to wince, “I could see it. She’s depressed. Not a shock really. Her family is all in jail. Her friends think she’s a terrorist. And her co-workers treated her like a time bomb... It’s not like she has much to go on.”

Nat looked towards the elevator and back towards you. That was it. It was time for a little intelligence gathering. 

Tags: @ultramagicaltacofandom

[let-it-raines]

Rising from the Ashes (9/?)

Summary: When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be. And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones. 

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be. 

Rating: Mature

A/N: I’d just like to thank @shady-swan-jones for sending me the prompt that inspired this story. I thought it was simply going to be a one shot, but I’m having too much fun exploring everything as a part of a bigger story! And I know that you guys are really enjoying me ripping your hearts out. lol. ❤️

Double “-/-” around the flashback. 

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 

Tag list: @artistic-writer @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @mayquita @bmbbcs4evr @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @shady-swan-jones @snowbellewells @snow-into-ash @andiirivera @mariakov81 @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @kristi555 @facesiousbutton82 @superchocovian @jonirobinson64 

“Momma, do you know where my red jacket is?”

“Is it not in your closet?”

“Nope.”

She sighs, leaning her head back against the wall with Christmas ornaments piled between her legs. She’s been adding back the hooks that fell off while they were all up in storage for the past year. It’s pretty much all of the ornaments, and since she’s tired of doing this every year, she bought the nice hooks that are supposed to stay on. It just means that she has to do them all.

God, she cannot wait to go back to work even if it does mean leaving Ada at nursery because she needs another kind of structure than this.

“Do you need it right now?”

“Yeah. Avery’s mom is going to take us ice skating tonight, and you said the blue one isn’t warm enough.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay, I’ll go look for it later. Why don’t you go get your dad and ask him to come and help you to put all of these hooks on?”

“He’s napping.”

“Seriously?”

Henry shrugs. “Yeah, he said he was tired.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” she repeats to herself, running her hands through her hair. All she really wants is a nap as well, but she’s got Henry while Killian’s at the grocery store with Ada getting food for this afternoon while they decorate the tree. “Do you want to watch a movie while I go look for it?”

“Can I watch the Grinch?”

She smiles to herself before picking up all of the ornaments and placing them back in the container. “Yeah, I’ll set it up, and I promise I’ll be back to watch it with you as soon as I find your jacket for tonight? Do you also need your skates?”

“Yep.”

“Of course you do.”

She leans down to press a kiss into Henry’s hairline before setting the movie up for him. She’s got no idea where any of his stuff is, especially since they just went through the attic for all of their Christmas decorations, so she assumes it’s all simply somewhere in his closet.

So of course it’s not. His skates are, but she’s stupidly realized that they’re far too small. How did she not think about that? Probably because she’s had two straight days of hell that seem infinitely worse than everything else. She’s trying so damn hard to be positive, to remember all of David’s encouraging words, but it’s difficult when he’s not here reminding her of them in the hard times. And texting him isn’t exactly the same, especially when she’s not sure that she wants him to know absolutely everything that’s so messed up in her life.

It’s a lot.

She’d been so annoyed with Killian yesterday, everything he did rubbing her the wrong way, and she knows that it’s because she’d stayed up all night simply replaying conversations and memories and everything she should have left alone.

She was wallowing. She knows this, but recognizing something and stopping are two totally different things.

Then he’d come home from his dentist’s appointment with a smile on his face trying to talk to her like everything was as it should be, and she couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t, so she snapped. It felt so good to let her anger out, but she knows that she only got part of it released before she pulled back and stepped away, not wanting to take things too far, not wanting to say things she’d truly regret. They’re so damaged right now, and as good as it felt to yell at him, she knows that they’re on the same team despite what she said. Even if they burn down in flames and are left as nothing but ashes, they’re always going to be on the same team because of their kids.

God, she hurts.

And then while they’d been at the Christmas tree farm Killian had pulled her to the side and told her what happened to Henry at school. She could see the hesitation in his eyes, could see how nervous he was scratching behind his ear, but he told her everything. She knows it couldn’t have been easy for him, could see the vein bulging in his forehead as he relayed the story between two duglas fir trees, and as pissed as she was at the fact that there are parents at Henry’s school calling her a whore (which is absolutely ridiculous and takes women back a solid fifty years), she was infinitely more upset that Henry was having to go through something so ridiculous. He’s eight. He shouldn’t have issues like having to deal with his classmates calling his mom a whore.

He’d seemed fine as they walked along the lot, a smile on his face as he talked about how big each tree was to all three of them, but Killian didn’t hold back in talking about how upset he’d been. The words “we need to talk about all of this some more” were on the tip of her tongue when Henry yelled her name as he pointed up at a tree. They’d gotten interrupted, and she hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Killian again as she carried Ada over to where Henry was.

She really needs to talk to Killian because she can’t live like this anymore. She can’t live with her life full of more questions than answers and uncertainties than certainties. She can’t live like this. They have to talk.

And not just about them either. About everything.

Walking out of Henry’s room and down the hall to hers, she heads to her closet and starts going through all of the shirts and jackets looking for Henry’s red jacket. She has no idea why it would be in here, but it always seems like this is the place where things go missing. Sure enough, she sees the box she just marked ‘winter jackets’ sitting on the top shelf on Killian’s side of the closet. She can’t reach up there on her own, so it takes some maneuvering to get a chair out of the bedroom into the closet so she can stand up to get the box. She still has to press up on her toes to get it, and she thinks she’s got it until she stumbles and knocks the box down, having to catch herself on the bar that hangs all of Killian’s suit jackets that she just knocked over, all of the clothes tumbling to the ground with a large thud.

The saying when it rains it pours really seems to be sticking around for her right now.

It’s just raining suit jackets. And Henry’s red puffer jacket that tumbled out of the box.

It takes awhile to get the chair moves back so she can pick everything up, especially in her attempt to make sure all of the jackets are in the order that Killian likes (sometimes he’s so weird about things like this). His old dress whites are the last thing she hangs up, and as she’s straightening out the wrinkles in it, she feels a hard box in the pocket that immediately stops her in her tracks.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

She can feel her heartbeat in her ears. It’s actually in her ears, and if she was breathing, she’s sure that would be irregular too. Her hands shake as she reaches into the pocket, pulling out a small blue velvet box, and she nearly vomits right then and there. She shouldn’t open this. She shouldn’t. It’s not her business. This really isn’t her business, but now that she’s seen it, she doesn’t think she’s going to be able to live not knowing what’s inside.

She knows that it’s a ring, but for some reason she needs to see the physical proof of it.

Her teeth clamp together and her eyes close before she’s snapping it open, opening one eye to look at the diamond that’s in her hands. It’s gorgeous, just a simple oval diamond with a gold band that shines under the light in the closet.

This is – Killian was going to propose to her, she realizes, and her legs shake beneath her until she’s sliding down the wall and curling herself into a ball while she continues to stare at the ring, disbelief that it’s real. They’d talked about getting married. It wouldn’t have been completely out of the blue, but she had no idea that he’d bought a ring, that he must have been holding onto it for months now.

Finding out like this feels wrong, dirty even.

It should have never been like this.

None of this should have ever been like this.

“Hey, Ems, what was that sound?” Neal asks from her bedroom, and she quickly stuffs the ring into her shirt and her bra before he comes into view, half of his face covered in pillow creases. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I, um,” she starts, reaching up to fidget with her necklace, “I accidentally knocked down Killian’s suits when I was trying to get a box off of the top shelf, and I guess I’m on the floor trying to finish the clean up.”

Neal quirks an eyebrow at her, and she has to force a smile onto her face while her heart still beats quickly. That was a bad lie, and even she knows it. “I’m glad it was just the suits. It woke me up from my nap.”

“Sorry,” she cringes, getting up from the ground and brushing down her jeans before she grabs Henry’s jacket and holds it over her chest. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great. I’m just tired as all. It’s weird working a desk job again, especially because I stayed late yesterday to finish up some reports.”

“I cannot wait,” she laughs, nudging past him to walk out of the closet. “I love spending time with Ada, but I want to go back to work. Chilling at home isn’t really my thing.”

“Trust me, no one knows that more than me.”

Her steps stop at his words, but she shakes it off and keeps walking out of the room, hoping that Neal will follow her. Having him in her bedroom feels wrong, and all she can think about is the box pressing into the skin of her chest and a similar box that Neal gave her eleven years ago when he proposed under the cherry blossom trees in D.C. when they’d been out on a walk. She was so young then, so in love, and her mind can’t wrap itself around the difference in her life then and the difference in her life now.

“Yeah,” she chuckles awkwardly, twisting her head to make sure he’s following her as she stands in the hallway, boxes of Christmas decorations next to the stair railing that looks over the entrance to the house, waiting for them to come face to face with each other. “So, um, do you want to help out with some decorations? We tend to get really festive around here.”

“The giant tree in the living room tells me that.”

“We always get a big tree. It’s, like, this tradition now because I used to have this tiny fake tree when I lived in an apartment after you…after you died, and, well, um, Killian wasn’t having it. So now we have these giant real trees, and Henry gets to put this swan tree topper on it even though it looks ridiculous now.”

His lips curl up into a smile, his entire face crinkling, and she feels her own face do the same thing. “That’s wonderful. Do you guys do the whole Santa thing?”

“Yep. Santa comes to visit, and he leaves some smaller presents unwrapped on the couch while presents from us go wrapped under the tree. It’s Ada’s first Christmas, so I’m super excited about it. I guess it’s your first Christmas too. With Henry, I mean. So if you need help finding him a gift, I can go shopping with you.”

“He likes trains, doesn’t he? That’s what he said.”

“Yeah, but we have far too many trains in this house. Killian and I, I think, are going to get him a bike as his big gift, so I don’t know. You could get him something to go with that. Or maybe you could get him some more journals or crayons. Uh, books, he likes books. Or games for his Switch thing. We try to go minimal on the games, but he can get a couple. I’ll just have to tell you what games to get. Ooh, or – ”

“Emma,” Neal laughs, reaching over to put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing her sweater to get her to stop rambling, “you don’t have to list the entire toy catalog of toys. We can just go shopping or something. Though it’s not like we can go to Toys R Us anymore.”

“Look at you all up and current on the news,” she sighs, reaching up to quickly pat his shoulder before moving her hand back down to keep clutching Henry’s jacket to her chest.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to talk to my coworkers about shit when I don’t know anything that’s happened for years.”

“True. You want to go help set some decorations up now?”

“I’d like that. But, I, uh,” he mumbles, his feet staying put while he smiles with that crooked smile of his that she always found so charming, “I was wondering if you were okay, Ems. I know it’s been a lot of changes, but you’ve seemed a little frazzled over the past few weeks.”

“I’m fine,” she lies, pressing her lips together in what she hopes looks like a genuine smile. “You’re right that I’ve been a bit stressed, but we do have a lot going on.”

“And you and Jones, you’re fine too?”

“Yeah,” she spits out, knowing that she can’t start crying now. “We’re great. Like I said, even with how absolutely thrilled I am to have you back, it’s been a lot on me and Killian. I’m happy to do it, though.”

“I understand. It can’t be easy to have your husband living in your house with your boyfriend.”

Well shit. She knows he doesn’t mean anything by it, but she might as well tell him now. She’s going to start telling people how she feels today, and it might as well start with Neal. Maybe not everything, but she can start.

“We’ve divorced, Neal,” she mumbles, hoping that he can hear her as her eyes look at the light fixture just behind his head. Someone needs to dust that. “I don’t – I know that it’s not fair to you, but we are. I signed the papers last year to have you officially declared dead and us divorced. So technically we’re not married, and as much as I will always love you, I’m not sure that I see us ever getting back together or contesting the papers or whatever. I’m sorry.”

Her gaze falls back to his, and she can see a storm rage behind the brown of his eyes. They’re widened for a moment before he closes them, lashes landing against his cheeks while the corners of his lips curl up into a small smile that makes all of the lines on his face appear, the lines that she’s still getting used to.

She really did just blurt that out, didn’t she?

It feels damn good.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he begins, his voice as soft as she’s ever heard it, and she’s not sure if her heart breaks or heals as he opens his eyes again, water pooling in them that makes him look like Henry. “I mean, I kind of figured. I’ve been a little scared to talk about the legalities of it all, but I’ve pretty much known since you told me that you and Killian were together. You’ve been my wife in my mind for over a decade now, so I guess I’m still going to refer to you that way. I’ll try to work on it.”

“Neal, it’s fine,” she promises, stepping forward and wrapping him in a hug, hoping the Henry’s jacket will keep him from feeling the ring box. “It’s okay for you to need to adjust. You’ve been through hell, and you came back to an entirely new world. Henry and I, Killian too, we’re always going to love you.”

“I love you guys too,” he whispers as he buries his face in her hair.

For all of their problems, both past and present, she knows that nothing could ever change that she does love him in a way. He was her best friend for a long time, and he gave her Henry. For all the bad, there’s still good, and right now she can’t find it in her to dredge up all of the bad when having to tell Neal that she legally took him out of his own family.

But maybe that’s what she’ll work on next.

After they pull back from each other, they walk downstairs and turn to go back to the living room where Henry is still perched on the couch watching The Grinch, and she tosses him his jacket, listening to him murmur a “thank you” before she plops down next to him and pulls a box of ornaments toward she and Neal so he can help her thread all of them with the new hooks. It doesn’t take long with help, and they get everything done before the movie is over. Neal asks her if she wants to go ahead and start hanging the ornaments, but even with how upset she is with him right now, it doesn’t feel right without Killian. He should be here.

She wraps her arm around Henry’s shoulder and pulls him into her side, kissing his hair even if he protests a little bit. One day he’s going to be too cool to be affectionate with her, but today is not that day. He’s her little boy, and all she wants is for him to be happy. His day yesterday was so rough, and he doesn’t at all deserve anything that he’s had to go through because his parents’ lives are difficult and because other parents don’t know how to have private conversations. He deserves to get to watch Christmas movies and go ice skating with his best friend. He deserves for his parents not to be separated and moping despite how hard they’re trying not to seem upset.

She’s a mom. She’s been a mom for eight and a half years, whether she was ready for it or not, and life doesn’t stop for her no matter what’s going on. She has to keep going.

-/-

-/-

“Neal, I’m serious,” she groans, quickly twisting her hair into a braid so that her hair will stop falling in her face while she looks over her notes. “I don’t want to go out tonight.”

“Come on, babe,” he smiles, walking over to her and tucking her bangs behind her ear before she can pin them back, “it’ll be fun. You’ve been studying for days. It’ll be nice to get to go out.”

“I’ve been studying because I have finals coming up in two weeks, and I’ve got to keep my GPA up for my scholarship. It’s not like I’m going to make enough when I graduate to pay off loads of debt. Plus I still want to get my Masters and – ”

“Ems,” Neal whispers, leaning down to press a kiss on her cheek, “it’s okay. You work so hard, and I love you for that. But sometimes it’s good to take a break. Besides, when we get married, you can use my grant for your Masters. It won’t cost you any money.”

“Really? You’re sure that I can use it?”

“I’m positive. I looked into it and everything. I know your mom doesn’t have much money, but we’re going to be set.”

“I know you’re good at your job, but I don’t think it’s going to set us up for life.”

He shrugs before walking back to his dresser and pulling on a flannel shirt over his t-shirt. “I’ve got savings. I’m twenty-seven and have some leftover stuff that my mom left me when she died. It’s not like I’m just starting out. So we’ll be comfortable.”

She brings her bottom lip between her teeth, biting a bit while she weighs the pros and cons of going out tonight. It’d probably be fun. It’s been awhile since they’ve gone out.

“Okay, I’ll come with you, but I’m not going to drink tonight, okay? I’ve got to wake up early and go through my notes again since I only got to section three.”

“That sounds perfect.”

After she changes into jeans and a sweater, throwing her red jacket on to combat a bit of the cold, they go to Oceania, which is Neal’s favorite bar. She’s never seen the appeal of it, but it’s apparently where everyone here in the military goes on their nights off, no matter the branch. So she’s been here a few times, and it’s that fact that has her moving away from the bar and going to get a booth in the back. They’re much more comfortable, and she’s less likely to get hit on by random guys. She’s fine with it if only because she can take care of herself and it rarely goes too far, but when Neal has had a few beers, he doesn’t think the most rationally. She loves him, but sometimes when he pulls shit like that, she wants to tell him to fuck off.

It’s not often though. He’s a good guy, and she’s so happy that she’s found him. He’s probably the first person besides Ruth and David to really care for her, and he makes her feel like she’s found another home. A really good one. She spent most of her life alone, and while sometimes she still prefers it to be that way, it’s good to have a family.

She twists the ring on her finger, looking at the large diamond, and fiddles with it until she sees Neal coming back with their drinks. He’s just got a water for her, but she can see his almost empty glass of whiskey. She can also see that he’s bringing a group of people with him, guys following around him and talking to him, and she braces herself for the introductions. She’s always been so bad with names, and it doesn’t help that they always all look alike.

“Babe,” Neal greets, sliding into the booth next to her and giving her the glass of water, “I want you to meet a couple of guys. That’s Scarlett, Whale, and then you know that guy Jones I’m always talking about?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s him on the end there.”

She waves to all of them since she can’t reach over to them, and they all wave back. She’s never heard of Scarlett and Whale before, but she knows a bit about Jones. Killian. His first name is Killian even though Neal prefers last names. It’s a military thing, she guesses. Neal is always talking about him because they watch soccer together and sometimes train together outside of their units, but she doesn’t really know a lot about him. He’s not really how she pictured him either.

His hair is a little longer than a crew cut, his face not exactly clean shaven, and even in the dim lights of the bar she can see the blue of his eyes. He’s attractive. Anyone with eyes can see that, and the fact that he’s dressed in tight black jeans and a fitted t-shirt doesn’t hide the fact that he’s fit. But all of these guys are fit. It’s the nature of their jobs.

What she really doesn’t expect, however, is the accent.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, lass,” Killian greets, sliding into the booth across from her and flashing her a toothy grin. “Cassidy’s not one for talking too much about you, but I already know that you are far too good for him.”

“Undoubtedly,” she teases, laughing a bit at his joke while she pats Neal’s forearm. “But you can’t tell him that.”

“It’ll be between us, love.”

“I’m literally sitting right here.”

“I was enraptured by your fiancée’s beauty, mate,” Killian sighs, winking at her before looking at Neal. “Can you blame me?”

“A little bit yeah.”

“Hey,” she laughs, slapping his arm, “this is prime time where you say the same thing happens to you.”

Scarlett and Whale both whistle at that, and she turns to look at them still standing until they both squeeze into the booth next to Killian. She kind of forgot they were there.

“Cassidy, you’re supposed to compliment your lady.”

“Scarlett, you are the last person who should be giving me advice on this.”

“Hey, I dated Anna for years. I just fucked it all up.”

“Exactly,” Neal sighs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder while he chugs down the rest of his drink. “I’m not going to fuck this one up. Emma’s great, and she’s graduating from college soon, unlike every single one of us.”

“What are you studying, love?” Killian asks her, and everyone else at the table groans, much to her confusion. “Bloody hell, it’s not bad to ask someone what they’re studying. If you don’t want to hear about school, you can go sit someone else.”

“I know all about this, so I’m going to go get another drink,” Neal states before unwrapping his arm and getting up from the table. “Do you two want to come and join me?”

“Yep. It was nice to meet you, Emma,” Whale mumbles, smiling at her before getting out of the booth.

“Yeah, it was”, Scarlett adds. “I’m sure we’ll be back later. I want to talk to whoever is in charge of the music tonight.”

“It was nice to meet you guys too.” She watches them all walk away, their conversation fading the further they get and the louder the music playing over the speaker becomes. She’s never been great with small talk, so she’s a bit hesitant to be left with this stranger. He’s not really a stranger. She knows a little about him, but still. She wasn’t really prepared to be having a conversation with just him. “So, yeah,” she starts, focusing her eyes back on Killian as he taps his fingers on the table, “I’m getting my bachelor’s in psychology. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do, but I was always somewhere between social worker, therapist, and guidance counselor for high school kids. I’m leaning more toward counselor because I think I’ll enjoy it while also helping out. My counselor is the one who encouraged me to go to college when I didn’t think it was a possibility for me, so yeah.”

“That sounds brilliant,” he tells her, and she’s not sure why she feels relieved hearing it, but she does. “I never went to university, as you heard. I’d always wanted to, but after I was unexpectedly moved here when I was twelve, things were a bit crazy and money was tight. And by the time I’d turned eighteen, the Navy was my best option. And if I really wished to, I could always go back to school.”

“It’s not for everyone, but I definitely think it’s worth it. So you’re from – ”

“England,” he finishes for her. “I grew up south of London, and my brother has moved back there since he married a woman from home. But I like it here, have citizenship and all that, so I decided to stay. Though I do like to go back every now and then to make sure I don’t lose my accent. It makes people think I’m a hell of a lot smarter than I really am.”

“I was thinking it probably helped you get girls.”

He smirks at her, actually smirks, and she feels a shiver run down her spine. “That too, but I find that I actually have to be interesting to keep a girlfriend.”

She laughs at that, especially with the way that his brows move over his forehead. He’s funny, and even though she barely knows him, she has a gut feeling that he’s one of Neal’s better friends. They’re not all bad, but some of them are assholes.

“I mean, looks only get you so far, so I’m glad you realized that.”

Killian leans forward on the table and props his chin up in his hand. “So you think I’m attractive then?”

“That is not what I said,” she protests, blush rising on her cheeks.

“It’s what I heard. It’s fine, love. I know that life is unfair for other men when I’ve got the looks and the personality.”

“And you’re humble.”

“That I am,” he sighs, leaning back and wiping the smirk off of his face to show a soft smile. “But seriously, I’m most definitely kidding. It doesn’t hurt to be confident, but I don’t want you to think I’m some undeniable asshole.”

She hums, trying to think of what to say in response. She has a feeling that he’s quick on his toes and can turn any conversation on a dime. He’s kind of a mystery to her, but then again, he might be an open enough book for her to figure out. “Well, I just met you, so I’m thinking you’ll have to prove it over more time than just now. But, fair warning, I consider all people to be assholes until they prove themselves otherwise, so you have the tide working against you.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Yes.”

One side of his mouth ticks up before he reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “I like you, Swan. I have a feeling you and I are going to be good mates.”

“Really now?”

“Yep. Now tell me all of the weird things you can about Neal so that I can mess with him later.”

“You want me to help you mess with my fiancé?”

“I do indeed.”

“Okay, but only if I get to help. What is love if there’s not a little teasing involved?”

“Really damn boring.”

-/-

-/-

The front door opens, and she reaches forward to pause the movie, much to Henry’s dismay.

“Why are you pausing it?”

“We’ve got to go help Daddy bring in the groceries.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Henry groans and throws his head back against the couch before he’s scrambling up and walking out of the room with she and Neal following right behind him.

“Don’t look so excited to help,” Killian jokes as he watches Henry walk through the front door. “Hey, Swan. Ada has been a bit cranky, and I didn’t have a bottle so – ”

“So she needs me,” she sighs, stopping her steps toward the front door and turning to get Ada from her car seat on the floor. “Got it.”

“Thanks, love.”

She smiles tightly at him before she’s adjusting Ada on her hip and watching everyone else go outside to get the groceries. It won’t take all three of them, but they’ll learn that when one of them is coming back empty-handed. “Alright, bug,” she sighs, walking back into the living room and settling down in a recliner so she’ll be comfortable. “I’m sure you had a good time with your daddy, but you are fussy and need me, which is both reassuring and kind of annoying. Imagine what life would be like if Daddy could breastfeed.”

It’s a weird thought, but it’s a valid one nonetheless.

She moves to roll up her sweater and unsnap her bra when she’s suddenly reminded of the box she has hidden in there, the box that no one else can see right now.

Shit.

This day has been an absolute rollercoaster.

Quickly, she pulls the box out of her bra and stuffs it into the waistband of her leggings, the bulge obvious under the material, and gets Ada adjusted as much as she can, hoping that no one will pay her too much attention for the next few minutes before she can return the ring to Killian’s uniform jacket and stuff away all of her thoughts.

Or maybe not. Maybe she should talk to him. That’s what she’s been thinking all day. Now that she’s calmed a bit, she respects his choice of needing time, but she doesn’t respect his choice of not listening to her and her feelings, of not giving her an option. It’s selfish, but she can’t live in this sense of limbo. And it’s not like Killian hasn’t been selfish too. It’s too hard to act like she and Killian are okay when they’re not. It’s too hard to have to balance her crumbling relationship and her children and her ex-husband.

God, her chest feels lighter now that she’s not harboring that secret from Neal anymore.

She and Killian are going to talk. They have to. She has to take her life back because she has fought too damn hard for things to be okay for everything to fall apart because her kid got his dad back.

She’s going to get her life back if it kills her.

It’s going to kill her if she doesn’t, if she can’t. She has to get her life back.

She’s been so damn hurt by Killian, but honestly, all she wants is to be with him as long as they can work everything out.

“Mom,” Henry shouts as he runs into the room, “We’ve got cookies, but you guys can’t make them tonight because what if Ada eats them all while I’m with Avery?”

“Ada can’t eat cookies, kid.” “But what if you put them in the blender so she can?”

“We will not make the cookies without you, and Ada will not eat them. But, you know, when she’s older she can eat cookies, and you have to share.”

“I know. So you promise you won’t make the cookies without me?”

She sticks out her pinky, and Henry intertwines his with hers. “Promise.”

They spend their afternoon decorating the tree and the house, bright lights and ornaments adorning nearly every room. Killian puts Henry on his shoulders, and Henry puts the swan on top of the tree, completing everything in the house down to the wreath on the door that has a monogrammed ��J” on it despite the fact that their household is made up of two Joneses, two Cassidies, and one Swan.

And a partridge in a pear tree.

Or a swan in a Christmas tree.

She doesn’t know. She’s lost her mind.

But for a couple of hours things seem normal again, and she feels her face hurt from smiling. It’s been a long time since that’s happened, and as she sends Henry off to go ice skating with Avery, money in his pocket to rent some new skates, she lets herself revel in it for a moment before she deals with the box that’s still pressing into the skin of her hip.

Before she takes her life back.

Once she gets Ada down for her nap, she take a deep breath (and then a couple more) and walks back into the living room where Killian and Neal are watching TV. She doesn’t understand how he can spend time with Neal and not her. Why does he need a break from her but not from Neal? Why doesn’t any of this make sense?

“Hey, Killian,” she asks, and he twists his head to look at her as he taps his fingers across the back of the couch, “can I talk to you for a minute?”

His eyes slant for a moment before they open back up, and he presses his lips together before nodding his head and rising from the couch. “Tell me if they catch the guy, yeah?”

“Sure thing, man.”

Killian walks over to her, and the moment he opens his mouth to say something, she nods her head and moves around the corner to that she can walk up the stairs, knowing for sure that Killian is following behind her, his footsteps heavy on the wood as it creaks beneath his weight at the same time that the weight in her shoulders begins to increase, her body humming in anticipation of laying all of her cards out on the table. She’s been through too much shit to have to go through more of it.

“Okay,” she sighs as they both walk into the bedroom, Killian closing the door behind him.

“You said you wanted to talk,” he asks calmly, sitting down on the edge of the bed as his eyes glance over to the chair that’s sitting in the closet. “What’s up?”

Her stomach churns, but she pushes it down, shutting her eyes for a moment before she’s lifting her shirt and taking the ring box out of her waistband and placing it on the bed right next to Killian. She opens her eyes to watch him, but all he does is widen his eyes before his hand is reaching out and thumbing over the velvet, caring for it like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

Maybe it is to him.

Maybe to him it’s a physical representation of how their life should be.

“Emma – ”

“No,” she starts, straightening her back and crossing her arms over her chest, “I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen, okay? And then we can hash it out. We haven’t talked in months, and I’m sick of it. I can’t do it anymore. So you’re good to listen?”

He nods his head and presses his lips together again while his knuckles go white around the box.

“You are an idiot. Do you know that? You are an idiot, Killian. I love you so much that sometimes it hurts, and I thought that you felt the same way about me. I thought that you wanted a future with me, and finding that box today made me think that maybe you’ve changed your mind after all that we’ve been through. The damn break makes me think that too. I still want a future with you. I have never not wanted that. Do you understand me? Neal coming back is supposed to be a blessing. It’s not supposed to be something that’s going to tear us apart.”

“But what about him? What about your family? What about Henry?”

“You think that I want to be a man who accused me of having a drunken hookup with you and implied that that’s the only reason why I have my daughter? You think I want that? You think I want to be with a man who I don’t even know anymore? Who I barely knew then when I really think about it? Killian, I loved Neal a long time ago, still love him in a way now, but I was young. He was older. I thought he knew everything, that he could help me finally have the life I never got growing up.”

She shakes her head back and forth as the rage runs through her. She’s not even sure that it’s rage. It’s likely just the release of her emotions and of everything that’s been bottled up and festering below the surface.

“I was so bitter about my childhood still, about how no one wanted me for so long, and he did. He wanted me. You know all of this. You were there for a lot of it. But you weren’t there for the way that he would sometimes dismiss my feelings, for the way he would laugh at me when I got excited at things, for the way he wasn’t happy when I told him I was pregnant with Henry. I loved him, I thought the world of him, and I know that I’ve glossed over so much of that shit because I thought he had died and wanted Henry to think his dad was a hero. You thought he was a hero. And he is. But he is not the man I want to be with. So if you could get the stick out of your ass and just stop feeling guilty like I did and love me like you’re supposed to love me, I feel like we won’t have to play this stupid game anymore. I can’t...I can’t do it, Killian. I can’t hang on your string too.” By the time she’s finished talking, her chest is heaving, her shoulders moving up and down, and she can feel her heart beating between her ears. That’s not how anatomy works, but she can feel it. She can hear  it. It’s also what causes her to start laughing, for laughter to bubble up and rise through her chest before it escapes past her lips in a sound that she would describe as insanity in the form of laughter. There’s no other way. She’s lost her mind. She really has.

“Are you okay?”

“No, no,” she laughs, a hiccup escaping her as she tries to see Killian through the tears that are pooling in her eyes. “No, I’m not okay. I’m not okay. I’ve lost my mind, and I’ve lost my life. I’ve lost everything.”

The tears that stemmed from laughter suddenly sting hotly behind her eyes, and something shifts behind her as her legs become shaky and she moves to sit on the ground, her back resting against the dresser, a knob digging into her skin that might as well be cutting into her.

“You have not lost anything,” he murmurs, and she can see the blur of him as he squats down next to her and pulls her into an embrace that she doesn’t fight. She encourages it, wrapping her arms around his waist and sobbing into his shoulder as she can feel his hands moving up and down her back, tracing her spine. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I fucked up, that I didn’t listen to you, that I wouldn’t talk to you, that I thought that I knew best. I don’t, Emma. I don’t. I love you, and I was terrified to lose you. I am always  terrified to lose you, and I shouldn’t – I don’t know how to fix us when I’m the one who broke us.”

“I just want you to talk to me. I just want you to stop sleeping in the nursery and to come back in this room. I want you to stop feeling guilty. You are not keeping me from being from Neal. If I wanted to be with him, I would be. I love you, you insufferable jackass,” she sniffs, leaning back as much as she can with how their limbs are twisted so that she can look in his eyes, the blue cloudy enough to nearly look gray. “I love you,” she whispers, reaching up to caress his face, to feel his scruff against her fingertips, “and I want to have our family back. Isn’t that what you want? We were so happy. Don’t you want to go back to how we were?”

“More than anything.”

“Then stop being stubborn and talk to me so that we can be us again.”

He nods his head up and down before leaning forward and pressing his forehead against hers, the heat of his skin comfortable and familiar and wonderful. “I’m sorry.”

“I am too.”

“We need to talk about what’s going on with Henry at school.”

“We need to talk about a lot of things.”

“Aye, it’s just – ”

“What?” she smiles, her fingers still tracing his face, running over the scar on his cheek that he got when a mirror shattered on his ship and cut his face. Her heartbeat has calmed, the regularity of it returning, but all of the sudden it starts up again. This time not in fear, but in anticipation.

“I just really, desperately need to kiss you for a minute before we talk some more about how much of a jackass that I am and all of that other stuff.”

She laughs again, but this time it’s not quite so insane. It’s watery, but it’s happy. And instead of talking, she slams her lips forward to capture Killian’s lips with hers, and the softness is exactly like coming home after searching her entire life.

The kiss lingers for longer than she expects, a gentle caress turning into a desperate slow dance. She thought it would be frantic. In all of the nights that she allowed herself to imagine them coming together again, she always thought it would be frantic, but she should have known better. Sometimes they can be rough and hurried, coming together so quickly and harshly that they’re both left with bruises, but usually it’s soft and slow.

It’s like this.

It’s not frantic, but there’s still an urgency, a need, and she revels in the way that Killian’s nose presses heavily into her cheek, into the way that his scruff burns her as much as the heat of his hands snaking up underneath her shirt while her hands cup his jaw, feeling each movement of his mouth on hers.

The weights that have been on her shoulders, the ones that are lessening and gaining and changing every day, disappear into a lightness that she can’t explain. It’s giddiness and desire and love all wrapped up in one. They have so much to talk about, so much to figure out, but they need this. She can’t speak for Killian, not really, but somehow she knows.

When you love someone, you know.

Clothes are shed as the stand, and for the briefest moment she remembers Ada sleeping in her crib in the nursery and Neal watching television downstairs, but she really doesn’t need to be thinking about Neal when Killian’s hands are fumbling with the clasp of her bra, releasing it and letting her feel free as the rough pads of his thumbs ghost of her nipples while heat simmers under her skin. Ada, well Ada will sleep for another hour, maybe two, and if she wakes, they have the monitor.

It’s all a blur. She wants to remember it all, wants to memorize things like she did the first time they slept together, but the awkward fumbling and uncertainty are replaced by sure hands and even surer movements as they both rile each other up, metaphorical flames flickering across her skin as Killian hovers above her, teasing her until he slides in and begins rocking against her, full and thick and…like home.

She wishes she could think of something else, some other way to consider it, but Killian has been home to her for a long time, even longer than they’ve been together. He’s a steady partner for her, the person who often keeps her from spiraling, and he understands her. Maybe it’s that they both have some not so stellar childhoods. Maybe it’s that they have both been through great loss. Maybe they simply work in a way that she doesn’t need to dissect.

“Emma,” he whispers, his thrusts coming to a sudden halt and making her whine out in frustration. “Emma, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” “Then why are you crying?”

He releases her hip to thumb away at the tears that have apparently fallen. Oh. She didn’t…she didn’t even know or realize, too caught up in the ecstasy and emotion of it all to notice that she’s crying.

She didn’t know.

“Do you not want to do this?” Killian asks her, the concern evident in his eyes, and she can feel him retreating until she moves her hands from his back and cups his cheeks, running her own thumbs over his cheeks, tracing the scar again.

“No, baby, no,” she promises, pushing back her frustration of having Killian still inside when he was just deliciously hitting all of the right places so that she can focus on what’s actually important right now. “I want to do this. I do. Don’t think otherwise. I didn’t even realize I was crying. I just – I love you so much, and I can’t…I don’t know how to express that with just my words. I think my body is letting out months of anxiety and sadness and relief over finally feeling like something in my life is right again.”

“For someone who claims not to be good with words, you were pretty good with them there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, slowly moving inside of her again, just a simple push and pull. He’s got this affection in his eyes, this life, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to the way that he looks at her like she hung the moon and created the tides of the ocean. Her breath always catches when it happens, her heart swelling, and she never wants it to stop. “That was really good, Swan. I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing. Let’s just…you want to have this conversation a little later? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing?”

Killian chuckles, something deep and throaty, before his lips are consuming her and his hips are snapping into hers. She’ll take that as a yes.

There’s a heaviness to his body over hers, a meaning to each snap of his hips, but she can’t explain it. She can’t think about it too much. They’ve fought before, absolute blow outs, but it’s never been like these past few weeks. Joining together has never been quite like this. It’s not that the sex is better or worse or different. They’re both still just as skilled and as in tune with each other as they’ve been for years, but it’s different.

She’s been craving normalcy, but she’ll gladly take this different, gladly take getting her life back.

She’ll take having them back.

And as she violently trembles beneath him, everything becoming too much for her and the emotions spilling over once again, she knows that she’s got them.

[princess-of-the-worlds]

The Beginning

Looking for a stucky lawyers!au with no actual plot in mind? You’ve found it. Based on a conversation with my beloved friend @marleymortis.

ao3 link: here

word count: 1461

warnings: none

summary: Fresh outta law school, Steve is having a tough time finding work. Then Natasha makes a crazy suggestion that may not actually be that crazy at all. She thinks that Steve should talk to his self-declared nemesis James Barnes, and Steve decides that he might as well. Not like his luck could get any better, right?

It’s the end of a long, hard week full of disappointments and rejections, and Steve’s never felt so low since the first time he took the LSAT – he passed, but you never know with those things. Three months after he graduated from law school, he’s working in an art store a few blocks from the apartment he shares with his best friends Sam and Sharon while his classmates and friends from Columbia have found jobs at fancy Manhattan law firms.

Case in point: Natasha, who sits before him in a Starbucks, listening to him ramble about his week. Red Room Law grabbed her right after graduation, and judging by the shiny new Louboutins that shift as she crosses her legs, she’s doing pretty well there.

“So,” Natasha says, leaning forward to pick at the straw of her mocha frappuccino, “you’re telling me that not a single law firm that you applied to accepted. Didn’t even give you an interview?” She raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You, with your 3.8 GPA and resume longer than my arm?”

Steve, squeezing his own empty Starbucks cup, flushes. “It’s not that,” he states, fumbling for the words to explain his predicament. “Look. Out of the fifty or so firms I applied to, only a few called me back for an interview. I don’t want to work for the ones who did.” When Natasha opens her mouth to interject, he stubbornly bulldozes on. “Come on, Natasha. Landman and Zack is run by two corrupt partners who clearly don’t care about their clients. Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz had that sex scandal that forced Jeri Hogarth out. I don’t want to work for firms like that.”

Natasha hums thoughtfully as she taps her fingers on the table, her painted nails clacking against the wooden surface. “Oddly or not, you aren’t the only one I’ve spoken to today who’s having similar problems.” She reaches for her cup and takes a long sip.

“Really?” Steve asks, intrigued, wondering who else of their classmates could be having a similar experience finding a job.

“You might be pleased to hear this,” she begins, pushing her now-empty cup away from her, “but it’s James.”

Immediately, Steve’s brain plays a montage reel of all the times that James Barnes has tormented him, starting from freshman year of undergrad and running up to just a few months ago. “Hey,” he says, slightly insulted, “just because Barnes and I have had a few disagreements-”

“A few?” she says with a faintly amused expression. “Try a long-running rivalry.”

“Okay, fine. Just because Barnes and I can’t agree on anything ever, that still doesn’t mean that I would wish my rejection rate on anyone.” He frowns. “Besides, Barnes’ GPA was near flawless. Why is he getting rejected?”

She doesn’t reply, and it takes a moment for the answer to dawn on him.

“It’s not the thing with Pierce, right?” Steve asks with mounting horror, his suspicion confirmed by the tightening of Natasha’s smile. “Nat, that’s fucked up!”

Natasha shrugs helplessly. “He’s damaged goods,” she says with an attitude that most would perceive as nonchalance. Only someone who knows Natasha as well as Steve does would be able to see the wrinkling of her nose and gritted teeth as hints of what she really thinks of the treatment of her best friend.

“It was nearly half a decade ago,” Steve protests.

Instead of replying, Natasha checks the Rolex at her wrist and whistles. “That’s the end of my lunch break. I’ll see you soon?”

Steve sighs as they both rise to their feet; he reaches to grab her in a quick hug as she stretches to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll text you.”

“Great!” Her lips curve into a slight but genuine smile that fades quickly. “Now,” she says, briefly fixing Steve with an intense stare. “I know you still have James’ email. Send him a message. You boys can both wallow in misery together.”

It’s phrased like a suggestion, but Steve knows that Natasha will hunt him down if he doesn’t.

*

Steve’s been sitting at the bar for twenty minutes, checking his watch, when Barnes finally comes barreling through the door, wisps of hair slipping out of his man bun. He glances around for a moment, eyes lighting up when they land on Steve, and heads straight to him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Barnes huffs as he slides onto a stool besides Steve. “There was a delay on the subway, and it didn’t help that I accidentally got on the wrong train.”

Suddenly struck dumb by his somewhat nemesis’s exposed cheekbones and shadowed stubble, Steve does what he does best in moments like this. “Glad to see that graduating law school didn’t change your tardiness,” he replies snidely.

Used to their dynamic, Barnes rolls his eyes. “Real mature, Rogers,” he says. “You’re the one who asked to meet me.”

Steve sighs. “At Natasha’s suggestion.”

“Oh.” Barnes’ expression floods with understanding, and he raises his right arm to flag the bartender.

Steve notices that Barnes’ left arm remains tightly at his side, as it has been since the accident in senior year of undergrad where he lost most of its function. When the bartender arrives before Barnes, he asks for a pint of beer, and Steve can’t help himself, blurting out, “I thought you stopped drinking?”

A shadow flashes across Barnes’ eyes. “It’s been five years, Steve,” he says darkly, and the use of Steve’s first name reminds him that they’re treading a deeply personal line for two men who claim to dislike each other.

“Right,” Steve says and hastily changes the topic. “So Natasha told me that you weren’t having any better luck with law firms than I was, which fucking sucks.” He tries for a sympathetic smile, hoping the other man doesn’t read it as smarmy or smug. He’s never been good with being direct or realistic when it comes to communicating with James Barnes.

The bartender returns with Barnes’ beer and slides one to Steve, who had actually forgotten that he’d asked for a drink just before Barnes entered the bar. Barnes brings the glass to his lips and takes a long, long drink while Steve unenthusiastically sips at his own. Finally, Barnes sets the glass down with a clunk and wipes the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s an understatement,” he scoffs. “I’m sure you at least got a few interviews, but it’s been total radio silence for me.”

Steve, as he mentioned to Natasha, actually has gotten a few unfruitful interviews, which is why he flushes; he also doesn’t dare to voice the reason they both know is why Barnes has been blacklisted from the best law firms in New York City. “Only like three,” Steve finally says, eyes cast to the wooden bartop.

“But they’re all either corrupt or problematic,” Barnes guesses correctly. “I guess that does fucking suck.” He drains his glass and then rolls it between his hands.

“How did two Brooklyn boys who both made it to Columbia luck out so hard?” Steve groans, throwing back the last of his beer. He swallows and flips the glass upside down, placing it back on the bartop.

“To be fair,” Barnes begins as he slips a stray lock of hair behind his ear, drawing Steve’s eyes to the movement, “I’m from Indiana. I only moved here in high school, so it doesn’t count.”

Ignoring Barnes’ last statement, Steve purses his lips. “Hell, even Clint joined DA Fury’s office. At this point, we might as well create our own law firm.”

A light sparks in Barnes’ eyes, and he reaches for an abandoned napkin on the bartop, pulling a pen from his jacket pocket. “You might be onto something, buddy,” he announces, uncapping the pen and furiously drawing on the napkin. He works on it for a solid minute while Steve strains his neck, struggling to make out what Barnes is sketching.

“What are you even doing?” Steve complains, but Barnes doesn’t reply.

Finally, several moments later, Barnes turns the napkin around and slides it over to Steve, who holds it up to the light.

“Barnes and Rogers Law,” reads a bewildered Steve, turning to gaze at Barnes in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“No, I’m James,” Barnes says, cracking a rare smile that illuminates the rest of his handsome features and makes Steve’s heart stutter. “Besides, you said it yourself. We have shit luck with law firms, so we may as well create our own.” He locks eyes with Steve. “What do you say, partner?”

Steve must be losing his mind when he says, “Fine. But my name’s coming first; it was my idea.”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how Rogers and Barnes Law was born.

[pass-the-bechdel]

Homicide: Life on the Street seasons 1-2 full review

How many episodes pass the Bechdel test?

7.69% (one of thirteen).

What is the average percentage per episode of female characters with names and lines?

20.58%

How many episodes have a cast that is at least 40% female?

Zero.

How many episodes have a cast that is less than 20% female? 

Five (season one episode three ‘Night of the Dead Living (16.66%), episode six ‘Three Men and Adena’ (11.11%), episode eight ‘And the Rocket’s Red Glare’ (15%), and episode nine ‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes’ (11.11%), plus season two episode one ‘See No Evil’ (12.5%)).

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Thirty. Five who appeared in more than one episode, one who appeared in at least half the episodes, and one who appeared in every episode.

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Sixty-eight. Eighteen who appeared in more than one episode, nine who appeared in at least half the episodes, and five who appeared in every episode.

Positive Content Status:

Surprisingly good, even progressive for a show from the early nineties. There are some very self-aware considerations of race, gender, and sexuality, and clear distinctions between what is considered ‘depraved’ and what is merely ‘alternative’ (distinctions which modern-day conservatives twenty-five years later seem to still be struggling with). The place where the hammer of judgment falls hardest is on any cop who allows personal prejudice to interfere with their work (average rating of 3.15).

General Season Quality:

Magnificent. To some fans, the first season is undoubtedly the best of the series, and it is certainly true that the show in that initial raw form achieved a beating heart of idiosyncratic realism that future seasons rarely - if ever - matched. That, really, is the highest praise one might levy; at its best, the show feels like reality. There have been many pale imitations of H:LOTS since its heyday, but no equals.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) under the cut:

I know, I didn’t do any individual episode posts. I didn’t accidentally publish this review without posting the other ones first: I decided not to write individual episode posts for this show. To be honest, I don’t love the decision, and if I ever do summary-posts-only for a show again, it’ll be under very special circumstances, because it’s really not ideal and there’s a good reason I chose the individual-episode-posts format for this blog in the first place. The only reason I’m pushing against my better judgment and doing summary-posts-only for this show is because, frankly, I think there are only maybe three people on tumblr who ever watched H:LOTS. This is possibly my favourite show in the world (top three, for sure), but it has been largely lost to the memory of history, and it’s also not generally in the habit of giving me a lot to talk about in the context of this blog, episode by episode. It has some good fodder - some fantastic fodder, even - but if I broke it down one episode at a time I fear I’d end up with a Hell of a lot of posts without a lot of content, and with even less of an interested audience. So, I’m gonna cut to the chase, and just do season summaries, touching on the good (and the bad) content in collective instead of stretched over 122 episode posts. My apologies to the three people who wish I would draw this out. 

Also worth noting as we segue into actually discussing the show: I’ve combo’d seasons one and two here because they’re only nine and four episodes long, respectively, and they are frequently packaged together (my DVDs put them all in one box). Sometimes the two seasons are actually labelled and sold as ‘season one’, and season three is consequently labelled ‘season two’, and so on, but I have avoided that unnecessary act of confusing streamlining to refer to them as they were intended and presented when they aired. There are immediate differences to be noted between the first nine episodes and the four that comprise season two: the beige colour-grading of the first season (sometimes so desaturated it almost looks like it’s in black and white) has been lifted to a more vibrant look, and the cases are a little more sensational/unusual than season one’s primarily drab and simple murders. That drab simplicity was what made the first season arguably the best, the key to its realism: murder is rarely an art, rarely complicated, rarely cleverly committed or cleverly covered up. Most of the cases in the first season are lifted directly from real-life cases depicted in journalist David Simon’s non-fiction novel Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets, the exploration of the Baltimore Homicide Department upon which the show is based. Sensationalism or strangeness are not often part of the first season because they are not often part of reality, and the show is about the job, not the cases. It’s about the life, the people who have to dig into the ugliness of murder, and the way they deal with that, the world that their work shapes around them. I’m not normally a fan of cop shows for the way they wallow in gratuitously sick ideas, always searching for a ‘hook’ to make the crime they depict interesting by being more awful, more grisly, more voyeuristic than anything you’ve seen before. In a word, more sensational. I’ve also made no secret on this blog of my sincere disdain for so-called ‘gritty realism’, because it is commonly wildly unrealistic, and just an excuse to tell stories about horrible people being horrible to each other while the show tries to insist that that’s just how people are. Homicide’s avoidance of sensationalist narratives and its reliance on realism-for-realism’s-sake allow it to avoid the common pitfalls of both cop shows and try-hard ‘gritty realism’. It was a shake-up of the standard tv formula that almost had the show axed after one season, and which led to that ridiculously tiny second season as the network grappled with a critically-acclaimed, Emmy-winning series that was just never designed to be a big ratings winner. What made Homicide great was also what the network slowly squeezed out of it over time as they tried to shape a more traditional cop show, and it’s why no matter which season a fan chooses as their favourite, you can pretty much guarantee they won’t choose the last one. But, we’ll get to that. For now: seasons one and two.

The obvious thing we have to talk about (it is why we’re here, after all) is the ladies. Or, the lady, singular. This is not a female-heavy show, but there is at least one solid reason for that: the presence of only one female homicide detective is not a piece of token inclusion for the show, it’s an accurate reflection of the dynamics of the real-life Baltimore Homicide Department at the time. It’s an important reality here, because it’s something which significantly impacts that single female detective’s life: Kay Howard, as a character, is forced to interact with the conspicuousness of her womanhood on a regular basis. To its credit, the writing does not define Howard by her gender and she is able to have a personality and be a detective first and foremost instead of being ‘the woman, who does woman things, handles woman cases, and talks about being a woman all the time while the male characters feel compelled also to mention her femaleness whenever they notice what a woman she is, which is always’. That said, her gender is something that Howard cannot escape from in her context, something which inevitably sets her apart. This is brought up in particularly notable ways in ‘A Dog and Pony Show’, the only episode that passes the Bechdel (and does so more than once), in which Howard comes down hard on young female officer Schanne. Howard’s partner Felton calls her on it, suggesting that she hates other women, and Howard insists that the reason she is tougher on women than on men is because she expects more from them. As the only female homicide detective in town, Howard feels a strong pressure to represent her gender with conduct beyond reproach, and she takes it as a personal slight when she encounters other women whom she perceives as letting the team down, or of being appointed to their positions to satisfy quotas rather than earning them through merit. Later in the same episode, Howard and Felton have an awkward moment when Felton says he’s not even remotely attracted to her, and Howard pushes him to be honest - not because she wants him to be interested, but because she’s offended by the thought that he has stripped her of her gender in his own mind in order to perceive her as ‘just one of the guys’. Howard’s relationship with her womanhood is rife with contradictions; she is both proud of it, and dogged by internalised misogyny. She wants to be recognised as a woman with merits, but she also doesn’t want her gender to hold sway over her career or be treated as notable. She wants to represent a strong example for other women, but she also hates the expectation. And despite herself, she still wants to believe she’s attractive to men and retaining a traditional feminine appeal, at the same time as dressing in masculine attire and forgoing most of the trappings of traditional femininity. She is caught in the web of imposed societal expectations vs her identity as an individual who cannot be so plainly defined, and she doesn’t want to conform, but she does want to belong. In similar or different forms, it’s an impossible situation that is awfully familiar.

Though she only ekes some Bechdel action out of the one episode, Howard does interact with other women variously, though they all either have no name, or they talk about men the whole time - there were a lot of almost-passes, and some of them very strong gender-relevant  interactions, too: Howard and the therapist Kerry Weston discuss Howard’s relationships with men in terms of dealing daily with crimes largely perpetrated by men and against men, and what that means for her in also trying to form romantic attachments to men (obviously, the conversation fails the Bechdel, but it is insightful observation of the position Howard is in as a heterosexual woman in a male-dominated field), and in ‘Night of the Dead Living’ (an all-around great episode for every character), Howard has a conversation with the (unfortunately nameless) cleaning lady about the lack of funding for medical research into women’s health issues and the relationship between that and the lack of women in congress (she also has multiple conversations with her sister Carrie over the phone in that episode, but those don’t pass the Bechdel either since we only hear Kay’s side). Being the only major female character around doesn’t completely define Howard’s character, nor does the show position her in complete isolation from other women in order to tell the story of her conspicuous womanhood; there’s a good balanced recognition of gender within the narrative, and though it doesn’t score well in the raw statistics, it does do nice things for the content rating and for the messages being communicated to the audience. The complexity of Howard’s relationship with her female identity has a sad, truthful ring about it, and it’s a reflection on society and its habit of treating women like they have to sink or swim on behalf of their entire gender. It’s good stuff.

As for the non-female portion of the show, i.e. the bulk of it: I’m still pretty impressed. I would be remiss in my duties if I didn’t acknowledge the show’s honest and thorough representation of Baltimore as a predominantly black city, and the navigation of racial issues, tensions, and prejudices - both within and without the police force - factor significantly in the tapestry of the series (season two’s ‘See No Evil’ and ‘Black and Blue’ are prime examples). Another episode that I was particularly impressed with for its sensitive handling of content was ‘A Many Splendored Thing’, in which Bayliss and Pembleton investigate the erotic asphyxiation death of Angela Frandina, whose sexual habits are an affront to straight-laced Bayliss. Bayliss’ reactions to the particulars of Angela’s life - including working as a phone-sex operator, and frequenting a local BDSM club - range from hilarious oh-golly innocence to the decidedly un-funny taint of bigotry, as he implies that people who enjoy consensual but ‘dehumanising’ acts are sick in the head, and that Angela can’t have been a good person if she was a part of that lifestyle. Pembleton gives Bayliss a thorough wake-up call in a magnificent speech about virtues and vices, advising Bayliss to get his head out of his ass and stop pretending to live on some pure moral high-ground from which he cannot conceive of the natural variance in human behaviour. The only character who is really judged by the narrative is Bayliss, and his closed-mindedness is exposed as a dangerous precedent and declared unequivocally wrong. It’s a refreshing stance, especially for something which, in the early nineties, was even more of a poorly-represented fringe element than it is now. This episode and a few others also include measures of queer representation in an off-hand, judgment-free fashion, extremely notable in context since the AIDS epidemic was still in full-swing at the time. It’s pretty significant, for a show which is almost as old as I am. 

Other good things: the episode ‘Three Men and Adena’ in season one, aka the episode that single-handedly saved the series from the chopping block by being an Emmy-winning triumph of every possible element of film-making, and, oh, maybe objectively one of the single best episodes of television ever made. No big. Likewise, ‘Bop Gun’ in season two, which utilised the late Robin Williams in a gut-wrenching dramatic performance and consequently saved the series from the chopping block a second time, allowing it to finally start running full-length seasons as of season three. Respect, for the somewhat bizarre decision to use Ned Beatty’s Bolander - this guy:

- as the romantic contender for the series, warts and all as he variously self-sabotages and talks himself out of testing the waters of the dating pool for the first time since 1970; any thoughts of including romantic subplots for titillation are banished when you’ve got ‘The Big Man’ Bolander raging around, and thus those forays into awkward relationships are strictly character pieces, and all the better for it. And points, also, for healthy acts of support between men, toxic masculinity be gone; most notably, Crosetti with his recently-injured and bedridden friend Thormann, who is struggling to adjust to the changed world of his disabilities. Thormann is angry and despairing, declaring himself ‘not a man anymore’ after he loses control of his bowels in his bed; “It’s a natural thing that’s happening here,” Crosetti reassures, soothing Thormann’s embarrassment as he steps in to help his friend clean up, holding his hand and rubbing his back with the gentle patience of a parent. Crosetti was my first favourite character on this show, outstripped by others in the end, but beloved in his time. This review is going live on the 2nd of September for me, but it’s still September 1st in the USA, and therefore, the second anniversary of the death of Jon Polito, our dear Crosetti. This one’s for you, Jon.

Of course, there are a few little quibbles I can raise with the show, and it would be pointless for me to bother with any of this if I didn’t go ahead and raise them. Howard having a prior romantic entanglement with Tyron feels like a needless cliche, and perhaps one of those season two concessions meant to make things seem ‘sexier’; the show is better than that. Kerry Weston uses the example of female seagulls observed to form lesbian bonding pairs as an analogy for why ‘birds of a feather shouldn’t always flock together’, and it doesn’t feel like it’s intentionally homophobic, but it sure does come across that way anyway. Munch is a primarily comic-relief character, and good at it, but his volatile relationship with his girlfriend Felicia (who never appears onscreen) has disturbing shades about it that are never quite clear enough to be soundly condemned, and the general comedic attitude surrounding Munch and his delivery of any and all information regarding Felicia rubs me the wrong way. All things considered, these are pretty small-fry complaints (and almost completely contained within season two, jus’ sayin’), and in that sense they’re pretty reaffirming of the quality of the show as a whole. The characters are realistically flawed - sometimes very deeply flawed - but not horrible people, just struggling, just trying their best, sometimes ignorant of their ignorance, sometimes pushing back or lashing out in the wrong directions. They are forgivably flawed because they are realistic, and it makes them easy to engage with even when you disagree with them; the core humanity is eminently recognisable. It doesn’t seem like it should be hard to achieve that realism, and yet, here we are. Watching Homicide: Life on the Street, a show without equal, even decades after it began.

[bookminimalith]

Book Rant: Unbearable Main Characters

(repost from my Wordpress)

Fictional characters, like real people, are not perfect. Characters have their own flaws and weaknesses that play a vital role in developing their character in the story. Oftentimes a character's shortcomings are more exciting to read about than their successes as they not only make the character more relatable but also give the readers something to look forward to: that is, the character overcoming their flaws and learning from their mistakes. That, I believe, is a testament to what makes a good main character - their ability to grow as a person.

A protagonist can be unlikable yet still make an excellent character so long as their flaws are, in one way or another, addressed and eventually worked on. A protagonist who is unlikable and whose flaws are largely unacknowledged or denied (particularly by the character in question) leading to no character progression, are unbearable.

Unbearable main characters can ruin a story completely.

Readers, meet fifteen-year-old Lana Spiggs of Dyan Sheldon's And Baby Makes Two. Lana is the youngest daughter of single mother Hilary Spiggs. According to Lana, she is severely oppressed by her mother's tyrannical ways. Why, her mother doesn't allow her to wear adult clothes and make-up and nags her to do household chores. Her problem basically is that everyone around her treats her like a child despite the fact that she is already fifteen years old. Clearly, she is a victim of a great injustice. The only person in the world who understands her is her adult boyfriend Les who is the epitome of maturity and sophistication. When Lana accidentally gets pregnant with Les's child, she is ecstatic. Obviously the best way to prove to everyone - especially her mother - that she is an adult is to have a child. At fifteen. Ingenious!

(prepare for spoilers at this point)

All kidding aside, Lana truly is a terrible main character. Her personality is horrendous. Her goals and dreams are almost pitifully ridiculous. Lana is even extremely delusional, so much so that it made me wonder if she was suffering from an actual medical condition. The extent of which she believes her fantasies is quite disturbing. Her baby's name, for instance. She named the baby Shinola because she believed that it's an African word for beautiful or something. There was no basis for her claim and she legitimately just came up with the name on the spot yet she insists that Shinola meant beautiful in another language. The name turned out to be a brand of shoe polish.

Her only redeeming quality, and I'm using that term quite loosely here, is that she's quite witty and her internal monologues, although dripping with malice almost all the time, are sometimes entertaining to read.

What convinced me that Lana was an awful character, however, was her little, almost minuscule, character growth. I was quite shocked because, honestly, Lana had a lot to learn and I thought her youth and her situation were the perfect avenue for such growth. Case in point, in the first chapter, Lana tells us that she absolutely hates her mother. In the last chapter, after everything she's been through, after all her mother has done for her, she still hates her mother. You'd have thought that suddenly being a mother would make Lana more sympathetic or even more appreciative of her own mother but somehow that little obvious lesson whizzed right past Lana's ear. In fact, the last chapter still showed Lana as a petulant, immature child who should not be legally allowed to take care of a baby.

Lana is, for all intents and purposes, a brat. Now, I've met brats before, the best example being Amir from The Kite Runner. Considering how Amir was not only a brat but a rich and envious brat who literally betrayed his best friend who adored him, Lana should be a relatively better character than him, right? Wrong. See, the difference with Lana and Amir was that the latter was actually quite aware of his sudden bouts of cruelty and felt guilty about it. Amir was simply a misguided child who couldn't understand complex emotions and who made a stupid decision based on his ignorance and selfishness. Additionally, Amir paid for his mistakes and went through great lengths to be forgiven.

Lana, on the other hand, had no self-awareness whatsoever. Not once in the narrative does she express guilt or shame for her actions (like yelling at her mother for no good reason and failing to take proper care of her child). Even while she suffered the repercussions of her decision to keep the child, she still only had shallow thoughts and zero awareness. She vehemently refuses to listen to reason despite just how much her stupidity has made her suffer. In fact, she stubbornly maintained - to a group of experienced mothers, no less - that you could get what you want if you don't give up. A pretty solid message if only Lana had half a mind to understand that there's a difference between optimism and idealism (not to mention Lana seemed to be unable to tell fantasy from reality).

It was like Lana was in an inexplicable vacuum of immaturity and hate and no matter what anyone said, no matter what happened to her, logic just couldn't get through to her. Lana showed no depth of character at all. At the beginning, there was a brief mention that Lana's mother might have suggested (to someone else) that she didn't plan to have Lana (which could have been the reason for Lana's never ending vitriol against her mother?) but that was never expounded or even mentioned ever again. Somehow, that possible subplot was just thrown right out seconds after it was introduced. It's unnerving just how shallow Lana's character is and how easily that could have been remedied if the writer would have just expounded on them more rather than written about Lana's fantasies and criticisms ad nauseum.

I honestly couldn't root for Lana or even sympathize with her because she was just too unbearable to really care about. Towards the very end, she realizes (finally) that Les has been lying to her all along and that he isn't the perfect guy she had thought him to be but by then everything was too late. There was no point, really, because Les's true character was just too obvious. Besides that, Les was never really around much to make that much of an impact in the story.

At the final scene, Lana also realized the truth, that being an adult wasn't going to be a fairy-tale-come-true. You'd think her finally learning that would be the pay off that we, the readers, needed but honestly it came too late. It was also written too rushed, like the book knew that it only had three pages left to resolve everything, making Lana's spiel about 'never going back to the way things were (before the baby)' pretty uninspired. It came across as a petulant child just wallowing in her own misery. If she had learned the cold hard truth of being an adult a few chapters earlier, the book wouldn't have been so bad. Perhaps Lana would even show some character development instead of more whining and complaining.

(Also can I just say how terrible the ending was? Lana actually attempted to suffocate her own baby so she could return to her old life. If that attempted infanticide isn't testament enough of how terrible of a character Lana is, then I don't know what is. Sure, she stopped herself before the baby died but judging from Lana's descriptions of Shinola ('...purple and gasping.'), she came way too close to succeeding. And that's literally how the book ends, with Lana deciding not to kill her baby. Then, at least. Because the book ended so abruptly, I doubt Lana wouldn't attempt it again. There wasn't really anything in the book that could convince me that Lana wouldn't resort to such measures, especially considering how easy it is for her to get caught up in her fantasies.)

It's almost uncanny how one-dimensional Lana was, especially for someone who went through as many hardships as she did. A main character with a terrible personality and immature ideals is fine if their character is well written and explained properly. Lana was just shallow. Her rationalizations were weak and unconvincing. You never really understand why she was the way she was, making it impossible (at least for me) to sympathize with her even a little.

Teenage pregnancy is a real problem nowadays and I'm sure this book had good intentions. If it did anything, at least And Baby Makes Two portrayed the trials and tribulations of a teenage mother pretty realistically. It was Lana's lack of development that ruined it. It was like she couldn't understand the overlying lesson of her own story, which made her out to be astoundingly dull. Dull and unbearable.

[luc4ri0]

So,in a stroke of good mood i decided to sit down and type some sort of year review/objectives for next year,just to have it documented here.

this year was definitely a wild ride,a year of some definite solid improvement in my mental health.

starting with a short but important “relationship” with a younger girl who set the train in motion.

for the first time someone was madly in love with me,i couldnt possibly compreend, after several failed attempts my whole life to win the heart of people i met throughout my life,i finally did it,i met someone amazing who felt so much affection for me that i actually didnt know how to respond,even though i had the intention to have a relationship in the first place.

that was an incredible experience,it felt like after so much suffering,the “rainbow after the storm” finally happened, i was in absolute bliss, she liked anime,she liked games,she was adorable,she was caring,she was lewd just like me,there was nothing to complain...

with that newfound strenght i set out to show my age by becoming a good example for her to follow,i did the best i could to make her understand how incredible she was,and how confused i was about her actually liking me.

i was roped by my mom to enter highschool again,after 3 years without going to school,in a newfound happiness that felt like the perfect oportunity,i was a 21 year old boy being looked at like i was amazing,so i started highschool again.

and it was incredible,i felt like i was regaining my lost teen years,i felt incredibly powerful,like the world was mine to do as i please...but as time went by,i felt scared,i regret giving up on that girl,but she was 16,and i panicked because i thought i could never live up to the expectations of her parents,specially after her father saw her giving me a goodbye kiss..

but in a way,she was incredibly infatuated,it was like each of us were fueling a really lonesome part of our personalities,we were both incredibly needy,and the more i fueled her neediness,the more she fueled mine.

but it didnt cancel it out,on the contrary,it just made things even harder,because now her dad had an incredibly wrong image of me,because he was very overprotective (also used to be a trucker,so that scared me)

dialing back a bit,i was surprised by how i actually managed to join a social group in my class on day one,and there was this really cute gay guy who i kept flirting back and forth for about a couple of months of school time.

it even led to a successful trip to his house for my first ever netflix and chill session,it was incredible,me,the shy guy who couldnt even say lewd words next to girls,suddenly managed to flirt my way into a netflix and chill session!

we watched lucifer,it was really good (although later on it started getting predictable),and he actually said he liked my body hair!? it was a really weird situation where the thing i hated the most about my body was called sexy by another person,we cuddled a lot,and he gave me a few kisses,but no tongue (later on he mentioned he wanted to kiss me more intensely)

with a few months passing by in school,there was a class president election,and suddenly i thought “i never once tried to do anything that actively tries to help a class i was in...maybe this could be fun for a change?”

so me and this cute guy who i had a nice time with (which didnt lead to anything more than just kisses that one time i might add) volunteered to it,he ended up winning and i got vice-president (because we were literally the only ones who volunteered)

i was a bit bummed out at first because i REALLY wanted to be class president,but at least i would be vice together with this cute boy i was getting super attached to.

but thats where things started to go downhill.

or at least thats where people SAY things went downhill.

around the time the election happened,i finally mustered up the courage to go back to therapy,after 3 or 4 years of wallowing in my own thoughts i did what i promised my best friend i would do,and started treatment,and god damn,was it a relief,i noticed instantly how much i missed having a therapist (as i had one for 3 years straight when i was growing up)

but as sessions went by,and i started touching more sensitive topics,my mood started to waver a lot according to the session

i started overthinking everything,as it usually is with analizing yourself in therapy

but that started getting the best of me,and thats when i finally started the oficial treatment with actual medication. and as youre probably aware of,starting to take anxiety/depression meds can do a lot of weird things on how you act

specially now that i was taking it for an indefinite time,as opposed to only taking it for a week once when i was very young

and,although i acted out of my best intentions,telling everybody in our class group in whatsapp about all the tests and posting pictures of each day’s material for people who couldnt come,somewhere along the way,people started getting annoyed with me,allegedly being “too pushy with the good responsible student act”

later on a weird occurance happened where a new classmate who’d just transfered accidentally posted a selfie to our whatsapp group (we had one for informative class stuff exclusively and another one for social chatting and doing basically whatever the fuck)

at the time,my phone was having a lot of charging problems,leaving my only option to charge its battery directly,meaning i had to charge my battery all afternoon with my phone turned off,and turning on my phone before leaving for school

so i turn on my phone as im one step away from leaving my house (and i didnt have a data plan,so i only had internet while i was at home),and see a simple selfie in the wrong group,with no comment added by anyone or an “oops wrong chat” message,just a message from two hours earlier with a selfie,so,as vice-president what do i do? i ask “why is there a selfie in this group?” because the only rule of the group was informative class stuff only,no memes or chatting.

thats literally it,word by word,what i said,so,after an honest question with simple curiosity,i leave home,not too worried,expecting that “she probably will say sorry and delete it,no big deal”,i arrive at the school and theres an uproar

the class president says hes having to deal with the mess ive made,and im completely confused,it was such a simple message that it didnt even cross my mind that it could be the reason,so there i am absolutely lost on what i couldve done (and if you struggle with anxiety you can guess i was in absolute panic)

so he shows me the chat log,and theres a huge wall of messages in the informative group talking shit about me,calling me names and complaining about how rude i was,and how i attacked the poor new classmate who just didnt know about the rules of the chat group

and there i am,more lost than i was before knowing the reason for the uproar,obviously feeling like shit because i had absolutely zero intention to hurt anyone,and honestly couldnt understand how i offended someone with literally one message

and mind you,the girl in question wasnt even offended,in one of the voice messages in the group she was laughing her ass off at the whole situation (so in a way there was a lot of white knighting from the class),but as i should,i go to the girl anyway and ask her if she was offended,and apologize for any misunderstandings

but like i said before,this was the start of the downfall,from that point on there were several classmates who set out their goal to hate my guts,one in particular looked at me with incredible hatred every time she passed by me,like,the type of person who you feel intimidated just by their stare alone

she would always be rude for no reason with me,talking shit about me at any given time she saw me in the vicinity (mind you,behind my back,but in clear sight,like i couldnt obviously hear)

and after some trouble trying to understand the whole situation and process why i was being hated by a bunch of people for not only something that wasnt offensive,but very strongly so

but i move on,more or less,time passes by and people end up not mentioning it anymore,but later on,as i had already burried the subject in the back of my mind,a class council happens and the teacher asks us to bring up anything troubling us that she could mention to each teacher,you know,normal school stuff

the teacher then asks if the whole selfie situation was handled and finished,because apparently some people went to the principal complain about me and the whole situation and it was archived as a problem

and some of the classmates that hated me bring up the whole argument again about how ignorant and rude i was,and god,i tried so hard to block out the situation in my memory,but my anxiety came waving back with full force

after that point the whole situation kept nagging me at the back of my mind,trying to compreend where i went wrong,and how what i said couldve possibly have been all that people were claiming it to be

and as months passed by,it started eating me up,and around the middle of the year (at winter break,which is the equivalent to the 2 weeks of summer break people get in the us,but our seasons switched) im looking at the chat group and something comes from deep bellow in my mind and comes out completely unfiltered

i post a photo of my school grades with the message,word by word: “post a photo of your grades so i can boost my ego”,as my grades were excellent and i was fed up with all the passive agressiveness half of the class was giving me.

granted,that was an incredibly dick move on my part,but i have this really bad habit where once im at my limit with someone talking shit about me for an absurdly stupid reason that makes no sense,i just sorta play into it,to “see if they like it if i really become the evil they so claim to see in me”

i could hide behind the fact that it is a coping mechanism to feel empowered for a short period of time,since i spent my entire life being abused mentally and physically by my mom,but honestly,it was just me having a breakdown

obviously the message caused a huge uproar and people were rightfuly mad this time around,but i just laughed it off,because they reacted exactly how i expected them to react,claiming having definite proof of how much of an arrogant asshole i am

but i was still having a breakdown nonetheless,so it didnt take long for me to feel incredible regret for fueling the exact opposite image of myself

and,right after we come back to school from that short 2 week break,im leaving school like normal and i overhear a conversation between the people who dont like me,saying “now hes gonna feel it,im want a certain someone to quit being the vice president” (obviously talking about me),and the other girl says “quit being vice class president? i want him to quit living”,literally right as im walking by them

and at that single moment when i heard those last words so many emotions passed through my mind in a flash,i wanted to explode,i wanted to yell,i wanted to cry,but i just passed by silently,and as soon as i got home,those words kept echoing in my head,ive never heard anyone say anything so mean to me before,ive always been everybody’s friend in every class ive been to,at the most ive had some annoying pricks trying to flex on me for not having a girlfriend or being a shut-in

and that fucking destroys me,it was on a friday too,so i had a whole 3 nights with that shaking around inside my head,so i set out for first thing on monday to complain about bullying,prepared to tell the whole story behind it and how unfair it was but then,something beats me to the punch...

im called to the supervisors office,she wants to talk to me,i can already guess the reason,the girls probably schemed to complain about me,but it was worse than i imagined,they actually shared around the class on that friday a petition to remove my position as the vice class president

and im absolutely distraught as i look at the list of names,there were so fucking many,granted my class doesnt even have that many students that attend to class regularly,so about 8 or more of the 15 or so students of my class that frequently go to school sign it

and there i am,i received an “impeachment”,de-throned,the person who did their very best to help everyone in the class with absolutely everything,claimed to be arrogant.

but moving on,the situation is solved,people set out to hate me,i go through the year like normal,talking mainly to my two friends in class.

and here i am,in my summer break,passing with flying colors and excellent grades

in fact,at no point i had to re-take a test,the only ones i did were because one teacher in particular forces everyone to re-take them

when finals came around,no matter what happened in them i would still be fine,i didnt even NEED the finals,thats how good my grades were

overall,this year had its ups and downs,but as my therapist described it,this year was really hard for me because this was the year i rose from the ashes like a phoenix,in the social sense,and im very proud,but that aint ending there!

next year i have at least 3 things i plan to do (aside from obviously getting my official highschool certificate): im going to do a profficiency test in english to make it official that i am fluent in english as my second language (which can be used for tons of things,specially making your curriculum fancier),im going to work all year arround to gather a ton of money with the intention to be ready to move out on my own by the end of next year (or the beginning of the next next year) and last but not least:

i will turn on fuck it mode,i will help 0 people in my class,i will do all essays and group projects alone,and my notebooks wont leave my posession a single time.

this year i did my fucking best to help absolutely everyone,even the people who hated me,to give everyone a chance to succeed this school year,and all i got back was being shafted by almost the entire class for no reason,so yea,if they really hate me so much,they will fucking miss how helpful i am next year

i want 2k19 to be MY year,i finally feel like im myself after so long,so i want to do stuff I WANT,this year i already got my first tattoo,next year im getting another,and i will use the money i earn to buy stuff exclusively for me,im not gonna help with bills of whatever,its my money and my mom cannot make me give it to her,and if she complains i will literally use my own money to buy a router that only i can use.

so yea,bring on 2019,im fucking ready to rumble!