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endless-summer-soldier · 1 year

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cruel to be kind - chapter two

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (90s college AU)

summary: it started with a dare. Bucky restlessly pursues Y/N, seeking just one date. as he chases her, he realizes she's different from she challenges him, so he starts to catch feelings. but it all falls apart when she learns about his initial motivations. based on 10 things I hate about you!

warnings: alcohol use, cursing

word count: 1.9k

a/n: my taglist was getting messy so I created a sign up form! please complete and indicate your fic preferences. even if you're already being tagged, I'd really appreciate if you'd complete this! link for the sign up is here

series playlist

series masterlist

taglist: taglist: @sebsgirl71479 @ozwriterchick @notmeddy @drewsuncrustables @lokidokieokie @hextech-bros @nats-whore @m4nulup1n @arcanebabe @tanyaspartak @jackiehollanderr @princezzjasmine @fallenlilangel99 @pono-pura-vida @mavrellover91 @milanaasblog @marvel-wifey-86 @helluvapimp @charmedbysarge @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @unaxv @theroyalmanatee @tellmealovestory @zanneme (click here to be added!)

Bucky knocked twice on her front door and waited for about three minutes before knocking again. The door flew open and Y/N stood in front of him, clad in an oversized T-shirt and a pair of bike shorts.

“Can I help you,” she phrased it more as a statement than a question.

“Did you forget about our plans, doll?” he asked.

“You were serious?” she retorted.

“As the plague.” They squared off in an unspoken staring contest until Y/N finally blinked.

She sighed, “Fine. I’ll give you an hour.”

“I’ll take what I can get.” She grabbed her keys and slid on a pair of converse and Bucky smiled to himself. He loved that she was going to a party in an oversized T-shirt and no makeup on. She truly didn’t care what anyone thought of her and she wasn’t there to impress anyone. Little did she know that her IDGAF attitude was impressing him.

“How did you even know where I live? Creep.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I’m not letting you evade that question. I need to make sure you aren’t actually stalking me.”

“My friends live next door. You’re always banging on the wall telling us to keep it down.”

“Ah, so you’re one of the degenerates. It’s all making sense now.”

“Well you’re on a date with one of the degenerates, so what does that make you?”

“This is not a date.”

“Oh no? Then what is it?”

“We are going to a party.”

“We are going to a party…together. Which is a date.”

“What if I turn around and go home…alone. What is that considered?”

“Come on doll, don’t do that.” She stood there frozen, glaring at him. “Stay for one drink and then, if you want, I’ll take you home.”

“Fine. And stop calling me doll.” They continued walking in silence. Bucky wanted to talk to her but he wasn’t going to risk pissing her off.

“Where are we going anyway?” she asked, breaking the tension.

“Some frat party. I told some people I would make an appearance. It’s not much further.”

“Really, a frat party? I haven’t been to one of those since freshman year.”

“If it helps, it’s one of the nicer frats.”

“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Think of it like a walk down memory lane. You can relive your younger days and impart your wisdom on the underclassmen.”

“Oh, well in that case, I can’t wait!” she said with false enthusiasm. They walked up the sidewalk towards the surprisingly immaculate mansion. The only sign of the fraternity was the three greek letters mounted by the front door. Bucky walked through the entrance like he owned the place. He walked right past the pledges who were collecting entry fees without a blink of an eye and led her into the kitchen which was packed with people. Music from the basement was flowing into the room and there was a crowd circled around a keg, seeking a fresh pour. Bucky pulled two shot glasses out of a drying rack full of dishes and placed them on the counter as he retrieved a flask from his back pocket.

“Whiskey okay?” he asked, as he filled the shot glasses. She nodded and they clinked the glasses together before downing the dark liquor.

“You bring your own liquor to these things?” she asked.

“If you want cheap liquor that’s been poured into a top-shelf bottle, go for it.”

“I’m not complaining, just curious.”

“Call it trust issues.” Before she could ask any other questions, he opened a cooler and pulled out two cans of cheap beer. He swiftly cracked them both and handed one to her. She immediately chugged close to half the can and Bucky looked at her with concern.

“It’s weird being here sober,” she explained.

“Can’t say I blame you,” he said. He passed her the flask and she took a quick swig and handed it back to him. He did the same and their night began.

Bucky couldn’t figure out when he’d lost her. They started the night at the beer pong table, defeating every challenger that came their way until they were coerced into playing flip cup. Bucky shouldn’t have been surprised that she was good at drinking games; she was competitive by nature. He had assumed she was always on the field or studying, but she also seemed to have a talent for drinking. Or so he thought.

He heard a roar of cheers coming from the other room and he followed the sound, hoping to find Y/N. And boy did he find her. She was standing on the pool table as “Hypnotize” by Notorious B.I.G. started blasting from the speakers. She started dancing on the table like she was in the club, rolling her hips and flipping her hair. She was either completely oblivious to the crowd of fraternity brothers surrounding her makeshift stage or she didn’t care. She dropped her hips low until she was suddenly on all fours doing a cat crawl across the table. Bucky pushed his way through the crowd, determined to get her off the table before she realized what she was doing. As she reached the end of the table she started to make her way back to a standing position. After a few hip gyrations, she bent over to complete another hair flip, only she hadn’t realized the lighting fixture was lower on this side of the table. Bucky saw the scene unfold in slow motion as she flipped her head back and it immediately made contact with the light. The crowd gasped, seemingly concerned, as her body gave out and she fell backwards. Bucky caught her effortlessly in his arms as she went limp and he pulled her off the table and away from the crowd. Despite the scene that had just played out, the music kept playing and people kept drinking as if nothing had happened.

He carried her out to the back porch and he ordered one of the pledges to bring her some water. He lowered her onto the porch step and sat down next to her, keeping his hand around her back to keep her up. She was starting to regain consciousness and as she woke up under Bucky’s arm she squinted at him in confusion.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I don’t think you want me to answer that question. Here, drink some water.”

“Is it drugged?” she asked, before taking a sip from the red solo cup.

“No,” he said emphatically. “Do you really think I would do that?”

She didn’t answer his question and instead finished the cup of water.

“I think I’m just gonna take a quick nap,” she said leaning her head back on Bucky’s shoulder.

“No, no, no. You need to stay awake.”

“Whyyyyy?” she whined.

“Because you might have a concussion.” He felt her weight fall into his shoulder and he pulled her up. “Hey, hey…stay with me,” he said lightly smacking her face to keep her up.

She groaned and looked at him. “You don’t care about me,” she slurred.

“Sure I do. Without you I would have to go out with girls who actually like me. Where’s the fun in that?”

He expected her to laugh at the joke but when she didn’t, he looked down at her to make sure she was okay. She was staring up at him with a look of concentration on her face. He didn’t say a word, not wanting to interrupt whatever thoughts were racing through her brain.

“Your eyes are really pretty,” she eventually said. “There’s little flecks of green in them.”

He sighed, “You must be really drunk if you’re giving me compliments. Come on, let’s get you home.”

He pulled her up from the porch and she swayed in his arms, not yet able to support her own weight.

“Jump onto my back,” he said.

“What?” she questioned, confusion displayed all over her face.

“Climb on my back and I’ll carry you home.”

“I’m fine,” she said, taking another step and stumbling on the grass.

“Come on, it’ll be quicker this way.”

“Fine,” she mumbled. She placed her hands on his shoulders and he lowered himself so that she could climb on. She hoisted herself up and Bucky intertwined his arms with her legs to keep her secure.

Bucky carried her with ease and they made it about halfway to her apartment when she spoke up again.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Why am I being nice to you?” he echoed back, like the question was blasphemous. “Because I like you.”

“But I’m not very nice to you.”

“Oh trust me, I know. But that’s part of what makes you so interesting.”

She became quiet again, resting her head on his shoulder, “You falling asleep back there?”

“Nooo…” she groaned.

“Better not be,” he teased. “We’re almost there.” He picked up the pace a little more, knowing she was growing tired. When he reached her building, he gently returned her to the ground and steadied her.

“Do you have your keys?” he asked. She handed them over to him and he opened the door to the building and offered his hand to Y/N. She gave him a low five and walked inside. He chuckled to himself, even after a head injury she still had sass. She stopped in front of her apartment door and Bucky found the next key needed to open the apartment. She turned the key in the lock and stepped inside, leaving the door open for Bucky to follow her in.

She sat down on the couch and he walked into the kitchen to pour her a glass of water.

“You know, you don’t know me,” she said out of nowhere.

“I think I know more than you think,” he countered.

“Yeah, like what?”

He sat down next to her on the sofa. “I know that you like indie music but you also like classic rock from the 70s. While you aren’t the poster child for school spirit, you almost always find time to go to other teams games. You don’t like any condiments on your hot dogs. You turn everything into a competition. And I know that you don’t care about what anyone thinks about you, which I find incredibly attractive.”

Her gaze shifted and she leaned in a little closer to him, “You aren’t as vile as I thought you were…”

“Sometimes if you give people a chance, they surprise you,” he smiled at her, “Well I should get going.”

“I think…” she placed a hand on his thigh, “you should stay.” She glanced down towards his lips and her face inched closer to his.

Bucky took in a deep breath, feeling knots in his stomach and what he was about to do. She was so close that he could feel her breath on his skin.

He cleared his throat and softly said, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea." Her eyes connected with his and she pulled back, a flicker of embarrassment on her face that quickly turned to rage.

“Fine, then get out,” she said with venom. She stood up and stormed into her bedroom, slamming the door. Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, but knew it was the right call. He couldn’t make a move on her when she was either drunk or concussed. It didn’t feel right. But now he would have to find a way to reopen the door that was just slammed in his face.

Before leaving, Bucky slid a note under her roommate’s door, letting her know about the potential concussion. He just wanted to make sure someone kept an eye on her.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes college au #bucky barnes fanfic

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discord-lurking · 9 months

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Dungeons and Daddies Wiki Drama: A Greek Tragedy Told through the Medium of Forum Posts (Part 3)

Act 3: Death of a Mod Team

A sockpuppet by any other name would smell just as sweet.

Stay tuned for a late-breaking update later today- wiki admin Gaycowboyrats has gone on the record about their experience and I'll be sharing that with you all this afternoon!

In this, our last Act, we explore the consequences of wiki overreach of power.

First, the silent downfall of Gaycowboyrats.

December 5th, 2023:

The main concern? Inactivity.

Notable PawnSum quote: "I am sorry for not catching my mistake for three hours. I feel so foolish. I wish I wasn't autistic."

TwoRatner response: "I promise to keep you safe."

(A quick, sincere note for any readers- while I think many of the admin actions were... inadvisable at best, there's absolutely nothing wrong with being autistic or making an easy typo. I genuinely hope that whoever is behind the PawnSum account doesn't feel that way about themselves).

The secondary concern? Racism in a Thor: Ragnarok movie review, and being a "trimmer of life."

(The link provided was https://rate.house/user/Gaycowboyrats, for anyone curious. It appears the page has since been deleted, but stay tuned for more on this in a separate post later).

The tertiary concern? Account security.

Another reference to site breaches and administrator account hacks. Interesting.

Thus, the admin privileges of Gaycowboyrats were revoked. In a chorus of moderators and users with, again, suspiciously similar speech patterns, they were voted off the island wiki.

December 7th, 2023:

The next Admin Discussion Zone begins where A New Development left off- with the transgressions of Brazil86.

"Please don't vote to remove me. I can still help. He's gone, so everything should be fine."

What this tells me, and the questions it leaves me with:

The most obvious conclusion is that getting voted out of administrator power is a very real and present threat, even for active wiki administrators.

By "he's gone," I wonder if Brazil86 means Gaycowboyrats, the admin who was just removed a day before (though Gaycowboyrats does not use he/him pronouns, to my knowledge). If so, this implies a coordinated effort on the part of the other admins to remove Gaycowboyrats greater than what we saw in the forum.

Or is this referring to some other event yet unaddressed in the forums? Maybe this is about the aforementioned account security breaches?

HungerBunger: "I think we're all mad at you."

My kingdom for a look at their Discord server.

TwoMarshall: "I just want you to not be me." An interesting turn of phrase for accounts that tend to speak in remarkably similar ways.

Brazil86: "It is fixed, so please don't make me fall."

This Admin Discussion Zone is a dramatic depature from the ones that precede it.

The admins admit doubt, worry the rules are too restrictive, and yet Marth8204 still expresses optimism that the wiki will grow soon.

December 9th, 2023:

In the immortal words of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and wiki administrator TwoMarshall, it is done.

The split was complete. No more season 2 material would be allowed on the original Dungeons and Daddies wiki.

Another wiki user, Notapissboy, attempts to talk sense into the moderators. They're informed in no uncertain terms that they, in fact, are the one being stupid here.

Nicoh Watonshing: "Are you an admin? No. Am I? No. I however understand when I am being too big for my britches."

An interesting framing. Do any of us really know when we're being too big for our britches?

What is hubris, if not being too big for your britches?

Iconic Nicoh Watonshing quote: "It's free parking on Park Place."

(It must be noted for posterity that the Park Place spot in Monopoly is the second-most expensive property in the game.)

FunderStun sagely responds to this with the lyrics to the song Shooting Star by Bag Raiders.

HungerBunger: "You have the freedom to do good."

Users November Jane and Sol-Has-An-Obsession come in with more questions and critiques. By this point, the administrator team seem to have gotten tired of the whole issue.

After this, wiki forum discussion and activity appear to have moved past the drama. Perhaps they just moved on with their lives. Perhaps the only ones left to discuss things were the administrators who instigated the issue.

Only time will tell.

December 16th, 2023:

December 19th, 2023:

Even in the face of blatant personal attacks involving an insult to TwoMarshall's dead brother, administrators simply ask the culprit to not do it again. This is a strong tonal difference from their harsh responses to earlier reasonable critiques.

December 19th, 2023:

The last forum post as of writing was a discussion on removing an inactive moderator.

Have they exhausted the wiki drama well, or are they merely biding their time?

Maybe TwoRatner was right, and the wiki is cursed.

Maybe all of this was one person with dozens of sockpuppets, feeding message prompts through ChatGPT to stage a coup on a niche fandom wiki and enact an extremely detailed, drama-filled LARP.

Maybe multiple trolls wormed into an already-struggling wiki through a security breach and decided to destroy it from the inside.

No matter the cause of the current wiki issues, user Chekovsnakess was correct. This was the hubris of the administrator team: by making a wiki for the administrators and not the users, they made a wiki for no one.

This series has left me with more questions than answers: what security breaches happened and why? What did Brazil86 do to cause so much animosity among the other mods? Why go through this much drama in a fandom wiki, of all places?

While I may never know the answers, I do know that the Dungeons and Daddies fandom remains, on the whole, one of the most positive and engaged groups I've ever been a part of. That's what makes this drama stick out the most, in my opinion: it's so completely out of left field from the fandom I've known. The wiki may have quickly gone from bad to worse, but I trust the community of this show, and I know we have the potential to make something better.

Chorus

December 8th, 2023 (immediately after the last Admin Discussion Zone):

TheOneTrueGod41: "I don't know what's the matter with me. Sometimes I don't feel whole."

Words to remember them by.

Stay tuned for the epilogue and final post(s) in this series, including word from former wiki administrator Gaycowboyrats!

-----

And speaking of trusting this community, I'd like to take this chance to remind everyone to PLEASE not interact with the forums/wiki admins because of this!!! They may be making some questionable decisions, and I clearly enjoy deep dives on random internet drama as much as the next person, but please don't go trolling them in return.

We're better than that, y'all. Remember, "you have the freedom to do good."

On a personal note, I never expected this to go as far as it has: this evolved from people in the Patreon Discord wondering what was going on with the wiki and why it was splitting apart, to me sharing screenshots of funny non-sequiturs in the forums, to an entire Internet drama investigative journalism piece framed as a tragedy of wiki administrator hubris.

I've loved to see how much the community has rallied around this wiki situation- from people assisting me with research, to people offering to make dramatic readings or video essays out of my posts, to fans even working to create a new show wiki after this came to light. (More on that as it develops, hopefully!)

This is absolutely the kindest, most supportive fandom I've ever participated in, and everyone reading this has been a part of that. If our wiki is being brigaded by trolls, I sincerely hope that they realize the futility of what they're doing and move on with their lives. Several of them (assuming it's more than one person) have posted about really difficult personal circumstances. I hope that everyone involved gets the help they need and that they grow from this.

In the words of Ron Stampler: You are enough, just as you are.

Best,

Simon

#dungeons and daddies

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choicesficwriterscreations · 11 months

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November Creator of the Month: Lizzybeth1986

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is @lizzybeth1986 We hope you will enjoy learning more about them and their work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: Blog Masterlist

How do you want to be known on Tumblr?

Lizzy, absolutely 😁

*Center art by @sazanes

More below...

When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

I started playing mid 2017, I think. I played the flagship books (TF, TCaTF, MW), and def preferred TF at the time.

When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined the Tumblr fandom in 2017, around the time of the TRR finale. Mostly because the Liam hate at the time was intense and I wanted to write metas about why Liam was, in fact, not “a dick who betrayed the MC” 😂

I did have a Tumblr account before that (made it in 2015 to follow Bollywood film posts), but never actually used it.

How did you pick your blog name?

I was lazy af so it was my middle name plus my birth year haha

Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!

I started out with a couple reblogs, but my first actual post was about the romance points mechanism in TRR1. There was a point in the middle of the book where one nice word to Drake would give you an automatic romance point, and I was like, “Huh??? Either treat him like shit or risk him catching feels for me? Is that how it is???”. Thankfully, that stopped after two chapters. After that, I did an essay series analyzing Liam’s actions in the finale called “The Crown, The King and The Flame.” Romance Points Post The Crown and the Flame

How long have you been writing fanfiction?

Almost 6 years now! I started doing Liam fics around the beginning of TRR2.

What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to write about?

I’m the most invested in TRR and PM, but between the two I’d probably say PM is my fave book overall. But yeah, my favourite book to write about would be TRR, because Liam, Hana and Kiara are such fantastic characters to write about! (Hayden and Sloane, too, but I’m still in the process of getting comfortable writing them).

Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were writing it today?

It was Keychains, my two part fic series featuring my MC and Liam. It was set around the time the MC was waiting in the airport in TRR2, just before Maxwell and Bertrand intervene. It had a follow up with Liam’s PoV too.

I really like it. It included some really good hc’s I made at the time, like Esther buying an apple keychain to represent Cordonia at the same time, and Liam calling her his wife in Greek and Esther not realizing what the phrase meant. I thought the pathos and slight humour was quite well-done. I can’t think of much I would want to change in the story.

Keychains 1 Keychains 2

What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

As a series – Eleanor’s Kitchen! It’s ongoing, and it’s a joy to write. I love exploring food from a cultural lens, and since Cordonia was a fictional country, I could explore a variety of ethnicities and food cultures. Liam had a literal diamond scene that explored gastrodiplomacy, and I wanted to explore his childhood and Eleanor’s friendships too.

Individually – I would say my Kiara fic “An Ear to the Ground”. Kiara is a delightful character and exploring the social season through her eyes was a real journey! I also love “The Stars (Are Out Tonight)” which explores the early days of the Sloane & Hayden friendship. I used asterisms and constellations to symbolize moments in their friendship.

Eleanor's Kitchen An Ear to the Ground The Stars (Are Out Tonight)

Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but found could use a little more love?

Cordonian Waltz was definitely a surprise in terms of reception!! It was written in the style of headcanons I was seeing at the time, and I wrote it in second person. It became my most widely-read fanfic very fast, and every once in a while it would experience a major surge in readership. I enjoyed writing it and thought it was a lovely, romantic piece, but I really wasn’t expecting it to finally have 250+ reblogs out of it, and people coming and telling me this was the fic that got them into Liam x MC in the first place. I find that deeply gratifying 😍

There’s a lot of fics that I feel need more engagement and appreciation, but I can understand that those characters also don’t exactly get much of an audience. My entire PM set comes under this category; they typically get low readership. I think my Hana and Kiara fics too could do with more of an audience.

@twinkleallnight once told me that when she reads my stuff, she usually takes a long time just to ruminate on the story, and I like to believe that often, that’s why the engagement isn’t always immediate. Which I like too!! I like that some of my stuff can make people stop and think, and I like to believe that over time, the work will have its own impact.

Cordonian Waltz PM Set

If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Probably fluff but with a lot of observation and sometimes somber reflections. I’m not that great with angst…and I’ve never actually tried smut? But maybe one day 😄

Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Yes! Some of my MCs are v different from me but I always incorporate something from my life experiences in them. Like Esther taking photos of the sunset or Basil not being science oriented but still having an interest in space.

Character wise I find I put a lot of myself into a lot of the characters I write. Notably, Liam, Hana, Kiara, certain Haydens and Sloane. Liam’s love for learning, different aspects of Hana and Kiara’s experiences as queer women, Sloane’s experiences as a neurodivergent woman, and especially my Scholar!Hayden’s (Iris) observations. I tend to incorporate a lot of my feelings and experiences more into certain canonical characters than in MCs.

What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Dialogue, I think. Especially when it’s a character I don’t relate to that much. But also sometimes when it’s a character I love but am only starting to write because then I really overthink it!

Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Hmm…probably neglected wouldn’t be the word I’d use…I just take a very long time to kickstart them 😂

But yeah, definitely my Petals and Thornes series? That’s the fic series I’m doing for Hana x Kiara, that is supposed to explore TRR2 and 3 from their PoV (with significant changes). So far I’ve only been able to do some one-shots and hcs in that universe, but I do want to start the actual series soon!

I have some essay series’ I’d love to work on too! My Hana essay series which has two essays left, The Hayden Young Project, and a possible series on the alternative Lis of TRR!

Petals and Thornes Hana Lee: A Study in Erasure

If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first?

Hmm. A few people have asked me, actually, and while I’m not fully opposed to showing them I’ll probably take some time before I do show my work. I’ll probably overthink how much will be understandable to a reader who doesn’t have the context of the source, and what they may not understand.

What to show them first? I’m not sure! Maybe the smaller ones first, like Cordonian Waltz. Or my RCD fic Snowstorms, because it doesn’t have more than 2-3 canon characters featuring and I do talk a little about being a closeted queer teen figuring out their sexuality through cinema, which is an overall relatable experience to some! Snowstorms

Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing?

In my early years I used to emulate Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s style. Much of her work that I read as a teen was pretty flowery, sometimes bordering on purple prose, and I really loved that style and tried to go that way. But now I think a variety of writers from different genres inform my writing. In terms of published authors, Jhumpa Lahiri, Helen Hoang, and non-fiction ones like Rukmini Pande, Ruby Hammad and Mikki Kendall.

In Choices fic, @callmetippytumbles for sure – a lot of the questions she was tackling with her MC in her Home series served as inspiration for some of the ideas I’ve been having in mind for Petals and Thornes. @thefirstcourtesan is a great writing buddy to have, too, and she has a knack for saying a lot in very few words! There’s also my amazing group of friends (shoutout to @cassiopeiacorvus, @thecapturedafrique, @mand-delemonde, and @beyonceswigs, as well as @twinkleallnight , @dcbbw @mariemarieohcontrary , @choicesfrog, @grapecaseschoices and @ohsnapitzlovehacker…the discussions are so good and leave some much to think about afterward 💖💖). All these discussions ALWAYS fuel my ideas and make me think out of the box.

I’ve also recently started writing polyamorous characters and relationships, and @angelasscribbles stories and resources have been such a great help in navigating that!

Home

@angelasscribbles Poly Resources

Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

Haha! I’ve not even started the proper series yet but I think Petals and Thornes? But besides that maybe Eleanor’s Kitchen may work as a series idk 😄

Do you write original fiction?

I do try! I’ve done a few short stories but before I started fanfic, I did a lot of spoken word poetry and that was fun.

What other hobbies do you have?

Reading, watching video essays, spending months on hyperfixations 😂 and a little cooking. My kid’s gotten into craft recently and has succeeded in taking me down that rabbit hole too haha.

I used to be into making fruit wines but have gotten inconsistent with that over the years.

What’s your favorite emoji?

Because I have a huuuge thing for nerds – this one: 🤓

BONUS – tell us anything you’d like (if you want to).

A story my mum often tells about how I got into writing, began with some good old-fashioned sibling rivalry. Apparently as a child I was notorious for writing things on the walls of our house. One day my older brother got a hardbound royal-blue covered notebook to write in, with gold lettering on the cover…and I got instantly jealous that I didn’t get one (I was 6 or 7 and already fond of telling stories). When I complained my mum made me a deal – she would get me the same notebook…IF I stopped writing on the walls and began writing in that instead 😂 It worked. My mother is a smart woman.

I love spoilers!! I will read the end of a novel I’m reading and then go back and read the rest. Sometimes I even read books all the way backwards lol.

I love romance, and my favorite tropes include second-chance romance and mutual pining while believing the other person will never love you back! Because, at heart, I’m a dramatic bitch.

#choices fic writers creations #cfwc creator of the month #the royal romance #perfect match #lizzybeth1986 #playchoices #playchoices fanfic

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loveandleases · 1 year

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okay so in relationship stage, how often do the ROs tell the mc they love them?

It's about time for some cuteness huh? Below the cut ~

❤️ Cam - He says it very often. In the morning, in Mc's ear at night. Are they working on a shoot together? Cam will walk over pretend to be messing with a piece of Mc's clothing, let his finger linger along their neck, and tell them then as well. He feels he can't say it enough. To him, he has always wanted to tell MC those three words.

💙 G - They will say it a good amount. Especially ex-G. They want MC to know they care about them, though they won't throw it around as much as Cam. G will say it with their touch, with a hug, hands clinging to MC's back. With a soft caress of their hand at dinner, a whisper between them when at the office.

💚 Kara - She makes sure to say it when texting you or seeing you off from work. Time's like that, Kara is worried she may say it too much, so she chooses not to unless she feels the moment calls for it. After a night together, and everything is calm and you're cuddled up in bed, she would be holding onto MC head on their chest and whisper it before drifting to sleep. That's when she prefers to say it. When she knows she will be waking up to your presence. 💛 M - Poor M, they will try to say it and fluster. It will be hard for them to say only because they make themselves embarrassed saying it. To them, they thought it was something you say at a precise moment in a book, when there is a fight and the couple comes back together, or when one is going off to save the galaxy in an anime they secretly watch away from you. M would say it at the most random moment. You would think the reason they have been typing the same sentence for an hour would be because of writer's block no, because the next moment they say I love you, so very randomly. But it suits them.

💜 Isaac - Oh, poor thing. They will be so afraid to say it to MC, afraid that it could ruin them. Fear of the past happening all over again. They will say it, but when they do it's quiet, and they sound as if their voice will break every time. Isaac says it when they look at you on a drive, or when your hand finds there to try and calm their mind. When you kiss them goodnight after a long day when they think you can't hear it because you've fallen asleep. That's when they say it freely, and it holds all the meaning. That's when they think saying it won't run you away from them.

🖤 Ardent - He will say it, but after saying it to Cupid first. He does this so that it adds less pressure, he doesn't want MC to know he wanted to say it to them first. Instead let them think he says it to Cupid first, then to mc as if it's a routine. Ardent says it....really weird times. I'm sorry but he will say it right after climaxing after saying some dirty things to mc. It will be like night and day because perverted Ardent can be so crass, but his voice takes a completely different tone when he tells MC he cares for them. He will usually say it in greek because he thinks MC will just think he's saying some phrase. (MC picked up on exactly what he was saying)

#loveandleases #love and leases #cam #ardent #g #kara #isaac #m #mc #love

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max1461 · 2 years

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I recently made the claim that the phrase "the West" was incredibly overloaded, and some people were skeptical. In an effort to demonstrate this, and also just because I enjoy list-making as an activity, here is a list of East/West dichotomies that are or have been prominent in various discourses:

"The West" as the Western Roman Empire, "the East" as the Eastern Roman Empire. This is, as far as I can tell, the chronologically original sense of the dichotomy.

"The West" and "the East" as the Latin West and the Greek East in medieval Europe, entrenched by the East-West Schism between the Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church. This is essentially a continuation of the former usage.

"The West" as Europe and its American colonies, "the East" as Asia. In this sense synonymous with "the Occident" and "the Orient", respectively. This dichotomy in itself is ambiguous, with "the Orient" principally referring to the Middle East and India or principally referring to East Asia depending on time and place.

Related to the above, "the West" as Europe and its colonial outposts, vs. everybody else (usually not called "the East" in this usage).

"The West" as the American frontier, "back East" as the US East coast. Cowboys, man.

"The West" as the Western bloc, i.e. the liberal world, and "the East" as the Eastern bloc, i.e. the socialist world.

"The West" as rich countries in general, vs. everybody else.

The ambiguity is increased by the fact that each of these terms can either A.) be purely geographical, or B.) denote a broader cultural traditional which is assumed to characterize the given region.

I've mentioned before that I am extremely dubious of the idea that there is some kind of unified "Western culture" which includes everybody from the Ancient Greeks up through the modern US, but people's usage of "the West" tends to take the existence of such a culture as presupposition.

Anyway, the point is that if you say "the West", you may or may not be including historical Greece (1-2 vs. 3-7), may or may not be including Japan and Korea (1-5 vs. 6-7), may or may not be including Eastern Europe (3-4 vs. 1, 2, 5, 6, and maybe 7, depending on time period and worldview), and may or may not be including anywhere in Latin America (4? vs. others), and may or may not be talking about cowboys (just for fun). You also may be speaking purely geographically, or using the term "Western" as synonymous with democratic and/or capitalist (6), Catholic (2), having "Enlightenment values" (3, 4), being evil (4), being rich (7), or, you know, wild cowboy ruggedness (5).

And my point is, no matter your political persuasion... do you really want all this baggage in your terminology? Do you really want to outsource your categorization scheme, your thinking, to 2000 years of telephone? I don't. That's why I don't like this term. Thankfully "the East" has mostly dropped out of usage in all the senses above—and indeed, it was always the worse of the two terms—but "the West" sadly sticks around.

Yes, I know there is no better term in many cases. There is, in particular, no word for "the set of regions including Europe and those former and current European colonies whose populations are in the majority of European descent". It would be good to have a word for this. But we don't. And thus we should come up with one.

However, we do have unambiguous terms for many of the other characteristics on this list. We have for instance:

Latin Christian and (Eastern) Orthodox Christian,

Europe, North America, South America, and Asia, and Africa. Also Western Europe, Eastern Europe, East Asia, South Asia, the Middle East, and others,

Colonial, as an adjective, as in "colonial states",

the Western bloc, the Eastern bloc, also individual adjectives like democratic, liberal, socialist, etc.

rich economies and poor economies, also adjectives like industrialized, agrarian, technicalized, etc.

And as far as I'm concerned, we should toss out the notion of "Western culture" as a coherent entity all together, because I really don't think such a thing can be shown to exist. Or rather, insofar as you believe it's a coherent entity, you have to demonstrate that. I am rather tired of the onus being placed on people who are skeptical of this notion to demonstrate that it is (at best) very slippery, rather than being placed on the people who invoke this notion to justify that it is sensible and useful.

In summary: say what you mean! Don't use polysemous terminology to package together many qualities which you have not justified as principally or necessarily co-occurring!

#society

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altraviolet · 1 year

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reader polls for Echo Garden

Every once in a while I make a poll and take the winning answer into consideration for writing Echo Garden :) Important to note that I like all the choices- I don't think setting yourself up for something you don't want to do is a good idea in a poll.

This is a long post so after the first one I'll put a cut :)

1) puns

This is the only poll I've ever made, I think, where the answer was 100% yes xD I wasn't sure if puns were Rodimus-y or not (he hates hats, for example. his tastes can be esoteric) so I asked. This is why he makes cold puns in Ch 23, Enceladia. Poll date: Mar 28, 2021 Ch 23 upload date: Aug 20, 2021

more 👇

2) spark jewels

I was trying to think of a scientific name for the spark equivalent of kidney stones and liked a few options, so I asked for opinions. The colloquial term used in Ambulon's dimension is "spark jewels," a phrase that Velocity does not know. He switches to the medical term, "lapides stellae," to which she replies "asterliths." I recall not being able to satisfactorily combine Latin and Greek words for "star" with scintill or spitha so I went with both options in the first choice. This scene is found in Ch 26, Fuel Furnace. Poll date: Nov 29, 2021 Ch 26 upload date: Dec 9, 2021

3) other rarepairs

I had a secret goal (it's not a secret anymore cuz I've told you) to put as many of my rarepairs into the fic as possible. I wanted to include more of either of the above, so let readers decide. I had a feeling Nautica/Blaster would win. I'm legit surprised Bluestreak/Hot Spot got as many votes as it did. Hmm. Looking back on this, maybe I'll try to give them another little nod before the fic ends. Anyhoo, yup, sprinkled throughout the fic are little bits of Nautica/Blaster. I like what they have. It's really loving and supportive :) Poll posted Dec 10, 2021. At that time the fic had 24 chapters.

4) liminal Cybertron

Ok ok ok, so originally, Mirage's Cybertron was a destroyed, insecticon-infested world. I actually have most of a full chapter written in this original setting- Rodimus, SW, and Mirage going back to retrieve Skywarp. I might put that scene (and other discarded scenes) up after TEG is done, if people are interested. I don't have the exact date for when I wrote the original insecticon chapter, but I was still considering it in March of 2022 because I put foreshadowing for it in Ch 29 Progress, uploaded March 3, 2022. I don't remember now what made me think of doing a sterilized world instead, and then after I thought of it, I couldn't decide which to do. I was surprised by these poll results. The poll predates when I wrote the foreshadowing chapter, so I was still thinking of doing insecticons months later... I don't remember what ultimately changed my mind, but I remember why: insecticons have been done. The chapter I originally wrote was exciting and there were parts I was sorry to put aside, but a desolate, haunting, sterilized Apple store world was appealing because it hasn't been done before (as far as I know). I think people really liked the aesthetic and horror feel of it, so I'm glad I made the change =) Poll posted Jan 6, 2022 We first see 2938 Cybertron close up in Ch 39: Firelove Part 2: The After Burner, posted March 19, 2023.

5) Most Recents Club storytime

I honestly couldn't decide who to have tell a story at the club, Ambulon or Trailbreaker, so I had readers choose. Ambulon was chosen, so we got some of his background story in Ch 30, Distress Call. I thought his story was hilarious. I laughed a lot while writing it. I suspect readers didn't find it as funny, though, as iirc only one person wrote about it in comments xD Poll posted March 6, 2022 Ch 30 posted April 25, 2022

6) ruining a big moment

I've posted about this one before, but I'll put it here for posterity. This refers to the use of the ᕕ(⌐■_■)ᕗ ♪♬ in Ch 43 Firelove Part 6 The Shattering. The original scene was supposed to be very heavy and dramatic. The After Burner fleeing a bursting and breaking Cybertron, everyone beat up and kinda shocked after the encounter with Megatron. But ahhhhhhh the idea of including the emoji got the better of me. I wanted to do it! So badly! But I didn't know if it would be good for the chapter! So I had readers choose, lol. People seem to like it a lot so I'm glad it went in xD Poll posted March 29, 2023 Ch 43 posted Sept 10, 2023

That's it for now! Thanks for reading =)

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two-hands-toward-the-sun · 10 months

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Hi! I was thinking Prompt 31 for Calliope/Gault 💕

Hi! Thank you SO much for your patience in waiting for this prompt fill!! 😅 It turned out longer than I thought it would—turns out I had more to say about this ship than I expected. I really hope you like it, and thank you so much for such an interesting pairing!!

*lovingly tosses another femslash rarepair into the pile*

Calliope was still humming as she and Gault walked down the rain-slick street away from the school, Calliope holding an umbrella over the two of them.

“It’s catchy, isn’t it?” Gault said, sounding amused. “Isaac’s dreams have been full of the soundtrack for weeks.”

“I imagine it would be inescapable in the dreams of humans,” said Calliope.

“The Addams Family is hardly the worst of it.” Gault shuddered. “Not a single entity in the Dreaming can stand Hamilton anymore.”

Gault and Calliope had just finished watching a performance at a high school in the United States. They’d worked together to inspire a teenager: a senior who had yearned to audition every year of his high school career but had never worked up the courage until it was his last chance. Gault would take Calliope with her into Isaac’s dreams, and there the two of them would weave dreamscapes imbued with Calliope’s magic and crafted by the touch of Gault’s skillful hands.

This and numerous other collaborations had come about because of a chance encounter at the Viña del Mar International Song Festival in Valparaíso. Calliope had been looking over who stood near her in the sea of audience members, and her gaze caught on a woman wearing a peacock blue halter top. It could have been a trick of the lights in the amphitheatre but…Calliope could have sworn the woman’s skin glowed.

Calliope had never been queen of the Dreaming, not in the way Oneiros had offered to her. She had her own purview, she’d told him, her own area of expertise. She did not crave another. She had no desire for crowns or titles. But she had still spent considerable time there, and she certainly knew how one of the Dreaming’s residents moved, spoke, held their chin.

So, when the festival concluded, she’d fallen into step beside the woman as the massive crowd funnelled toward the exits. The commotion would hide any indiscreet phrasing. She dipped her head close to the woman’s ear. “You are from the Dreaming, aren’t you?”

The woman’s head twisted sharply in Calliope’s direction, her dark eyes wary. “Who are you?” Immediately Calliope had been struck by the resonance of her voice. From just those three words, she’d wanted to hear more.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you. I am Calliope. One of the Greek Muses.”

The suspicion slid from the woman’s shoulders. “Calliope. Oh, they remember you fondly in the Dreaming,” she said, teeth flashing in a smile. “I didn’t recognise you. I wasn’t created until after your…involvement, with Dream. I’m younger than many of the other Major Arcana.”

Impressed, Calliope said, “You’re one of the Major Arcana?” It was not a title to be bestowed frivolously. The woman seemed to recognise the respect in Calliope’s voice, and her smile grew wider.

“Yes. My name is Gault.” And for a moment, Calliope caught the glimmer of iridescent wings raised behind Gault’s back.

“Gault,” Calliope said, trying out the new name on her tongue. “It is lovely to meet you.”

That had been the beginning of their friendship. Initially, they’d each been curious about how their work could complement the other’s. But after some weeks, they no longer needed a collaboration as an excuse to spend time in each other’s company. They shared meals and stories, discussions and analyses, walks and even a flight or two—Gault with her gleaming butterfly wings, Calliope in the form of a sparrow. Gault had rapidly become very, very dear to Calliope.

“Where do you think you’ll go next?” Gault asked Calliope now. She knew Calliope never stayed too long in one place these days.

“Somewhere with warmer temperatures,” Calliope answered at once, and Gault laughed, bumping Calliope’s shoulder playfully with her own.

“Your poor Mediterranean sensibilities.”

“Gault,” Calliope began firmly, “your body is made entirely of dreamstuff. You have not the slightest idea what it is like to be predisposed toward one climate or another.”

Gault laughed again, head tilting back, and Calliope found her gaze drawn to the apples of her cheeks, the exquisite roundness of her features. “Forgive me, goddess.”

They fell into a companionable silence as the rain pattered down onto Calliope’s umbrella. They were in their own little bubble underneath its shield. Without conversation to divert her, Calliope’s thoughts turned back to the musical. But not the soundtrack, this time. No, what captured Calliope now were thoughts of Gault and Isaac.

By now, Calliope had a reasonably good grasp on the kinds of dreamers that Gault gravitated towards. Isaac, she thought with a squeeze of fondness, was a typical case: a young human who dreamt of being other than what he had always been. He was a reserved, unassuming student, without the resources for voice or dancing training many of his theatre-inclined peers had. He had the drive, quiet but burning within his chest. All he needed was one final push of encouragement to bring himself to audition. And Gault was there to offer it. Gault’s kindness, steadfastness, passion for her dreamers’ futures and their own ability to control those futures: it was all so brilliantly on display as Calliope worked at her side.

Calliope had always seen people’s creations as facets of their own selves, was drawn to people according to the work of their hands and hearts. And Gault created beautiful, powerful things for the dreamers she held so dear.

The two of them were now walking down a street lined with shops. Gault paused to examine the front window of one, an arrangement of art prints, maps, journals, the like. The storefront was well lit, and just as the first time Calliope had seen her, the light found Gault and reflected off of her, and she became utterly luminous.

And staring at Gault now, Calliope knew.

The words escaped her mouth in a low murmur, almost lost in the rain. “I love you.”

Gault half-turned toward Calliope, her attention still mostly on the display window. “Did you say something, Calliope?”

Calliope’s pulse rushed in her ears. She could take it back. It wasn’t too late to shy away.

But it was not in her nature to not speak her mind. In all her years, after all the ways life had bruised her, no blow had ever been able to rob her of that.

So she said again, louder this time, “I love you.”

Gault whipped around. Shock flashed across her face, and then it softened into…Calliope’s fingers tightened around the umbrella’s handle. It looked like—

It looked like—

They were already so close together under the umbrella. Gault’s eyes shone so, so brightly. Calliope read tenderness in them, read affection, read love. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” Calliope whispered. With her free hand, she reached forward and dared to rest it on Gault’s waist. A feather-light touch. If Gault breathed deeply the simple movement alone would dislodge Calliope’s hand. But she didn’t.

“Again.”

“I love you.”

It was so easy, then. For Calliope to dip her head forward, for Gault to meet her halfway. Gault’s mouth moved plush and warm against Calliope’s, and involuntarily Calliope’s fingers dimpled deeper into Gault’s waist, grounding herself. Gault might be a dream, but she still felt so vibrantly real beneath Calliope’s hand, against her lips.

The rain sang down around them.

When they drew apart, Gault was smiling again, and not even her own shimmering skin could compare to that radiance.

#they met at la festival de viña del mar. i have the biggest brain ever #gault the sandman #calliope the sandman #prompt fills #asks #calligault #<- there i’ve declared a ship name #sunbreak writes

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skelitinonmyback · 1 year

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strawberries cherries: i

pairing: Kylo Ren x fem!reader

synopsis: You take the chance to give a stranger your phone number but what happens when you go into work the next day to discover that he's your new boss?

chapter warnings: allusions to sex, mean! kylo

series masterlist

You always get stuck at this part when grocery shopping, which red fruit was going home with you today? Why can’t you just get both? You remind yourself how unlikely it would be for you to be able to finish both of them before the week is out and you hate making produce rot and go to waste. It really shouldn’t be that big of a deal but you balance them in your hands as if you're weighing the balance of the world with your hands. The glossy red of your ballet flats matched the hue of the cherries in your left hand. Wow, that’s really how your decisions get influenced, the color of your shoes. The more you think about it, the more you remember that cherries are a messy fruit. Was that the vibe for this week?

You were so engrossed in your mental debate you didn’t notice someone behind you trying to get to the strawberries you were hogging. The sound of a low voice clearing their throat made you jump, almost popping open the container of strawberries in your right hand. Hands came to your shoulders to steady you from your jump sending a tingle down your spine as you gauge how large the hands of this stranger were.

“I’m sorry, miss, I wasn’t trying to scare you,” a tumble of words came from above your head. “I’m just trying to get to these strawberries you find so hypnotizing.”

You turn around, met with the wide chest of a very well fit man. Tilting your head up you see just about the most handsome man you’ve seen that wasn’t a celebrity. He had long, wavy black hair and a cute set of moles that made you feel the urge to draw a line with your finger to connect even though you don’t know the guy. He had a long, strong nose that got wider towards the base that gave him a Greek God appearance balanced with soft brown eyes and a thich set of lashes. He looked smart, strong, and powerful. Like he spent every moment of his day advising hundreds of people on how to make millions.

Realizing that you were gawking at him, your face flushed and you adverting your eyes and stepped to the side to give him space. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to block them,” you whispered, losing any confidence you gained. But damn, you couldn’t let a man like this go to waste. Once in a lifetime opportunity, right?

Deciding to be a little braver, you straighten your shoulders and look him in the eye. “I’m sort of faced with the decision of a lifetime. Mind helping me out?” There’s no harm in flirting with a stranger, there’s a strong chance you’ll never see him again, if he wasn’t interested it wouldn’t harm you. These were the phrases running through your head as you started to instantly regret asking for this kind man's help.

His eyebrows raised in surprise, not expecting the person so enthralled by berries to be a flirt. Don’t get him wrong, he was very attracted to you and the only thing behind his eyes was the play by play of everything he wanted to do. He was avoiding connections like that recently though, focused on taking over the company his mentor just stepped down from. However, there’s no harm in humoring a stranger, right? He’s been craving some spice in his life too. With a glint of mischief in his eye, he sighed a faux, heavy sigh. “The life changing decisions always happen at the grocery store, don’t they?” Then with a smirk, he continues, “How can I help you?”

“I can’t seem to decide if I want the strawberries or the cherries more,” you huff with a pout. What he would do to run his tongue along your pouty lips. “I do really like strawberries but the cherries match my shoes.”

He brought his hand to his chin and furrowed his brows, determined to help you with this decision and you swore it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. “Well, personally I’m getting some strawberries. However, the fact that your shoes match the cherries does make me want to get some too,” the humorous tone in his voice made you smile brightly, glad that admitting such a stupid thing to him improved the interaction. “So this depends, do you like to get messy?” The question seemed innocent enough but the way he leaned down towards you made you flush and your confident exterior began to crumble.

“Cherries it is, then,” you practically whispered with a tremor in your voice and handed the strawberries you were holding onto to him. The plastic of the box was shaking with your hands and you were so embarrassed he could see just how nervous he made you. He even brought his other hand to catch your trembling one as he took the fruit from you with a curt thank you. The feeling of his hand against yours set fire throughout your entire body and you frown settled on your face as he pulled away.

You cough a little, trying to calm yourself down, and reach for the pen and sticky notes you keep in your bag for shopping trips and copy down your phone number. “Here, take this. Just in case you need help finishing off those strawberries.”

He grabbed your wrist with one hand and used the other to take the sticky note from you slowly. With his hand still holding onto you he said, “Or maybe I’ll need a little mess.” The way your eyes widened, lips parted, and cheeks darkened made him silently curse himself. Now he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about the vulgar things he wanted to do to you. His grip tightened before he let go, swiftly turning around and walking away with your number and strawberries.

Oh my God.

Did that really happen to you? Since when do you hand your number out to strangers? You never even flirt with anyone. That’s why you’ve never had a genuine relationship, besides that two month situationship senior year of college. He wasn’t just the only relationship, but the only ANYTHING. God, you’re so embarrassed how easily that five minute interaction made you so weak.

Shaking off your nerves you continue your shopping with a grin on your face. Despite your embarrassment, you can’t help but be proud of yourself, finally stepping out of your comfort zone. As you repeated the scene in your head, you realized you forgot to ask for his name in all of your nervousness.

—

You wince at the high pitched ringing coming from your phone. It’s the next morning, after a long night of restless sleepand consistent checks to your messages, hoping to hear from the tall brunette you mentally dubbed “Cherry Guy.” You rush to your phone as you remember you’re waiting to hear from the certain boy from the day before. Much to your disappointment, you didn’t see anything new in your messages except from your coworker and only friend. God it’s too early to be thinking about work.

Poe: are you so excited to meet the new boss?!?!?

As much as you’ve convinced yourself you were alone in this life, Poe weasled his way into your life after you first arrived to the city after attending college in Boston. You guys work together as programmers in an up and coming tech company, First Order. You guys bonded over thinking the company's name was strangely unappealing and your love (slash addiction) for film, always seeing new releases together. As much as you wish you could disappear sometimes, it was a comfort to know someone out there would worry for you. With no siblings and a few aunts and uncles that had no clue you even existed until after your parents died in that fire your sophomore year of high school, it was nice that you had someone to fall back on.

You: i just hope he doesn’t try to put trackers in our bags like snoke did…

Poe: lmao i dont knooow i’ve heard he’s pretty hot. you might change your mind

A hot boss is the last thing you need right now. This drought you’ve been in has left you absolutely feral, ready to jump the bones of anyone that gives you the slightest bit of attention. Explaining why you so desperately gave your number to some rando who obviously wasn’t going to text you. Gahhh. Why do you even try? It’s not like people have ever really liked you. Besides that blip in college, no one has really shown interest in you. In their defense, you never really tried or put yourself out there but still. The toll of not dating, ladies and gentlemen.

Whatever, you need to rid your mind of him. There were plenty of 6’3, handsome, brunette, brown eyes, broad, strong legged-

Ok, you’re getting carried away and there’s someone who didn’t want to eat cherries with you wanting a text back.

You: lmao i’ll believe it when i see it

wtvr see u in a few

You locked your phone and threw it on your bed, stood yourself up, and mentally prepared yourself for the draining day ahead, guaranteed by the notion of getting a new boss.

You started with your regular skincare routine, but after looking at yourself in the mirror for longer than a minute you decided to do a face mask. Just to add some extra glow, not because of the possibility of meeting a hot new person. As you continued onto your makeup routine you suddenly decided that the skin tint wouldn’t cut it for you and instead you needed extra concealer, and darker lipstick, and maybe just a little longer wing on your eyeliner. You had to hold yourself back before you got too out of hand and your everyday look became a drag look.

You look at the time and curse yourself for taking so damn long focusing on your physical appearance over a man you’ve never even met and wouldn’t have a chance with anyway because he was your boss.

The thought of it however made you blush and your stomach twirl. The idea of forbidden romance has always been so sexy to you. Like even though you deny it, you 100% watch 50 Shades of Gray like the rest of America. And my god, you thought that it was the hottest thing ever. Toxic, sure but the TENSION.

Pulling yourself together with only 10 minutes to get dressed and get to the train, you rushed together the most basic office attire without really looking at it. Just a matching grey skirt and blazer combo with a white dress shirt underneath, not noticing the rip up the side. You hurriedly grab your phone and purse before skating out of the apartment and running doen the 10 flights of stairs in your walk up, laundry in unit. After a brisk two minute jog in heels you see your savior, the green subway stair sign. You made it with 30 seconds to spare. Definitely an adjustment, but still you finally feel a part of New York, these 7 years later. You even memorized how much time your usual subway trip was so you could take a quick power nap and get up right in time to get to your stop.

Speaking of, those 8 minutes have passed and it’s time to rush in. You weren’t late by the standards of the general population, but you’ve ingrained in your brain that being early was on time, on time was late, and late made you useless. Therefore, you always arrive at every schedule in your life at least 10 minutes early. Right now you were pushing 5 minutes and that was enough to make you spiral.

You forced your way against the flow of foot traffic to reach the revolving doors of the First Order building. You run to the elevator and press the close door button probably about 50 thousand times before it finally closed. That was the most nerve wracking elevator ride of your life. You don’t remember elevators taking that long. Alas, eventually the ride did end and you made your way to your computer among the rows and rows of them. Right in his place, Poe was sat at the computer next to yours with a coffee in hand just for you.

“You almost had me worried there, you weren’t here an hour early I thought something happened,” he teased you with a little smirk and handed you your coffee.

“Oh shut up, I’m never that early,” you rolled your eyes. You take the coffee into your hands and your eyes started to dart around. “Have you seen him yet?”

“Oh no I don’t think so. I still don’t know what he looks like, all I know is that his name is Kylo Ren. Why, is that what all that makeup is for? And here I was thinking it was for me.” Oh Poe, always the teaser. It was fucking obnoxious.

As if on queue the elevator doors started to open up behind you before you could respond.

In fade, Poe’s voice continues into your ear, “Oh that’s so funny that must be him, and they were not wrong in saying he’s eye candy. If he invited me into his office…”

You toned Poe out when you turned towards the elevator to make eye contact with the last man you thought you would ever see again.

Fucking Cherry guy.

There was absolutely no way that the drop dead gorgeous man you offhandedly flirted with (something you NEVER do) that never texted or called was your new boss. Absolutely not. You refuse to accept this progression in the storyline of the ironic comedy of your life.

You realized that what you were doing was becoming a lot less like looking and more like oggling. Widening your eyes a little, you try to shake yourself from the trance you were stuck in and look back at Poe like you had just seen a ghost. With a shaky breath, you sat down in your chair and stared at your keyboard as you began to contemplate all that has happened to you in the span of one minute. God fucking damn it. Everything was going to be fine. You just need to remain professional, calm. You were here to do a job and by golly you would be good at it and try not to think about how bad you wanted to mount one your new boss’ thighs and just-

NO! This was not work thinking, this was midnight in your bed with your hand between your thighs thinking.

Your name being repeated to your left became more apparent the second someone’s hand touched your shoulder, causing you to practically jump out of your skin. “Woah, hey are you alright? You look a little pale,” Poe had his lips pursed with concern as he looked at you.

You blinked for a few beats before shaking your head slowly, then nodding, not really sure what the correct response was. “Yeah, no. Well, I mean, yeah. Yes. Yes, I am alright, a-okay. Yeah,” cringing inwardly with every yeah and yes that came from your lips.

Unconvinced, Poe opened his mouth to try and get the truth out of you but before you could, the low bass of Kylo Ren’s voice at the end of your row cut him off. From the looks of it, he was going down each row, personally introducing himself to everyone, which shocked you to your core. Not that you worked for a big company, there were probably only about 20 of you in the entire office, including the front receptionist and the VP, Artimage Hux.

Lost in your confusion, you realized just how much larger his frame became in your vision as he had jumped from all the way down the row to two people to your right. Then suddenly he was at Poe, and you had to start preparing yourself. You wiped your hands on your skirt, not wanting to touch this very handsome man with clammy hands. Before you know it he was wrapping up his conversation with Poe and you were already moving, slowly standing up and drawing your dominant hand away from your skirt, ready for the best hand shake of your life. Ren started to move away from Poe, towards you and-

…past you. Mother Fucker just walked past you, not even sparring you a glance. Instead he made his way to the front of the room, where the doors to his office, conference room, and copier room were.

Clasping his hands together, he projected to the back of the room, “Hi again, everyone. It has been the utmost pleasure to be able to meet all of you. In, let’s say, 5 minutes, meet me in the conference room for a development meeting. Think of some things you think can be improved from when… Snoke was in charge.” He hesitated before saying Snoke’s name. Weird. Without anything else, he turned into the conference room while everyone else got ready.

“Hey,” Poe grabbed at you. “Do you know what that was all about?”

You pouted and just shook your head. You truly didn’t understand why he would just gloss over you like that. Was your interaction in the grocery store really that bad? There wasn’t time for thinking about that right now. You collected your phone and laptop and you followed the last couple of stragglers into the conference room. When you walked in, the only chair open was in the very front row, right infront of where Kylo was standing. Trying to keep a calm exterior, you took that seat with your head down, hoping he couldn’t see you.

He was saying something about wanting this to be an open forum, but also wanting to make sure everyone who wanted their voice heard so to please raise your hand. The more people who went the more you thought about what you wanted to improve. Snoke would do this incredibly annoying thing where he would call people in during non working hours to get a start and some random project he just thought of. If you said you couldn’t or if you were busy, he would threaten to fire you or dock your pay. Since no one else was bringing it up, it fell on you to talk about it so you slowly slid your hand up into the air.

After a few minutes of having it up, Kylo never acknowledged you. Another two people were called on before you were the only person with your hand up left. But instead of calling on you, Ren just sighed. “Alright last call for anyone to suggest anything.”

Losing hope, you started to lower your hand. Whatever, you thought, it wasn’t that important anyway.

But, behind you, the sound of your lovely friend piqued. “Um she’s had her hand up for the past 10 minutes.”

With the heaviest of sighs, as if he just found his car robbed, Kylo grumbled, “Yes, fine. Miss…?”

You muttered your name with a small ‘sir’ attached to the end of it. Giving a pause for him to maybe correct himself by confirming your name, but alas you were met with silence. With a shaky breath, you continued, “Well, um Snoke would call us into work during off times, and uh that gave us a poor work life balance…”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking of me, miss,” he responded condicendingly. Before you could explain yourself further he continued to humiliate you, “I can’t promise you that I won’t need more assistance when you're off the clock. Frankly, if you’re trying to make it known that you refuse to put in extra work, go the extra mile, then maybe we should renegotiate your business with the company, Miss.” This time he hissed out your first name with the miss attached. “Was that all?”

Too scared to say anything, you just nodded, more focused on the way your shoes matched the carpet as you swallowed the tears that climbed up your throat.

“Everyone’s dismissed.”

—

You delved yourself into the work on your computer to distract yourself from the ordeal that happened earlier in the conference room. You have never been so utterly humiliated in your entire life infront of all of your coworkers. As angry as you were, because best believe you were angry, part of you couldn’t help but feel it was somewhat erotic.

You hadn’t realized it was quitting time until Poe shook you away from your computer, letting you know it was ten after. You shook your head and reassured him that he was fine to leave, that you just wanted to finish up what the development you were working on. In reality you wanted to make sure you left after Ren did, to guarantee you wouldn’t have to see him again. You would probably cry real tears if he decided to make another comment infront of your coworkers.

Apparently, he had the same plan, because as you stood waiting for the elevator, Kylo came walking up behind you, distracted by something on his phone. So there goes you, master genius, palms sweaty at the notion of having to speak to him.

He felt another presence at the elevator, which surely couldn’t be possible since it was 5:25. When he looked up, confused as to who else could possibly still be here, he saw you. And he walked away. He genuinely just pivoted and made a beeline for the stairs. It was almost comical.

Too offended to think about self preservation, you ran after him. He was more willing to walk down the fifteen flights of stairs then stand with you for two minutes in an elevator. It was getting to be too much.

“Excuse me, Mr. Ren? Excuse me!” you called after him, slamming the door behind you. Your knees felt like they could give out at any moment when you jogged doen the flight of stairs to get to the landing he was on.

His shoulders sagged as he cursed at himself for waiting, not knowing you had the same plan. “What?” venom laced in his voice as he whipped around towards you.

“Is this really how you’re going to treat me for the rest of my employment here?” you sighed, sounding more defeated then you intended to. “I understand I came on too strong when we met the other day and that you don’t have any interest in me. However, ignoring me and humiliating me infront of my peers is uncalled for.” Your face burned with embarrassment when you had to bring up your previous encounter that seemed to make him hate you.

He didn’t find you unattractive. On the contrary actually. He was completely enamoured by you. He didn’t text or call because he had to commit himself to this job to be the best version of himself he could be. The only reason he was ignoring you was because he was convinced if he looked at you for too long he wouldn’t be able to control himself. Even now, being so close to you, he was forcing himself to look away from you. “Fine, I’ll stop. Is that all?” His voice was tense, not trusting himself to describe just how much you plagued his thoughts.

“Um, yes,” suddenly feeling meek again. He didn’t deny how disgusting he thought you were. Hmm. “Actually, I’m sorry, sir. Please take the elevator. I can’t in good conscience let you walk all these stairs to get away from you.”

So, with hesitation and zero words, he stalked behind you into the elevator that suddenly felt like it shrunk two sizes. It was the most awkward elevator ride of your life. No one said a sound, both of you hardly breathed. The only thing the two of you were thinking about was how good the other one smelled.

masterlist

#kylo ren #kylo x reader #kylo x y/n #kylo ren smut #kylo ren fanfic

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starflungwaddledee · 11 months

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omg thank you for responding to my ask!! tysm for explaining the grammar and even a bit of the culture!! my brain is rotting so much from this newfound knowledge, i might go feral :D!

i do have another question, what irl languages are you referencing from? I think you’ve said ancient greek but i’m dying to know how your brain functions when it comes to constructing this language.

i will say i love the world building you’ve done just explaining starspeak, it’s absolutely ruined my brain and i’m once again living for it!

waa i'm glad you saw the answer, thank you for sending in asks! i'm also delighted to get to share my worldbuilding and cultural headcanons... this is very nice for me!!

i did mention this before but it was quite small and attached in this image which i now realise i didn't put an ID on. so i'll rehash that and explain a little better!

under a cut because no art just text wall, rip;;

i'm referencing predominantly modern greek, because translating back-and-forth with ancient greek is a bit harder and in my quick attempts required more dictionary flipping than i felt like doing for something which is just for fun in my free time. i can and have done it for certain phrases- especially ones that are older even by Celestial standards- but it's mostly modern greek and occasionally a tiny bit of arabic.

i was inspired by naming conventions for stars and cosmic entities on earth, and the general bastardisation of languages that occurs with the proper names of stars

and oooo aaahhg whuuughh i wish i could say I did something really cool and thoughtful, but if i'm being honest with you the bastardisation "process" i go through for this is translates several words in the vicinity of what i want >> mashes them together >> makes them have the vibe i like 😂

(i reckon this would look like absolute hell to anyone who actually speaks/reads these languages though, so again I'm profoundly sorry for that omg;; there's also a very good chance there are overlaps with other languages, or that some of these made-up words might translate for others in ways i can't predict or always catch. i originally designed this only for fun and personal use and never imagined anyone else would be interested in it, so it's a bit of a hot and self-indulgent mess haha)

there are a few words that i've formed which now affect the basis of other words and don't require any further translation of bastardising.

for instance asté for "star" appears very frequently; as you might imagine. another is the diminutive ró which can be added onto or into most other phrases to imply that something is small; ie astéróki (small star).

other aspects- like the existence of formal reverse possessives, or question particles (like you would find in mandarin chinese)- are just ways i think language can be really varied and interesting! i guess i just think there's no reason that alien languages would be formed with the same structures as earth english in particular so if i have the opportunity to do Not That then i do!

#i hope the fact that i am not actually Very Cool And Creative does not lessen your enthusiasm for the language or worldbuilding 😂#asks #starspeak #my worldbuilding

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error404-witch-not-found · 2 months

Note

Hey. Wondering if you have insight for beginners in Greek, self-teaching. I'm breaking ice with Duolingo, but can tell I'll need more. I'm looking to be able to read, and maybe sing along with basic songs.

I'm gonna be honest with you, I don't actually know anything about Greek. It was offered at my school but sadly not to my grade. The posts (1)(2) I'm using for the Delphic maxims has the Greek translations attached. I wouldn't put all my trust in the translations, since I found an error in the one for this morning, but I'm running off of the assumption that they're vaguely right.

I can try to give you some general tips though!

1) Even if you can't sing along, listen to songs in Greek, it'll help you start to pick out words and learn them. Especially if you can find slower songs. When I was learning French I would listen to a bunch of songs in that language and as I learned the words I'd look up the translations of the songs. It helped me associate the meaning of the words with the lyrics.

2. See if you can find some books in Greek. Preferably children's books. They're targeted at children beginning to learn the language so they're perfect for anyone trying to learn a new language.

3) Start a journal in Greek. If you don't know a word you want to use, then you can look it up and learn it! Don't worry too much about sentence structure and grammar, you'll get there eventually. The point of this isn't perfection, it's practice. Even if it's not your goal to write in Greek, writing with it will strengthen the word associations in your head.

4) Maybe see if you can get a friend for accountability and conversations! Honestly if you can't find anyone, I'd be willing to. I'd love to learn Greek and I do have Duolingo. If you want to be friends on there just lmk!

5) Try to think in Greek. I was learning Spanish for a bit and once I knew enough to make basic phrases I would use the Spanish ones instead of thinking it in English. My most common one was "donde estas mi telefono?" (Where is my phone?)

6) Last tip, figure out how you learn best. I learn best with flash cards. You may learn best by writing things down, hearing things said, imagining it in your head, etc. Figure out what works for you and run with it.

I really hope this helps. Again, if you need a friend to do it with you just let me know! I'd love to learn Greek :)

(I mentioned learning two languages and I'd just like to say that I am not near fluent in them. I never kept up well with them :'D )

#ask

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masterwords · 1 year

Text

the shape you take

Summary: Hotch is sad. Jack is just about to turn 18, Hank is spending the summer with his mom and he's dwelling on the empty nest. Morgan has just the ticket: sea, sand, food and naps. Fun in the sun and the sack. While exploring a nude beach one night they find a little more than they bargained for. (Part of The Chicago Times series)

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 8.8k

Warnings: sex (not explicit details, just "hey they're having sex" type thing), food & alcohol, mentions of Foyet’s knife, scars (both of them), murder/corpse/blood, an inappropriate boner situation...

Read on AO3: the shape you take

Notes: This is my first entry for @imagining-in-the-margins CM Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge. I used one of the NSFW prompts but this is basically PG-13 because I don’t really write smut, just some sexy vibes. The prompts I chose were: Character A finally convinces B to go to the beach with them. Turns out it's a nude beach mixed with The sun makes Characters sleepy, so they take a nap. (They take a lot of naps. They're old.) There are a couple more from the list that I hope to write for before the challenge is finished, but we’ll see where the summer takes me! The end here is purposely left open for a special surprise...another collab with @domestikhighway58! Because writing with hwy58 is a dream and I want to do it all the time. To be unveiled soon-ish. (How's that for noncommittal?) (I'm posting the whole thing here, I haven't done that in a while...do you want me to go back to that or keep just linking AO3?)

Win by persuasion, not by force.

All spring Derek had been dropping hints. Little ones at first. He would add feta cheese to salad one night at dinner, or watch Hercules with Hank when he knew Aaron was going to be coming home from work or a run. Nothing big, but he knew Aaron would pick up on it eventually.

As they approached summer, the tactics became a little less subtle. There was a brochure stuck to the freezer, and a bottle of Greek red wine opened after dinner on Derek’s last day of work for the summer. Aaron had been done a week earlier. They waited to celebrate until everyone was finished and on summer break.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” Aaron asks, pouring the wine and watching the boys set the table. Hank likes to fold the napkins while Jack sets out the silverware. Too many years separate them and yet Jack has been drawn closer to him in the last few months as he realizes how close he is to moving out, not seeing his little brother every day. He’d waited years to have one and it feels like it’s over way too soon. He wants to go to college in New York, but Hank makes him want to stay in Chicago instead. The thought of not being here, of missing big milestones, is crushing. Some small part of him thinks he knows how his dad must have felt missing his milestones for work – first words, first steps, first day of school, first everything. He’s going to move to New York and he’s going to miss all sorts of big moments.

“I’m not trying to tell you anything,” Derek replies, scooting between the counter and Aaron, pressing in so close they barely have room to breathe. “I am telling you something.”

“When?” Aaron asks, because he knows better than to ask stupid questions. If Derek has the brochure and he’s laying it on this thick, he’s already booked the trip. And that’s okay, because Aaron spent too many years in complete control of everything and watching it all fall spectacularly to pieces...he’s shockingly willing to go with the flow these days.

At least to some degree.

“Jack leaves for New York on the 19th, Savannah’s picking Hank up on the 22nd, and my mom and sisters leave on the 25th. So, we’re leaving on the 25th. We’ll drive them to the airport and then hop on a plane ourselves.”

“When do we come back?”

“I booked the hotel for two weeks but...let’s just play it by ear huh?”

Play it by ear. That phrase would have struck fear into Aaron’s heart a few years ago. Sometimes he still feels like he’s going to make plans and then get a phone call that pulls him back to the BAU. It’s a hard habit to break even after all of these years.

“Two weeks in Greece. Where?”

“We’ll fly to Athens, spend a few days there, and then take the ferry over to Milos. I booked us an ATV rental so we can go wherever we want. We can do some day trips to other islands, go hang out on Crete and do all your nerdy shit...plus beaches, food, hiking, nightlife. Our room on Milos has its own private saltwater pool.”

“Private?” Aaron likes the sound of private. He’s not very interested in all that nightlife type stuff but a private pool? That he can get behind. Of course, if Derek asked him to dance he could hardly turn him down.

“I’ll show you pictures after dinner.”

Jack’s going to be 18 in a few months. This is his last summer of high school. He’s decided to skip sports and summer camps in lieu of spending two months living with Sean who has done good things with his life in his time since being released from jail. Sean who has earned, in Aaron’s eyes, his shot at redemption. What Aaron learned as a young teenager being packed off to boarding school, Sean had to learn through just over three years in a small cell, stripped of his liberties. Better late than never. Jack is old enough now to handle himself anyway, he’s more than proven his own responsibility in their years living in Chicago. He drives all over the city, he doesn’t break curfew, he’s really a little too good. It scares Aaron sometimes that he’s not out there causing trouble. Giving them hell. Just another way he thinks he’s broken his son.

He knows that isn’t the case though. Since Jack turned twelve, he’s had Derek and Fran and Sarah and Desiree and Savannah. He’s always had Jessica and Roy, he never doubted his mother’s love for an instant. His support system is full of incredible strength. Aaron knows that even if he’s failed, none of them have. But this trip to Greece, he can tell it’s Derek’s way of trying to pull him out of this spiral he’s sauntering into. This deep well of sadness at his son growing up and moving out, this empty feeling that he’s losing the last part of Haley that was never his to keep in the first place.

“What are you hiding?” Jack asks over dinner. He can tell they’re sitting on something. They’re terrible at keeping secrets.

“Not hiding anything,” Derek says, handing Hank his plate full of cut up steak and salad. “I just told your dad where I’m taking him for summer vacation.”

Jack rolls his eyes and huffs, visibly relieved. “Finally. I thought you’d have to take him all the way to the airport for him to get it.”

“I had a lot going on,” Aaron says a little defensively. It isn’t like he didn’t see Derek’s hints, but his mind was simply not present enough to try and guess why Derek was going crazy for Greece. “Final exams, your trip to New York…”

“Dad.”

Aaron throws his hands up in exasperation and smiles. “Take it easy on your old man. This is a hard time.”

Jack stops at that, he knows the idea of him moving out is killing his dad slowly. They’ve been on their own together for so long now he’s a little scared himself. “Well, you guys have to send tons of pictures.”

“Of course.”

Aaron cries when he hugs Jack goodbye at the airport. He manages to wait until Jack is far enough away that he doesn’t see it, but Jack knows it’s happening, he knows his dad cries easily so he doesn’t turn around. He saves him the trouble of trying to hide it. And he calls the minute his plane lands at JFK to let his dad know he’s safe and just as planned (and on time), Sean is waiting for him.

Savannah shows up a day early unannounced, her flight was changed due to weather. She sleeps in Jack’s room and spends a little more time in the city with family than expected. It’s a nice surprise for them all, and keeps Aaron from feeling too gutted at Jack’s absence. Having a full house means he’s making coffee and planning meals and making sure everyone is taken care of, it hardly leaves him any time at all to worry about whether Jack is getting into trouble in New York. (He’s not. Nothing too bad anyway. Sean might have encouraged him to live a little...but they’ll keep that to themselves. Sean is reformed, he’s no angel.)

When Savannah takes Hank, and it’s just the two of them for a few days, they spend their time preparing their house to sit empty for weeks. They have people lined up to come check on things, get the mail, mind the yards but for the most part it’ll just sit. They pack their bags and eat off of paper plates in the days leading up to their trip. They empty their cupboards and refrigerator. It feels like working in the BAU, never being able to keep anything perishable on hand just in case. Aaron always joked that it was incredible that none of them ended up with scurvy.

At the airport, they walk Derek’s mom and sisters to their gate. Off to Hawaii, a vacation paid for by he and Aaron. A sort of thank you for taking care of them, for helping with Hank, for everything. “All inclusive means all inclusive, mom,” Derek says as he wraps her in a hug. “You put on the little bracelet and you don’t pay for a damn thing. You want a piña colada? You get one. You want a meal? You get one. Don’t skimp okay?”

“Oh, believe me...I won’t be…” Desiree says with a smirk and Sarah agrees.

“Gonna make sure I drink every drop you paid for.”

“Girls!”

Fran still can’t believe she’s going to Hawaii. She’s never been on a plane that’s gone farther than Virginia. She’s never been west. She’s anxious to fly over the ocean, but more than that, she just can’t believe her son is in a place now that he’s married and buying tropical vacations for her and his sisters like it’s nothing. If you asked her where she saw her life going when her husband died and she was thrust into being a single mother struggling to survive on the south side of Chicago, this wouldn’t have ever occurred to her.

“Be safe on your trip,” she says as she hugs Aaron around the neck. “Don’t let him do anything dangerous. I don’t want any pictures of him jumping off of cliffs or swimming in the open ocean.”

“I don’t want any of that either,” Aaron says, knowing with absolute certainty that if Derek wants to do either of those things he won’t be able to stop him. He’d like to say that he wouldn’t be doing those things, but if Derek grabbed him by the hand and asked him to jump off of a cliff into the crystal blue water, or climb down off of a boat and swim in the open sea...he isn’t sure he could say no, even if he wanted to.

“Don’t let him eat too much cheese, it makes him sick,” Fran adds, still holding Aaron’s neck. He nods.

“I know.”

“And you! Don’t you worry about Jack or the house or...anything. Don’t get sunburned. Eat good food. Smile. Have fun. Make memories.”

“You too.”

(x)

He’s drunk on sunshine and the sound of waves. On blood red wine and salty, briny cheeses and oil soaked olives. Decadence never appealed to him, but being here on their private patio, his feet dangling in a small private pool and staring out at the Aegean Sea that’s about as lazy and warm as he feels right now he wonders why. Derek is sleeping on the bed just inside the sliding doors, bathing in glorious sunlight. A cat nap, he said over an hour ago. At their age a cat nap tends to turn into an afternoon lost to dreams.

They started the nap together, lazy and lounging, twisted tangled limbs and feather soft kisses as they drifted off. But he was hungry so he got up before he managed to fall completely asleep. Untangled himself from Derek’s sweaty grip and padded barefoot toward the fridge for some food. Cheese and olives left over from their breakfast, an apple sliced with some honey. He’s practically starving by the time he’s sitting on the balcony with a plate on his lap watching the seagulls and the cats battle for scraps that the tide left behind.

He’s never loved the beach. Sand gets everywhere, it smells bad, and people are rude. They rarely stay in their own areas, you have to fight for a space. Too crowded. He wonders how people find it at all relaxing. But this? Overlooking the beach from his own balcony, this is good. No sand, all ocean as far as he can see. Islands in the distance. He counts them off mentally, notes which ones they’ve already traveled to, visualizes his way through them. Storing those memories tight in there. He doesn’t want to forget a moment and he’s afraid he already has.

Beside him is a journal, just a little notebook filled with shorthand and chicken scratch, things he wants to do and things he wants to remember to tell Jack about. It calms the storm in his mind to have it all written down.

Jack is pulling away, naturally, but Aaron got a text the day before with a photo of him eating with Beth and Sean. She insisted on seeing him when she came on a work trip, and Aaron thinks she’s more beautiful than ever. He still loves her a little, he never really falls out of love with anyone. People imprint on him and he can’t let them go. It doesn’t make any difference, he knows Derek still feels the same about Savannah. It just works for them.

“How long did I sleep?” Derek’s voice floats through the room, out onto the patio on the breeze. His words are jumbled and muffled by the pillow his face is still smashed into. Aaron smiles.

“A while,” is his reply. He’s trying to let go of itineraries and timelines. He’s trying not to look at clocks at all, really. Clocks remind him of time passing and he’s better off without that on his mind. “Not too long.”

“Mmmfff…” Derek mumbles and Aaron can hear the sleep smile, the way his eyes are still closed and he’s considering whether to let himself go back to sleep or get up and rummage through the cupboards himself. His shoulders are a mountain of bronze and Aaron glances back into the room, thinks about the way they would taste, the skin salty and warm against his lips. He’s tempted to get out of the pool, and then he decides he might lay a trap instead to get Derek to come to him.

“I have a snack,” He offers. It’s almost too easy. “I might share it with you.”

“What’s the catch?” Derek asks, sitting upright and scrubbing his hands down his face. He’s sweaty, the humidity drenches his skin and he needs a shave again already. Aaron can’t take his eyes off of Derek out here, it’s like the light is in love with him, it paints him in a way that Aaron can’t resist. He’s carved from the cliffs and chiseled by the hands of the gods. Meanwhile, Aaron is pretty sure he just looks like a drowned rat. His hair, a little too long for his taste, hangs limp where it would normally be mussed up and messy against his will. An unruly mop, now tamed by humidity.

“No catch.”

“Alright, then what’s it gonna cost me?”

Aaron smiles and tilts his face to the sky expectantly. He’s waiting for Derek to appear above him. “A kiss.”

A kiss is a dangerous thing and as they slip easily into the still pool water unclothed, Aaron thinks they’re bound to end up back in the bed sooner rather than later. The water is a cool break from the oppressive heat of the afternoon sun. Aaron dunks himself first, goes under like a torpedo and slicks his hair back from his eyes when he surfaces. Derek put a headband on him the other day and on principal he hated it, but he didn’t take it off either, at least not for a while. It kept the hair out of his eyes. Derek said he looked cute. The water works just as well now. Derek stares at him in awe and smiles, thumbs smoothing over the droplets that cling to Aaron’s eyelashes.

“You are gorgeous,” he muses, hands cupping Aaron’s jaw, leaning in for a kiss. They wrap around one another, limbs tangling, turning and bouncing weightless in the aquamarine. “Do you even have any idea?”

Aaron hums. It’s a delighted sound that Derek craves, it means he’s in the mood for a little more than kissing. Moving together in unison, their bodies making ripples across the otherwise calm surface, they can’t seem to keep their hands off of each other. Aaron envisioned historical site visits and hikes, ferry trips between islands, all sorts of excursions and so far the thing he’d explored the most was the expanse of Derek’s body. With two kids at home, they don’t get as much alone time as they’d like and it’s just about all they can think to do now. They’re going to have to stay an extra week just to actually experience more than just the inside of a hotel room.

“Wanna go inside?” Derek asks, nose pressed against Aaron’s shoulder, littering kisses amid saltwater droplets. Aaron moans deep and sonorous.

“Absolutely,” he smiles, head lolling back, adam’s apple bobbing dangerously. Derek licks and bites, lifts Aaron into his arms and turns until he’s floating on his back, Aaron on top of him. He kicks and pushes them toward the steps, dipping below the surface once or twice, turning until he’s on top, acrobatics they’re old pros at a week into this hotel. Dancing in the water has become a sort of specialty. Naughty synchronized swimming. Neither of them wants to get out, the foreplay is just as fun, chilly fingers working at delicate skin, hips rocking and muscles twitching.

Inside, they dry off quickly and leap into the bed before their skin adjusts to the temperature of the room again. The sex is languorous and slow, they have nowhere to be, no one expecting them. Afterward they shower, still touching, still kissing, they almost head back to bed except they’re both starving. They come to an agreement that they need to make their way into town for dinner after discussing the possibility of one more quick fuck. It isn’t in the cards, though. Derek is about to gnaw his own arm off he says, so they dress and start their slow evening walk. The ATV sits in its spot waiting for them to take some interest in something other than sex and a walk to town.

They’ve eaten at the same restaurant the last three nights in a row, it’s never as busy as the others and the owners don’t mind the way that they want to just sit quietly and eat their way through small plates of everything with bottles of wine. They’ve tried a lot of the menu, and now the cooks are just sending the plates on the fly. Testing things out.

The owners, an elderly couple with gnarled hands and twinkling eyes the color of the Aegean, like to listen to their stories (the less terrible ones anyway, they spare them that). They look at these two men, Aaron with his salt and pepper hair that’s definitely got a lot more salt these days lighting up his temples and Derek with his goatee that’s shimmering with silver sparkles and they can’t believe they carried guns and caught serial killers. “It sounds like a movie,” one of them says in a thick accent that makes Aaron melt. “It can’t be real.”

But they have pictures. The two of them in the office, candid shots that remind them of days gone by. Days they miss with every fiber of their beings but wouldn’t repeat for anything. Days when taking a nap seemed as absurd as the sky suddenly turning bright yellow. Now, missing a nap is ludicrous. They get off work in the early afternoon and siesta before they even decide what to make for dinner. Vacation just means more naps, and it does seem crazy that there was a time in Aaron’s life that he needed to carry two weapons or that he was put in the hospital by a serial killer. It’s like a different life, a different person. He can understand why they don’t exactly believe him.

“Baba ganoush,” Derek says as soon as they sit down. It’s become his favorite food in the world since they landed in Athens. Since they made their way from Athens to Milos. He’d eat it with a spoon if that were socially acceptable, he likes it that much. And here, they drench it in olive oil and pine nuts and thick green parsley. Aaron chooses small plates of seafood that make Derek squirm in his seat, prawns with their eyes still staring at him and octopus tentacles purple and swirling and spiraling over the edge of the plate dramatically. Aaron is an adventurous eater now. He always had it in him but his job made him paranoid and sick, ulcers eating away at him from the inside. There are still plenty of days when he walks around with an ache deep in his stomach, but it’s less to do with food and more to do with how his body functions after Foyet played mad surgeon with him.

Aaron’s favorite is the fried anchovies. It’s the only thing Derek has tried that he won’t touch again. “It’s like cat food with extra salt. The bones are like little razors,” he’d said, swallowing it only because he didn’t want to be rude. He really wanted to spit it into his napkin.

Their table is full of tiny plates, dips and seafood and breads. Olive oil and bread is a constant. Derek can’t remember the last time he ate so many carbs so happily. They’ll get full and lean back, sipping their wine contentedly until there’s room and then eat a little more. Whatever doesn’t get eaten is taken back to their little hotel fridge and they’ll snack on it the rest of the night and maybe even for breakfast, though they do like wandering into town to find food for breakfast just after the sun has crested the horizon.

“So, I was thinking,” Derek says as they walk back to the hotel hand in hand. They each have a to-go box in the other hand. “You wanna go check out that ancient theater they got up on that hill? Go drop this off, grab the ATV and explore?”

“You mean leave the hotel room for more than food?” Aaron asks with mock surprise.

Aaron smiles and nods before Derek can respond. He can’t imagine anything better than absorbing more history. They’d made plenty of stops while in Athens but nothing so far here. He’s nowhere near his limit. “Leave the notebook,” Derek tells him when they drop off their food and grab a blanket. “You can write it down later.” It might be hot during the day but it gets chilly at night, the briny wind coming in off of the sea is bound to make Aaron shiver. He used to poke fun at him for how his blood seemed to run like rivers of ice, a blessing in the heat when he wants to wear his suits on a case in Florida but when they’re in Alaska and his lips are nearly blue even in his big puffy coat it’s a little problematic. He’d always run cold, but after Foyet, after his heart stopped and too much of his blood was spilled...he can’t seem to shake a chill when it settles in his bones. Here it’s only a minor inconvenience, nothing a blanket draped around his shoulders won’t fix in a snap.

The ATV ride is nice. Aaron clings to Derek’s back, relaxes against him with his hands on his hips and watches the scenery creep by. They don’t go fast, this is the most new that they’ve seen in days. He’s taking it all in.

They’re the only ones in the carved marble and stone theater for a long time. It’s just before sunset, close enough that all of the tourists have ambled away from the other sights and headed for the higher ground, the places they can get their pictures so everyone they’ve ever (or never) met can see what they see. Selfies are king and everyone wants the shot. They aren’t interested in that, they don’t even have social media. For a variety of reasons, perhaps, not the least of which is simply that they covet their privacy.

That doesn’t stop them from taking hundreds of photos, though. They just keep those photos close.

Derek takes pictures of Aaron, his aquiline profile against the glow of dawn, his feet in the sand, his thick fingers against the delicate stem of a wine glass...all of the little pieces of him that he adores so much. A former bomb tech, Derek obsesses over small details. The way the early morning sun plays with the silver at Aaron’s temples or the band-aids he’s always got over skinned knuckles and broken nails. Aaron favors a wider angle, candid shots from far away, admiring the way Derek seems to fit into the strange lunar landscape, terrain created by ancient gods. He looks crafted from their sunbeams and Aaron can’t get enough of the way the sun plays with his skin. He aims his camera as Derek splashes through waves, as he jumps from the highest rock he can find with slicing precision, as he leaps into the ocean from a small boat. He captures Derek napping on a hammock on a boat in the middle of the sea before he lays his camera down to do the same. He clicks the shutter when Derek is laughing at a story he’s being told or learning how to do something new with that intense look of determination and curiosity.

In their old age, they’re kind of obsessed with each other. And neither of them feels bad about it.

“Let’s take our clothes off and have some fun tonight,” Derek says with a slow grin. He’s not even worried Aaron is going to say no, they’re too far in now. Aaron has scaled rock cliffs for him, climbed down (and then back up) ladders and ropes and through steep canons of red rock to get to a secluded little beach. They’re sitting alone in the center of an ancient Greek theater and Aaron is so wrapped up in the idea of watching a performance or a speech here that he doesn’t even give Derek’s question any thought, he simply agrees. Fun sounds good. Fun with Derek always sounds good.

“What kind of fun?” Aaron asks curiously, already knowing that he’s going to do it regardless of the answer. He’s loosened up but he’s still Aaron Hotchner. He doesn’t like to be kept in the dark. Surprises make him uneasy. And more to the point, the idea of sex on the beach is less than appealing no matter what. It doesn’t matter that his husband is a bronze sun god, he doesn’t want sand in his mouth or his ass and that’s pretty final.

“We’re pretty close to a beach that lets you drop your trousers...go all natural...”

“Nothing too crazy. I don’t want sand inside of me but...maybe just…” he starts, ready to suggest that they start fooling around at the beach and head back to their hotel for the rest. He stops mid-sentence when an elderly couple amble past them, two rows down, hardly seeming to mind the conversation they’d been privy to moments before. They lower their voices anyway.

“Please. I did all those boring castle tours.”

“They weren’t boring,” Aaron mutters a little indignantly. Derek kisses his knuckles and smiles.

“No, they weren’t. They were awesome. I just think you’d have a great time...it’s really freeing taking your clothes off. You could use a little freeing.”

Aaron thinks about Jack going off to spend most of his summer in New York. His last summer at home as a child and he wants to be away for most of it...Aaron can hardly begrudge him that, he saved up money all year in order to do this on his own. He’ll be home next summer and they’ll spend the whole thing together as a family, doing everything and doing nothing, Jack promised him that. It’s a give and take with a grown child. But then he thinks about Jack going to college in a year and it makes his chest ache. Around that kind of tightness he thinks he can’t handle any more freedom. They still have Hank. Sweet little Hank who went from only child to youngest and is about to go back to only in many ways. His grasp of the situation is tentative at best, it’s going to be a big adjustment. Derek sees the darkening in Aaron’s eyes and pulls him close, kisses him on the temple. “I know. You don’t need more freedom. I get it. But I want you so bad I can hardly stand it…I’m your ball and chain, baby...you can’t get free of me.”

“I don’t mean to eavesdrop,” the woman says, startling both of them. The couple is now closer, standing over them from behind. Aaron freezes against Derek’s chest, mortified that these people heard them talking about their rabid libido, but he can’t be bothered for long. Her husband looks mortified. She looks pleased. She’s wearing bright blue pants and a white shirt, she’s clearly gone out of her way to match her surroundings. He can’t quite place her accent. “But I overheard you mentioning finding a...natural...beach? We go every night. You’re right, it is freeing. I’ll show you the beach we like, Harold get the map. It’s busy in the daytime but it empties in the evening. Most families head up to the church to see the sunset, leaving the beach to us.”

Aaron is mortified but Derek is beaming. “What’s your name?”

“Catherine,” she says and Aaron watches the flush in her cheeks when Derek takes her hand and kisses it. “This is my husband Harold.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Aaron says, shaking Harold’s hand.

She hands them her map and Aaron looks at it intently, though he doesn’t bother to tell her he’s already practically memorized the thing. It’s folded in his journal back at their hotel. She points to the beach and to the cove with a smile, her massive collection of gold bracelets crusted with jewels dragging and making the sound of wind chimes. She smells like peonies and roses with a faint underscore of denture cream. He likes her instantly.

“Will you be there tonight?” Derek asks. She smiles bright with her crimson painted lips and nods. Harold, a little more reserved but no less flashy in his brown suit and gold chain, gives a little shrug.

“More than likely. We just can’t stay away. You take a bottle of wine and a blanket, you find yourself a little nook and you enjoy yourself. What more could you want in life?”

Derek nudges Aaron with his elbow. “What more could you want?”

Aaron can think of a few things, perhaps, but he smiles and offers agreement.

The sunset is glorious, and Derek really wants to head down to the beach right away but Aaron looks tired. He didn’t take a nap earlier and it’s catching up to him now. There’s a special little flicker of premonition that comes with knowing a person as well as Derek knows Aaron, and he can see the future: they’ll get to the beach, and Aaron will fall fast asleep if they lay down on the sand. The conditions will be too perfect. He’ll have to practically carry him back to the hotel, and there will be no sex.

That won’t do, so he compromises. “Let’s go take a little nap,” he says, pressing his nose to Aaron’s cheek. “We’ll head down to the beach when it’s almost dark.”

“Set an alarm.” That means he’ll sleep all night if they don’t. Derek heeds the warning and sets his alarm for one hour.

There isn’t anyone on the beach when they show up and make their way around to the little cove their new acquaintances told them about. During the daytime they imagine the place is flooded with people, flesh and kissing and as Harold put it with his wry little smile: “debauchery”. He’d told them about their first time, showing up just after lunch and feeling as though they’d joined an orgy. They enjoyed themselves fine but prefer the solitude of dusk. Derek thinks the daytime hours would be a kick and a half and plans to get around to a trip on his own down that way, but with Aaron he’ll stick to the dark.

“How about right here?” Derek asks, spreading the blanket up next to the cliff wall. They have a perfect view of the sea, the last bursts of sunlight barely cresting the horizon and fighting with the silvery shreds of moonlight filtering through blinking stars. They each have a bag full of provisions, snacks and drinks, flashlights and other beach necessities that they set down on each side of the blanket to pin it in place against the breeze skating in off the sea. Derek wastes no time at all stripping, his shorts are around his ankles immediately and he’s tearing at his shirt before he even steps out of them. Aaron is a little more timid, but he gets there. He’s looking around, over his shoulder, out at the sea for fishing boats, anyone whose eyes might be on him.

He hadn’t been cold before, but now his skin is flush with goosebumps and his nipples could cut diamonds. He folds his arms over his chest and bounces on the balls of his feet a little. Derek wraps his sun-soaked arms around Aaron and shares the warmth from his internal furnace.

“You’re a big baby.”

“I know.”

“Huge.”

“I’m aware, thank you.”

Aaron has always been self-conscious, his scars are huge and eye-catching. They look exactly like what they are: knife wounds. They don’t look like they could be anything else. He imagines how he’ll explain them without frightening people, and it inevitably ends up with him leaving his shirt on to save everyone the trouble. It makes people visibly uncomfortable. And his back? Well it’s a little easier to explain away through lies – bicycle wrecks, falling out of tree houses, the kind of stories that indicate an idyllic country childhood spent in the open air getting into all sorts of trouble. He doesn’t feel bad lying about those to strangers. They’re messy. But the scars on his front, there’s no good excuse for those. They’re severe and precise and there’s no palatable explanation for them.

But Derek’s chest is scarred too, a huge track of melted skin all the way down his sternum. Hotch looks at that and sees incredible strength and resilience, he sees triumph over his captors, he sees survival. What Derek accomplished in that cabin on his own makes Aaron swell with pride for him. Derek oozes confidence – the scar is a story that belongs to him, and when people ask he just says it was an on-the-job injury the same as the bullet scars, the same as anything else. And he says it so casually that no one really bothers to ask for more information, they just stare in awe at this miraculous man in front of them. But Aaron can’t seem to gather that same kind of confidence without his suit and tie. An on the job injury that involved nine stab wounds? What kind of thing is that? And all he really had to do to get out of it was stay awake. It’s hardly as impressive.

He doesn’t have much time to consider it because he feels a soft tickle at his ankle and looks down to find a cat. Scruffy and orange, the cat purrs loudly and slides against his shin one direction and then back. Glancing around, he realizes it isn’t the only one. They’re surrounded by curious cats. “I read about this,” Hotch says in awe. “They live in these caves.”

“Just a bunch of cave pussy, huh?”

Aaron gives Derek a disapproving look but cracks a smile anyway, he’s funny, he can’t help it. His crass humor has only gotten worse as he’s gotten older. In mixed company it makes Aaron blush.

“Let’s see where they live,” Aaron says. Derek jumps at a chance to explore a little of the area and honestly the idea of wandering through a cave completely naked is a little thrilling. Aaron digs around in his shoulder bag, past the bottle of wine and plastic cups and to-go container of bread and oil and cheese from dinner earlier until he finds his flashlight. They had headlamps too, but he didn’t think they needed to go that far into the cave. Not at night anyway. He’d heard that some of these caves connected directly to the sea on the other side, more like a tunnel, but he isn’t keen on going that deep tonight.

The follow the trail of cats back into a large cave not far from where they set up their little evening rendezvous. Aaron’s flashlight sends a flood of hazy yellow ahead of them and throws the walls and rock formations into striking shadow figures. “You smell that?” Derek asks. He was prepared for the smell of cats, this cave was probably a natural litter box but this smell...isn’t cat-made. He would know this smell anywhere.

It’s death. More to the point, it’s blood, the sickly metallic tang of fresh blood. It doesn’t immediately call their attention to danger, it could be anything. An animal the cats killed, they have to eat too and these cats are scavengers.

“I might not hear well but I can smell just fine,” Hotch replies, noting that the further in they go the worse the smell gets. He’s picturing another cat, maybe, or a mess of seagull and feathers. He’s anticipating a gory mess...but what they find is worse.

There is no mess. It’s a body, sure, and there is blood...but it’s not cat food. It’s a young man, younger than they are anyway. Probably in his thirties though it’s hard to tell in this light. He’s lying on his back with a stab wound in his chest, a crimson bloodflower spreading slowly over the white linen of his button down shirt. Aaron can’t even help it, he lets out a long, miserable sigh and looks at Derek in the sickly yellow glow of the flashlight. “Damn.”

Aaron instinctively crouches beside the body and reaches out to check for a pulse, knowing with certainty that he won’t find one. Still, if there is any possibility at all of life, he can’t stand and watch it fade without doing anything. There is no pulse, no breath, the skin is cooler than it should be. He hasn’t been dead long but he’s absolutely dead.

“So much for sex on the beach,” Derek mutters, and Aaron shakes his head. All thoughts of wine and picnics and making out in the ocean breeze are dashed from his mind. He hasn’t been with the BAU in years, and yet the change is almost instant. He goes from Aaron enjoying his vacation to Hotch working the case. Derek’s change is immediate as well. Just like putting on a new pair of clothes.

“Did you bring your phone?”

“It’s in my pants. Stay here with him.”

“I’m naked, Derek. Bring me my clothes or the blanket or something to cover up with. Please.”

“We’re both naked. It’s a nude beach, Aaron. If we’re down here in clothes don’t you think they’re going to immediately suspect us? Check out more of the area, see if you can find anything useful.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. I’m going to wander naked and barefoot alone in this cave. That sounds smart.” He’s biting back with sarcasm and he doesn’t like it. Derek doesn’t deserve that. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Where is SSA Hotchner?” Derek asks, returning the sarcasm in spades. Aaron groans.

“He’s old and retired, trying to avoid dead bodies and killers. He’s tired.”

Derek hums, content in the knowledge that he’s bullied Aaron into at least scoping out the site to see if he can find anything else. That’s a stab wound, he could tell, and the weapon wasn’t in the victim. He hurries back to the blanket, suddenly worried that he left Aaron in the cave unarmed and barefoot – what if he steps on the knife? What if the killer is still in there? He moves faster, rifles through the bag for another flashlight and finds his phone hanging halfway out of the back pocket in his shorts. He thinks about putting them on but remembers what he’d said and doesn’t. He does grab a towel from the bottom of the bag and decides he’ll offer it to Aaron. He’s not worried about being naked in front of the police but he knows Aaron battles with his insecurity and he’s not eager to make it worse. Not right now.

He calls the police and directs them to their location before going back into the cave and offering Aaron the towel to cover himself up. Aaron looks at him with so much love in his eyes, sparking embers in the shadowy cave and once again he mourns the ruined plans for their evening.

It doesn’t take long for police to show up with huge flood lights they set up at the mouth and string along the craggy roof of the cave. The whole place is lit up like daylight and Derek scoots until he’s shielded a little by Aaron and his towel. Maybe he should have grabbed one himself. He’s never been self-conscious but this harsh light makes him feel like he’s been put under a magnifying glass.

While they waited for the police to show up, Aaron managed to find few footprints that don’t belong to he or Derek, some blood on the wall, and a knife half buried in the sand about ten feet from the body. He had nearly stepped on it. Still, potential danger aside, he can’t believe it’s this easy.

The police, three of them, rush toward the body and push Aaron and Derek back while they examine it for themselves. One of them, the man in charge, speaks English.

“You found him? How long ago?”

“About ten minutes. We called right away.”

“What were you doing in the cave?”

“We followed some cats in. We were curious about where they lived and how many there were.” It sounds flimsy even as Derek says it, but it’s the truth. He doesn’t make his pussy joke.

“The body is still warm. The killer can’t be far away.”

“There’s a knife in the sand over there, and footprints leading further into the cave. I don’t know how far in they go.” Aaron stops himself before he goes into everything he’s already figured out about the body. He can’t help it, this is second nature. Derek asked him where SSA Hotchner was, and it turns out, he may be incredibly tired and rusty but he’s right here.

“I don’t think the killer meant to do this.”

Derek shoots him a funny look, eyebrows raised. He recognizes the tone of Aaron’s voice. He’s already got a profile. That fast. He’s naked, wrapped in a terrycloth towel, ready to deliver the damn profile to police officers who barely speak English in a cat filled cave. Aaron has taken control of the entire situation, and even though he’s a naked tourist they’re all listening to him. They’re all looking to him. Derek has to think about baseball statistics being rattled off by his grandmother in order to keep the resulting erection at bay. He uses the flashlight, turned off now because there’s plenty of light in the cave, to hide it. He’s barely successful.

The best part is that as he watches, he realizes that Aaron is standing taller. He’s not trying to hide his scars, his stories. He seems to realize that standing there the way he is, those scars tell a story that is riveting and the officers can’t look away. Maybe there is some power in them and what he’s survived, maybe they’re to his advantage after all. Maybe the way they make these officers uncomfortable is useful.

“What makes you say that?” the lead detective asks, tearing his eyes away from this scarred man in a towel to glance at the body again. Aaron feels bad for him, it’s pretty obvious they don’t deal with things like this here very often and they’re all visibly shaken. Probably petty theft and some vandalism, tourists behaving badly, that sort of thing. Not murder.

Aaron would rather be just about anywhere else in the whole world right now but he’s here, and he’s going to help them out the best he can. At least they seem, so far, to believe that he didn’t have anything to do with it. Either that or they think he’s about the stupidest man they’ve ever come across and eventually he’ll just give himself away. The thought almost makes him smile but he maintains his composure.

“This crime scene is messy. It looks like there was someone here, maybe two people, and my guess is that the victim surprised them while they were otherwise occupied. The victim doesn’t have any defensive wounds but he does have some hair caught between two of his fingers on his right hand and a smudge of what looks like lipstick on his arm.”

Bright red lipstick. Aaron’s stomach fills with a kind of dread that he used to thrive on. The kind that leads him right to the person who held the knife.

The police are all staring at him with their mouths open, incredulous. The detective who speaks English is translating to the other two quietly, at least he hopes he’s translating and not condemning him.

“I think his killer was older, probably a man. Most likely self-defense. The state of the scene makes me think that the person who killed this man was afraid and as soon as the knife went in, they ran away. They most likely didn’t stop to see if the man was dead before they ran. I would look for an older couple who seem rattled, or who check out of their hotel room abruptly and leave the island. They’re afraid of what they’ve done, but I think you’ll find this wasn’t premeditated. This man most likely threatened them in some way. I would expect that the knife probably belonged to him.”

“How do you know all of this if you are not the killer?” the officer asks. Aaron and Derek both expected that question a lot sooner. Aaron had been thinking about telling the police to check the man’s pockets where they would likely find jewelry or something from the woman, perhaps the man. A gold bangle bracelet or a chain. But they’re starting to suspect Aaron knows too much so he keeps that to himself. They’ll find that on their own.

“I’m a retired FBI Agent.”

“We both are,” Derek chimes in, ready to stop being just a naked bump on a log. He’d been enjoying Aaron somehow running the show but he wants in on the action now. He’s kind of an adrenaline junkie. “We worked with the Behavioral Analysis Unit hunting serial killers all over America.”

The police stare at them for a moment and start laughing. “You retired and came here on vacation to relax only you cannot get away, the killers follow you,” the officer says. “It’s amusing, no?”

“Is it?” Derek asks with a laugh. He gives the officers all of their information, including the number to Emily’s desk at the FBI to check their references. Their alibi for the estimated time of death was flimsy, they’d been napping in their room until they came to the beach. No one could vouch for their whereabouts, but they were complying and it didn’t seem like the police suspected them.

Back at their hotel, they ready themselves for bed. Washing up, brushing their teeth, going through the motions. Aaron takes his mess of evening pills and Derek checks that their doors are all secure. When they meet up in the bed, they both lay silent side by side, exhausted yet wide awake. They’re both buzzing with the excitement of a case they don’t get to work and the only way to alleviate that kind of charge is by getting physical. That part is easy. The bed sheets are peeled back and in they slide, ready to settle the score. “Back there,” Derek says between hot breathy kisses. “You were so damn hot I could barely handle it.”

“Yeah?” Aaron asks, a little coy, smiling into the next kiss. “How close did you come?”

“My grandma had to tell me all about Hank Aaron’s stats…” Derek whispers desperately, rocking his hips against Aaron’s thigh. He’s thinking about the cave again, about the way Aaron became Hotch, about the power in the way he stood. About the way he squared his shoulders and didn’t shield his scars from sight but claimed them, claimed his survival, claimed a showdown with a prolific serial killer. Aaron smiles and knows exactly what to do.

“Hank Aaron had 3771 hits in his career,” Aaron whispers hot and slow against the pulse in Derek’s throat. He moves lower, dusting kisses along his collarbone, along the ridges of his scar. “755 home runs…”

Derek moans as Aaron glides down his abs and finds his destination, and with one hand Derek pushes Aaron’s head so he’ll stop ruining the stat trick, so he has something else to do with his mouth. Even that’s turning him on now.

The phone rings as they lay panting in bed, spent and happy, ready for another shower and a dip in the pool. Muscles twitching, chests heaving, neither of them any closer to being ready for sleep. Derek answers, hums a few times, nods and thanks whoever is on the line. Aaron has a guess.

“That was the police, they caught the killers.”

“Harold and Catherine?” Aaron asks and Derek nods, feeling that same pool of warmth spread again in his groin.

“They were in the cave to feed the cats and probably to get busy. You remember all their bling. Catherine and all that gold, I’m not surprised. He grabbed her by the hair and Harold knocked the knife out of his hand and stabbed him. They ran through the cave to the main beach, the police caught them by Catherine’s engraved necklace under the guy half buried in the sand. He ripped it off her neck. Doesn’t sound like the police are gonna do much to them, this guy had a record and is wanted in Athens for the rape and murder of a tourist a few years back. Sounds like a piece of shit that got what was coming to him.”

Aaron smiles and nods before yawning. “Shower?” And just like that he’s turned it off. Case closed. Hotch is back in retirement and Aaron just wants to shower and take a dip in the pool with his husband. He wants to resume vacation mode. They get into the shower and wash the case off of them with ease, soap suds and slick skin and smiles. It doesn’t take them long before they’re dancing slowly in the shower, just small sways and circles, Derek’s hand settled at the curved small of Aaron’s back, Aaron draped over Derek’s shoulder.

“Let’s have a snack” Derek says, always thinking about food. Aaron nods. “I have something I want to run by you...”

“I have a guess,” Aaron replies with a smile, turning his face toward Derek’s and kissing him. He’s been waiting for Derek to bring it up. “You want to extend the vacation. You’re not ready to go home to the empty house either.”

“We’re already all the way over here...what if we just pop over to Italy and spend some time there?”

“Just pop over to Italy huh?” Aaron smiles dreamily and rests his cheek against the mound of Derek’s shoulder, swaying again beneath the shower. The water is lukewarm and feels heavenly against their sandy sticky skin. He’s content to stay here for a bit longer dreaming of more travel. They don’t have kids who will be home for another month, they’ve got plenty of time and resources. There’s no good reason not to. “Okay. Let’s do it. Let’s go to Italy. Why not?”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #criminal minds #hotch x morgan #aaron hotchner x derek morgan

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prahacat · 1 year

Note

Hi, I really hope you don't mind me asking a few of the questions from the fan fiction writers ask because I'm curious. Of course it's totally fine if you don't want to answer.

✨What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

🍭why did you start writing?

And my own... Do you write in your first or second language and how does this affect your writing process?

Hey! I LOVE talking about writing and (fan) fiction so thank you so much for giving me an excuse to do so! <3

✨ A fic I wish got more credit: "The Red Night" (it's on both tumblr and ao3) Yes yes, I know. It's poetry, it's very short, it's kinda weird(?) but also kinda generic. Basically the kind of stuff where, as a writer, you're lucky if people click on it at all (and I'm beyond happy some people did and even liked it enough to leave kudos/likes or reblog <3). But I spent several days on those ~500 words, I love how it turned out, it's like my favorite child, it's so ME ... and sometimes I can't help but wish it would get the same love as my other fics.

💝 A fic that got a different response than I was expecting: All of them, in some way, but especially "Three Days of Thawing". It was the first fanfic I uploaded to ao3 after years of writing original fic only: a little oneshot I wrote as a part of a bigger project and ended up posting just for the hell of it. I honestly didn't expect to get a response at all. A fic where nothing happens, it's just 15k of two old jaded men bickering and drinking tea? Little plot, hardly any romance? they don't even kiss. Who'd want to read that?

🍭 Why I started writing: Writing in general: Because of my love for words. My family had a lot of books, so I grew up with stories. As a kid, reading was like eating to me. Sometimes, when I was starved for words and there was no book around, I'd read the tv manual, a cookbook, the labels on my cereal box. Whenever I was bored, I'd dig through my parents' bookshelves until I found something that sounded interesting. Naturally, since it wasn't geared toward children, a lot of it went right over my head. For example, I remember reading this passage from Bronte's Jane Eyre:

‘As we are!’ repeated Mr. Rochester—‘so,’ he added, enclosing me in his arms. Gathering me to his breast, pressing his lips on my lips: ‘so, Jane!’

… and it had me so confused. I didn't get it. "Pressing his lips on my lips? Okay, so like kissing? Why doesn't the author simply write kissing then? That's such a strange, roundabout way of phrasing it!" Yes, I was very young. But moments like that made me think about the different ways to use language for the first time. I feel like writing stories is all about expressing simple truths in a bit of a strange, roundabout way.

Writing fan fiction: I started writing fanfic (again) because I was stuck with my original story. So I wrote a short story about my current obsession, Star Wars. And then another one. And another. I love the disaster lineage, and I love writing for the PT because so many of my favorite themes can be accommodated in the stories. A lot of it is about family, about the more quiet, intimate struggles that happen inside of us, but there's also something so inherently "Greek tragedy" about the characters that makes their destruction feel intense and almost inevitable.

First and second language and how it affects my writing process: I write in both my first and second language. English is my second language. I don't think my writing process differs much in either language. My English is okay, I guess ... I keep looking up comma rules and prepositions when editing.

There are a few instances, especially when writing emotional, introspective scenes, where the idea of what I want to say evokes a strong, very specific feeling, but it remains abstract, almost like music or a blur of colors. Or like a train of vague thoughts, but they keep moving and flashing and I can't grasp them. And in such cases, I sometimes resort to my native language to "search" for imagery or tangible concepts that can be expressed with language. It's not like I have difficulty expressing my ideas in English, it's more that the process of pulling them from some unconscious, wordless depths into the realm of consciousness and language comes easier to me in my native tongue. I guess it's more of a creativity technique?

For example, I remember using this technique on this little paragraph from "Three Days of Thawing" (the fic where Dooku is stuck in his Redemption Arc, oscillating between self-loathing and the need for acceptance/forgiveness):

Maybe Dooku wasn’t happy, how could he ever again, but he had learned to put some distance between himself and the hated shadow inside him, the way most people no longer think about the bacteria living in their mouths or the mass of dead skin cells on their bodies, all a gross but inevitable part of the self. Him: the man he hated, and the man who hates, and the man who tries to forgive them both, and the dizzying distance in between. Sometimes, when he sits by the lake and stares at his reflection trapped inside the ice, he can delude himself into believing he might become whole again.

I felt the part about the split self very strongly, but it wasn't until I thought about it in my native language that the words to express this feeling came to me.

There are quite a few scientific studies about how emotions are accessed and processed differently in your native language and in your second language. I know I'm definitely a bit more detached from my emotions when I'm speaking/thinking in English. In contrast, my "English brain" is more rational and analytic, which is great for "killing your darlings" and avoiding sappy, melodramatic dialogue (something I love to write, but it often doesn't feel right for my fav characters like Dooku or Obi-Wan).

Gah, I could really talk about this topic for hours! It's so fascinating to me, and I'd be very interested in hearing the experiences of other bilingual writers!

Thank you again for the questions, this was a lot of fun!

#ask box #prahacat writes #bilingual writers

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mariana-oconnor · 1 year

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The Greek Interpreter pt 2

We have literally 0 plot to theorise on so far, just Mycroft in all his Mycroftian glory.

"I have had something quite after your own heart--a most singular problem--submitted to my judgement. I really had not the energy to follow it up save in a very incomplete fashion, but it gave me a basis for some pleasing speculation. If you would care to hear the facts--"

This is a bit like when my Mum tells me that I should look at the crossword she's started. Mycroft wants to share his enjoyment with his brother. Such a good older sibling. Also, he's too lazy to actually do the legwork required. But that's what younger siblings are for, isn't it? Or at least that's what my older brother tells me.

"This is Wednesday evening," said Mr Melas. "Well then, it was Monday night—only two days ago, you understand—that all this happened. I am an interpreter, as perhaps my neighbour there has told you. I interpret all languages—or nearly all—"

...He interprets all languages.

All languages.

All languages. Or nearly all. That's a lot of languages, my dude. I know some people who speak a lot of languages, but none of them comes close to speaking all languages. 5 or 6 I think is the most I've ever encountered, and only fluently in 3 or 4. There are definitely people out there who speak more, but nearly all. This man is officially the most knowledgeable person who has ever appeared in a Sherlock Holmes story. He's a linguistic genius.

The Internet tells me that historically the person who is said to have spoken/understood the most languages was Sir John Bowring, a 19th century governor of Hong Kong. He understood 200 languages and spoke 100.

The person who currently holds the record lives in Brazil and claims to speak 59.

The BBC website tells me that there are up to 7000 different languages, although 90% are spoken by less than 100,000 people. But Mr Melas does not specify that he speaks all the common languages or all the popular languages. He says he speaks nearly all languages.

Yes I am taking this literally purely to be difficult. It's more amusing that way. I know this is a case of hyperbole for fiction's sake, but I like the idea that Mr Melas speaks 6000+ languages. This is another case for random supernatural occurrences within the stories.

"I was not surprised, therefore, on Monday night when a Mr Latimer, a very fashionably dressed young man, came up to my rooms and asked me to accompany him in a cab which was waiting at the door. A Greek friend had come to see him upon business, he said, and as he could speak nothing but his own tongue, the services of an interpreter were indispensable."

First, I like the note that Mr Latimer is a fashion-conscious man. Second, how did he and the Greek man come to be friends if they could not speak each other's languages at all. Have they always spoken through other people? Maybe you should try learning some Greek, Mr Latimer.

"It was certainly more roomy than the ordinary four-wheeled disgrace to London, and the fittings, though frayed, were of rich quality."

Mr Melas is a cab snob. 'Four-wheeled disgrace to London' is a delightful turn of phrase.

"I had ventured some remark as to this being a roundabout way to Kensington, when my words were arrested by the extraordinary conduct of my companion. "He began by drawing a most formidable-looking bludgeon loaded with lead from his pocket, and switching it backward and forward several times, as if to test its weight and strength. Then he placed it without a word upon the seat beside him.

Well, this can't be good. Shenanigans are afoot. I like that Mr Latimer is very clear about this, though. Oh yeah, I'm a bad guy. Look at my bad guy credentials. There's no beating around the bush, just straight up threat of violence. Clear. To the point. No need for words.

"'This is very extraordinary conduct, Mr Latimer,' I stammered. 'You must be aware that what you are doing is quite illegal.' "'It is somewhat of a liberty, no doubt,'"

This is such a polite exchange. 'Uh, you are aware that kidnapping me is illegal, sir?' 'Yes, it's a little rude of me.'

So casual, so matter of fact. If I were kidnapped I wouldn't say 'hi, you know this is illegal, right?' But then i don't speak 6000+ languages, so what do I know about talking?

Realistically, this is terrifying, but Mr Melas' account is hilarious.

'I beg you to remember that no one knows where you are, and that, whether you are in this carriage or in my house, you are equally in my power.'

Less hilarious. More terrifying.

"'Well done, well done! No ill-will, Mr Melas, I hope, but we could not get on without you. If you deal fair with us you'll not regret it, but if you try any tricks, God help you!' He spoke in a nervous, jerky fashion, and with little giggling laughs in between, but somehow he impressed me with fear more than the other."

Yep, this guy seems unstable. Also 'no ill will'? You literally kidnapped him with a threat of violence. Yes ill will. Much ill will. I don't think you know what ill will means.

"'But say no more than you are told to say, or--' here came the nervous giggle again--'you had better never have been born.'"

Yep... this is the sign of a totally stable and reasonable person and absolutely not a creepy murderer. At least we already know Mr Melas survives to relate this tale, or I'd be certain he was about to be buried under the floorboards.

"'You are to ask the questions, Mr Melas, and he will write the answers. Ask him first of all whether he is prepared to sign the papers?'"

The fact he is not allowed to talk indicates that something about his voice would give something away. If they don't know Greek then writing and speaking are pretty much interchangeable for getting information across, so there would be no need to stop him from speaking because he can write incriminating things just as easily. Unless, one of them can read Greek, in which case why get an interpreter? So I stand by my thought that his voice must be incriminating. Or he's mute. Always possible.

"I took to adding on little sentences of my own to each question, innocent ones at first, to test whether either of our companions knew anything of the matter, and then, as I found that they showed no signs I played a more dangerous game."

Resourceful and intelligent. He tests the water first with non-incriminating stuff, then gets more in depth.

"'Harold,' said she, speaking English with a broken accent. 'I could not stay away longer. It is so lonely up there with only—Oh, my God, it is Paul!' "These last words were in Greek, and at the same instant the man with a convulsive effort tore the plaster from his lips, and screaming out 'Sophy! Sophy!' rushed into the woman's arMs Their embrace was but for an instant, however, for the younger man seized the woman and pushed her out of the room, while the elder easily overpowered his emaciated victim, and dragged him away through the other door.

OK, so Sophy seems to have been having quite a pleasant time of it all told. While poor Paul's been going through it. Kind of dumb of them to let her walk in on them, though. I assume that they had a plan to avoid that which somehow went wrong. Also, if she's being held of her own free will, this seems like it might put an end to that? Unless she's very gullible.

So, brother? I'm thinking relative because he has to sign something before she can get married? Or he wants her to be married? Presumably there's some sort of fortune involved.

"'We should not have troubled you, only that our friend who speaks Greek and who began these negotiations has been forced to return to the East. It was quite necessary for us to find some one to take his place, and we were fortunate in hearing of your powers.'"

'forced to return to the East' is that like saying he's in the cellar looking for a cask of amontillado? Maybe he just had a family emergency... maybe?

Also 'your powers', yes. Mr Melas's linguistic skills are clearly a super power.

"if you speak to a human soul about this—one human soul, mind—well, may God have mercy upon your soul!"

This threat clearly worked well, considering Mr Melas has so far told at least two souls about the situation, with great glee. I get the impression that Mr Melas is a stifled adrenaline junkie and this is the best thing that has happened to him all year.

"I cannot tell you the loathing and horror with which this insignificant-looking man inspired me. I could see him better now as the lamp-light shone upon him. His features were peaky and sallow, and his little pointed beard was thready and ill-nourished. [...] The terror of his face lay in his eyes, however, steel grey, and glistening coldly with a malignant, inexorable cruelty in their depths."

Sounds delightful.

Honestly, it's the little pointy beard that clearly marks him as a villain, though. Everyone knows that.

Although if he doesn't put more care into maintaining it, the league of villains will have him cast out for failure to maintain proper villainous standards.

"Any steps?" he asked. Mycroft picked up the Daily News, which was lying on the side-table. "'Anybody supplying any information to the whereabouts of a Greek gentleman named Paul Kratides, from Athens, who is unable to speak English, will be rewarded. A similar reward paid to any one giving information about a Greek lady whose first name is Sophy. X 2473.' That was in all the dailies. No answer."

Well now they're definitely going to know he said something. Subtle.

"In the meantime, Mr Melas, I should certainly be on my guard, if I were you, for of course they must know through these advertisements that you have betrayed them."

You don't say? No, seriously. I'd be worried if I were him. But apparently he's just got absolutely no fear.

"Then the brother--for that, I fancy, must be the relationship--comes over from Greece to interfere. He imprudently puts himself into the power of the young man and his older associate. They seize him and use violence towards him in order to make him sign some papers to make over the girl's fortune--of which he may be trustee--to them."

OK, so clearly that's entirely wrong because it's Watson's thoughts on the matter. So back to the drawing board. Not to disparage Watson, at all... but there's no way it's right if it's his theory.

"I really fancy that you are not far from the truth."

Really??!? That's probably the biggest surprise of this whole story so far.

Sophy seemed to have no inkling of any crime or ill-intent on the part of the bad guys, so they're clearly being subtle with her. Or they were. You don't just wander around a kidnapper's house going 'I came to find you Harold, because I was so lonely all alone up there'. Unless you're actually a character in an erotic thriller novel, then I guess that probably is a thing you would do.

I don't think this is an erotic thriller, however.

Did Watson really get this one right? I guess we'll find out next time.

#The Greek Interpreter #Sherlock Holmes #Letters from Watson #long post #That was the best gif of evil Leo from charmed I could find #it was very disappointing #but I really wanted to include him #because it's such a look #lol

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