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beels-burger-babe · 3 years

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Of Jealousy and Friendship - Epilogue

*** Back due to popular demand, here is a little epilogue for what happened at school the next day after pt. 2 Enjoy! - B***

Summary: MC makes a lower demon friend who may secretly be hoping for something more than friendship. The Demon Bros are not about to let this happen.

TW: Discussions about scenting and non-consensual physical contact. PART ONE, PART TWO

The next day of school was...interesting to say the least. For starters, the brothers refused to leave your side. There was one of them lingering near you at all times. Some of them had the decency to try and be subtle. Satan would just happen to be studying in the same room as you, or Belphie was napping and was wondering if you could keep an eye on his things while he did. But then there were the others who were more than obvious. Mammon and Asmodeus both had to pried off of your arms by Lucifer to get them to actually go to their own classes. Leviathan, despite usually doing his classes at home in his room, actually attended school that day and insisted that he needed your help finding a few rooms here and there. The normally sweet and friendly Beel was glaring at any lower demon that so much as looked in your direction. And boy did they look. The moment you took a step into a classroom, you could see a number of lower demons flinch back at the combined strong sent of seven of the most powerful demons in the Devildom. Everywhere you went, whispers seemed to follow you. There were undoubtedly rumours about what you might have done in order to trick the brothers into favouring you; though you never heard any of them since no one dared to come within a ten-foot radius of you.

This bothered you a little at first. Being the center of attention, especially this kind of attention, was never fun to anybody. But by the end of the day, rather than being disheartened by it, you were just exhausted. Finally, the last class of the day had arrived; the one you had been dreading since the moment your alarm went off that morning - Magical Potions.

Beel shifted from foot to foot as the two of you lingered in the entrance. "Do you really have to go to this class? You could just skip and come get some snacks with me instead." You smiled sympathetically at Beel and patted his shoulder. "Sorry, Beel. Diavolo expects good things from his exchange students. I need to keep my grades high, or who knows what Lucifer will do as punishment." The redhead pouted. "Lucifer would understand, I think. All things considered." You snorted and began to walk into the classroom. "Go to your own class, Beel. You can come to get me afterwards, and walk me home with Mammon if you really want."

Beelzebub mumbled to himself, before turning and finally walking off. You entered the class, ignoring the few gasps and gaping stares that you got as you walked through the room, and took your seat. You had been setting up for another class of note-taking when the door opened once more. Standing in the doorway, staring at you with wide eyes, was Cane. The moment your eyes met, the shocked expression on his face instantly dissipated and he flashed you a charming smile. You could feel a bubble of annoyance and anger begin to rise within you. The cocky demon swaggered over and plopped down into his seat beside you. "Hey, there Dare Devil. You didn't get in too much trouble last night with the big bad Avatars did you?" as he spoke he draped an arm on the back of your chair.

You eyed his exposed wrist and pushed his arm off of your chair. It seemed not even the obvious scenting that was supposed to tell him to back off would get him to take a hint. "No, I didn't. Though they did tell me a few interesting things last night." Cane chuckled and leaned into his palm as he smirked at you. "I'm assuming it has something to do with the reason why you smell like hell-incarnate?"

You scoffed and narrowed your eyes at him. "I'm sure you'd rather I smell like you. Considering you apparently did your best to make that happen yesterday." Cane tensed for a moment, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. Eventually, his expression fell into one of confusion as he frowned at you. "Are you talking about how I scented you? MC, do you really think I would do something like that without a good reason?" The frustration in you began to grow and grow inside you; somewhere across the school grounds, Satan sneezed. You weren't in the mood to have this talk now, and very much wished that your professor would hurry up and start the god damn class already. "I don't know you Cane. How am I supposed to know whether or not that's something you would do?" That stupid smug look on his face returned once more and you had to resist the urge to slap it off of him. "You seemed to know me well enough to go out with me yesterday. You didn't seem worried about whether or not I was too much of a stranger when we were dancing at the club and walking downtown late at night, where anything could've happened to a small little human like you," he chuckled as your face scrunched up in annoyance and leaned back into his chair. "I didn't scent you for any perverted reasons. I did it to keep you safe while we were out. I knew if you had my scent on you, you'd be less likely to get attacked, and I was right," he sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. "Admittedly, I should've asked first, and that's on me. But I really just wanted to make sure that my new friend didn't get hurt." He was lying. He had to be. If that asshole seriously thought you were stupid enough to buy that lame excuse, he was extremely wrong. You opened your mouth to tell him as much but were interrupted by a familiar deep voice clearing their throat behind you. "That is the worse excuse I've ever heard, and I live with Mammon." Cane stiffened in front of you before he looked up to meet the glaring eyes of Lucifer, and smiled. "Lord Lucifer, I'm afraid I don't know what you mean. I would never lie, especially not to a friend like MC." The classroom seemed to be on the edge of their seats as everyone quickly picked up on the showdown that was happening right in front of them. One lower demon of gluttony even pulled out a bag of popcorn. Lucifer tsked and crossed his arms over his chest. "Do not insult mine and MC's intelligence like that. Sure scenting can be helpful to ward off other demons, but only if the scent is associated with a more powerful demon. Nobody would blink an eye at anything coated in your weak, disgusting scent." Cane scoffed and tilted his head. "Evidently you did last night. Don't think I didn't notice you and your brother's reactions." This gained a few gasps from your classmates. No one could believe that someone, that wasn't his brothers, was actually trying to stand up against Lucifer. The idea itself was insane. Even seeing it in front of their own eyes, most could hardly believe it, yourself included. Lucifer maintained his indifferent expression and raised an eyebrow at Cane. "You mistook our irritation and disbelief that someone would be so stupid as to even attempt scenting our charge for being even the slightest bit phased by you," he took a step closer to Cane, bending down to be eye level with him. "You should consider yourself lucky it was Asmodeus and myself that got to the two of you first. Should it have been one of my more reckless brothers, you would've been nothing but a pile of ribbons in our driveway," Lucifer's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as Cane gulped and took a step back. The Morningstar grinned dangerously. "MC is our charge. They are our family and our responsibility. Unlike you, we actually got their permission to be scented and bonded to them last night; meaning my brothers are more protective than ever. I would never stoop so low as to waste my energy on a pitiful excuse for a demon-like yourself. But I know for a fact, that Beelzebub eats demons like you as a snack on

days when he is particularly famished. Satan occasionally brings one home for his latest experiments. Belphegor has torn through an entire percentage of them when he hasn't gotten enough sleep. Asmodeus is surprisingly prone to temper tantrums and fits of jealousy. Leviathan drowns anyone that disrespects the things that he loves. And Mammon doesn't take too kindly to people touching things that he considers his." Cane's hands balled into fists, but even then, the tremble in them was still glaringly obvious. Lucifer remained unphased and unmoved by the reactions he was pulling from his victim; though anyone could sense the air of utter glee that was exuding off of him. "If I were you, Cane, I would sleep with one eye open." The teacher finally walked in and raised an eyebrow at the scene in front of them. "Lord Lucifer, is there a reason you are harassing my student?" Cane whimpered as Lucifer smirked at him before standing straight and turning to the teacher. "Not at all, professor. I am actually here to inform you that MC will no longer be enrolled in this class." You whipped your head up to look at him as he placed a hand on your shoulder. "The student council has realized it would be a much better decision to have the exchange students more knowledgable to the ways and customs of demons during their visit here, so MC will be enrolled in Devildom Culture Studies instead. We wouldn't want someone to take advantage of them just because they were taught our ways, now would we?" The last line was spoken coldly and pointedly as though to drive in his threats to Cane. The teacher sighed but seemed to know that there was no point arguing and instructed you to gather your things. You did so happily and quickly. As you left the classroom and walked through your halls with Lucifer, you bumped him gently with your hip. "Thanks, Lucifer. You really are the best." His chest puffed up the slightest bit in pride as he continued walking forward with his hand still on your shoulder. "There is nothing to thank me for MC. I was just doing my duty as Vice-President of the student council to ensure that the exchange students are happy and safe." But even as he said the words, you knew that wasn't the case. You were MC. The human that wormed their way into the hearts of the seven strongest demons in the Devildom. For that reason alone, you were untouchable to all others, and Lucifer and his brothers would ensure that for as long as they breathed. And whoever disagreed would have to be ready to face the consequences.

TAGLIST: @henry-and-the-seven-lords

@hopefulann

@vampwiire

@bunna-does-stuff

@obey-mes-treasure

@obeythebutler

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sweetchup · 3 years

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Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

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Vol. 2: Into the Deep // Ch. 8

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 4,500+

⚠️Warning⚠️: Slight Mature Content

Masterlist

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Blue. Everything was blue.

From the bubbles you exhaled to the sun streaming through the window. It was all blue.

Even though you’ve been staying here for about a week, you still couldn’t get used to waking up like this. Underwater. Trapped in a fairytale-like world.

Was this how Triton felt adjusting to the human realm?

“Mom?” As if summoned by your thoughts, you felt Triton shift in bed next to you. The mattress slightly caving in as the young boy cuddled close to your side. “You okay?”

“…yeah.”

You shouldn’t be the one asking me that, you can’t help but think. After all that happened last night, Triton should be the one more shaken up.

…What has this young boy gone through?

Gently, you reach down and run one of your hands through Triton’s hair. It’s silky and soft texture felt ethereal in the water-like environment. Like as if it was threads of gold tediously woven slowly by hand.

“Mom….?” Your hand pauses as Triton lifts his head to look at you. Blue… It must be because you two were underwater but Triton’s eyes were a striking bright blue today. Unlike their usual pale grayish version. Seems like everything would truly be covered in blue while you were here, “Are you sure you—“

“My, oh my. This is unexpected.”

At the sudden new voice, you jolt out of bed. It seemed like you couldn’t even get a bit of peace for a second in the place. However, as you take in the figure that was at the door you soon pause.

A butler? A human looking one at that. Was he perhaps a siren or mermaid? But he also had no tail…

“Hermes!” You feel yourself choke slightly at what Triton shouts. Hermes? As in the Messenger god? He looked nothing at all like the mythology books.

“Good day, Master Triton.” Hermes greets as Triton comes crawling out of bed and up to him. As you watch Triton start telling Hermes a story about something, you see Hermes' gaze shift from the young boy in front of him to you. Red… You are cut off guard as you notice Hermes’ eyes were a surprising color of scarlet red. As in the most ripe apples and cherries or that of a deep red ruby. However that wasn’t what entranced you the most. No, it was the unusual spider web irises that accompanied those pits of red.

“By the way, What brings you here, Hermes?” Thankfully at Triton’s question, Hermes' gaze turns away from you. Allowing you to release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You weren’t sure what it was but for some reason you felt like you had to be careful around him.

Hesitantly, you pull the covers off of your form and make your way out of bed next to Triton. You didn’t want to get closer to Hermes but you also didn’t want Triton to be left alone with the young man. Who knows what the god could be up to, “Master Zeus wanted me to return a special package to you.”

“A package?”

Nervously, you let out a small gulp as Hermes disappears back into the hallway to grab the mysterious “package”. Should you make a run for it? After all, it could possibly be dangerous. He could—

“Here it is.”

“Ack!” You can’t help but let out once you see what Hermes is holding in his arms. Did Zeus really order Hermes to go all the way to the mortal realm to grab that?

“Alexander the Great!” Triton cheers out as he grabs the ginormous king turtle from Hermes. Clearly happy to be reunited with his trusty stuffed animal. “Oh! I know the perfect spot to put you.”

You watch as Triton races across the room to a corner filled with fluffy pillows and blankets. Even here it seemed he built those nest-like beds. You wondered where he got such a thing from.

“Now, My Lady…” Startled by the warm breath on the shell of your ear, you feel yourself freeze before shakily turning to look at Hermes standing close next to you, “I have a package from Zeus for you as well.”

“O-Oh really…?” You hesitantly say as you take a step away from the god. Was personal space not a thing for them?

“Yes, now if you would follow me.” Hermes states, gesturing to the door.

“Thank you but I’m going to grab it later. I want to stay with Triton for now.”

“Oh but my Lady. I insist.”

“I’m really fin—“ You are cut off as Hermes places his hands around your waist and proceeds to carry you out of the room. He was so fast you hardly had time to blink or even realize what he had done.

“We will be right back, Master Triton.” Hermes shouts out to the young boy as he leaves the room and makes his way into the hallway. Finally able to realize what is going on, you grab at Hermes’ hands on your waist. Futility attempting to get him to let go of you.

“Hey! Let go of me.” You shout out to the god. However, the only thing you got was a curious eyebrow raise in return.

“Oh.” Hermes let out as if suddenly realizing something. Interested you pause at your fighting, only to soon regret it as you see a dangerous gleam in his eyes. As if a mischievous plan was forming in his head, “I apologize My Lady, I wasn’t thinking. You must be used to the way Master Poseidon holds you.”

“H-Hey—EEepp.”

Instantly, in pure terror, you grab onto Hermes shoulders as he throws you lightly up in the air. Thankfully, you didn’t squeal too hard as you had already known what he was possibly referring to about how ‘Poseidon holds you’.

“Now, is this more comfortable, My Lady?” Hermes asks as he holds you bridal style in his arms. What in the world was with gods and their need to hold Humans, or possibly lesser beings, this way?

Now embarrassed, especially at how the maids and servants whisper to each other as you two walk by, you give up the need to fight Hermes. Knowing there was no chance in hell you would be able to get away anyways with how strong he was compared to you.

“Lord Hermes—“

“Please, just call me Hermes.” The messenger god states cheerfully as he cuts you off. As if he totally didn’t just kidnap you.

After letting out a small sigh in frustration, you continue, “Alright, Hermes. Where are you taking me?”

“Just to the main foyer, My Lady.”

At Hermes' simple minded answer, you feel your eyebrow twitch slightly. If you weren’t already afraid of the god, you bet you would have smacked that smug look off his face by now. You could clearly see now how Hermes was the Son of Zeus, “Okay… So, Why are you taking me there?”

“To meet someone special that Master Zeus invited.”

…

You swore to god.

“Who is that special someone?” You state, making sure to emphasize on your question this time. As if sensing your frustration, Hermes, clearly pleased with your reaction, smiles slightly.

“Scylla. You are meeting Lady Scylla.”

“…Scylla…?”

You feel yourself pause at the name, an odd sense of familiarity blooming in your brain. You had definitely heard that name before but… where….?

“Scylla, as in Scylla and Charybdis.” Hermes explains, his smile growing wider as he takes in the confused look on your face. As you ponder the second name, it finally hits you about why it had all sounded so familiar.

Scylla was a legendary monster in Greek mythology that lived on one side of a narrow channel of water, opposite to her counterpart Charybdis.

Scylla's description varied from tale to tale but she was often described as a female monstrosity. Her lower body consisted of six serpent-like heads on long snaky necks, each head having a triple row of shark-like teeth. Then, on her stomach were the heads of ferocious dogs.

However, it wasn’t her appearance or the fact that she was a monster that startled you the most. No.

Scylla wasn’t always a monster. No, she used to be a nymph. There are two tales that explained as to why Scylla was turned into a monster in the first place. One of them being, as well as the most frightening one to you, was that…

…Amphitrite was jealous of Scylla.

“W-why am I meeting with Scylla?” You questioned outloud to Hermes. Whose grin only seemed to grow once you asked him.

“Pardon me but it is much more fun if you find out yourself.” Hermes explained casually as he stops in front of a room. He wasn’t…

“Wait—“

“Have a fun time, My Lady.”

And with that, Hermes proceeded to shove you in the room and close the doors behind you. That bastard… you knew you shouldn’t trust him.

“Are you Lady (y/n)?”

Freezing, you look across the room in the direction of the voice. There was no doubt that it was Scylla. But,…

You find yourself pausing as you gaze down at her abdomen.

“Pomeranians?” Instantly, after the word slips out, you cover your mouth. Great going there, (y/n).

Though, it wasn’t just the fact that the supposed ‘ferocious dogs’ were sophisticated Pomeranian that caught you off guard. The lady, well ex-nymph, before you looked about in her late 50s and was dressed quite modestly. Yet also very sophisticated.

“Yes, they are Pomeranians.” Scylla answers, seeming to take a pause as she sips from her teacup before continuing, “Now, as I asked before, Are you Lady (y/n)?”

“Oh, I apologize. I am Lady (y/n).” You answer back, not missing how Scylla eyebrows slightly twitch.

“…It seems I have a lot of work…” You hear Scylla mumble lightly under her breath as she proceeds to shake her head. What was she talking about?

“…Pardon?”

“Oh, nothing. Please take a seat, Lady (y/n).”

Carefully, you make your way across the room to sit at the table. As you do so, you don’t miss the chance to notice how extravagant the room was. Not only was it made of marble and intricate gold carvings like the rest of Triton’s Manor but it also had a beautiful ceiling mural and, next to where the table that Scylla was sitting, a wall to wall and floor to ceiling grand window view.

As you take a seat down across from Scylla, you have to hold yourself back from gasping as you could now take in the full view. There were arrays of colorful Coral reefs and plants. Some that you have never ever seen, perhaps they only grew in the realm of the gods and were special in some way. However, it was past the Coral reefs that were placed outside the window that gained your interest. Far out in the horizon, stood what looked like a grand underwater city that looked fresh out of a futuristic sci-fi movie with its intricate buildings and colorful lights.

“Ahem.” At Scylla’s cough, you finally turn your attention back to the older woman, “I will now formally introduce myself. I am Scylla, a former nymph that worked for Lord Poseidon. As well as…

…Triton’s former Nanny.”

“I see.” You let out as you take in the information the woman has told you. It seemed like just how the other gods were different from mythology so was Scylla. But, you couldn’t write off anything about Scylla yet. You didn’t know her full intentions on accepting to come to see you here today. “Can I ask why you came to see me today, Lady Scylla?”

“Of course.” Scylla answers as she carefully places her teacup back down on its plate and looks at you, “I am not here to hurt you but rather to help you. My first duty in coming here is informing you about everything you need to know. From Master Triton’s childhood to Lady Amphitrite nature, I am hoping to tell you everything possibly important I have seen in over the millennia I have worked for the family.”

Now you understand why she was here. If you didn’t understand the inner workings or secrets of the family, it could honestly get you killed. And that could count for either Poseidon or Amphitrite. It also makes sense why Zeus specifically sent her as he still had the intentions of you replacing Amphitrite as Poseidon’s wife. So, knowing what makes Poseidon tic would be crucial.

“My second reason for coming here is to teach you the proper etiquette of the gods.”

You feel your thoughts come to a screeching halt at her statement, “Huh?”

“I’m going to be honest with you, Lady (y/n),” Scylla vocalizes as she shakes her head, “Since you are a human, you are considered at the bottom in our realm. If the citizens of Atlantis don’t like you, they will kill you. If you disrespect a god or goddess, they will kill you. If someone wants your spot on the throne, they will kill you. If you aren’t strong or smart enough, you will get killed. Respect, etiquette and knowledge are the three things that will keep you alive here…”

Scylla pauses as she looks around to make sure that no one was nearby to hear what she would say next.

“Lady (y/n).” Scylla starts as she surprisingly reaches across the table to hold your hands. “I know of Lord Zeus’ plan to make you the next queen. As a former Nymph, where my kind is often taken advantage of by gods just like humans, I beg of you. Do not. Follow. Zeus’. Plan. It will surely get you killed. To him, if you die, He will simply take another human or some other god to take your place. All he wants is Amphitrite off the throne.”

It wasn’t as if you already didn’t guess that from Zeus. You already knew, deep down in an unsettling feeling in your stomach, that he considered you lesser than himself. No matter how kind he seemed to act to you.

Also it wasn’t as if you were trying to seduce Poseidon or become the next queen in anyways. Your main objective, as it always had been, was to protect and care for Triton.

You are brought back to reality as Scylla lets go of your hands and stands up, “Come. We don’t have much time.”

“Right.” Instantly, you follow the older woman as she makes her way across the room. You didn’t know where she could possibly be going but followed her anyway. “A frame?”

You look curiously at, what you guessed to be, the decorative frame of a mirror. You had no idea why you two have specifically stopped here. Was the frame important in some way, like some sort of secretive family heirloom?

However, you soon doubt that previous guess of yours as suddenly, as if bent by Scylla’s mind and will, the inside of the mirror starts to glow. It continued to glow as the light slowly trickled to the rest of the mirror and once it was fully completed, Scylla moves out of the way and gestures to it.

“You want me to walk up to it?” You ask Scylla as you make a small step to the blinding mirror. Slowly as you grow closer, you reach out your hand to slightly graze its surface. Only to realize it wasn’t a surface at all. “W-Woah!”

You are caught off guard as you are suddenly pulled into the mirror by a great force. Hissing, your eyes stung by the ever so bright light. What is happening? You thought Scylla was going to explain to you about the family history. Could she possibly have lied and tricked you?

Amphitrite… Daughter of Nereus and Doris…

“W-Who goes there?” You shout out, startled by the booming voice. “Were you the one who pulled me in here?”

However, as if the voice couldn’t hear you, it continues it’s speech and you are suddenly placed into a white blank room.

One of 50 sisters, known as the Nereids…Amphitrite grew up as any other goddess…

An ancient stone wall suddenly appears right in front of you. It’s drawings and paintings seeming to depict the beautiful Nereids.

…However, that was far from the truth…

All of sudden the paintings come to life, some of the Nereids were killing and even poisoning their sisters.

…All of those sisters were filled with greed… greed to be ever so powerful like their father and it only seemed to grow when it was announced that Poseidon would choose one to be his queen…

The stone changes once more, completely wiped clean except for one lone woman in the center. A shining crown placed on her head.

…And Amphitrite came out on top. With most of her sisters dead or banished by her, she was now the lone survivor to gain all the power she desired…as the new goddess and queen of the sea…

…However,…Poseidon wasn’t how she expected….

You are startled as the full white room, even the ground you were standing on, changes. The room now taking on an elegant bedroom. A grand circle bed was placed in the center of the room. With Pillows and silk blankets scattered around in it.

A sudden loud creak catches your attention and you spin your head around. Caught off guard at who was in front of you.

“What are you doing here?” Poseidon's voice booms out as he glares daggers at you. His form no longer dressed in his usual attire but instead one made for bed.

“I-I—“ “You can’t possibly expect nothing to happen on our wedding night.”

Taking a step away from Poseidon, you turn and realize he wasn’t talking nor glaring at you. Instead, his piercing gaze was directed at a woman sitting on the bed. A simple yet sexy nightgown covering her form.

You have never seen her before with her long and deep colored scarlet hair, with her sea green eyes and pale clear skin. But you could at least guess who she was.

“Amphitrite. Leave.” Poseidon orders, as he turns away from the woman to shrug off his shirt, “I won’t be asking again.”

The woman only giggles in response, seeming not to take Poseidon’s threat seriously as she makes her way up to the male.

“Oh god—“ You can’t help but let out. Quickly covering your eyes as you see Amphitrite loosen her strap of her nightgown, causing the article of clothing to fall to the floor. What was the woman thinking?!

Even with your heart practically beating out of your ears, you hear Poseidon let out a deep sigh and the loud sound of heavy footsteps making their way past you. From what you guess, this was a memory of the past and the two couldn’t see you.

“W-Where are you going—“ Amphitrite voice is cut off as the door is shut with a loud bang. It is quiet for a moment. Yet it was only a moment. As soon afterwards, the loud banging and breaking sounds ring out around the room as Amphitrite takes her anger out on the area around her. “That fucking piece of shit!! I’ll show you—“

Amphitrite voice is once again cut off. Yet this time not by Poseidon but instead the blinding light as the voice changes the scene. Deeming it safe, you uncover your eyes and take in the new scene around you. You were no longer in Poseidon’s bedroom but seemed to still be in the palace. This time the bed was a simple queen one, it’s sheets covered in blood that scared you for a moment. That is until another item gains your attention.

A baby crib.

Amphitrite was furious about how she couldn’t get Poseidon to bend to her will. She believed that he should be groveling at her feet and craving for her affections…

…This only got worse after she found out she was pregnant with an heir that Poseidon didn’t care for….

Startled by what the voice was saying, you take a step towards the baby crib. That means this crib was…

You let out an audible gasp as you lean over the crib. An ever so familiar pair of pale blue eyes staring up at you. It was baby Triton.

Damn, you wished you had your phone on you to take a picture of this moment. He was just all too adorable.

At the pregnancy of the child, Amphitrite left it in the hands of a nanny. Not wanting to bother with a child that will only hold her back.

“Lord Poseidon. I beg of you, Please do not hurt—”

“Silence.”

That voice… Hastily, you make your way across the room to the door that was slightly ajar. Standing outside was Poseidon, a couple of his attendees and Scylla. Scylla, who seemed to be back when she was a nymph, was on her hands and knees, begging something out of the god.

“Tch.” Poseidon lets out, seeming annoyed. You freeze as you see the male grab his trident and make his way towards the door.

“Lord Poseidon, Pleas— Ack!” As Scylla tries to bring her head up and grab onto Poseidon to stop him but before she could do so an attendee stomps on her back. Stopping her in her tracks.

“Do not come in.”

You back away as Poseidon makes his way into the room, shutting the door behind him. He wasn’t planning to…

You cover your ears as a loud screeching sound fills the room. It was coming from Poseidon’s trident as he drags the blade across the floor, Leaving long scratching indinents in the marble floor.

This is in the past, (y/n). You forcibly remind yourself as you watch Poseidon get closer to the crib. Triton is still alive, he’s not going to die here.

You freeze as the screeching sound stops and Poseidon lifts his trident. Uncovering your ears, you stare, mind boggled, at what happens next.

Poseidon… was whistling.

Was he attempting to soothe the baby before he killed it? What sort of Psycho was he—

“Ah! Stop!” You shout out as Poseidon’s trident comes barreling down towards the crib. He was going to actually kill—

Suddenly, Poseidon’s arm comes to a screeching halt.

“Bo ba ba booo.” Triton babbles away, seeming to attempt to imitate the song Poseidon had just whistled out.

…

“Tch.” Poseidon imbeds his trident in the marble before picking Trident up by the back of his onesie.

That’s not how you were supposed to carry a child! You could accidentally cause it to choke itself.

As you make your way closer to the two, worried about Triton’s safety, Poseidon once again whistles out. His gaze trained to the baby’s face.

“Boooo ba ba boo.” Triton lets out again, seeming to try his best to imitate Poseidon. Giggling slightly at the end as he reaches out towards his father and grabs a piece of Poseidon’s hair.

“You’re doing it wrong.” Poseidon mutters out as he brings his other hand up to Triton, the time adjusting his grip so that he was holding the baby by the armpits.

Poseidon whistles out once more. This time going slightly slower for the baby to listen.

Was this guy seriously attempting to teach a baby how to sing a song when he tried to kill it only seconds ago? Plus it was a baby for crying out loud.

“Hey! Get back here!”

The door comes flying open with a startling bang as Scylla trips her way into the room.

“I warned you!” Scylla screams out as the attendees' sword comes barreling down at her. However, thankfully, it never hits her. “L-Lord Poseidon-n…”

You cover your mouth as the attendee falls to the ground, his body separated in half by the trident Poseidon had just thrown.

“Silence.” Poseidon orders out to the rest of the attendees, who quickly release Scylla and back away. “You, Lady. Come here.”

“M-me?”

Scylla freezes as she sees the look Poseidon gives her. About how she should know better than to make him repeat himself. Frantically, she makes her way over to the two.

“What’s its name?” Poseidon asks Scylla. Who grows pale as she watches as Triton pulls at Poseidon’s hair. Yet, surprisingly, the god of the sea doesn’t flinch nor remove the annoyance, allowing the baby to continue what it was doing.

“I-uh. L-Lady Amphitrite never gave the child a name...”

Silence. You let out a small gulp as you anxiously take in the scene in front of you. Poseidon definitely wasn’t pleased with this development.

“Pardon me, M-My Lord. May I suggest something-g?” Scylla stutters out as she anxiously twiddles her thumbs. She seemed to be on the brink of collapsing from stress and anxiety.

“Speak.”

“Why…Why don’t you name the boy?”

Once again silence. However, it wasn’t as tense as the previous one. It seemed Poseidon was truly pondering Scylla’s suggestion.

“Triton.” Poseidon booms out. “His name will be Triton.”

“An E-Excellent choice, My Lord.” Scylla compliments. Yet, even though Poseidon accepted her suggestion, she didn’t seem pleased. “A-Another thing, My Lord. You aren’t supposed to hold a baby in that manner.”

“Huh?”

Quickly, Scylla attempts to cover her mistake, “I-I mean-n! You can hold the boy however you want. It just that isn't the most comfortable manner! You don’t have to listen to what I suggest. Please forgive me.”

You are surprised once more as Poseidon gives Scylla the baby. Seeming to tell her to show him how to hold Triton without wanting to ask. You have grown to notice that his pride seems to get in the way of things a lot of the time.

It eerily, in a way, reminded you of what happened last night when Poseidon listened to your own suggestion. Would he act in a fit of rage this time as well? Could this be how Scylla got—

“Bah!” Triton shouts out, startling you out of your thoughts. Currently, Poseidon was attempting to cradle Triton the way Scylla had shown him. The nanny fiddled with her fingers as she worriedly watched the two.

“Booo ba ba booo…. Boo boo boo boooo… boooo….” Triton babbles out, this time somewhat replicating the song accurately.

“Heh.”

Heh? You are startled at the sound Poseidon makes. Did he just laugh slightly?

Inching closer, you take in the look on Poseidon’s face as he looks down at Triton. As if his cold exterior had cracked ever so slightly, you could see a sliver of fondness in Poseidon’s cold blue eyes. A look that showed love for his newborn son.

…Yet, you thought Poseidon didn’t feel that way about Triton.

“My Lord.” Poseidon's fondness quickly disappears as he turns to look at Amphitrite who stood at the door. You could see an ever so slight smirk on her face. “I didn’t realize you wanted to visit our son. You should have told me, I would have come with you.”

Oh. Was it because…

“Zeus and Hera wanted to see the child.” Poseidon lies to Amphitrite as he gives the child back to Scylla. Seeming to believe her husband, Amphitrite's smile soon turns to a scowl.

“I see.” She bitterly spits out before walking away. Not wanting to stick around for any longer.

Once Amphitrite footsteps are no longer heard, Poseidon turns back to Scylla. Whispering in a low voice so that the attendees can’t hear.

“I’ll be back tomorrow. Same time. Don’t be late and don’t tell anyone.”

With that Poseidon walks away, his attendees quickly chasing after him. As Scylla seems happy with the new found development, hugging Triton tightly to her chest as she showers him in praises, you… didn’t know what to think.

You…

…Couldn’t wrap your head around why your chest aches so much when you watch the two.

…What in the world happened between Triton and Poseidon that changed them…?

Author Note: Just in case people didn’t see my notice about this yesterday. I decided to split Ch. 8 into two parts, due to it revealing a lot of things. So the second part will be up tomorrow (Friday). If there is any confusion, please feel free to ask or comment. I will be checking my tumble a lot today since I know this is a crazy chapter.

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq @sproutcorner @orophaea @anime-lover-forever-1127 @fortuna-stella @icy-spicy

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv poseidon x reader #snv #snv poseidon #bivalve

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asleepinawell · 3 years

Text

Book Recs

I was gonna do one of these at the end of the year, but I’ve somehow managed to read 26 books this year already (12 novellas, 14 novels), almost all featuring queer authors and/or characters so this is already a long list.

Note: There’s a few on here I was kind of meh about, but in most of those cases it was a ‘book might be good but it’s not for me so i’ll mention it to put it on people’s radar anyway’ type of thing. Insert the usual necessary tumblr disclaimer about all of this being only my opinion and your opinions are valid too etc etc.

In order of when I read them:

Princess Floralinda and the Forty-Flight Tower by Tamsyn Muir - Fantasy novella from the author of gideon the ninth that’s a twist on the classic princess trapped in a tower waiting for a prince story. Quite fun. (novella)

The Monster of Elendhaven by Jennifer Giesbrecht - Dark fantasy about revenge and magic. m/m couple but like I said it’s pretty dark and twisted all around so definitely not a happy queer romantic story. My opinion was interesting premise that could have been executed better and probably should have been a full novel to embellish on the world building potential. (novella)

A Memory Called Empire & A Desolation Called Peace - Arkady Martine - Probably tied with murderbot as the best things I read this year. Scifi, f/f couple, wonderfully done exploration of what it means to fall in love with a culture that is destroying your own. More of the many queer anti-imperialist books that have come out recently and certainly some of the best. The second one is a direct continuation of the first. (2 novels)

The Tyrant Baru Cormorant - Seth Dickinson - This is the third in the Baru Cormorant series (The Masquerade) and was my favorite so far. The second and third book were originally one book that got split I believe and the second book didn’t stand alone as well (though was still great), but the third book really made up for that. Dark fantasy world starring a queer woc whose country and culture is destroyed by the imperial forces of that world colonizing and assimilating them. She vows revenge and decides to work her way up within her enemy’s ranks to enact it from within and bring an empire to ruins. Really really fascinating study of so many different aspects of our own world and the systems which enable and allow bigotry and how bigoted and violent narratives are used to control minorities. This is definitely a darker series and I was particularly impressed with some of the commentary on the racism prevalent in non-intersectional feminism as depicted through a fantasy world. Can’t wait for the last one to come out! (3 novels, 1 forthcoming)

The Murderbot Diaries - Martha Wells - There’s six of them--5 novella and a novel--and the first is All Systems Red. Told from the point of view of a self-aware droid/android that is rented out by a corporation to provide protection in a dystopian capitalist hellhole future that isn’t that unlike our current capitalist dystopia but is in space. Muderbot hacked the chip that controlled it and instead of going rogue just wants to be left alone to watch its favorite tv shows. Murderbot is painfully relatable and the books are both funny and poignant. Highly recommended. (5 novellas and a novel).

Winter’s Orbit - Everina Maxwell - This was a m/m romance novel with a scifi backdrop of royal intrigue. Generally I’m more into scifi with a queer relationship in the background than vice versa, so it wasn’t my favorite, BUT I think it was still well written and someone looking for more of the romance angle would enjoy it. Has all your favorite romance tropes in it, especially the yearning. (novel)

The Divine Cities - Robert Jackson Bennett - Three book series. I’m very conflicted about this one. Set in a fantasy world where an enslaved nation overthrew the country enslaving them and now rules over them. It’s a story of what happens after the triumphant victory and within that it’s also a murder mystery tied into the dying magic of the conquered nation. It also has a six foot something naked oily viking man fist fight a cthulhu in a frozen river. The second book was by far my favorite, mostly due to the main character being brilliant. My conflict comes from the fact I don’t feel like the story treated its women and queer characters well. Like it had really great characters but it didn’t do great by them overall. That and the third book didn’t live up to the first two. But still definitely worth a read, can’t stress enough how cool some of the world building was. (3 novels)

Into the Drowning Deep - Mira Grant - This might be the only one on here I disliked. It’s got a doomed boat voyage and creepy underwater terror and monsters and a super diverse cast of characters, but I just didn’t enjoy the writing style. While having a diverse cast is great, there were a lot of moments where it felt like characters were pausing to explain things about themselves that felt like a tumblr post rather than a normal conversation you might have while actively being hunted by monsters. I also bounced off all the characters. But a lot of people seem to have liked it so if you’re into horror and want a book with a f/f main couple then maybe you’ll enjoy it. (novel)

Dead Djinn Universe - P. Djèlí Clark - Around the early 1900′s, a man in Egypt discovers a way to access another world and bring Djinn and mysterious clockwork beings called Angels through. As a result, Egypt tells the British to get fucked and Cairo becomes one of the most powerful cities in the world. So Egypt, magic, djinn, a steampunk-ish vibe, oh and the main character is a butch queer woman who enjoys wearing dapper suits and looking fabulous while she investigates supernatural events. Her girlfriend is also mysterious and badass. And she has a cat. There’s three novella (one of which technically might be considered a short story) and then the first novel. You should absolutely read the novellas first (A Dead Djinn in Cairo, The Angel of Khan el-Khalili, The Haunting of Tram Car 015). Super fun and imaginative series. (3 novellas and a novel, more forthcoming)

River of Teeth & Taste of Marrow - Sarah Gailey - From the book description

“In the early 20th Century, the United States government concocted a plan to import hippopotamuses into the marshlands of Louisiana to be bred and slaughtered as an alternative meat source. This is true. Other true things about hippos: they are savage, they are fast, and their jaws can snap a man in two. This was a terrible plan.”

Queer hippo riders!!!! Very much a western but with hippos. Main couple included a non-binary character. Loved the first one. The second one I was more meh about due to one of the characters I was supposed to like having obnoxious man pain that a woman had to take the brunt of the whole time. Also there were less hippos. But queer hippo riders! Definitely read the first one, and they’re both novellas so no reason not to read the second as well. (2 novellas)

A Psalm for the Wild-Built - Becky Chambers - I may be the only person who hasn’t read the long way to a small angry planet at this point, but I did grab her new novella and I loved it. It made me want to go sit out in the woods and feel peaceful. The world it’s set in feels like a peaceful post-apocalypse...or diverted apocalypse maybe. Humans built robots and robots gained sentience, but instead of rebelling they just up and left and went into the wilderness with a promise that the humans wouldn’t follow them.The remaining human society reshaped itself into something new and peaceful. It’s the story of a monk who leaves their habitual monking duties to go be a tea monk and then later wanders into the wilderness and becomes the first human in ages to meet a robot. Very sad there’s no fan art yet. (novella, more forthcoming)

The March North - Graydon Saunders - This was such a weird book that I’m not sure how to explain it. The prose style is hard to get used to and I suspect a lot of people will bounce off it in the first chapter. There’s no third person pronouns used at all and important events get mentioned once in passing and if you blink you’ll miss them. Set on a world where magic is extremely common to the point that rivers sometimes run with blood or fire and the local weeds are something out of a horror movie and most of the world is run by powerful sorcerer dictators, one country banded together (with the help of a few powerful sorcerers who were tired of all the bullshit) to form a free country where powerful sorcerers wouldn’t rule and the small magics of every day folks could be combined to work together. The story revolves around a Captain of the military force on the border who one day has three very powerful sorcerers sent to them by the main government with the hint that just maybe there’s about to be a big invasion (there is) with the implication of take these guys and go deal with this. The world building is extremely complex and very cool...when you can actually understand what the fuck is going on. There is also a murder sheep named Eustace who breathes fire and eats just about everything and is a Very Good Boy and belongs to the most terrifying sorcerer in the world who appears as a little old grandma with knitting. It had one of the most epic badass and wonderfully grotesque battles I’ve ever read. But yeah, it is not what I would call easy reading. Opinions may vary wildly. I did also read the second one (A Succession of Bad Days) in the series which was easier to follow and had a lot more details about the world, but overall I was more meh about it despite some cool aspects. The chapters and chapters of the extreme details of building a house that made up half the novel just weren’t my thing. (novels).

The Space Between Worlds - Micaiah Johnson - In this world parallels universes exist and we’ve discovered how to travel between them, but the catch is you can only go to worlds where the ‘you’ there is already dead. This turns into an uncomfortable look at who would be the people most likely to have died on many worlds and how things like class and race would fit into that and what we would actually use this ability for (if you guessed stealing resources and the stock market you’d be correct). The main character is a queer woc who travels between worlds with the assistance of her handler (another queer woc) who she has the hots for. She accidentally stumbles on a whole lot of mess and conspiracy and gets swept up in that. Really enjoyed it. (novel)

Witchmark - C.L. Polk - Fantasy world reminiscent of Victorian England (I think?) where a young man with magical gifts runs away from his powerful family to avoid being exploited by them. He joins the army and fights in a war and comes home to try and live a quiet life as a doctor, but a murder pulls him into a larger mystery that upturns his life. Also he’s extremely gay and there’s a prevalent m/m romance. This one was a fun-but-not-mind-blowing one for me. (novel, 2 more in the series I haven’t read)

The Priory of the Orange Tree - Samantha Shannon - This was one of those that everyone loved but I couldn’t get into for some reason. I tried twice and only got about halfway through the second time. It’s got dragons and queer ladies and fantasy world and all the things I like, but I wasn’t that invested in the main story (which included the f/f couple) and was more interested in the smaller story about a woman trying to become a dragon rider. There are few things that beat out a lady and her dragon friend story for me and that was the storyline that felt neglected and took a different turn right when we got to the part I’d been waiting for. But, I know a lot of people whose reading opinions I respect who loved it, and if you like epic fantasy with dragons and queens and treachery and pirates and queer characters then I’d say you should definitely give it a try. (novel)

Bonus: I didn’t read these series this year, but if you haven’t read them yet, you should.

Imperial Radch (Ancillary Justice) - Ann Leckie - Spaceship AI stuck in a human body out for revenge for their former captain, but that summary does not come close to doing it justice. Another one examining imperialism and also gender and race.(3 novels)

Kushiel's Legacy Series - Jacqueline Carey - This is two series, six books total, and starts with Kushiel's Dart. Alternate universe Renaissance-y Europe in a fantastical world where sex isn't shameful and sex workers are respected and prized. Lots of political intrigue and mystery. A lot of BDSM and kinky stuff too (the main character is a sexual masochist, oh and also bi!). I first read this series when I was fifteen or sixteen and it definitely made a big impression on me. Same author also wrote the Santa Olivia series which I’d also recommend. (6 novels)

The Locked Tomb (Gideon the Ninth) - Tamsyn Muir - I mean, if you follow me, you know. If you don’t follow me you still probably know. I’d have felt remiss to have left them off though. Lesbian Necormancers in Space. Memes! Skeletons! Biceps! Go read them. (2 novels, 2 forthcoming, 1 short story)

Books On My To Read List:

Fireheart Tiger - Aliette de Bodard

The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water - Zen Cho

Black Sun - Rebecca Roanhorse

This Is How You Lose the TIme War - Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

Ninefox Gambit - Yoon Ha Lee

Also, if anyone has any recs for scifi/fantasy books starring queer men (not necessarily having to do with a queer relationship) and written by queer men I’d love them. There’s a lot written by women, and some of them are great, but I’d love to read a story about queer men from their own perspective.

#book recs #books #mp

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

noncon-anon🔪🔪🔪...2!: Regardless of how much jealousy he holds toward his half brother, Meng Yao never expected or wanted to have Jin Zixuan on his knees before him. Certainly not like this, at least (his half-brother wrapped in chains, in the middle of the Sun Palace’s main hall, with Wen Ruohan and who knows how many other people watching) but he hadn’t been expecting Jin Zixuan to get captured either, and if this is what he has to do to remain in the Chief Cultivator’s favor, then so be it; may the gods forgive him for this violation of his kin (...and maybe if he puts on a good enough show, Wen Ruohan will let him keep his half-brother alive).

ao3

warning for adult content (full warnings on ao3)

Meng Yao had spent years not thinking of Jin Zixuan as anything other than an obstacle in the way of his ultimate goal – his father’s recognition, himself as the heir and eventual master of Lanling Jin – and he bitterly resented Wen Ruohan for trashing all that effort.

It was impossible to keep the image of Jin Zixuan that he’d had in his mind before: the spoiled, arrogant princeling in the same make as Wen Chao, less a human being than a statute of gilded gold, all fancy clothing and flawless appearance.

There was nothing of that now.

There was nothing arrogant about the frightened young man on his knees in front of him, chains carved with suppression arrays wrapped around his body – they’d been designed for a much stronger cultivator than he, Wen Ruohan’s mind lingering too often on his chief-most enemy in the war, Nie Mingjue, and Jin Zixuan was as helpless beneath them as a lamb, shivering in blind terror at being taken away from all he knew dear. His retainers had all been taken off to the Fire Palace or killed where they knelt, their corpses dragged off leaving smears of blood on the ground, and only he remained.

Meng Yao’s envy.

His brother.

His mother had always wanted to give him a brother, he abruptly recalled, and hated Wen Ruohan all the more for making him remember it. Her womb had closed after him, such that she couldn’t try for another even if she’d wanted to, but she’d day-dreamed about him making friends with the legitimate sons her sect leader – that was how she always called him, her sect leader – would undoubtedly have, pointlessly giving him advice on how to make friends with them, impress them, make them like him.

Not – this.

Never anything like this.

“Look at the gift I got for you, Meng Yao,” Wen Ruohan said, smiling. “A twin from another womb, born on the same day as you, but unlike you planted in the legitimate belly and so hoarded like a treasure – I would wager that you wish you could peeling his skin off and wrap yourself in it, wear it back to Lanling Jin.”

Meng Yao smiled. “Sect Leader Wen does me too much honor. This lowly one does not deserve such a gift.”

We may be born on the same day, but I’m three years older than him, and my mother isn’t a disgusting vicious old hag like Madame Jin. How dare you compared them.

“And yet I have chosen to give it,” Wen Ruohan said, brooking no disagreement as always. “You do such fine work in my Fire Palace, Meng Yao, with strangers who have never looked at you twice – I cannot wait to see what marvels you will accomplish with a target that you actually abhor. Which of your fine instruments will we try on him first? Should we break his spirit by removing his sword hand, or cut off Jin Guangshan’s hopes along with his balls?”

He laughed, endlessly amused by himself.

Meng Yao smiled along – mother wanted me to be his friend – and mentally ran through his options as fast as he could. He couldn’t risk angering Wen Ruohan, not when the other man held the entirety of the Nightless City in the palm of his hand, not when the only thing keeping Meng Yao himself out of the Fire Palace and strung up on his own instruments of torture was the quality of his service.

“I will of course not disappoint the Sect Leader,” he says smoothly, and pretended to ignore the way Jin Zixuan flinched, with his face so similar to his own, to the face his mother had loved so foolishly. “Only…”

“Only?”

Meng Yao ducked his head bashfully. “Sect Leader is too generous to me, it makes me go beyond myself; I start to think of things I should not. When I was young…ah, but it does not matter.”

“Don’t equivocate,” Wen Ruohan ordered, but his attention was caught, as Meng Yao had intended. “What were you going to say?”

“It’s only that when I was young, my mother would tell me stores of Lanling Jin,” Meng Yao said, and hated, hated, hated Wen Ruohan for making him have to share such things. “Her hope was that my father would accept me as his recognized son, but failing that, she had always assumed he would take me at least as – as a servant for the one he already had.”

He didn’t need more than that: Wen Ruohan got it right away. “And so once you were rejected you dreamed of the opposite, is that it?”

“It would satisfy this lowly one’s most fervent dream, Sect Leader.”

Wen Ruohan smiled, but it was not a pleasant smile – it was full of hidden dangers. “Ah, Meng Yao, you dare to dream so high! There’s only one problem with your suggestion that I see. This well-born child, this treasure of Lanling, what possible servant could he make? His hands are so clean and soft, he would not be able to do manual labor nor even sweep your floor. What possible use could you make of him?”

The answer came to Meng Yao at once, and he hated himself this time even as he responded with a pleasant smile: “Well, Sect Leader, in the absence of any other use, I could always have him serve me in bed.”

Wen Ruohan burst out laughing, caught by surprise.

He loved the idea, of course, as Meng Yao knew he would. Wen Ruohan was a man with esoteric tastes; he enjoyed torturing and humiliating his enemies, and the prouder the man the more he longed to ruin them. Even within the time Meng Yao had worked in his Fire Palace, he had seen Wen Ruohan offer a brother his family’s freedom if only he would forcefully take his sister’s purity, which the unfortunate man had done, weeping piteously all the while.

Yes, Wen Ruohan loved the idea, and because of that, Meng Yao had a chance of saving Jin Zixuan’s miserable life that he’d only need to later end, if he was to truly achieve all of his desires.

He would, too. He wouldn’t hesitate to end Jin Zixuan’s life if it served his ends.

Just not - like this.

My mother wanted us to be friends.

“Very well,” Wen Ruohan said, waving his hand. “You may have him as your bedwarmer.” Meng Yao had not even begun to salute in thanks when he added, “But before you accept such a gift, you should try it out.”

Meng Yao was not so foolish as to let his smile freeze. “Here, Sect Leader?”

“Why not here? It may as well be witnessed.”

Like a marriage, he meant, and Meng Yao hated him.

“Of course, Sect Leader,” Meng Yao said, and this time he completed the salute, bowing deeply, and made his way over to his hapless younger brother who was shaking like a leaf, just as unable to flee.

Meng Yao knelt before him and began to open his clothing, taking a moment to lean forward and hiss in his ear, “Keep your mouth shut. Play along and you will live; resist and you will die.”

It was neither threat nor reassurance but merely fact, but Jin Zixuan clearly needed the words – needed to think that there was someone here on his side, however illusionary the sensation was.

Whatever he was thinking, it worked.

Jin Zixuan stopped trying to fight and submitted as best as he could, even if he couldn’t help but flinch any time a new piece of flesh was exposed.

He was quivering like a quail, and Meng Yao sighed and reached for his half-brother’s cock, making him squeak in an undignified fashion as he started stroking it.

“Is that entirely necessary?” Wen Ruohan asked, sounding bored.

“I intend to get plenty of use out of him, Sect Leader,” Meng Yao replied, his tone equally bored as if this were merely a chore even as Jin Zixuan’s cock unwillingly started swelling up beneath his palm. “If I tear him up the first time I bed him, I’d have to stitch him up and wait for him to heal before I can take him again, lest I want to risk his death. And there’s only one legitimate heir, isn’t there?”

Wen Ruohan chuckled. “I suppose so.”

“Besides,” Meng Yao continued, because he knew he had to keep Wen Ruohan’s interest. “There’s some fun in this as well: look how responsive he is, getting hard for me already. He’s tied up in chains and bared for half the world to see, and all he cares about is his dick.”

“Reasonable, for a son of a pleasure-lover like Jin Guangshan,” Wen Ruohan agreed, and he sounded much less bored now. “Your shared father.”

“Our shared father,” Meng Yao agreed, and reached down with his free hand to open his own robes, pulling out his own cock. “Would you like to see how similar we are?”

He lined himself up next to Jin Zixuan – they really were similar, in both look and size, and Wen Ruohan laughed as Meng Yao shifted over to pleasuring them both at the same time. Jin Zixuan had his lips pressed tightly together, but he couldn’t help the little whimpers and mewls that broke free now and again, nor the way his hips bucked up under Meng Yao’s skillful work. He wasn’t the first man Meng Yao had pleasured like this, and, if anything, he seemed almost unexpectedly inexperienced.

Meng Yao would have assumed that Jin Zixuan, as Jin Guangshan’s son, would have had his fill of brothels by this age, have fucked every hole in every way that whores offered for sale and then some, but perhaps his jealous bitch of a mother wouldn’t let him.

Certainly it didn’t take very long before he was coming helplessly in Meng Yao’s hands.

“Did you like that, brother?” Meng Yao asked him, and Jin Zixuan looked at him in betrayal. “You came so quickly – you liked having your brother’s hands on you, didn’t you? The same blood as yours. They say mine is less pure on account of your mother being born in a palace and mine in a brothel, but in the end it seems that you’re the one that turned out the whore.”

Jin Zixuan’s face was red and flushed, but he didn’t say a word, didn’t resist as Meng Yao pushed him down and spread his legs, merely grunted when Meng Yao slid fingers slicked up with his own come into him one a time.

“You’re tight here, which is to be expected,” Meng Yao continued, aware of their audience – the one on the throne being the only one that mattered, although there were plenty of guards watching avidly as well. “I doubt anyone’s ever made use of you before, unless our shared father has even more interesting tastes than I thought…”

Jin Zixuan flushed even redder and shook his head furiously.

“No? Then let your older brother be the first.” Jin Zixuan’s body was involuntarily relaxed after his orgasm, and Meng Yao was in a hurry, knowing that he couldn’t draw this out too long lest Wen Ruohan grow bored – he stretched him roughly, making as much space as best as he could, then put his cock at his entrance. Before he did anything more, he reached over and grabbed Jin Zixuan by the hair, forcing him to bend forward so that he could see Meng Yao’s cock about to breach him. “At the brothel, they say a woman always remembers her first man. They say it’s because her body shapes itself to him, molding the inside to accommodate him, never to be the way it was before – making her the perfect fit for his cock and no one else’s, no matter how many others she might one day take. I’ve heard the same is true for men. What do you think, little brother? Are you ready to take me into you? Are you ready to watch as I turn you into something fit only for me?”

Jin Zixuan couldn’t tear his tear-filled eyes away.

Meng Yao pushed in, and Jin Zixuan whined, high and loud, pathetic. It didn’t stop Meng Yao at all, pushing in inexorably – Jin Zixuan was hot and tight, about what he’d thought he’d be, same as anyone else. There wasn’t any magic to incest, no matter how much it got Wen Ruohan off.

(It got Meng Yao off, too. But he’d be a very poor whore’s son indeed if he didn’t know how to separate business and pleasure - and this was a performance. Would he say such ridiculous words, words that no one would believe if their dicks weren’t hard, otherwise?)

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said, because he knew Wen Ruohan liked to hear it, and maybe also because he liked the way it made Jin Zixuan have to turn his face away in shame. “You really were a virgin, weren’t you? Look at you, giving yourself to me like a bride on her wedding night, taking me all inside of you. What a good little bedwarmer you’re going to be.”

He settled in all the way, hips pressed against warm flesh, and enjoyed the sensation of Jin Zixuan futilely clenching around him in an attempt to get him out.

“I’ll teach you all the tricks to please me,” he said, starting to rock back and forth, moving in and out. “Every morning you’ll present yourself to me to use; every evening too, and if I get bored during the middle of the day I’ll use your mouth. Once I’ve gotten you properly broken in, I’ll rent you out to anyone who asks – I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Make you the good little whore and me the master, make you earn on your back that gold you’ve always worn as if you deserved it.”

He was thrusting in earnest now, Jin Zixuan’s legs around his waist, and to his amusement it looked like Jin Zixuan was getting hard again. It wasn’t really a surprise, a natural reaction to the strange and confusing sensations he was enduring, none of which said anything as to whether or not he was enjoying himself at all, but Meng Yao dropped his hand onto Jin Zixuan’s cock yet again.

“See, you’re halfway to a whore already,” he mocked. “Getting hard on big brother’s cock like a good boy. Good and obedient – you’re going to come with my cock inside of you, and belong to me forever.”

Jin Zixuan was whimpering, tears streaming down his face, but it still didn’t take long for him to come.

Meng Yao finished shortly after.

He allowed himself a few moments to enjoy the sensation, and then pulled out, pulling Jin Zixuan’s leg up so that Wen Ruohan could see the come dripping out of his abused hole.

“Well done,” Wen Ruohan said, clapping. His eyes were avid. “Well done indeed. As always, Meng Yao, your craftsmanship is exquisite. You may keep him – although perhaps another show might be in order, soon enough.”

“Of course, Sect Leader,” Meng Yao said, and snapped his fingers for a guard to take Jin Zixuan to his room. Sad and miserable and pathetic, but still alive – just as he’d promised.

Naturally, the situation of keeping Jin Zixuan as his personal pet wasn’t tenable in the long run, and so it was only a few days later when Meng Yao kneeled in front of Wen Ruohan and said, “Sect Leader, I have an idea for something we can do with Jin Zixuan.”

“I’m listening,” Wen Ruohan said lazily. “What do you have in mind?”

“I have left him alone and isolated in my bedchamber these past few days, growing increasingly nervous and paranoid,” Meng Yao said. “I propose to allow him to ‘escape’ with some information to deliver to Sect Leader Lan, who will believe his peer well above he might believe some anonymous sender of notes. And he, in turn, will pass the information along to Sect Leader Nie…”

Wen Ruohan’s eyes lit up in immediate interest, as Meng Yao had expected. He was always keen to hear any word about Nie Mingjue.

“I believe this mechanism will allow us to lure Sect Leader Nie into a trap,” Meng Yao said. “And then…”

He let his eyes drift over to the chains that had so recently housed Jin Zixuan.

“Do as you suggest,” Wen Ruohan ordered at once. What did one little Jin Zixuan matter to him, next to the possibility of gaining a Nie Mingjue?

Meng Yao saluted and left. It was settled, then – Jin Zixuan would be let go and make his way back to the Great Sect’s side of the war, they would both put this unfortunate incident out of their heads, and life would carry on as if nothing had happened.

(Years later, when Jiang Yanli coaxed Jin Guangyao into a bedroom where Jin Zixuan waited, shivering in a completely different way, it finally occurred to him that he hadn’t told Jin Zixuan that that was the plan, and also perhaps that the other man lacked his own talent for compartmentalization – but in the end it all turned out all right anyway, even if it did mean he’d need to revamp his plans for conquering the Jin sect to find a way to keep his new pet alive in the long run.

Damn Wen Ruohan. It was all his fault!)

#mdzs #jin guangyao #meng yao #jin zixuan #my fic #my fics #gilded gold #proving all those people who said I was the chocolate box right I guess #Anonymous

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philliamwrites · 3 years

Text

The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.2]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 6.7k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn’t help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Chapter 02: The Herald of Dawn

Hold me, O Night, with motherly affection, While the wan earth wakes with a misty yawn. By my blood will be born the Dawn and from my fleeting dream—the undying sun!

[Gabriele D’Annunzio]

Hushed whispers wake you from the dark. The crackling of fire sweeps away the last remains of weary unconsciousness, and you blink at a tent's ceiling. Someone draped heavy blankets over you, and with every breath you exhale, puffy white clouds rise up. The shadows of a fire dance across the walls, their blurry movements flush another wave of dizziness over you, and as you sit up, you notice a tight feeling around your head. When you raise a hand to your forehead, there is a bandage sitting tightly wrapped around your head, covering your right eye. The pain has finally stopped, but it still feels dully raw, like an injury that hasn’t healed properly and serves now as a reminder of anguish.

The memories from the battle rush back to you, the sound of metal hitting metal and heavy bodies dropping to the ground echo in your mind. Death was nothing new to the soldiers and mercenaries, so how come you don’t feel particularly sorry for the fallen? You’re no soldier, at least that’s what every fibre of your body tells you, so normalising killing isn’t right. You rebuild your surety of that, one shaky brick at a time.

Once on your feet, you make your way outside, drawn in by the smell of cooked meat and quiet chatter. The sight of a small camp greets you: more tents build a row on this side of the camp, and in the centre, solders sit around a small fire, their voices barely audible. They lean over a steaming kettle, their weapons at their feet or beside tree trunks—laid down for the night but still within reach.

“Heey, you’re finally back with us!” Claude’s voice rings through the camp, and several heads turn in your direction. As he waves for you to join him, you duck your head and move quickly to his side, wishing you could just merge with the ground and disappear from everyone’s attention. “Little one, you got us worried there,” he says. On his knees, he’s balancing a steaming wooden bowl, and the sight and smell reminds you how hungry you are. Your stomach agrees by providing a low growl.

“How long have I been out?” You barely recognise your own voice, the sound rough from exhaustion. Claude hums in thought and gestures with one hand to a soldier to bring you food, while his other pats the ground beside him for you to sit down. “We managed to march a couple of hours after cleaning up the mess from the battle. Right now we’re near the edge of the forest. There should be only one more day of marching until we reach the monastery.”

“And you guys are sure they can help me up there?” you wonder, watching the first group of soldiers get ready for the night watch. They’re frighteningly young, jostling and bumping into each other, laughing and stamping their feet against the cold snap that still lingers, the last gasp of winter before spring begins in earnest.

“If not there, I’m not sure there’s anyone out there who can help you.”

You glare at Claude. “Surely you must be the voice of confidence in this merry bunch, right?”

He laughs. “I’m the closest you’ll get to an optimist around here.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Reassuring is my second name.”

“No, you said it’s von,” you mumble. Claude stares at you for a long minute, then bursts out laughing, the sound dark and rich. “No, that’s a noble prefix. You don’t even remember that?”

You open your mouth, and close it like a fish, feeling your cheeks raise in temperature. He shouldn’t make you feel guilty for forgetting something like that, and yet the shame settles in your bones and you want to smack your head against something to help your brain remember.

“Ah, but pardon my rudeness,” Claude purrs and gives you a mock bow. “I can tell you everything you want to know about nobility and how overrated it is. In fact, I might as well convince you to join the Alliance before Their Highnesses steal you to their side.”

“I’m not going to be on anyone’s side,” you mumble, and steal Claude’s blanket as payback, relishing in his offended expression. “It has nothing to do with me.”

Claude raises an eyebrow. “Ehh, I’m not so sure it’s that easy.”

“It is,” you insist, unable to hide the sulk from your voice. “Because I say so.”

Claude raises both eyebrows. “That’s not how it works.”

“Watch me.”

Something like a shadow flashes across his emerald eyes, but it disappears quickly enough for you to think it’s only the light from the campfire playing a trick on you. “We’ll see about that.” He scrapes the remaining contents from his bowl and lets out a satisfying yawn when he’s finished, stretching his long limbs like a cat getting comfortable. “Sooo,” he starts, unnecessarily dragging out the vowel and the sound of it locks up your shoulders into one tense muscle in preparation of what he’s going to say next. “Care to explain what happened back there?”

You take a deep breath. “You mean when it felt like my eye was going to fall out of its socket?”

“Actually I meant when you tripped over that one root after we found you.” He gives you a crooked grin. “But that’s interesting too, please go on.”

“I thought no one saw that,” you mumble, and avoid his gaze as you remember that stupid root that nearly broke your neck. Well, Claude surely knows a thing or two about tricking someone into talking about exactly what he wants to hear.

You thank the mercenary that brings you food, and notice it’s the one from the battle with the crooked nose. He gives you a just as crooked grin and limps back to his comrades. The stew warms your chilled bones, the rich flavour of meat and vegetables lifting your spirits and filling you with energy. As you eat, you drag out the minutes but Claude doesn’t even squirm as you let him wait, and starts whistling an off-key tune until you start to feel uncomfortable.

“Well, if I knew, I wouldn’t be afraid that it might happen again,” you admit begrudgingly. “Because that was scary.”

“Yeah, it didn’t really look like fun,” Claude agrees. “But what was it in the first place?”

“I don’t know.” You start to become weary of those words. “But it hurt.”

Claude gives you a sympathetic look, and goes silent, allowing you to eat, but you can’t shake off the feeling his mind is still trying to figure out what’s the deal with you. He can, for all you care. And once he’s done, he can write a report and hand it right to you so you’ll understand as well.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice someone moving towards you. Dimitri approaches you with caution like you’re a small animal he might scare off with hasty movements. But the look he gives Claude is that of a disappointed father, and he shakes his head once he’s standing in front of him. “Claude, we were supposed to not disturb our guest,” Dimitri says sternly, then bows his head in your direction. “Apologies. We should let you rest.”

“No, it’s okay,” you admit, and shuffle a little to the side to make room. “Please stay.”

Both boys exchange a quick look, but then Dimitri sits down, minding a polite distance unlike Claude who only needs to stretch his legs for his feet touch your knee.

“We were worried,” Dimitri starts. Just like Claude, he’s taken off most of his armour, and nothing about him stands out as a member of the royalty. He looks just like any other boy, and you’d never admit it out loud, but you already miss the blue tones on his uniform, the colour making his remarkably ice-blue eye stand out even more. “Luckily we could dispose of all bandits and return to a safe area. Byleth carried you here all by herself.”

“Yeah, remind me not get on her bad side, okay?” Claude laughs, but you think you hear a slight nervous tremble in his voice. “She looks like she can decapitate me with a butter knife.”

“She doesn’t look like it. She very certainly will behead you with a butter knife,” Dimitri provides with a pleasant smile as if he’s talking about the weather.

“See, and that’s why she fits best in the Alliance,” Claude says, winking at you. “We’re always full of surprises.”

Dimitri rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his broad chest. “You might try it. I personally plan to convince her to join the Kingdom.”

“I think you’re both too late for that,” you say as you look to the other side of the camp where Byleth and Edelgard are currently engaged in a deep conversation, their heads leaning close to each other. Claude groans miserably, but quickly recovers as he turns to you, his eyes brightening up with excitement. “It’s okay, because once my disarming charm has wrapped you around my little finger, I’ll have an impressive tactician on my side.”

You almost choke on your next spoon of stew. “Tactician? I wouldn’t go that far.”

Beside you, Dimitri clears his throat. “Though I have to question Claude’s way of persuasion, I must admit he isn’t wrong about the latter. What you did back there was impressive.”

“I really didn’t do anything special,” you mumble at the same time Claude raises both hands leisurely and says, “Hey, it’s not my problem you think you’re immune to it, Your Princeliness.”

Dimitri grumbles something in a foreign language under his breath. Grinning smugly, Claude turns to you, and nudges your side. “Have confidence, little one. They’ll teach you everything you need to know up there.” He points up towards a mountain where you’ll apparently be heading tomorrow. If you squint, you think you can make out lights in the horizon brightening the night sky.

“That monastery,” you say, trying to ignore how Claude’s body radiates heat. “What exactly is that place? I’ve never heard of a monastery that holds a school. I think,” you quickly add, unsure what thoughts provided by your hazy mind are facts.

“The Officers Academy is a facility where students learn the arts of warfare, magic, and leadership,” Dimitri explains. He’s very obviously trying not to look at Claude, which in return has Claude’s grin widening even more. “The lessons provide us with everything we need as upcoming heads of our families. Swordsmanship, sorcery, authority, the history of our continent. There is much to learn for everyone attending the classes.”

“So it’s a death factory,” you translate, the sudden bitter taste in your mouth overshadowing the taste of the stew. “How can they just teach that stuff like it’s normal?”

“You saw it yourself, didn’t you.” Claude stretches his long limbs and leans back until he props his body up on his elbows. “Bandits and thieves everywhere.”

“And most students come from a noble house,” Dimitri adds. “They need to be taught how to take command, and about the responsibilities coming with leadership.”

You blow a strand of hair away from your face, mood dropped now that you know where you’ll be from tomorrow on. “This doesn’t sound right.” Though you can’t really say how a school is supposed to be instead. This is a world with different rules, and you aren’t sure if it’ll be easy to accommodate to them.

While the boys bicker how good the plot of the tale mentioned earlier really is, you see Byleth approaching. A bruise is forming on her left cheek, and she holds her arm as if bearing the pain from a wound. But nothing of that is portrayed on her face, as if her brain hasn’t registered she’s wounded yet and hence doesn’t need to express it.

“How are you?” she asks, sending the boys a quick look. Dimitri and Claude climb to their feet and wish their good nights with a quick bow. They hurry to Edelgard and gang up on heir, probably interrogating her about the conversation she's had with Byleth.

“I’m better,” you say, a little surprised you actually mean it. You feel refreshed and nourished, ready for another day of walking. Byleth sits down and watches the camp for a moment in silence. The chaos from before has settled into a quiet hum. Men and women sit together in little circles and tell their glorious battle stories with boisterous laughter, selling the illusion of a victorious life. But that might easily end the next day because of a hasty recklessness. No one thinks of that. Everyone is just celebrating, reaching for flasks and living in the moment. It’s a beautiful sight.

As the buzzing sound of people chatting subsides and the first turn in for the night, Byleth turns towards you, her voice lowered. “What you did back there,” she starts, and for whatever reason remains silent as if she decided talking about it isn’t a good idea. Shadows from the weakened fire dance across her face, and again you’re flooded with the unfathomable feeling of familiarity. It’s in the sharp lines of her face, the way her eyes move and settle on something as she observes her surroundings. It’s almost a painful sense of nostalgia. Something about this woman just brings you an unusual amount of ease, like it doesn’t really matter who you are, and rather that you’re here that makes the difference.

Before you can stop your brain, you’re already asking, “Do we know each other by chance?”

Byleth looks at you for a long minute, then slowly shakes her head, and you try not to show your disappointment too much. “I’ve travelled a lot with my father,” she says. “We’ve come through many lands and villages. You may have seen me at some point, but we’ve never exchanged a word until yesterday.”

You nod at the plausible explanation, but the feeling that this isn’t the right answer curls like a hook into your heart. “And your father hasn’t said anything about me as well?”

“No.” Byleth’s eyes follow your hands as they set down the empty bowl. Seeing that you’ve finished everything, she nods in approval. “And he doesn’t forget a face.”

“How do you all just … trust me,” you wonder, looking to where Jeralt is miserably leaning against a tree trunk as Alois keeps talking and talking. He looks like he wishes someone would take him down with an arrow.

“He doesn’t,” Byleth says. “And he calls me a little whippersnapper for that. He hasn’t called me that in the five years.” At the sound of the smile in her voice you snap your head in Byleth’s direction, but when you look, she wears the same bland expression like before.

“But you do,” you start carefully, not trusting your ears again, so you settle on staring at her until she gives another emotion. “Care to explain why?”

“For now, you haven’t given me any reason not to,” she states as if it really were that simple. It couldn’t be. Up until now Byleth has been your only anchor that your meeting wasn’t purely coincidental—that the reason shrouding your memories would dissipate like the night once dawn breaks if you just stick to her side, and everything will be revealed in time. But now without anything to hold on to, you feel like you’re slipping deeper and deeper into an abyss from which you can’t ascend. This feeling is terror fizzing in your blood like poison, and you shudder at the thought that you’ll forever remain adrift.

“Your powers,” Byleth continues, unaware of your mental breakdown right next to her. “They’re unusual, and if you learn to use them right, very dangerous.” Spoken by everyone else, this might sound like a threat, but Byleth says it like a simple statement, a fact, unaware how much she tilts your world with it. “What do you plan to do with them?”

You don’t have to think long about it. “I won’t do anything. Whatever it was, it’s over,” you say and gesture at your bandaged eye. It’s true. Since you woke up, your eye has remained calm, no red veil or eery proclamation someone might step into the campfire and burn alive. The pounding has stopped, and the normalcy of it is like a soothing balm.

Byleth studies you. You really wish she could give you more than her vacant expression. “You don’t know yet … your eye.” She takes your spoon and with the end of it, she draws a symbol on the ground. “Do you know what that is?”

You look at it, but nothing comes to your mind. It’s just a four pointed star with two lines crossing the right and left tips. “No, I’ve never seen it.”

Byleth holds your gaze as if she hopes to find a lie written between your eyes, and this time you don’t look away until she relents with a barely audible sigh.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because before you passed out, it appeared here.” She taps a finger against her closed, right eye, then points at you. Your body goes rigid. Immediately, your hands fly up to tear off the bandage, but Byleth catches your wrists and holds them down. “Not yet.”

“I want to see it.” Your breath catches in your lungs. It sounds like you need air because you’re drowning. “I want it off. Take it off!”

“I can’t show you, there are no mirrors,” Byleth says quietly, and throws a quick glance around the camp to see if your panic has alarmed anyone. You want to point out that you could use the reflection of her sword, but maybe Byleth has considered the same and thought it a bad idea, because she doesn’t know what else you might do with a weapon in your current state. Seeing that fighting against the vice grip she has on your hands is futile, you slump down, your arms falling slack back to your side. “Just what… what is happening. What is that?”

“Edelgard said it might be a Crest, but none she or the others have seen before,” Byleth explains. “They told me there is a teacher at the monastery who studies Crests.” She gives your arms a barely noticeable squeeze before she lets go. “So it’s going to be okay.”

“How can you say that?” you nearly sob, and wish you could hold onto her longer as she stands up and brushes dirt off her uniform. “How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not,” Byleth says, giving you one last look. You want to tell yourself it’s something like worry you see in her eyes, but her expression remains blank, like a board that’s been wiped clean. “I can only hope.”

The next morning, Jeralt and Alois set an unforgiving pace, determined to reach the monastery shortly after dawn broke. While everyone else couldn’t wait to reach their home as fast as possible, you feel worry grow with every step up the hill towards the walls and towers. The monastery looms like a stronghold, a building so tall and intimidating, built to make people feel small.

You were allowed to take off the bandage, and there was nothing worse than knowing something was on your eye but you couldn’t see it. Unlike everyone else. They kept staring at you, mumbling to each other in quiet whispers, and more than once you considered telling them that just because your eye was different it didn’t mean you were blind. It was reason enough for you to put the bandage back on and stay away from the soldiers and mercenaries, leaving them to their superstitious rumours. Who could have thought that you’d grab someone else’s attention entirely with that revelation.

Even before the first sunbeams broke through the budding branches, the wind carrying the smell of spring and new life, Edelgard stuck to you like a tick. It wasn’t hard to find out she was more interested in your Crest than you as a person, and every question you couldn’t answer fuelled her irritation. Still she was nothing but determined to squeeze the tiniest information out of you, and even though you tried to avoid her by either marching way too fast or way too slow, Edelgard didn’t relent and remained by your side. Fear is a little exaggerated to describe what you feel towards her, but it's close. Whenever her sharp eyes focus on you, unease takes hold of your brain and the words leave your mouth as nervous stammers. It certainly doesn’t help that you know she can easily hack off a grown man’s arm without so much as blinking. Or that the corners of her mouth curl up into the sweetest, rare smile.

Once you’re on the trade road up to the monastery, pebble makes way to smooth cobblestone. Giant iron doors stand wide open, and as your group enters, a merchant’s cart rolls past you and greets the returning knights. After the first entrance point, the second waits in the form of a portcullis and more knights standing on guard. Past the second ring of walls, you enter a small forecourt. On both sides are stalls and booths with merchants screaming their prices and the sound of metal hammered into the right shape at the blacksmith’s. At the foot of wide stairs leading up into the first building, a man dressed in dark blue robes awaits you, his strong arms crossed behind his back.

“Welcome back,” he greets Alois and the students. “Your messenger bird has reached us yesterday late into the evening, and preparations have been made.” To Jeralt, he says, “My name is Seteth. I am an adviser to the archbishop. Lady Rhea awaits you.” Jeralt nods but he looks a lot more cautious since you’ve entered the monastery grounds. At the mention of that name, his posture visibly tenses, but he gestures to Byleth and you to follow him nonetheless.

“We shall return to our respectable classes for now and make known we are unscathed,” Dimitri says. “Please, Byleth, and you too, if things have calmed down, meet the other students as well, won’t you?”

“Ohh, good idea. You have to go around and introduce yourself as our great saviours.” Claude winks at you with both thumbs up. Edelgard slaps his hands back down.

“We’ll be standing here until evening if we don’t get going," she says. "Please give Lady Rhea our regards. We’ll report to her once everything is sorted out about you.” She eyes you sideways, then ushers the boys down another hall like a mother hen. You exchange a quick look with Byleth who already looks very exasperated with the student’s antics.

Seteth leads you into the Audience Chamber, a rectangular room with statues decorating the walls, and asks for you to wait. The moment he leaves the room, you turn towards Jeralt and Byleth and ask, “Who is this Lady Rhea?”

“I’m aware Byleth doesn’t know much about her, I haven’t taught her he teachings of Seiros, but you—” He stops mid sentence seeing the way you look at him, and clears his throat. “Lady Rhea is the archbishop of the Church of Seiros. She’s commanding the knights and sees that the people don’t do anything stupid in the name of Seiros.”

“Seiros?” you ask, turning the name in your head. Nope, nothing.

“You know, the one who defeated the King of Liberation and founded the Church of Seiros?” When you just shrug, Jeralt scratches his beard and hums in thought. “Well, I sure won’t be the one preaching what you should know or not. But maybe don’t make it all too obvious you aren’t a follower.”

Or what, you want to ask, but Seteth returns and he isn’t alone. The woman walking ahead of him looks like she belongs on the portrait of a saint. It isn’t much that she walks towards you, but rather strides in grateful steps to the middle of the room, her chin raised high and shoulders squared. And yet when she looks at your little assembly, her eyes are soft and kind, her expression open and friendly.

“I welcome you into these sacred halls,” she says, her voice like soothing velvet on your skin. “Alois informed me of what happened, and I thank every one of you for saving the students.” Lady Rhea smiles at you all separately. Her eyes linger on you, and she titles her head slightly. “I've also heard about the wondrous things that happened to you. Please, be so kind and remove the bandage. Let me take a look at this Crest.”

You hesitate, your fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. But Rhea waits patiently and raises a delicate hand when her advisor Seteth flinches to repeat her request. Slowly, you take the bandage off, barely able to imagine how the symbol or Crest as they call it looks upon your eye. When you meet Rhea's gaze again, her smile freezes, and her eyes widen in surprise. Her lips part slightly, then stretch into an ecstatic smile. Beside her, Seteth inhales sharply. “This is impossible,” he breathes, growing pale. You start to panic.

“Why, what's wrong with me? What is impossible?”

“Nothing, nothing is wrong,” Rhea quickly reassures you, but it's hard to believe when Seteth looks like he's seen a ghost. “A fortunate day indeed. Not only does one of the strongest knights to have ever walked these halls return, but it also seems that a new chapter of history dawns upon us.”

All eyes land on her, one more puzzled than the other. Even Seteth doesn’t look like he fully comprehends what’s happening. “Lady Rhea?” he asks cautiously at the same time as Jeralt demands, “What are you talking about?”

The archbishop ignores them both, and the longer she gives you that pleasant smile, the more unsettled you feel. “When Alois wrote about a Crest appearing on your body, I was not sure what to think of it. But now, I cannot hide my joy at the return of a Crest that we thought was lost to history.”

“I—I don’t know why I have it,” you quickly say, feeling you have to defend yourself before they accuse you of stealing it. Can Crests be stolen in the first place? “I don’t remember why I have it.”

Lady Rhea nods, her solemn expression making way to worry. “Of that Alois informed me as well. You may stay here until your memories return. Allow me for now to tell you about the Crest. Maybe that will dissipate some of the darkness shrouding your mind.”

You nod, and brace yourself for whatever she’ll reveal. It certainly helps that Byleth stands close to you, her mere presence a standing stone you can hold onto for now without drifting away.

“It is a Crest most uncommon,” Lady Rhea explains, her hands gracefully crossed in front of her. “For there was only one person who bore it. This Crest belonged to the very one who served our Lady Seiros against the evil powers that threatened Fódlan thousands of years ago. He was known as Seiros’ Champion. The Herald of Dawn.”

She allows those words to sink into you, and how deep they sink. Now that they’re out here, you feel like they pull you down, deeper down into a dark sea from which you can’t surface. The only result is drowning.

“Herald of … you don’t think. You can’t think—” Your thoughts move way too fast, you can’t grasp any to sort them.

“What I think means nothing in light of what has transpired and therefore is reality. You are chosen by the Goddess herself to bring hope to the people of Fódlan. You are the Herald of Dawn.”

You feel sick. It may be phantom pain, but you could swear your right eye starts hurting again, as if the Crest is reacting to the revelation, the call of its true nature. You dig your trembling fingers into the fabric of your jacket, considering for the tiniest second to gouge your eye out. Can’t be anyone’s champion or Herald without the Crest, right? “So, you’re saying … am I the one from back then? This Champion?” If you were really the same person, how were you still alive after a thousands of years? The prospect of finally having an identity is great, but you aren’t sure you’re ready to pay the price that comes with it. And this one seems to carry a very heavy price.

“That seems quite impossible.” This time Seteth speaks up. He looks just as unnerved by this revelation as you feel. “The Herald appeared when Saint Seiros was in dire need, and once his duty was fulfilled, he vanished. ”

“But now, another Herald has come, and with you the promise of suffering and hardships,” Rhea explains, her expression now strict and foreboding. “The task of giving hope is the most difficult to ask of a person. But that is the path the Goddess has chosen for you.”

“No, no, you’re wrong. I’m no Herald … and certainly no Champion of anyone. I can’t give people hope, I don’t even know what to give them hope for!” Your voice borders on hysteric, but you’ve never been more determined to plead your case. “I’m not the right person. I’m really not.”

“Then how come you bear the Crest of Seiros’ Champion, my child?” Lady Rhea asks, and you notice the tiny shift in her voice. The kindness grows thiner and thiner, and in its place austerity and even coldness settle—the voice of authority and undeniable command. “It is Our Goddess’ will. The Church of Seiros needs you. The people of Fódlan need you. You cannot turn away from your Fate.”

You want to argue that yes, you can; you’ll turn around and leave this place filled with crazy people and their fanatic beliefs. One look from Byleth stops your thoughts. Lady Rhea interprets this silence as compliance, and nods, visibly pleased. “We have waited for this opportunity for so long,” she continues, now smiling again. “There shall be festivities today. As a welcome to our Herald, and the return of Blade Breaker Jeralt. For you, his daughter, we have also thought of a task that will greatly help Garreg Mach.”

Jeralt grunts, clearly unhappy, but Byleth only cocks her head to one side. You’re astonished that after everything, she’s still awfully calm and collected.

“A teaching position has become free as of yesterday,” Lady Rhea explains to Byleth. “By Alois' recommendation, you are to take that position and teach one of the Houses here at the Officers Academy. Your colleagues will provide you with further information. As for you,” and you flinch when she turns to you, afraid what else she has in store, “you too shall teach the students the course of leadership and command. Seiros’ Champion was a great tactician. He honed Saint Macuil’s abilities. I would not be surprised if you too show an unparallelled gift for strategy.”

“Well,” you start, but the hesitation is clear, and Lady Rhea smiles like she knows what you can do once the Crest is activated. “Whereas you are to choose one house,” she tells Byleth, “the Herald will hold seminars. As a servant of the Church, you cannot call in favourites.”

“I don’t even know what to teach,” you mumble weakly. “How to teach.”

“Me neither,” Byleth says, the first time she’s spoken since entering the Audience Chamber. The amusement glinting in Lady Rhea’s eyes is like the sun reflected on a purling river. “Do not worry,” she says. “You will learn in time. And we are here to help you as well.”

On your lips lie the words that they certainly didn’t help you. You came here so they could help to search for a way to return your memory.

Instead, they made everything worse.

The ceremonial robes hang heavy over your shoulders. The feast hasn’t started yet, but you’re already sweating and panting with the weight of the golden embroidery and the head piece decorating your forehead. When Seteth brought everything in a couple of hours ago, he was grumbling something unintelligible under his breath, at his side a little girl who, unlike him, was happy to meet you and to see that you’d take on the role as the Herald. You wanted to tell Flayn there was a difference between want and have to, but she was already focused on helping you dress and prepare for the festivities. Servants handled the remaining tasks of making you presentable, and now you’re standing in front of a giant mirror, observing yourself.

It was scary how things changed so fast. Not even 24 hours ago, you were a nobody, a nameless figure roaming the woods, and now there is a name that isn’t your own—no, not a name. A title. A title that will all but replace your name. History won’t remember you as a person, they will remember the deeds that you’ve done, the mistakes that you’ll commit. Lady Rhea spoke of honour like it’s a crown on your head, but you see the noose that it really is around your throat. The head piece feels too heavy, and the golden necklace sitting on your neck reminds you more of a dog collar.

There’s a knock on your door. Seteth said that someone would get you before everything starts, and you don’t even try to hide the relieved sob when Byleth enters the room. She examines you from head to toes, and leans her head to the side, one finger on her chin. “You look … different,” she says.

“You mean ridiculous.” You move your arms, demonstrating how the wide sleeves flap uselessly at your side. “I wish we could do this all without me looking like a sack of potatoes.”

“I had to think of cabbages, but you aren’t wrong either.” She crosses the room and looks outside the window. You can already hear the masses as they enter the Cathedral, and it does nothing to calm your haywire nerves. Byleth seems to notice as much. She turns to you, and asks, “How are you holding up?”

“Do you want the real answer or the one I prepared for Lady Rhea?”

Byleth raises a brow.

“Not good. I’m just … how could this happen?” You throw up your hands in frustration, and the robes give a dangerous tearing sound. Your arms fall immediately down, the thought of damaging a hundreds of years old ceremonial robe the last thing you need today. “Of all the things, how could I suddenly become some figure of the Church.”

“Is it so hard to believe that the Goddess of Fódlan has lead you to this path?” Byleth crosses her ams and leans against the wall next to the window, eyeing you curiously.

“I don’t even believe in this Goddess,” you groan, flopping on your bed. The chambers chosen for you overlook the bridge leading to the Cathedral where people swarm inside like little ants returning to their anthill. It was a small room equipped with all necessities for comfort but no additional expenses on luxury. A bed, a dresser, a simple table and chair, a mirror, and a shelf take up all the space. Not that you could have brought anything with you.

You look up at Byleth and dread the next question. “Do you believe in it?” you ask. “That I’m someone chosen?”

“Hmm.” Byleth casts one last glance outside, then pushes off the wall, gesturing you to follow her. You sigh, and mentally prepare yourself for what will happen in the Cathedral. Before you leave the room, Byleth rests her hand on the door handle and looks back at you over her shoulder. “I don’t know. Where I’m from, belief doesn’t save you from the sword of a thief. Only deeds and actions. It’s the reason my father and I are still alive.” She considers you for a moment, and when you blink you imagine you see the tiniest smile on her face. “What you did yesterday was very much real to me. Maybe a Goddess guided you, maybe it was just lucky instinct. But you saved my life, and that certainly is something I can rely on.”

She doesn’t wait for an answer, and swings the door open. You quickly follow, your steps feeling a lot lighter than before. “I guess I’m just frustrated,” you admit, carefully paying attention your voice isn’t too loud. “That they think there’s someone who can just decide how my life is going to be. Like this herald business suddenly defies who I am.”

“As long as you don’t forget who you are, does it matter?” Byleth wonders aloud, turning down another corridor that ends in stairs leading down. “As long as there is just one person who doesn’t forget, does it really matter?”

Maybe not to her, but for some inexplicable reason, it means a great deal to you. So you answer with a grumble, and Byleth hums like she knows she’s right. To change the subject, you ask, “What about you? How can you just follow along with being a teacher here?”

“Truth be told, I’m not happy,” Byleth says, nodding to the knights standing on guard in the first floor that leads outside. “But at the same time I can see Lady Rhea’s reasoning. Those students need someone who teaches them not to be stupid on the real battlefield. Especially when they are to be future rulers of Fódlan. If I’m the one shaping those little whippersnappers, I can rest at ease.”

You follow her down the hallways, staying silent until, “Whippersnapper is such a weird word,” you say.

Byleth gives a huff of air that barely passes as a chuckle. “It is.”

Together you leave the living quarters and enter the Cathedral at the backside where everything is closed off for the rest of the people. Lady Rhea and Seteth are already waiting for you, both dressed in equally complicated robes as you.

“Thank you, Professor.” Lady Rhea nods towards Byleth, who nods back and joins the other teachers. “And now, Herald, it is time to meet the sheep you shall shepherd from today on. Please, follow me.”

She doesn’t give you time to prepare for the crowd waiting for you, and glancing at Seteth for help doesn’t do anything either as he just crudely nods towards Lady Rhea, telling you to go along. You square your shoulders and hope for the best.

The Cathedral has been decorated with candles and tapestry showing the banner of the Church of Seiros and above it the Crest of the Herald. A platform has been built for your entrance, and stepping on it, your gaze roams over all the assembled students, clergy, and knights. Seeing them, you feel terror seize your body, locking up all muscles. The masses look at you with hunger in their eyes, ready to devour you like you’re the last piece of bread on the table. “Herald, Herald! ” they cry, and each time they open their mouths, the noose tightens around your neck. Saint and Martyr vaguely dance at the edges of your mind, beyond your grasp, mocking how you know them but don’t understand their very being. This is bigger than you. This is far bigger than you can manage, and you want to run away and hide from their greedy eyes.

Scanning the crowd, you notice the house leaders in the far back. Edelgard looks unpleased, her mouth set into a grim line, while Dimitri claps politely with the rest, and Claude raises a golden cup in mocking salute. You really want to break down and cry. The only solid point is Byleth, has always been Byleth up until now, at the other end of the room, holding your gaze steadfast like a pillow of strength in troubled waters.

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ssa-thotchnerr · 3 years

Text

Nothing Personal

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Daughter!Reader, Jacob Barber x Hotchner!Reader

Summary: After leaving the BAU, the Hotchner's relocate to a small city in Boston. It's there that Y/N Hotchner meets her new best friend, Jacob Barber. After being friends for years, it turns to something more. But it all flips upside down when Jacob is accused of murdering their classmate Ben Rifkin, and Y/N's dad is hired by the Rifkins.

a/n: here's another one of Amy's 2am ideas!! So, my plan for this is that the first few chapters will be Y/N and Jacob as 14 year olds(they get together when they're around 15) , and then the rest they'll be 17-18! Jacob is accused when they're older!!

a/n: this is pretty much just Jacob and Y/N’s first meeting, and then Hotch being a very annoying and embarrassing dad cause we all know he IS ONE!!! it’ll get better, I promise!!

Word Count: 1.8k words

Warmings: mentions of death, loss of a parent, some angst, swearing

—

"Y/N, you're gonna be late!" Hotch yelled up to you, you couldn't count on one hand how many times you'd heard that this morning.

"Yes, dad, I know!" You yelled back, hopping around your room as you tried to put your shoe on. "You've told me 11 times in the space of 45 minutes." You told yourself that last part as you finally managed to pull your shoe on. You grabbed your backpack and jacket as you ran down the stairs.

"Alright, Jack, let's go!" Hotch called out to your younger brother. "I know you're mad I got you up early but they wanted you to be there early, you've got a guide or something for the first few days." Your dad told you.

"Oh good, that sounds fun," You mumbled disinterestedly. Hotch sighed at your mood, he couldn't really blame you though, after all, you'd gone through so much in your 14 years of living and you just couldn't seem to catch a break. You watched as Jack ran past you and your dad and right outside.

"I know you're not overly happy about all of this, Y/N, but just...try and make a friend? Who knows, maybe you'll fit right in," Hotch said. You shook your head and then looked up at your dad. As much as you wanted to give your dad a break, after all, he was feeling the same way as both you and your brother were, this was a whole different state, living in Newton in Boston was very different from Washington. Your ego had gotten the best of you and you spoke before you could stop yourself.

"I fit in at my old school," And with that, you walked out of the house. Hotch sighed as he watched you get in the front passenger seat of the car, a hard stare on your face as you scrolled through your phone. He locked the front door, then got in the car to drive you and Jack to school. You and Jack were both in middle school, but different grades, Jack being 11 and you being 14, at least Hotch wasn't driving halfway across the city. As your dad pulled up outside the school, you saw how much different it was to your old school.

"Okay, have a good first day alright? Jack, behave, Y/N, behave," Your dad warned you both. You and Jack nodded as you got out.

"Bye dad!" Jack said, looking back as he followed you into the school.

"I have to be friends with the new kid today, do you know how practically awful that is?" Jacob said, making Laurie laugh as she drove him to school. He sat back and crossed his arms with a dramatic huff.

"Jacob, that's enough. I mean, what if you really like them?" Laurie asked, pulling up behind a black SVU. Jacob watched as a girl got out, and then a boy he could presume to be a younger sibling follow after her.

"Yeah, I think that's very unlikely, mom," Jacob said, picking has backpack up and getting out of the car.

"Be nice to them, Jacob, and have a good day," Laurie said, watching as Jacob slung his backpack over his shoulder and shut the car door.

"Alright, I get it. Bye mom," Jacob waved goodbye to his mom and followed behind the girl and her sibling, who made their ways to the office, the same as he would. The girl stood and registered her and her brother.

"Jack and Y/N Hotchner," You said, looking down at your younger brother as he stood beside you. The office woman pointed to two seats and you and Jack went over to sit. As you came away from the desk, you turned to see the figure standing behind you. You gave him a small smile as he looked back at you, looking like a deer caught in headlights. You turned back to face your brother and you sat beside him. Jacob shook his head as he stepped forward.

"I'm supposed to be guiding one of the new kids around," Jacob told her, his attention once more wandering off to you, but you seemed interested in anywhere but here.

"Well, you're in time, you're leading the girl over there, her name is Y/N," She said, pointing over to you and your brother. Jacob nodded and walked over to you, watching as you looked up at him.

"Hi, I'm uh-Jacob, I'm your...your guide, I guess?" You smiled up at him, you couldn't help but feel bad for him with the amount of stammering he'd just done.

"I'm Y/N," You introduced yourself. "This is my brother, he's a pain in the ass and thankfully not in our grade." You said, pointing down at your little brother as you stood up. Jack huffed as he looked up at you.

"I have a name, Y/N," Jack said, shaking his head as he looked at you. You shrugged and looked down at him, a small smirk on your face.

"It doesn't matter, Jack," Jacob stood awkwardly as you bickered with your brother. "Alright, I think I have to go, but have a good day alright, don't be too weird and try make some friends." You said, looking back at Jacob, who smiled at you.

"Are you ready to go?" Jacob asked you. You nodded and followed Jacob around. "So...you're new here?" You nodded and looked at Jacob, he was very, very awkward. "Where are you from?"

"Washington, my dad worked at the FBI and we had to move out here," You told him, sighing as you remember just how much you missed the rest of your friends and family that stayed back in Washington. "He's working as a DA now, we moved here like 2 weeks ago." You said.

"My dad's a DA too," Jacob said, watching as you smiled and looked at him. "Maybe they'll be friends." You laughed at Jacobs comment and shook your head.

"The day I see my dad make friends is the day I'll believe in religion," You said, shaking your head. The halls were empty since everyone else was in class, and there wasn't much time left of the first class.

"You and your brother seem close," Jacob said. You chuckled as you shook your head, looking down at the ground as you sighed. You and Jack had always been close, especially after your mom had died. Jack wasn't quiet old enough to remember, but you were, you remembered helping your brother hide and telling him to be quiet, your brothers life thrusted into your hands at the age of 8 years old. You remembered hiding in the closet in your room, having to stay as quiet as you could and then coming out to find your dad crying over your moms body. "Hey, are you alright?" You shook your head as you rid yourself of the trauma that you'd unintentionally resurfaced from within yourself.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," You said, looking up at Jacob. He didn't look too convinced, but he didn't want to press, after all, he'd only known you for half an hour. "I just got distracted by the fact I have no friends other than my eleven year old brother." You said, making Jacob laugh.

"Well, I'll be your friend, Hotchner," He said, you shook your head at the nickname he'd given you. "What?"

"Don't call me by my second name, my dad coined Hotch or Hotchner years ago," You told him. Jacob chuckle as he nodded, sticking his bottom lip out.

"Alright, I'll think of something, I'll see you later."

—

You’d spent lunch and the rest of your day with Jacob, who admittedly, you were beginning to think he could make your whole situation a little bit better. You’d shown him pictures you’d taken with Emily, Spencer and JJ back when everything was normal.

Well, your version of normal.

“Y/N,” You were laying on your bed, earphones shoved in your ears blaring some Paramore song as you texted Jacob. Hotch sighed as he sat down on your bed beside you, you were that engrossed in your phone that you didn’t even notice your dad had sit down beside you. “Hello? Earth to Y/N!” Your dad said, pulling your earphones out and grinning when you jumped in surprise.

“Jesus, dad, don’t do that!” You whined, putting your phone down on your lap. “What do you want?” You asked him.

“What, I can’t say Goodnight to you anymore?” Hotch asked you defensively. You narrowed your eyes as you looked up at your dad.

“Not without wanting to know something,” You mumbled. Hotch laughed as he put his arm around you, shaking his head in surprise when you cuddled into him. “Listen, I’m tired.” You defended yourself.

“I’m not bothered, and speaking of being tired, it’s 1 am, why are you still up?” Your dad asked you. You looked up at him and shrugged. “Nothing to do with whoever you were talking to?” You shook your head tiredly as you yawned. “Oh, so now you’re very suddenly tired?”

“Of course, I had a very long day,” You said, smiling to yourself as you started to fall asleep, only to groan as your dad lifted you up. “Wow, that was incredibly horrible.” You mumbled, falling into the space that your dad once occupied.

“Like I said, it’s 1am, Y/N, go to sleep and stay off of your phone otherwise I’ll be taking it,” Hotch threatened you playfully. “Alright, Goodnight, Y/N.” Your dad said, kissing the side of your head as you let out a tired sigh.

“Goodnight, dad,” You said, twisting on your side and waiting until you heard your dads bedroom door shut, then you grabbed your phone again. “Oh, aren’t you a gullible parent?” You said, laughing to yourself as you started to text Jacob again.

#criminal minds #hotch x daughter!reader #hotchner!reader #agent hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #jack hotchner #aaron hotchner #defending jacob #Hotch x fem!reade #jacob barber x fem!reader #fem!reader #andy barber #laurie barber

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

Text

Pride Month: The Owl House: Wing it Like Witches

A good pride to you all you out and happy people! And welcome to my SECOND Pride Month! Last year was my first, both on this blog and in general as it took me a few years to come out publicly. So as such I was excited as hell and celebrated in style covering two full arcs, smaller ones than the whopper one’s i’ve done sense but still full stories: The Sam and Luna storyline from Loud House and the Red and Enid one from OK KO, to celebrate some bi characters, along with a few brucey extra reviews.

This year will be slightly different. The only thing close to a dedicated arc is a two-part look at Queer Duck for Kev, and yes that is a very real thing, Otherwise i’m just doing some one offs instead, as well as kickstarting a retrospective. This is really for practicle reasons: I didn’t really have anything in mind that fit within a month, as unlike last year, I now have ongoing retrospectives, patreon sponsored reviews, and plain old comissoins to look out for. I don’t MIND any of that mind you, I like having responslblities and stuff to do. It’s why I promote my pateron reguarly. It just means adapting and evolving. So one shots instead of arcs. Everybody good? Okay.

So it’s back to the Owl House as we wait for season 2! ... I DID not know Season 2 would be airing this month when I put this on the schedule, but serendipity’s worked out for me so far so far. I originally planned to save enchanting grom fright for this month, but decided to move it up to valentine’s day, and thus saved the other incredibly gay episode for this week. Which also happens to be the sports breather episode on a week where I could badly use a review that isn’t a good 150+ pages of comic.

And we’re picking up exactly where we left off: The episode after Grom with it now open to the audience Amity has a crush on Luz.. granted there were hints before but now i’ts out there and Dana won over the executives, fun fact disney got slapped with a discrimination suit on the first day of pride... now that.. that’s game right there. Slapping your bosses with a discrimination suit for being homophobic right when it’d hurt the most, that has my utmost respect, she did not have to be subtle anymore. This episode is the result of that and some other stuff we’ll get to as we go so join me under the cut!

So we open with Boscha

For a refresher Boshcha is that bullying asshole what was “”””””Friends””””””” with Amity, with as many quotes as it is because it was more friends in the sense her parents said “Dump your actual friend and hang out with this triclops or we’ll do bad stuff”.

Grudgby season has started up: it’s like Rugby but somehow even more horribly violent. It probably involves as many cats though.

I mean I think the boiling Isles has cat people. it’d honestly be weirder at this point if it didn’t. Point is it’s sports ball and she’s good at the sportsball so everyone in town is excited and as Boscha prepares to enter with her girl posse of Skara and...

She finds no one fawning over her or anything. Instead their all gathered around WILLOW. Willow is actually.. popular now... as it turns out just being nice, having a neat talent and some confidence can work wonders. She even makes a head eggplant for a guy.

Boscha takes this entirely nice person not meaning to steal her thunder the way you’d expect: by making a cruel jab about “needing to make friends out of plants”... that is also nonsensical as Willow has two very close friends, one of whom is about as subtle as a frying pan to the face.

Make that three as Amity keeps her word from “Understanding Willow” about not letting Boscha get away with this... and utterly destroys her with a sentence.

Amity: You know, I used to be like you, Boscha. Obsessed with status, challenging my competition, but I grew up. When will you?

So everyone naturally laughs at that burn and Boscha swears even more vengance on Willow because that makes perfect sense.

After the credits Eda drops Luz off at school. Luz is excited for Grudgby season and she has more school spirit than the actual school spirit.. whose depressed at this. oh come on Jeremy your trying your best.. she was just being peppy> It’s her primary personality trait. Turns out Eda was the star player for the Zanarkand Abes Hexside Banshees when she was in school, and got in despite being a freshman. Mostly by cheating, nature’s great equalizer. So while Luz goes off for a day of learning Eda wakes king up so she can talk him into going over old memories.. and since the plots don’t overlap after this let’s go ahead and go through that one now shall we?

So Eda puts on her old Jersey, credit to her it stillf its, and shows off to King, but is interupted by Hooty bringing in something he found in the woods... but this time it’s not a giant dead mouse or a giant dead mouse person, they had to get a LOT of bleach that day, but Lilith. She was hiding in the woods because she’s a creep naturally her first order of buisness is to read Eda her arrrest warrant. Her and King take this as you’d expect...

Seriously LIlith you’ve tried the “The Emperor wants what’s best for you” bit for what’s clearly been years. If Eda wasn’t gonig to buy it THEN she’s not going to buy it now.

Lilith then notices Eda going over her old Grudgby stuff and being the former captain and already having an inferiority complex with her little sister outright claims she was better and that Eda couldn’t win without cheating. Eda decides to take that bet: Eda wins, Lilith gets the fuck out of her house, Lilith Wins, Eda goes quitely.

King serves as Ref and Hooty serves as the field hazard, and proves he can both be suprisingly impartial and suprisingly versatile, stretching to block eda’s goals and creating a giant stygian mouth hole at one point, a nice bit of show don’t tell as it shows off WHY he could capture someone at Lilith’s level and why next episode he can EASILY own the gaurds: he is really powerful.. he’s just also won’t shut the fuck up.

It’s neck and neck ending up tied, with eda deciding “Fuck it i’ll cheat”.. only for Luz to have emptied her cheat box because she’s consdierate... and because payback for cheating when Luz asked her NOT too way back in episode four is a BITTTTCHHH ain’t it? Still Eda proves she has the skills to not end up in indentured servtude and wins... but then Lilith breaks down. Turns out giant sized assholes wearing creepy masks don’t take kindly to repeated failure. So Eda gives Lilith her ring and while Lilith is greatful she’s still coming back, setting up the finale. But for now their square and this subplots done...

So winding back to the main plot, our heroes are in history and Luz marvels at the school’s outbreak of Willow Fever. Willow contributes her new popularity to confidence from patching things up with amity. At first I THOUGHT this was a bit fast. .but as the episoide shows she’s not 100% there yet confidence wise. Case in point Boscha starts bullying her and naturally Luz stands up for her friend and is confident Boscha can’t follow them around and torment them all day. ONe smash cut later and she has indeed followed them all day.

Willow explains why Boscha can get away with this: as their star player she can get away with murder.. which leads to a great gag of Principal Bump saying i’ts okay, even if he dosen’t approve. Good stuff.

So Luz asks a passing and now weirdly nervous Amity for help since she and boscha are friends.

Amity points out that Boscha works on Grudgby terms during the season... Luz gets what to do here, having brought up a sports theme Azura story earlier. As if on cue Boscha picks then to dump garbage on willow saying it “belongs with the other trash”

So Luz challenges her to a children’s card game sports ball game grudgeby match: Willow wins, she backs the fuck off, Boscha wins she gets to use them as water people.. and target practice. So this has suddenly become An Extremely Goofy Movie and i’m here for it.

So Willow isn’t exactly stoked about this being called on her behalf, but Luz talks her and Gus into it for valid reasons: They really can’t just IGNORE Boscha. It’s why I say Willow’s development isn’t sudden: she has SOME new confidence, and her popularity isn’t unwaranted as we saw her making flowers for Grom last episode, but she also dosen’t have it in her to stand up to Boscha on her own and is content to just ride it out because that’s what she’s always done. But Luz is right that she won’t stop and it’s not right to just let her go on tormenting Willow for the rest of her life.. look Boscha just screams peaked in High School to me, she’s not going to have anything but sniping at Willow after this.

Luz tries to recruit amity but well.. let’s face it you all know how this goes “You.. and me... in cute uniforms.. sweating?! I GOTTA GO”. I’m mixed on how. blatantly obvious Amity’s feelings are in this one. On the one hand... it’s fucking hilarious. Adorable but still comedy gold, and Mae Whitman really dosen’t get to show off her funny side often in her roles, so it’s nice to get some good comedy out of her. But it also feels sudden.. while we KNOW she has a crush on Luz now it’s still a weird jump up from “won’t admit it at all and no one can tell” to “Luz must have some brain damage not to notice how much Amity wants to go out with her. “ It’s not BAD but it feels artifically accelerated and hopefully will be dialed back slightly. Don’t get me wrong some dumb lovestruck amity moments here and there would be great, we just don’t need her at this level in every episode.

So Luz herself learns how to play> Grudgby is essentially rugby but with horrifying traps on the field. So MILDLY more dangerous. Luz decides they can speed up learning it via montage.. and we get a hilaroius montage of her EXPLANING what a montage is including them in animal pajamas “what happens in the montage stays in the montage”.

Actual practice goes worse though as Luz pushes too hard.. not in an overcompetivie way she just dosen’t give them a break and expects too much too fast so the two end up bailing after Willow’s flower hairclip and gus’ flag gets broken and before their necks do.

So Luz laments things having gone south and Amity comforts her and ponits out the real reason she dosen’t want to play besides...

Amity was captain once, but pushed her own team, Boscha and ...

And got them hurt. Which really is a common backstory: not bad but i’ve seen “I can’t play there’s a demon inside me” a LOT. The only time i’ve really seen it used creatively was with The Great North recently, instead having the character BADLY want to get back in but being far too unstable when playing the game and even coaching proved too much for her.

So after getting in Amity’s personal bubble Luz decides to forefeit and take it all herself. Boscha acts how you’d expect and starts throwing FLAMING BALLS AT HER as target practice for a well meaning gesture, something even her minions can’t get behind.

So Amity not wanting to see her crush flambed goes to Willow and Gus for help, pointing out that while Luz was a bit overzealous it’s because she cares and is currently out there in mortal danger in pentiance. She also keeps stumbling into how much she loves her and angrily denying it, with Gus completely lost and Willow just like “Wait so she’s into Luz?... yeah that tracks”.

So Willow comes back and declares the game back on. Their still down a player as Gus’ flag is on an IV, and that’s not my joke but there’s, but Amity naturally steps in. Boscha says “you just destroyed your social life”

Amity takes it in stride and the game is on, with our heroes naturally stomping them and slowly winning over the rest of the team minus Upstart Triclops Bitch, as you know, Luz and Willow are genuinely nice and not just using them as minons for petty bullying.

Luz also picks up a new spell and in her fastest time yet as all she needs is to see the fire rune burned on a ball to learn it. This does showcase something I like about the series: even breather episdoes feel VITAL. Only two episodes in season 1 really feel inssesntial (Really Small Problems and the writing one, if only the main plot there), and while this one is again just a breather both plots naturally feed into the two part finale and provide curcial setup: Luz gets her Fire Spell, Amity breaks a leg keeping her out of events and Lilith both shows how bad things have gotten with her and the empereror and vows to come back. It’s just nice to remember that especially when Ducktales SERIES FINALE had the lead in of a terrible trial episode that really didn’t add anything or set up anything major for what came next. This episode proves you CAN have a breather before the finale, AND still naturally lead into it.

But yeah so Boscha sweeps the leg...

And breaks Amity’s leg out of her leg, but Willow voluntarily goes for teh Thornball, a move she and Luz suggested earlier and it wins them the match.. for about a second. Then Boscha finds the rusty smidge and wins anyway. Look given what this series involves a magical school a harry potter joke was both expected and inevitable. The timing was both perfect and awful as the episode aired Two Months after JK Rowling choose LAST PRIDE MONTH to try and justify being a TERF. And despite a year having passed still has not been released from any position of creative control at Warner nor gotten public backlash, probably in part because the UK is deeply transphobic as I horrifingly found out recently. The perfect part is it takes the piss out of her moments after she decided to do something so utterly loathsome. None of this was PLANNED obviously, but I love the irony. And I will not stop bringing up JK”s actions any time soon , as her work is deeply engrained in pop culture, so it’s impossible to avoid entirely, especially since I LIKE the actors that were in it and some parodies, but I still won’t let her get away with it or let it quitely sink away as part of her personality that she hates trans people and has the GALL to say she dosen’t when she doesn’t TREAT them as women for no reason other than pure bigotry.

So in far less fuck this woman who brought me so much joy and has now ruined all that joy and my memories, news, BOscha has won.. but it’s a hollow victory: her teammates are more than impressed and actually invite willow to join, meaning not only can’t Boscha collect on the bet.. but that Willow is better at her. Willow further wins by refusing it, actually taking Boscha’s feelings into consdieration and being the bigger woman.

Amity’s still injured though, so we get one last bit of hilarious gay panic as Luz offers to carry her which naturally sends Amity into her now famous lines of “I’m fine.. who’se amity”. Luz just scoops her up, and Willow smiles proudly accepting this is happening. But it’s the final montage that really sells things as our heroes party... and most importantly the final shot has Amity warmly welcomed into the Owl House, finally at home. Now let’s hope her parents don’t entirely fuck this up in two weeks.

Final Thoughts:

Wing it Like Witches is a decent episode with some good gags, character progressoin and gayness, but that’s about it. it’s GOOD it just has nothing to really put it over the top to great. As i’ve said i’ve seen this plot a LOT, and done better at that, so it just dosen’t feel that new or intresting, and Eda’s subplot, while still necessary for the finale, feels tacked on. It’s not a bad episode, just a decent one in the middle of the season’s high ponit, literally: Grom and the two part finale are the high of the season and hopefully that quality will carry into season 2, while this is more buisness as usual.

Next Time on The Owl House: Season 2 starts next week with a sea adventure! Hoot motherfuckin hoot!

Next time on this blog: I make this precious as I do another pride review and start my look at Transformers: More Than Meets The Eye as a bunch of misfits set off into space on a quest to find the knights of cybertron but end up just kinda stumbling around into misadventures, self discovery and energon loss.

If you really enjoyed this review, consdiering becoming a backer RIGHT HERE. Even if you can only kick in a buck it not only helps but gets you access to exclusive reviews, my discord, and to pick a short when I do a shortstacular, my celebration of a character from the theartical short’s day’s birthday. You also help me reach stretch goals: 20 has been changed from monthly reviews of darkwing duck to reviewing, also at a monthly or more if I feel like it pace, THE OWL HOUSE. all the episodes but the two i've already covered all for everyone if you pony up 5 bucks along with 2 Ducktales mini as well as a brucey bonus Danny Phantom: The Ultimate Enemy review, while 25 will have me reviewing 3 MORE disney movies (The Recess, Proud Family and best Kim Possible Movies), and allow you the backers to pick a review. And the best part is like this review EVERYONE, wether you can afford to pay or not, gets the review. So if you end up liking this review and want more, hop on. And if your consdiering becoming a 5 dollar backer and thus helping meet my next goal automaitcally you not only get a review a month but if there's a reward down the line you'd rather swap one of the current ones for the 20 dollar tier with let me know. If it's within reason i'll gladly do it.

#the owl house #lumity #luz noceda #amity blight #willow park #gus porter #boscha #principal bump #king #eda clawthorne #lilith clawthrone #lbgtq #lbgtq+#pride month

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vro0m · 2 years

Text

vro0m’s rewatch - 48/288

2009 Italian GP

Recap + GIFs (yes there are GIFs this time)

Ahhh it’s crashgate time! I touched on this when I wrote the recap for that race but let me take you back.

Singapore 2008. Alonso is fast in his Renault but 16th on the grid because of an engine problem in quali. At the beginning of the race, he’s carrying little fuel because the team hoped for a Safety Car, which did happen in the person of teammate Piquet who crashed right after Alonso refuelled, while nobody else had made their stop yet. So Alonso got the lead and won.

Fast forward to the 2009 summer break : Piquet gets sacked after the Hungarian GP. 4 days later, he goes to the FIA saying he crashed deliberately in Singapore, as ordered by his chief engineer and Flavio Briatore. Who both deny it, of course. Piquet says he did it to increase the chances the team would keep him. Alonso claims he didn’t know anything about that.

So the FIA will meet to review the evidence but Piquet’s sworn statement has leaked already. Renault has started legal proceedings against him for false allegations and trying to blackmail them. Lol. So Jake says he talked to Mosley about it who emphasised the importance of the integrity of Formula 1. First of all, Mosley was found engaging in s*domasochists acts with pr*stitutes in n*zi uniforms last season, and second of all, look where we’re at with the integrity in 2022. Bullshit. Anyway.

Quali report : Fisichella is driving for Ferrari now? He’s 14th while he was on pole in his Force India last GP lol. Liuzzi is replacing him in his former team then, and is 7th on the grid. Ironic af. Sutil is 2nd btw. Oh. Both BMW’s engines blew up within 2 minutes of each other and they were both new and had the same mileage and seem to have had the same failure. That’s not good. Webber is 10th, Barrichello 5th, Jenson 6th, Raikkonen 3rd, Kovalainen 4th. AND LEWIS IS ON POLE! He says the best strategy here is a one-stop one but it depends on the fuel load, how you manage the tyres etc.

Look how calm and confident this man looks, it’s heartwarming.

However he is NOT on a one-stop strategy, unlike all the others including Kovalainen, which makes me nervous because why. Also fun fact : 6 out of the 7 first cars on the grid have a Mercedes engine.

Formation lap.

And they’re racing!

Mmmh, that wasn’t a great start for Lewis, he almost got overtaken even though he has KERS? It’s okay after the first corner though. Webber is beached and Jenson overtook Kovalainen. The Force Indias are so quick in the straights it looks unreal. Heikki is really struggling even though people thought he had the best chances of winning. Lewis is setting fastest lap after fastest lap.

He pits for a first time on lap 14, and is back out in 5th. It was earlier than projected. The tyres were badly grained. He’s now on hard tyres though so maybe it’ll be better. There’s a bunch of DNFs too : Webber, Alguersuari, Kubica, Rosberg... Now Liuzzi is also out. Meanwhile McLaren tells Lewis he has to go faster to beat the Brawns.

We’re halfway through, the one-stoppers are pitting. Barrichello first, from the lead. Lewis is in front now, by 5 seconds, which isn’t much given he has to make a second stop. Yeah I don’t think this is gonna work out.

He stops with 19 laps to go, yeah, he’s behind. That strategy was a bad idea. He’s 5th. It’s all about the racing now, then.

15 laps to go, Barrichello - Button - Lewis. He’s only 2.4 seconds behind Jenson. 1.8 seconds. 8 laps to go. Come on. 5 laps to go. NO HE SPUN ON THE LAST LAAAAAP WHYYYY. Safety Car. He’s done.

It’s the end of the race.

Barrichello wins from teammate Jenson, Raikkonen in a surprise P3. Lewis 12th.

Asked about the shunt, he says he’s built like a rock so he’s all good.

“Were you pushing hard? It looks like you were pushing hard.” He answers : “every lap I was pushing like qualifying laps”.

He says they didn’t have the pace, but hum... He did though. He was making fastest laps, remember? And he was on pole. The strategy was shit and then he spun while trying to make up for it, is what happened.

He says he’s sorry to the team and he did all he could. He also apologies to his fans and sends love to his family. The journalist asks how the progress with the car is going now. He says the car is much better and it was still good today, just not good enough. But they have upgrades coming and hopefully it’ll give them an edge for the end of the season. “Maybe I won’t have to push 130%, maybe I can push 110%.”

#f1 #lewis hamilton #2009 #2009 italian gp #vro0m's race reviews

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virovac · 3 years

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Nature of Ghouls

Lovecraftian Xenology #3: Ghouls [by Leila Hann Before continuing with Carter and the Pussycats, I'm going to be taking a closer look at the creatures that made their debut in "Pickman's Model" before receiving their official name here in "Dream-Quest." This is going to be a tricky one. Reading "Pickman's Model" in isolation gives you a very strong impression of the ghouls, what they are, and where they come from. However, reading it alongside the other, earlier Dreamlands tales - particularly "Celephais" and "The Festival" - one walks away with a completely different interpretation. As for their reappearance in "Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath," well. On one hand "Dream-Quest" does silly things with other stories' continuities and perhaps should be best ignored. On the other, in the case of the ghouls, "Dream-Quest" not only expands on them in much greater detail than their debut story ever did, but is also the source of their official name. As such, I'm going to be taking the continuity approach, and looking at the ghouls within the framework of the Dreamlands series as a whole. The funny thing about "Pickman's Model" is that while the narrator is probably reliable, he's mostly relaying information that he learned from Richard Pickman, who seems to be much less so. As I noted while reading that story, there's a very obvious disconnect between the actions that Pickman depicted the ghouls performing in his art - particularly the "Subway Accident" piece - and what they could have possibly really done. Throughout his presentation, Pickman comes across as very much a showman, trying to create fear and horror in his audience and reveling mean-spiritedly in his success. Then, there's the detail of him interacting with the ghoul who tried to walk in on him and the narrator in the same way that a circus animal-tamer would with an unruly beast; not at all what you'd expect from a man who's trying to talk down a sapient, malevolent, possibly transhuman demon. As such, I think we need to take Pickman's art with a hefty grain of salt when it comes to inferring things about his models. This is supported by the ghouls' appearance in "Dream-Quest." They are described as hideous, frightening, and generally unpleasant, but they don't seem to be all that dangerous (unlike the zoogs, who are said to be dangerous to MOST people besides Carter, the ghouls don't even get an aside to this effect). Other than their antisocial habit of eating bodies from cemeteries that the deceased's friends and families would probably rather stay in their coffins, they really don't seem so bad. As far as the stories have reliably communicated, the ghouls are thieves and desecrators, but not the murderers and causers of disaster and misfortune that Pickman would want us to believe in. In fact, everything about the ghouls, from their appearance to their diet to their penchant for tombstones, scary noises, and dark, underground spaces, says that they aren't a force of destruction so much as one of horror. And, looking at "Pickman's Model" from that angle, we can definitely see how Pickman was helping them grow stronger in their element. Camel Spiders and Harnessed Horrors There's an animal called a solifugid, also called a pseudoscorpion or a camel-spider, that came to the western public's attention some time ago. Its a scary-looking arachnid, and one that you could easily believe was deadly if you saw it. Solifugids are mostly nocturnal, and so when they're forced to venture out of their lairs during the day they prefer to stick to the shadows...including the shadows of people, which they will chase after for that purpose. They're fast enough to keep up with a running human, and the rubbing of their legs when they move creates a squealing noise that could easily be mistaken for an aggressive vocalization. They also are always on the lookout for soft fibers to line their nests with; they got the name "camel spider" by being seen climbing on the bodies of dead or sleeping camels to cut off bits of their hair. In some cultures, this association was so great that people came to believe that the solifugids had actually killed the camels themselves. Less commonly, solifugids will crawl up onto the head of a sleeping human for similar hair-stealing operations. More than one American soldier sleeping in a tent in Iraq or Saudi Arabia has been woken up by a six inch specimen crawling across their face to see it opening its deadly-looking mouthparts just below their hairline. The solifugid is also completely harmless. In fact, its one of the only members of the arachnid class to have no venom whatsoever. It can even be a beneficial creature to have around, as it preys heavily on other arachnids including spiders and scorpions that actually are dangerous. During the early to mid 2000's, there was a rash of hoaxes about solifugids growing to lobster-size, being venomous, and even using a fictitious numbing agent to paralyze sleeping humans so they can slowly disembowel them alive. Someone was finding a misanthropic delight in taking this creature, which seems to have been practically designed by nature for this purpose with its appearance and habits, and crafting it into an instrument of irrational fear. This fear didn't come from nowhere, mind. The legend of the camel-spider harnesses the very rational human fears of venomous insects and being threatened in your sleep. But it takes those abstract rational fears and uses them to prop up a concrete figurehead of horror that is, itself, irrational. I'm an amateur horror writer myself, and I fell in love with the solifugids the instant I learned about them. I even had the pleasure of meeting a few during my time in the Arava Desert. I don't think that my soft spot for these arthropods and my choice of genres is a coincidence. In the Dreamlands, the cruel realities of the universe seem to be embodied in the Outer Gods, and anthropomorphized in their soul and messenger Nyarlathotep. If the ghouls are, as Pickman's art implied, meant to be like the witches of Puritan superstition, responsible for everything that goes wrong for humanity at the whims of a universe beyond our control, then it would make sense for them to be minions of Nyarlathotep. It would have been the easiest thing in the world for Lovecraft to cast them as such in "Dream-Quest" if that was really his intent; the story already calls for Nyarlathotep's agents to appear in numerous scenes, and the ghouls could have been among them. But they aren't. Instead, Carter meets the ghouls back on Dreamlands Earth, in entirely friendly circumstances, with them as the loyal servants of Carter's (trans)human friend Pickman. The ghouls are creatures of the relatable and imaginative Gods of Earth, not the apathetic and inhuman Gods of Space. Rather than being a cause or manifestation of our problems, the ghouls might even be one of our defenses against them. The witch was created so that we would have some kind of enemy to hunt down and revenge ourselves on when we suffer a tragedy caused by impersonal forces of nature such as disease or weather. The boogeyman in the closet exists because the darkness it hides in is so much worse, and putting a FACE on the unknown lets us believe that we can deal with it in a form we understand. The ghouls are indeed connected to the nightmarish witch superstitions that Pickman referenced, but it is a metafictional connection: they are the legend of the witch and boogeyman, and an embodiment of the psychology that leads to the birth of those legends. They harness the rational fears of human powerlessness, victimhood, and mortality, and embody them as an irrational archetype-creature, and in this form - as Carter just demonstrated in the latest episode of "Dream-Quest" - our fears can be useful tools. Even if the purpose of that tool is just confronting other people with their fears for fun and (in the case of Lovecraft, King, etc) profit. At several points in both "Pickman's Model" and "The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath," Lovecraft described the ghouls as being "gargoyle-like." They even look a lot like Gothic gargoyles, with their doglike faces, hoofed feet, and (in the case of at least one or two specimens that Lovecraft described) devilish horns. The purpose of the gargoyles in the European cathedrals wasn't to honor or appease the Devil; it was to mock him, and thereby rob him of some of his power. Ghoul-Changelings and Pickman's Transformation Given that Earth's Dreamlands are shaped by metaphors and symbolism taken from the subconscious of human dreamers (at least in part), its hard to say what is and isn't "literally" true about its inhabitants. Unlike most Dreamlands creatures, however, the ghouls are quite active in the waking world as well if only for brief periods at a time. As such, there are some objective observations that can be made. 1) Ghouls inhabit a network of caves in the Dreamlands' deep underground that contains portals to various urban dungeons and necropoli in the waking world, particularly in the New England area where the dream-sorcerers may have interacted with or even deliberately summoned them. 2) Ghouls eat the corpses of humans and other sapient creatures that they recover from both the waking world and the Dreamlands, but seem to be less interested in live prey. They also collect old tombstones and grave-goods. 3) After they've finished eating, the ghouls toss the bones into the chasm beneath their cave complex, which over time has become positively covered in bones, and attracted giant worm scavengers. 4) Richard Upton Pickman turned into a ghoul. The former three points are fairly self explanatory. The fourth, however, raises a lot of questions. In Pickman's art, he portrayed ghouls exchanging their own young with human babies in the classic fairy changeling mould, with both the changelings and the stolen babies eventually becoming ghouls themselves. Pickman also portrayed a Puritan-era changeling that bore a great physical resemblance to himself. Some readers have taken this to mean that rather than simply being a descendant of the Native American dream-sorcerers like Carter, Pickman was the descendant of a ghoul changeling, and the character he depicted in that painting was one of his own ancestors. Others, that Pickman was himself just one of many changelings from throughout history, and that he identified himself with an earlier New England instance out of whimsy. However, I find it a bit conspicuous that while Carter identified the fully transformed ghoul-Pickman and specified that he had once been human, he never mentions the possibility of any of the other ghouls being the same. Thus, its possible that what happened to Pickman is actually unique, or at least very rare, and that the changeling scenario depicted in his art was purely symbolic of the horror-artist's role as a devil's advocate to the rest of humanity and an ambassador to the dark forces of the universe. Pickman's transformation. I'm inclined to believe that what caused Pickman's transformation was not him being a ghoul pup switched with a human at birth, but a product of him being both a) an almost obsessive devotee of horror, and b) a powerful dreamer with access to the Dreamlands, perhaps helped along in accessing them by some recovered magic from his oneiromancer ancestors just like Carter was. It could even be that rather than his art depicting something that had or could have already happened with the ghoul-transformation, Pickman's acts of imagining and drawing a transformation were what CREATED THE POSSIBILITY for such a transformation to actually happen. An idea of his was made real through the power of his dreaming, warping his own flesh into one of his ghouls in a similar - but more visceral - manner as Kyle being transformed into Kuranes. Another question about Pickman's transformation pertains to him having mostly forgotten how to speak English by the time Carter met him again in the Dreamlands. Did his transformation rob him of his English, or did he just forget it after spending so long in the Dreamlands interacting only with other ghouls? For that matter, how long HAD Pickman been a ghoul by the time Carter stumbled into the bone pit? Months? Years? Centuries? Time in the Dreamlands seems to work in arbitrary ways, as evidenced by how Carter can be timelooped in the waking world while living through consecutive centuries as an explorer in the Dreamlands. In "The Silver Key," we learned that the Dreamlands (or at least, Dreamlands related artifacts) can even send you BACK in time. Origins? Since time in the Dreamlands interacts in very unpredictable ways with the waking world's timeline, its very difficult to say when and where the ghouls first came into existence. Since Pickman's art is also of questionable waking world veracity, we can't really tell if the ghouls have actually been popping up in the New England witch tunnels since the 1700's, and - even if they have - they could have been born in the Dreamlands from an event that had not yet happened in the waking world's timeline and popped out of those tunnels earlier in history as we waking earthlings perceive it. Another interesting fact to point out here is that Randolph Carter, Dreamlands explorer extraordinaire, only knew about the ghouls BECAUSE he met Pickman during his waking life. Its possible that the ghouls are a manifestation of some core archetype within the human collective unconscious. The Horror, the Boogeyman, the terrifying friend to artists and writers who delight in confronting their fellow humans with humanity's frailties and fears. The creatures that appeared in the dreams of H.R. Giger and caused him to wake up in heart-stopping terror on so many different nights, and yet that he adopted and came to love. Even if his own fear of them never diminished, it became HIS fear, and they became HIS monsters, and he began to feel possessive of them and delight in sharing their terror with others who lacked his mastery over them. The creatures that appeared in the dreams of Stephen King and inspired him to turn the anxieties of the modern United States against it, while cackling about keeping the hearts of fictitious young children in his study. The creatures that haunted the dreams of H.P. Lovecraft, and inspired him to write stories like "Pickman's Model," delighting in his own ability to scare Weird Tales' readers just as Pickman delighted in scaring the narrator. There is a moment in "Pickman's Model" when the ghoul walks in on them and Pickman has to go make it leave, when PICKMAN HIMSELF is described as looking terrified. And yet, despite that, he was able to reassert control over the ghoul and command it to leave him alone until he wanted it to return. I suspect that if Pickman ever stopped being afraid of the ghouls himself, they would have abandoned him and sought a fresh artist to inspire. Such is the relationship between the horrorist and the monster. There is another possibility, though. And that is that rather than being a universal manifestation of horror that serve as muses to numerous masters of the craft, the ghouls are the specific nightmare-turned-minion of one specific master of horror. Kyle/Kuranes dreamed Celephais and its people into existence, and then abandoned the waking world entirely to rule them for all time. What might another instance of this look like, if the dreamer in question was less of a sensitive too-good-for-this-world melancholic, and more of an angry misanthrope with a fixation with his Salem ancestry and an almost monomaniacal obsession with showing us fear in a handful of grave-dust? Perhaps it was just Richard Upton Pickman who loved his own, personal, imaginary monsters so much. And, through the power of the Dreamlands, they were able to love him back.

So ghouls are a combination of guardians, Halloweentown, and irreverance of 4chan.

A more benevolent take than my past one.

#dreamlands #ghouls #lovecraft

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coeurdastronaute · 3 years

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The Story, Ch. 2

Previously on The Story

June was hot, thick with stagnant heat that refused to rustle or move the tiniest branch of a tree nor leaf on a stem. Hotter than any other summer that she could remember, Jamie toiled daily on her garden and the grounds, lugging water to and fro, nurturing the seedlings in the greenhouse, fretting over the last bits of her bountiful spring bloom and hoping to survive until the first cooling summer storm. It was tough work, all-encompassing work, and she’d learned a little late in her life, how important it was to keep busy.

Never one to understand or listen to the story beneath the sound, Jamie missed the subtle changes that had undertaken the manor. Too preoccupied and exhausted from her battle with the sun and the dirt and the grounds itself, she hadn’t given another thought to how often her glances looked back toward the house, nor did she think twice about how she migrated around her duties, following the laughter of the children closer than ever before. Unaware of so much of her movements, her head stuck in the dirt and her hands tangled in the safety of the roots, Jamie was somewhat aware of the fact that she had not spoken, at least not directly or alone, with the au pair since their very first conversation. That was done with such purpose that she spent a large portion of the day willing it to both happen and un-happen.

But things changed in their sullen existence. Homemade decorations littered the stairs and railings while entire science experiments meant trousers rolled up to ankles and wading in the fountain. The curriculum changed with the feeling of the day, and when school was over, the children were happy to take to learning the finer points of housework, turned into games by the crafty au pair who understood how important such things were. Slowly, the gravity fo the grounds shifted from the chaotic mess left behind with such glaring absences.

Like all features at Bly, Jamie knew that the au pair was a novelty and would soon become not unlike the furniture or the statues. She would become innate to the property, just as Owen and Hannah and herself had, she would be usual and familiar and it would pass, Jamie promised herself, unpracticed in physics as she was.

But the addition of the au pair had changed the manor, and in part, had changed many of those left within its universe. Where before there was cold and silence in the absence of the parents of the orphaned children, now nights brimmed with laughter and games, where plays were acted out by the entire cast, and learning was hands on, often out of the classroom and with the help of the rest of the staff. There was this community that popped up, a kinship among those who remained, all loosely tied together by the newest addition.

It was all so sorely needed after the last au pair and the exceeding tragedy that plagued the beautiful land.

It was hard not to want to be part of the liveliness of the manor now. Jamie found herself peaking over hedges to find the au pair reading books as the children drifted and lazed in the grass, and she too, listened to the words and gentle voice, her trimming slowing as a result. And clearly the children were taken with Dani, with Flora becoming much like a shadow, following her about, weaving her dolls and flowers for her hair. Miles became less despondent, though not enough for the au pair’s opinion. Still prone to their bouts of melancholy, it felt as if they returned to being children again sometimes.

Unlike before, Jamie didn’t leave without stopping into the house to see if she might get accidently pulled into an adventure. Before, she would leave without much more than a honk or a wave. But the heat made her shoes stick to the grounds that much more despite the growing exhaustion.

There was something about staying that made Jamie uneasy. It wasn’t in her composition to remain and attach.

“It has to break soon,” Jamie sighed to herself as she pressed a sweating glass against her neck. The chill lasted a moment and that was all, gone in an instant.

“I’ve got ever window open in the house and there hasn’t been so much as a breeze in a week,” Hannah shook her head and continued the slow, gentle fanning of herself.

The ice adjusted, breaking apart and clinking in a glass.

“There’s not much more I can do to save the lawn on the south side. It’s getting burnt. It’ll take ages for it to bounce back if we that rain doesn’t hurry.”

“But the produce has been otherworldly,” Owen offered happily. “What you’ve been harvesting has blown my mind. I haven’t seen such bounty. At least I could never manage it.”

“I don’t know if it’s saying much then if that’s the comparison.”

“Laugh at my expense, but it’s true. I’ll gladly trade the lawn for those carrots.”

“What about you, Hannah, eh? An afternoon of rain or larger heads of cauliflower?”

“I get more than enough veg, thank you. Owen, you’re looney if you think a breeze isn’t worth every pea in her garden.”

“I never claimed to be any different,” he grinned before taking a sip of his drink.

The patio hummed with the crickets and heat so that even their words were too much hot air, and perhaps unwelcomed in the perfect summer evening. It was late, well after sundown, and yet the employees earned a certain run of the place as their own home after dark, when the semblance of adults could be disbanded.

The two prattled back and forth, much to Jamie’s amusement. The absurdity of how blind they both were, or perhaps Hannah’s staunch refusal for no reason at all didn’t much make sense to the gardener. It wouldn’t be right for someone like Hannah to refuse happiness-- someone who deserved it so completely. Jamie couldn’t understand that choice.

“There she is, welcome, welcome,” Owen greeted the au pair as she made her way onto the patio.

The light from inside glowed against her, and Jamie could see the sweat on her neck and the wet ends of her hair that escaped an incredibly high and incredibly tight pony tail. She smiled into her drink at just the thought of it.

“Still having trouble getting to sleep are they?” Hannah asked as Dani took a seat at the small table of friends. “The heat isn’t kind to them.”

“Thank you,” she nodded and took a heavy gulp before she winced at the alcohol content she hadn’t been expecting. “They are just so uncomfortable. I don’t even know what to do.”

“Put them outside,” Jamie offered before three faced turned towards hers. “What? You’ve never slept outside before?”

Two of the three shook their heads, while Owen perked up excitedly.

“We’ll sort them out tomorrow, don’t worry, Poppins.”

“I’m willing to try anything at this point. You should have seen Miles’ face when I told him to just sleep in his underwear.”

There was laughter among the group, and across the table, Jamie watched the au pair more curiously than she ever had before. In the faint glow of the evening, she shamelessly stared, observing the interactions, slunk back in her chair and disinterested with much else.

There’s always been a distance to them that the few feet that separated them now seemed too little, and such an easy stretch to cross. The gardener had seen the au pair in the yard with the children, running and climbing and playing in the sun, her blonde hair whipping around in a swirl as she moved quickly. The gardener had seen the au pair on the terrace, reading in the shade in those damned shorts and her pale skin practically glowing. They shared meals together, but always at polar ends, directly missing each other.

But never had the gardener so unabashedly stared at the newest addition to the trio, or rather the finishing piece of their quartet. She chalked it up to curiosity, because never before had she been so close to an American with a smile like that, or rather, never before had she been close to a smile like that or an American.

Even when Dani met her glance, Jamie didn’t look away, but rather wondered more about the stranger before her.

“I thought I was escaping the heat,” Dani shook her head as the company drew toward the end of their drinks. “This is worse than I could have imagined.”

“It’ll break soon,” Jamie repeated with a bit more assurance.

“You can’t listen to Jamie’s superstitions,” Hannah shook her head. “She thinks her flowers whisper to her.”

“That sounds a bit mental. I’d never say that. But it is going to break. You can feel it.”

“I never would have thought to accuse you of reckless hope,” Owen teased.

“And you never should,” Jamie said as she stood, finishing her drink. “But the trees are dry and the creeks are hard. It’ll break because it always does.”

“Got a timeline on that?” Dani asked, looking up at the body in the dark.

“Sadly, I don’t,” she sighed. “But I believe in the rain.”

As Hannah and Owen debated the weather and belief, the gardener smiled at Dani and nodded her good night.

“I’ll see you lot tomorrow. I reckon it might be time for a camp out.”

Dani smiled, cradling the glass to her neck and cheek. Jamie didn’t look away. The worst of it was, she hadn’t seemed to decide on anything at all. Her mouth just moved and now she was stuck.

XXXXXXXXXX

“It doesn’t seem safe,” Miles complained as he helped lug an armful of bedding.

“It’s perfectly safe. It’s not like you have to worry about anyone walking around the property,” Dani promised. “It’s just like being at a campground or in the middle of the woods, except much closer to the bathroom.”

“We’ve never been properly camping before,” Flora announced. “We did sleep in the living room a few times, and tell stories, and drank cocoa.”

“Well camping is supposed to be fun.”

“Supposed to be?”

“I’ve never gone either,” she shrugged, wiping the sweat from her brow. “But I’ll do anything to avoid the heat.”

“It’s the same temperature outside as inside,” the little boy reminded the group as he tossed his pillow down on one of the carefully placed bedrolls, foraged from the deepest recesses of the garage attic.

“It’ll chill come evening,” the au pair promised. “I never thought you’d be afraid of a little adventure.”

“I don’t mind adventure, but I mind the mosquitos.”

“We’ll take care of that, don’t worry.”

“It’s absolutely splendid, isn’t it, Ms. Clayton?” Flora brimmed as she spun around the camp on the back lawn.

With a surprising show inf ingenuity, it was true that the gardener with help from the chef, had transformed a spot beneath the hornbeam trees into a safari. The fire was already crackling to life as the children finished their last load of blankets, the beds were pallets and the chairs were from the patio, but the true gift was the open-faced tent, hung between a few branches of the wide tree so that the open wall faced the fire and the house.

“It’s better than I could have imagined,” Dani agreed, smiling as she surveyed the set up until she found the person responsible and softened. “It looks amazing.”

When Jamie made the suggestion, the au pair hadn’t really considered it happening, but when she showed up the following day ready to do it, enlisting Owen and even Hannah in some ways, Dani didn’t think twice about joining the event.

“Just a bit of ingenuity and fierce, god-like strength,” Jamie winked, flexing a bit before grinning. “And Owen.”

“It’s nothing,” the chef promised as he checked the sturdiness of his work. “I was a Scout Explorer. Fifteen years worth of survival and outdoor training with a healthy dose of community service.”

“And what was your reason for being so outdoorsy?” Dani turned to Jamie as she teased Miles’ shoulder, making him look.

“Oh, I was raised by wolves,” Jamie explained, quite seriously, earning a look from the smallest of the party. “True story. Walked on all fours until I was older than you, Flora. Used to be able to talk to them, but it’s been so long.”

“That didn’t happen,” Miles shook his head.

“If you ever run into a pack of wolves, just say you know me.”

He rolled his eyes but thought it over to himself as Dani accepted a drink from Hannah and took a seat, the hard work of setting up complete and the night working its way to them.

It might have been psychological, or it might have been the fire, but the evening did seem to get cooler. It wasn’t a blustery winter by any means, but it felt tenable for the first time in too many days.

For Dani, the best kind of moments were when the children were just that, giggly and smiling, living loudly and with exteriority. When Miles would flash a smile, absolutely smitten with everything Owen was telling him about knots and pocket knives and his own adventures in the woods as a boy. When Flora would lean against the side of the au pair’s leg and pat her knee excitedly as she had to get close to speak so quickly about how important it was to not burn the marshmallows. She could love them better, she believed. It didn’t seem an impossible task sometimes.

For a second, she also lost herself in the magic of the evening. As Flora and Miles chased lightning bugs through the field, exhausting themselves after dinner, and Dani found herself in the company of who were quickly becoming what she might refer to as friends. The three caretakers of the manor and its inhabitants, slightly more willing to stay later for a moment like this as well.

Three s’mores and four stories later, the late hour did it’s best to win out over the young campers. Huddled around the fire, they covered up and listened attentively as the gardener wove a wild story. Dani sat across, her legs stretched out and feet near the fire while Hannah held a bottle tightly beside her before carefully re-filling their cups.

“I almost hate to admit what a good idea this is,” Hannah chuckled before re-corking their bottle as she sat it on the ground. “But they certainly are enjoying themselves.”

“It means a lot to them, for you all to be here and so interested. They don’t know it yet, but they will one day,” Dani nodded, looking over the flickering flames as Miles adjusted, pulling up the blanket, completely engrossed in the story.

“I couldn’t be anywhere else. I’ve been with this family for… goodness, it’s been my whole life it seems.”

“Still, you chose to stay. That means something.”

“I’m not sure what, exactly,” the housekeeper sighed.

“Love. Loyalty.”

Dani watched a small smile creep into Hannah’s cheeks as she stared at the gardener, but didn’t hear a thing, so deep in thought was the housekeeper suddenly that she disappeared, or so it seemed.

Jamie kept talking though, her story winding its way this way and that, hoping to be long enough to tire out the children. Her voice was growing lower to persuade them, and in just a few minutes, Flora fell asleep, her cheek pressed against the gardener’s chest, a blanket wrapped over them both. Dani wasn’t sure when she began to smile at the scene, only that she was and Hannah watched her take a drink to hide it.

“The night we found out about the Wingraves, she spent the entire evening playing with them. When I got the call, I didn’t know how to say it, so we waited for their uncle to come tell them, and I remember Jamie watching them run up and down the stairs, playing some made up game that we couldn’t understand. And she was the one who made us wait. Let them be kids who have parents for just another hour, she told me. Another hour.”

Miles stretched slightly, his arm dipping until his head was on the pillow.

“I’m sorry for the loss,” Dani offered as Hannah looked away from a sleeping Flora.

“They’re adapting. Somehow.”

“You all are helping, you know that, don’t you?”

“Sometimes I’m not sure, but then I look at that,” Hannah nudged her chin at the sleeping children, at Jamie not bothering to move Flora, but holding her tight. “And I know that even in the most inopportune environment, even something kind and loyal and loving can emerge, whether they know it or not.”

“What happened?”

“She ended up here somehow,” she sighed and took another drink before standing. “Let me help you, dear. Don’t want to wake her after finally getting her to sleep.”

Dani didn’t move as she watched the careful task of detaching Flora and tucking her in safely, all in hopes of not having to tell another story to put her back to sleep. The au pair watched Jamie’s movements with a keener eye. She traced the outline of her jaw and cheeks, saw neck and clavicle when the flannel she’d brought slipped down a shoulder with the movements, as if something, some tick, could explain everything that seemed to be an impenetrable fort.

“And with that, I’ve had enough nature,” Hannah decided. “I’m going inside to my bed.”

“Booooo,” the other adults teased.

“I’m too old for sleeping in the dirt, and so are you lot. We’ll see who is in better shape in the morning.”

“I’ll, uh,” Owen stood, patting off his pants. “I’ll walk you in. Grab some more water for us.”

“I know the way.”

“Good, you can help me find the kitchen.”

With a wave, they moved back toward the house, their lanterns swinging as they reached the door. Across from her, Jamie took to a chair, electing to stretch after sitting on the hard ground and beneath another human, tiny as she was, for so long.

“I swear my arse went flat sitting there all night,” she mumbled, picking up the bottle Hannah had left behind. “Gardener by day, lawn chair by night.”

“I don’t think I’m as good with flowers as you are with them.”

“No worries about me pilfering your job, Poppins. I find them exhausting and they are quite taken with you.”

There was a fondness hidden beneath the feigned annoyance as Jamie surveyed their sleeping forms, resting comfortably with the fire flickering light into the tent.

“They like you.”

“What’s not to like? I’m quite a stirring specimen. And I make a damn fine s’more.”

Dani couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she stood and meandered toward a chair, the stiffness that Hannah warned about nestling into her joints until she was certain she’d be locked in the seated position forever.

“You’re not going to abandon me out here with them are you?”

To her credit, Jamie considered it before tossing a lopsided smile toward the au pair who joined her.

“It was my idea to sleep outside, wasn’t it? Can’t miss this. Plus,” she paused to finish her glass of whiskey. “I’ve been drinking. Not too safe to drive.”

“I feel like I should thank you again for all of this. It’s… it’s amazing.”

The stars were bright, unburdened with any rules of order, scattered throughout to the horizon and tree tops. The fire glowed but did not dim them at all, merely enhanced by attempting to add its own embers into the heavens, offering the sacrifice for permanent consideration, though none made it that far.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t doing anything else. I’ve had worse nights than a campfire and half-decent company.”

“I’ll take half-decent.”

“Oh, yeah… uh, I was talking about them,” Jame furrowed as she looked toward the sleeping children. “Juries still out on you.”

“I’ve been known to be a good time,” Dani promised.

Despite the teasing, Jame tilted her chin to appraise the au pair in the firelight, as if trying to discern if the statement was actually true. She cocked her head to the side as Dani readjusted, becoming oddly self-conscious of the look. A little nervous, she sipped her drink and winced against the burn.

“I might be inclined to believe you, except you ended up here, same as us, and I’m not sure anyone here knows how to be a good time.”

“I don’t know. You put all of this together.”

“A rare flash of brilliance,” Jamie shrugged. “We’ve been dying to know what brought you here, you know?”

“I’m that interesting?”

“New, maybe. Interesting is to be determined.”

Dani smiled into her cup, her body constricting tightly into itself as she was forced to think about things she’d hoped to forget.

“But you don’t have to share,” Jamie added quickly, feeling the shift in the mood of the night. It was far too lovely out and the au pair was far too pretty sitting there, politely looking for a way out. “Doesn’t matter how, just that you got here. In my experience, it’s a bit of ill-fate that brings anyone here. Hannah and the cheating husband. Owen and the sick mother.”

“You, and the love of plants?”

“Yeah,” she grunted. “Me and my curse for growing things.”

Jame ran her thumb along her cup before turning back to the au pair beside her. She wasn’t fond, suddenly, of upsetting her, and she didn’t want the conversation to end because unlike most others, she was incredibly invested in simply hearing Dani’s voice.

“And me,” Dani decided, stiffening her spine a little with a deep breath, “Running away from everything back home because I just…” she looked at Jamie, willing her to understand how cowardly and weak she felt. “Couldn’t handle the pain anymore.”

Her glance was strong, was inquisitive and kind, and Dani looked away from the warmth it offered.

“You don’t have to run anymore. And you don’t have to have anymore pain.”

It was an oddly comforting option and perhaps promise, Dani realized, one that she knew Jamie was in no place to give, but still she did, and for the first time, despite all of the people at the funeral and the hospital and in her life who let her off the hook, or at least thought they did, she felt as if she might be able to finally do it.

Jamie’s hand was warm in her knee where it gave a squeeze, but did not let go, resting there as the gardener moved her head, twisting to be in the au pair’s view. Dani looked at her and couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“I know you’re not alright. That’s okay, too. You don’t have to be yet.”

Simultaneously, the weight grew and shrunk on her chest, but Dani relaxed at the feeling of it all.

“I’m around, you know? Not really the best at talking, but I’ve got ears that occasionally work.” Dani couldn’t help but chuckle. “There it is, Poppins. No sense in having a pretty girl upset. It’s probably the greatest sin around.”

“The greatest?” she scoffed, clearing her throat as the hand on her knee was retracted.

“I haven’t been to church in a while,” Jamie confessed.

“I couldn’t tell.”

“That’s what happens when you’re raised by wolves.”

Once again, she filled up the cups, and Dani felt the gardener relax slightly beside her. She found herself envious of the apparent ease with which she moved through life.

“I almost believe you.”

There was another grin, lopsided and knowing. It was oddly frustrating, to feel so bare and understood by someone who was unreadable, but Dani challenged her before taking a drink.

“Wolves don’t have to howl in the night and live in the forests or have fangs and claws.” Jamie paused and swirled around her drink. She looked up to see the lantern of their third returning. “Sometimes they wear suits and work at the bank or a department store, and they find a weakling and they do what wolves do. Suit or fangs, there isn’t much difference. I was raised by wolves.”

Dani didn’t register Owen’s return. She looked at Jamie who refused to look at her, but rather smiled as the chef sat down, prepared to tease him incredibly for his display with the housekeeper. But the au pair was struck with the first thickly veiled, but honest moment she might have ever had with the stranger beside her. She wanted more. She wanted to press and learn what it all meant, not the story, not the tale of it, the fiction and flowers and metaphors. But she found it was enough for the moment.

“I found out why Poppins is at the Manor,” Jamie announced proudly as she tossed Owen the bottle. “She robbed a bunch of banks.”

“I think she might be pulling your leg,” he shook his head. “Doesn’t seem the type to care about money.”

“She did it for the thrill. She’s mad. Hide the silver.”

“Don’t tell people that,” Dani scolded, hitting Jamie’s arm. “I’m just a teacher.”

“A notoriously underpaid lot. She definitely did it for the money. Owed huge gambling debts. I don’t know what to tell you, Owen,” Jamie shrugged. “That’s the truth.”

“Please don’t believe her.”

“I hardly ever do,” he promised.

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walkwithheroes84 · 3 years

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Saved By the Bell (2020) Thoughts

When the original Saved by the Bell ended in 1992, I was still in elementary school and certainly hadn’t watched it’s first run. But over the years - via repeats - it has become something of a comfort show for me, that I turn to when I’m feeling down or just need something cheesy to chill out to. So, hen I heard about a reboot on the Peacock network, I was unsure.

Now, having finished the ten episode season in just two days, I’m really hoping people give this show a chance. It knows what it is and what it is the child of and it lovingly pokes fun at and embraces it. All while actually showing real issues that people are facing today.

Here are my real-time after thoughts on each episode. Warning for spoilers.

1.01: Pilot

Zack becoming Governor to get out of a parking ticket and then having no idea what to do is a very Saved by the Bell plot line. But, I love that he's not getting away with doing a bad job and the people of California actually seem to be upset with him. Also random, but - I wonder if Kelly is a doctor and why she hasn't kicked Zack to the curb if he's become such a skeevy person? I guess it is true love.

Jessie and Slater and still adorable, even as platonic friends. However, it's sad that she's kept her son so dependent on her and that it appears that Slater peeked in high school.

Lexi and Mac would be completely unlikeable if played by anyone other than Josie Totah and Mitchell Hoog. Right now, they are just unlikeable, but could grow as the series goes on.

Devante and Aisha are good and I look forward to their characters being explored more.

Daisy is fine, but I don't think she's a strong enough character to be the "lead". Many reviews have called her the "lead" and the "character viewers follow the most" and I'm not sure the character is strong enough for that. Haskiri Velazquez is capable in her role and is doing fine, but the character is a bit bland at the moment.

Principal Toddman: finally a principal that is trying to make a difference and isn't bumbling around and letting the students get away with anything.

The "running for school president" story felt straight out of the old series, with Lexi and Mac doing it for a parking space. But, I liked that in the end (it was 2 days show time and just 30-something minutes our time) they only let Daisy have the job because they didn't want to give up their spring break - not because they learned any sort of real lesson.

From previews I was a little worried that they might try and go with a Mac/Daisy pairing, and I really glad that it doesn't look that way. Yes, it feels like they might pair them down the road (if the show gets a season 2 and beyond), but for now Daisy seems more annoyed with him and Mac seems indifferent to her. It looks like the show might go with Jamie/Aisha, which could work.

1.02: Clubs and Cliques

The theater clique is basically so cliché that its amusing. I love that they were all desperate to get Devante involved and keep him in the group chat, but he was just so disinterested. Lexi's line that she would fall for him if he kept ignoring her? Ha.

Jamie's inability to basically function as a normal fifteen/sixteen year old is alarming. The fact that he couldn't tell he is bad at football and that he makes raw food? Like, Jessie, who did you raise? That said, the football team having a "Feelings Helmet" was just amusing to me. The Bayside students are just so over the top insane.

There is a large part of me that wonders what the heck happened in the raising of Mac. Kelly had six siblings. She was raised in a working class family. I can't see her raising her son to be this entitled brat who apparently calls her stupid. And, I honestly can't see Zack allowing his son to end up an idiot who just floats through life.

But, I guess that's the point of the series: the Bayside students are all clichés and over the top archetypes of rich kids. None of them are really all that likeable and I find myself rooting for Devante, Daisy, and Aisha while wanting Mac, Lexi, and Jamie to grow up.

1.03: The Bayside Triangle

Knowing that Jamie and Lexi have been friends since they were little kids and she now has a crush on him and doesn't know how to handle it? Very relatable and makes me like her a bit more. She's right - for a lot of reasons, it can be weird to have an old friend like you.

Aisha trying so hard to fit in with the Bayside students is a bit sad, actually. It feels like she's giving up a part of herself to be who they think she should be.

Mac and Jamie's fight felt like it was straight out of the original series.

It's sad to know that Zack and Slater are no longer friends. I wonder why.

Devante is totally my favorite at this point. He just wants a fresh start and it's sad that Aisha and Daisy suspected him of wrongdoing because of his past.

Again, the fact that the students do all this weird stuff and no one at the school seems to notice or care . . .I feel that is purely making fun of the original show, but I love it.

1.04: The Fabulous Birchwood Boys

Lexi and Devante need to become best friends and stay best friends forever. Let's keep it platonic and fabulous. Also, his friends from his neighbor? I need to see more of those boys.

Jamie and Mac Freshmen year? Dorky as all get out. Lexi's fear that no one would like her. So heartbreakingly real.

Daisy having access to money for one day and becoming an entitled monster...that also felt very real. And, I'm really glad that she didn't take the easy way out and said she was sorry to the other members.

Since Mac never even asked Post Malone and since he got the other kids back - I'm starting to think the kid has more depth and empathy than I originally gave him credit for. That or Daisy is rubbing off on him. If they did Daisy/Mac down the road, I think it could work.

I felt so sorry when Lexi realized that Jamie had asked Aisha. I think they are headed for a Lexi/Jamie/Aisha love triangle, and I have to say that while I see Lexi/Jamie (because of her crush), I don't see Jamie/Aisha just yet.

Finally, Slater obsessing over the gym floors? He really did become a stereotype of a gym coach.

1.05: Rent-A-Mom

Jessie still having anxiety about caffeine and knocking what she thought was caffeine pills away from Mac was great.

Speaking of which - poor Jessie and her marriage. :( How did she end up with such a wishy-washy husband?

Slater and Aisha bonding while trying to making the team tougher was great. I cannot believe Jamie gives heartfelt speeches before games. What the hell, man? They really are pushing Jamie as the "sensitive man-child".

Jamie also mentioned that he was starting to like Aisha, but I still don't really see it. Am I alone in this? A start of a friendship, sure. But, a romance within the next few episodes - that would move too fast. Then again, it is a "teen show" and romance on those tend to move quickly.

Lexi and Mac trying to help Daisy was kind-of sweet in a weird sort of way. I like the looks into the home lives of the gang. It gives us a better understand of who they are as people.

1.06: Teen-Line

DeVante clearly facing racism and even classism at Bayside was really well done. I love that Lexi was ready to help him, because he has become such a great friend to her. Those two have really bonded and I love it.

Mac becoming a payphone, but not realizing it kind of made me smile. But what was even better was the way the school completely went into chaos after the students lost their phones. It couldn't have been more than three hours and the school already looked like a deleted scene from a post-apocalyptic film. Oh, and Mac using the rope to get in and out of the room, while the rest of the group used the door. . .loved it.

Aisha and Jamie. . .I feel like she's with him because he's attractive and sweet. There doesn't seem to be any real depth to their relationship. Though to be fair, there isn't much depth to Jamie's character - he's a satellite love interest to Aisha and Lexi.

1.07: House Party

Lexi finally seeing that she is a good (or at least better) person? I like that she is growing. Out of all the characters, I think she has gotten the most character growth (out of the kids) this season.

So. . .Mac does all his schemes because he's scared of being abandoned by the people he cares about and feels neglected by his parents? It's cliché, but. . .okay.

I'm still not really feeling Aisha/Jamie, but I'm not hating it. The relationship lacks depth, so I'm not terribly invested. But, I'm sure if I went back and watched any of the TNBC shows (without my nostalgic glasses on) those romances won't have much depth either.

Daisy trying to go wild, but instead having to be locked in a closet and making out with a coat? Eh, I get that they were poking fun at the darker and "edgy" teen soaps, but, eh.

Slater really grew during the episode and realized that it's time to leave high school behind and start acting like a real adult, and I'm proud of him.

1.08: The Todd Capsule

Lark looked amazing. I'm so happy that she is doing so well these days.

So now we know where Screech is: on the Space Station with Kevin the Robot.

I was actually sad to learn that Kelly didn't follow her dream of becoming an actual doctor and is instead selling a fake wellness brand or some nonsense. Though, I will admit the Zack/Kelly scenes had me giggling a bit. They have become so shallow and weird, but I'm living for it. And when Zack said she was the only woman he's ever been with? That was a great jab, at least to me, at the way teen shows always do the "one true pairing" thing.

So glad Jessie now knows that Slater still has feelings for her. Can't believe her husband is having an emotional affair with one of his characters. This show can be so ridiculous.

The time capsule was a great addition to the episode, especially as they remembered all the plots that didn't make sense or were just weird: Jessie's caffeine addiction, putting on a ballet so Zack could graduate, saving a hotel in Hawaii.

How dare the gang (expect Lisa, who is a Queen) not remember Ron-Ron!

I hate - hate - that the PTA basically went behind everyone's back and is going to use the money to send the Douglas children back to their school. Yes, they can use the money to buy new things, but they will still have issues in that school. It's pure racism and classism.

Devante having a crush on Nadia (I think that's her name?) is super cute.

Loved Lexi and Daisy bonding and Lexi seeing that sometimes guilting people into things works just as well as being fake-nice. Though, you think she would have learned that by now.

So, Mac has always struck me as a character that is straight out of a 90s teen sitcom, and he still acts that way. But, I love that the show is trying to show some depth to him: he's acting out for attention from his dad. He has modeled his whole personality after his dad's high school personality in order to get attention. It's a storyline that has been done a million times (and will be done a million more times), but it fits his character.

1.09: All in the Hall

The Douglas principal saying that every few years people try and come in to "save" the school ,but than get bored and leave, because they've already gotten what they want - to feel good about themselves? Yeah, I felt that. It was so true to life, the way people rush into some new cause and than abandon it once they have gotten praise or its no longer trendy.

So happy to see Principal Toddman standing up Jade and sticking up for his students. He and Devante should have more scenes together. I like how they play off one another. I really just love Devante - he's probably my favorite.

Aisha finding a way to stay at the school via sports was very smart, but I can also see how Daisy would see it as selfish. Aisha does have a way of thinking about herself first and than others after. I think that has to do with her ultracompetitive nature - she wants to win, even if it mean leaving others behind.

Jamie got a bit more depth in this episode - finally. It was sweet that he wanted Aisha to stay, despite only having dated her for six weeks or so. He went about it completely wrong, but it was sweet. It's good that he sees that he's more emotionally intelligent than anything else.

The Aisha/Jamie stuff - eh. I never felt it to begin with, so it was no big. I'm glad that they sort of acknowledged that while he loves her, she just likes him and it was a relationship built more on physical attraction and sweet moments than anything else. I mean, they are fifteen.

Mac and Lexi feeling empathy and trying to help Daisy was nice. It's clear that they have both grown to care about Daisy (and Devante and to a lesser degree Aisha). I also enjoyed the small tease of Mac/Lexi with them both agreeing that they would totally hook up, because they are both so hot. Who doesn't love two shallow people admitting they are shallow? Though, I still think the writers are slowly - maybe - setting up something with Mac/Daisy. Maybe. Possibly.

I laughed out loud when Daisy ran into Jean (or is it Dave?) at city hall and he just kept denying that they had met before, but they clearly had.

Daisy's breakdown and her nearly doing drugs and the group hug - complete with Jamie discussing some random talent show we never saw (a jab at the original show airing episodes out of order?) - was just so classic teen sitcom. I loved that they pulled back from that by showing Mac reaching for the joint during the group hug.

1.10: Showdown

Overall the season was much better then I thought it would be and I'm really hoping that they are able to work in a season 2. I don't know if they could do several seasons, but I think they could probably do 2-3 more seasons of 8-10 episodes each. They still have a lot to focus on: relationships, class differences, the fall of the Morris family, Jessie's marriage breaking down and how that plays out with Jamie and even Slater, etc.

I really liked the two throw away lines of: Zack asking "Remember Tori?" and Kelly responding with a confused: "Huh?" and then Kelly quickly telling Mac that his father is not Jeff.

I wouldn't say Zack learned a valuable lesson, so much as he realized that he only wanted to stay Governor because he didn't want to be a loser. Which I guess is a lesson in a way, but he's still a bit of a slime ball.

I'm so glad that Slater told Jessie he was sorry for teasing her in high school because she protested and that he's happy today's teenagers are more willing to speak out about their beliefs. And, I'm even happier that Jessie stood up to her stupid and selfish husband.

Aisha and Daisy ganging up on Devante and than realizing that the clicks at school need a common enemy was great. What was better was Lexi, who has had the most character grown this season, willingly becoming the scapegoat.

Mac still needs to work on his daddy issues, but he's getting there. Hopefully he and his parents can really bond during quarantine.

Jamie telling Lexi that the only reason he wasn't sure if he wanted to date her was because she's been mean in the past was very sweet. Do I think the show is headed for Lexi/Jamie? Yes. Do I think it will last? No.

I still have a feeling that, at some point, they will do a Mac/Daisy pairing. Or at the very least have Mac develop a crush on Daisy, which will be interesting to see.

Other thoughts: I love that the show was able to poke fun at the clichés, corniness, and weirdness of all the late 80s-early 00s teen sitcoms/dramas that people my age grew up on; while at the same time exploring current day issues, without getting too preachy or pushy. They used pop culture well, without it feeling overly done. Someone else has mentioned in several threads that the show reminds them of the show Community, and I have to agree - it really does have an "early" Community vibe to it. I know a lot of shows are being cancelled or not renewed due to Covid, but I really do hope they give this one a second season. I really want to see where they go next.

Cast List:

Main Haskiri Velazquez as Daisy Jiménez Mitchell Hoog as Mac Morris Josie Totah as Lexi Haddad-DeFabrizio Alycia Pascual-Peña as Aisha Garcia Belmont Cameli as Jamie Spano Dexter Darden as Devante Young John Michael Higgins as Principal Ronald Toddman Elizabeth Berkley Lauren as Jessie Spano Mario Lopez as A.C. Slater

Recurring Mark-Paul Gosselaar as Zack Morris Tiffani Thiessen as Kelly Morris Ed Alonzo as Max Cheyenne Jackson as René

Guest Lark Voorhies as Lisa Turtle

41 notes · View notes

imagineaworlds · 3 years

Text

I Love You (Part Sixteen) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing, murder, mentions of sexual assault, literally everything Criminal Minds, okie.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 9247

Timeline: Season 2 Episode 23. Right after part fifteen.

It was a sad and quiet walk to the car as Morgan, Hotch, Emily, and I all headed to the crime scene. When we got there, the door to Rebecca’s apartment was wide open. There was no sign of forced entry, which meant that she had originally believed that he was Gideon, like she said on the phone, so she invited him in. The house phone that I had called was smashed on the ground in the living room, and there was a single cup of coffee on the table in front of the couch. I reached down and felt the outside of the mug to find that it was cold. Frank was long gone, just as expected.

Morgan kicked the bedroom door open after jiggling the locked door handle around. Hotch and Morgan took the lead heading inside while Emily and I kept pressure on the tail end for backup, not that it ultimately mattered. After the door flew open, we discovered Rebecca’s body on her bed in the same state that the woman in Gideon’s apartment had been found.

Hotch sighed to himself and took a step out of the apartment. I followed for a brief moment, but I didn’t end up going any further than the couch in the living room. I took a quiet seat and hid my face in my hands. There must have been some hope still brewing in my chest on the car ride over because seeing Rebecca hit my heart harder than it should have. I didn’t know her. I didn’t have any connection to her other than being a part of her rescue team that night we saved her. And yet, I felt almost responsible for her. We could have done more to protect her. We should have called her first. At the time, it didn’t make sense to call one potential target over another, but I should have just done it… She could perhaps still have been alive if we just called a few minutes sooner to warn her.

Emily walked by, “I’m going to check on Hotch,” she told me. I nodded and whispered a thank you.

“Y/N,” Morgan called my name from the bedroom. “You should come take a look at this…”

He sounded concerned about something, so I sucked in a brave breath before stepping into the room. Morgan was holding evidence in his gloved hands, searching through a stack of… whatever it was he found… As I approached, Morgan held the evidence out to the side, but he didn’t look up at me, almost like he was too scared to. Hesitantly, I took what he was offering in order to look for myself. The second it was out of his hands, Morgan turned to find something else to work on.

I looked down at my hands and the evidence they were holding. Within an instant, I felt like yelping or screaming, yet nothing came out. As my blood ran cold, I stayed paralyzed and looked at the photos in my hands. All this time, I thought that they had burned in the fire; yet there they were. Intact and staring back at me.

I swallowed hard. “Has Hotch or Emily seen these?” Morgan shook his head, though still refusing to look at me. I didn’t blame him after what he had just seen. I wouldn’t want to look at me either. “Don’t tell him,” I quietly begged.

“It’s evidence, Y/N.”

“They don’t exist,” I insisted, putting them in the inside pocket of my jacket. “They burned in the fire at Randall Garner’s home.”

“Y/N—“ he turned around, finally finding enough dignity to look at me.

I stared him down, “They don’t… exist.” His eyes frantically searched mine, but I stayed calm. “Hotch can never see them.”

Morgan kept staring at me as if it would change my mind. It wouldn’t. I genuinely thought that this had all ended the night Randall Garner died and his house burned down. I thought that the images he stole from me disappeared with him. There wasn’t a single day since then where I even thought about those photos, because why would I when I had tried so hard to forget them in the first place and then I had reason to believe that they had been wiped from existence. Not once did the thought cross my mind of there being a possibility that those photos were still out there. If I would have known, I would have searched through heaven and hell to find them and burn them myself. Yet there they were now, hiding in my jacket, out of sight of the one person I didn’t want to ever lay eyes on them. Hotch was a well grounded, smart man. He didn’t like to use his position at the FBI for any kind of personal gain— including finding people or digging up dirt on whomever he wanted. But if he saw those pictures… If he knew that they really were, he wouldn’t stop until he found the boy that did that to me, and he would kill him. Therefore, Hotch could never know, the same way Elle could never know. That was, if I ever ended up seeing my sister again.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” he whispered to me.

I shook my head, “They don’t exist. It never happened.”

His face softened, “Y/N—”

“It never happened, Morgan. Please. Just… drop it…”

“You know that I, of all people, get it. Right? You can talk to me.”

“And you should know, of all people, that I just want you to drop it and never talk about it again.”

Morgan took a physical step back to signify him backing down from the conversation. He turned back to looking around the room for more evidence, meanwhile I paced around the bed to look at Rebecca’s body. It was left in an identical state compared to the body last night. Her stomach had been cut open, obvious organs missing— but I wouldn’t know until Reid or a coroner could take a look. There was an incision on the left side of her chest, just where there was easy access to a rib, if that was really what his M.O. was. I froze and squinted when I noticed that she was clutching something in her right palm.

“Morgan,” I called his attention over. I pried Rebecca’s hand open slightly and slid the piece of paper out of her tight grip. “It says ‘7AM, Union Station. I’ll trade her for Jane.’” Morgan and I exchanged a glance. “Hotch!” I yelled. Him and Emily came in a few seconds later and I handed the note to him.

“So he’s taken someone else already,” Emily spoke up.

“Or at least he’s planning on it.”

“Let’s think about this. All other eight possible targets are safe and accounted for, so what— or who— did we miss?” Morgan questioned. “Frank isn’t capable of feeling the same feelings we do, but he enjoys mimicking them because he finds it fun. He takes what other people hold sacred and he uses it against them. So what does that say about his next target?”

“People hold women and children most sacred,” Emily worked out. “He said that he’d be willing to trade ‘her’ for Jane, but he wouldn’t have given that detail if he didn’t want us to narrow down the list, so it has to be a kid.”

“Call JJ and ask her to search through all of the child victims we’ve worked with in recent years and have moved to the D.C. area so recently that Gideon wouldn’t have it marked down,” Hotch told Emily. Emily left the bedroom. “Did you guys find anything else in here?”

Morgan looked over at me like he was waiting for some kind of cue to admit what he found, but I shook my head vaguely. “We didn’t find anything else,” Morgan answered finally.

“Hotch,” Emily said breathlessly as she ran back in, “JJ says that the only girl who matches the description and isn’t accounted for is a girl named Tracey Belle.” Hotch eyes shot wide. “She also says that they found Jane.”

“Okay, go back to the office to meet up with JJ and sort things out with Jane. Morgan, stay here with the crime scene while the PD is on their way, Y/N and I will go to the Belle’s residence. Have JJ send us the address. Let’s go.”

Hotch and I hurried to McLean, Virginia where Tracey Belle’s family had moved to after our team saved her from a child Unsub long before I joined the team. I knew nothing about Tracey Belle or the case she was involved in, except for the fact that there was a boy in her grade who was luring other kids to the woods and murdering them out there. Tracey was supposed to be his last victim, but the team managed to get there in time to stop him before anything could happen. Thankfully. But now, there was a strong chance that Frank had her. She was going to relive her worst nightmares all over again…

The sun was already down again with another day concluded, which was both a blessing and a curse. While the darkness would help Hotch and I approach the house undetected, it also meant that Frank could hide or run and we wouldn’t even know it— or even worse, he could have already killed Tracey.

Hotch kicked down the door and I pushed into the house first with my weapon and flashlight raised. We moved quickly and quietly, checking every corner of the living room, kitchen, and dining room. When there was no sign of a struggle or Tracey at all, we moved down the hallway towards the bedrooms. The first door on our left was open, and it looked like Tracey’s father’s office. Past that, on the right, was Tracey’s parents’ room, which was also empty. The last room to check was Tracey’s room at the end of the hall on the left again. The door was closed, unlike the other rooms. I gave Hotch a short nod as I put my hand on the doorknob, and he returned the signal. I turned the handle, pushed the door open as fast and hard as I could, and Hotch ran in first.

Empty. Entirely empty.

There was no sign of Tracey or her family anywhere. While that seemed like a loss— which, in reality, it technically was— it was also still a win. If Frank was going to hurt Tracey, he would have already killed her in her home like he had done with the other victims. From the looks of it, he took Tracey. The only question was, however, where were her parents?

“I’ll call a forensics team,” Hotch said. “Call Morgan and have him meet us here.”

While Hotch turned to call the office, I grabbed my phone and dialed Morgan. I asked if he was done at Rebecca’s house yet, and he told me that they were just bagging up her body and then the crime scene cleaners were going to come in, which he didn’t need to be there for. I told him that we needed him down at the Belle’s residence as soon as possible. He sighed and hesitantly asked me if she was dead.

“No. Frank just took her.”

“I’m on my way.”

Thirty minutes later, while Hotch and I were casing the house as best we could ourselves, Morgan and the forensics team showed up with the local sheriff's department. We stepped out of the house to let them do what they needed to do in order or to determine exactly what happened to Tracey. Morgan met us out front and we started to discuss why Frank would have possibly taken Tracey, of all people. According to them, Frank wasn’t fond of children, which was why the school bus hostages were a shock to them in the first place, but now this? He was getting desperate. He was losing track of who he enjoyed murdering because he was so focused on Jane. That being said, he didn’t kill Tracey, so maybe she was meant to be a gift for Jane, and in that case, Tracey would be safe unless we didn’t give Frank what he wanted.

“That’s our house, Charlie!” someone shouted from the road.

Hotch, Morgan, and I looked over to see Tracey’s parents getting out of their car and running up towards the house. The three of us stepped in their path to make sure they wouldn’t get through. I recognized the worry on their faces as uncontrollable panic about their daughter’s safety, but we wouldn’t let them into the house until the forensics team was done inside.

“You have to let us in,” Mrs. Belle told us desperately while trying to push past me. “My daughter’s inside.”

“You can’t go in right now,” Hotch tried to explain to them calmly.

“Where’s Tracey? Where’s my daughter?”

“Mrs. Belle—” I began, but she didn’t listen. She was still fighting against me as if I would suddenly budge and move out of her way, but I was going to do no such thing.

“What’s important to know right now is that Tracey is, in fact, alive,” Hotch said. Mr. Belle saw an opportunity to push through Morgan and Hotch, so he attempted to take it, but Morgan caught him before he could make it to the door. “Sir, she’s not in there!” Mr. Belle threw his hands up in surrender and stepped back. “We’re going to find her, I promise,” he said to both parents.

Mrs. Belle stopped fighting against me and suddenly broke down in my arms. She fell to her knees with me barely catching her in time, and she began to sob. Mr. Belle hurried over and took Mrs. Belle from my arms so that he could hold her as they both cried. They thought that all of this was over after they moved… They thought that their daughter was safe because our team had saved her before, but now she was gone and we were back on their doorstep.

The way Mrs. Belle cried and screamed out for her baby shattered my heart as the three of us stood around and watched. She rocked in her husband’s embrace and tried to muffle her sobs, but they were so agonizingly painful in her heart and chest that she couldn’t hold them back. My jaw clenched as I swallowed back the feeling of needing to cry in response. The tears that had started welling my eyes disappeared after I looked away and blinked furiously to make the fog over my eyes go away.

“We should go back to the office,” I whispered to Hotch. I was too scared to say anything louder than that because I thought that the sob collecting in my throat would escape if I raised my voice above a whisper. I took in a steady breath before stepping around the Belles.

If what Emily said earlier about JJ locating Jane was still true, they were likely back at the BAU already interrogating her for information, and since we hadn’t received another call from them, I was going to go out on a limb and guess that they weren’t getting anything of use yet. Hotch was the best interrogator we had, if anyone could do it, it was him. We were practically useless at the crime scene now, there was no point in staying when he could be finding a way to end this once and for all without giving Jane to Frank again and without getting Tracey killed. There had to be answers. There had to be a way to get that little girl back to her family.

“We need to talk,” Morgan said, coming up to me as I leaned against the side of the car while waiting on Hotch. I opened my mouth to protest because I knew exactly where this was headed, but he put up a hand to tell me to be quiet and just listen, so I decided to give him a shot at not making my night any worse than it already was. “You know what I went through growing up. I didn’t want people to know the truth either, yet they found out. They always find out, Y/N. Everyone got hurt and lost their trust in me because I chose to hide that secret over helping them find the man responsible. Hotch still struggles to trust me sometimes.” He shifted his weight on his feet. “You can’t keep it a secret forever even though you think you can. That man over there loves you more than anything in the world. I have never in my life seen anyone look at another person the way the two of you look at each other. You don’t want to lose that because of these photos, Y/N. It’s not worth it.”

“It’s not for him to know, though. It happened decades ago. What’s the point in bringing it all back up when all it will do is hurt people? Nothing will be solved suddenly if I show him the pictures and tell Hotch every single thing that boy did to me. He’s better off not knowing.”

“If it were Hotch keeping a secret like this from you, wouldn’t you want to know?”

I paused. Truthfully, I would want to know. But it wasn’t fair of Morgan to force the decision on me like this. He was right that I knew exactly what happened to him, but he forgot that I also knew how adamant he was about not telling anyone and how when I pieced it together myself, I didn’t tell anyone because it was his secret to tell when he wanted. Telling Hotch the truth was the most petrifying concept to me. During the Fisher King case, I had hinted to him what happened, but he didn’t know the extent of it, and he certainly didn’t need to see the photos.

“Does it get any better after they know?” I asked him.

Morgan’s eyes fluttered as he looked at the ground. “No,” he shook his head, “I don’t suppose it does.”

“You know that I love and respect you, Morgan… but I just… I need to think about it, at least.”

“Are you two ready to go?” Hotch asked as he met us at the car. Neither of us looked up at him or each other. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head and relaxed my shoulders. “Nothing.” I opened the car door and got in.

At the BAU, Reid met us as the elevator doors opened. He explained that Jane had turned herself in to local police because she had nowhere else to go and she wanted to talk with Gideon. He also said that she seemed on edge. She was scared, obviously, but there was something more to it than that, but no one could figure out what.

When we entered the mirror room, I could see that Emily and JJ were still in the interrogation room with Jane, trying to get her to talk while she held onto a brown paper bag for dear life. Morgan and Reid took a few side steps to stand in front of the window, but I moved to follow Hotch into the interrogation room.

“Stay in here, Y/N,” Hotch said. “She doesn’t know you, so it might turn her off from talking if there’s someone in the room that she doesn’t recognize.” I nodded agreeingly and went to stand in front of the mirror with Morgan and Reid.

Jane clutched the bag closer to her chest. “Frank hasn’t hurt anyone, has he? He wouldn’t do that… Not while he has me…”

“But he doesn’t have you, Jane,” JJ explained. “We do.”

“Why did you leave Frank? What changed?” Emily asked.

“Frank changed,” Jane answered. “Agent Gideon warned me that this would happen, but I didn’t believe him when I should have. Frank isn’t who he says he is. That’s why Frank’s mad with Agent Gideon because he knows everything about Frank. That’s why I need to see him.”

“Frank wants Agent Gideon to stop him, doesn’t he?” Hotch inquired quietly from the corner. Everyone was using hushed tones with her because she was such a fragile woman. Anything over a whisper would have made her spiral, which we didn’t have time for.

“Well, if anyone can stop him, it’s Agent Gidoen.”

“Not without you, Jane.”

“What do you mean?”

Hotch changed the subject, “Tell me what you know about Frank. Where is he from?”

“Manhattan. He talked about it all the time. He told me about where he lived and how he grew up, everything. He wanted me to know everything.”

“Did he say where in Manhattan?”

She shook her head, “No, but he said that he lived with his mother, Mary Breitkopf. Just his mother, though. He never knew his father, but he still despised him. He loved his mother more than anything. She would take him to the fair, and to the movies when they could afford it, they would have dinner parties when they couldn’t, and she read stories to him every night. He even had me read some of them to him to help him sleep.”

“Did Frank try to kill anyone else while you guys were on the run?”

“Is it wrong to love Frank?” she dodged Hotch’s question by asking Emily another one. Emily raised a curious brow. “You know, since he is what he is… Is it wrong?”

“You don’t choose who you love,” Emily answered.

My eyes unconsciously switched to look at Hotch. He looked at the mirror as if he could see me and I realized that he was thinking the same thing. We would fight tooth and nail for each other and to make our relationship work, just as I had told him in the car the night before. Jane seemed to feel that way about Frank, but we knew what kind of man he was, and there was no way that he could return the same desperate feelings.

Hotch looked back at the table in the middle of the room. “Jane, did Frank try to kill anyone else?”

She nodded, “Me…” She lowered her head as she started to cry quietly. “We had an argument, and as it blew up, I said that Agent Gideon was right, and he became so angry. So I ran and I didn’t look but.” She looked back up, “But he won’t try to kill anybody else. I promise.”

“He’s already killed two people, Jane,” JJ said. “And he’s not going to stop until he gets you back.”

“Oh…”

There was a knock at the door suddenly. Morgan, Reid, and I all turned to see who it was. Anderson poked his head into the room and told us that there was a call for Hotch and that it was extremely urgent. When I inquired about who it was, he said that it was Tracey Belle. I immediately reached for the door to the interrogation room and told Hotch that we had a problem. Hotch uncrossed his arms and hurried past me, Morgan, Reid, and Anderson. We all ran after him as Anderson tried to explain that it was Tracey Belle who had called and she sounded upset— which, of course she fucking was, Frank had her.

“Hello?” Hotch welcomed as he picked up the phone on his desk and put it on speaker for us to hear.

“Agent Hotchner,” Frank began, “we asked for Agent Gideon, not you. Put him on the phone.”

Hotch reached down to the phone and speed dialed Garcia’s number since Gideon didn’t have his phone on him. When she picked up, Hotch said, “Garcia, put Jason on the phone. There’s someone who wants to talk to him.”

“Who is this?” Gideon asked once he had the phone.

“Jason?” Tracey questioned, her voice shaking with fright. “It’s Tracey Belle.”

“Go on, Tracey,” Frank encouraged from the background. “Just like we practiced.”

“Please, Mr. Gideon,” Tracey sniffled, “you have to help me. You saved me once before. Do you remember?”

“Of course I remember you, Tracey. How could I ever forget you?” Gideon chuckled lightly and playfully, trying to brighten Tracey’s mood. “Tracey, everything’s going to be alright.”

“I’m scared, Mr. Gideon… I want my mommy…”

I sat down on the couch in Hotch’s office as I choked back that same need to cry that I felt at the Belle’s residence. Tracey was crying out for her mother in the same way that Mrs. Belle had been crying out for her daughter. It all rang in my head over and over again, the crying and the screaming.

“Jason,” Frank sing-songed into the call.

“You son of a bitch,” Gideon cursed into the phone. “I swear I will find you no matter what it takes and I will take you down.”

“Shhh,” Frank cooed. “I chose the station because I know of your interest in trains. I saw the toys in your apartment before I killed your date.” And then he hung up.

Silence hung in the air as we all stared at each other. We only had a few hours until the sun would start to rise and we were supposed to meet Frank at Union Station with Jane. There was no other choice than to play by his rules, though, right? If we wanted to get that little girl back to her family safe, then we needed to give him Jane. That being said, there was no way in hell Frank actually believed that we would let him get away again. Even if we did give him Jane, they weren’t going to get very far. D.C. and Virginia was our turf, not his. We knew how to tear apart the entire East coast if need be. He wasn’t going to win again. Especially since he made it personal with Gideon this time around.

Hotch picked up the phone and dialed the SWAT team to let them know that we would be heading to Union Station around 6:30 in order to be there on time for 7AM. Morgan paced around the room, biting at his nails, and Reid sat down on the couch with me while lost in thought. He was likely thinking of a way to get Frank after this was all over with. We knew that no matter what, we had to be the ones to get to Frank, because if Gideon got there first, he would kill him, and Reid couldn’t afford to lose Gideon because of a dumb mistake.

Morgan stopped pacing when Hotch hung up the phone and looked up at the three of us. “Boardroom. Now. Reid, get Emily and JJ.”

Reid stood and ran to the interrogation room to go collect them, and in the meantime, Hotch, Morgan, and I walked down the lifted walkway outside of Hotch and Gideon’s offices and into the boardroom. Hotch pulled up a map of the train station on the TV and we started making our plan for how we were going to clear the station, get to Frank, find out where Tracey was, and then arrest Frank. We had to be exact. There was no room for error. Fucking this up could result in either Tracey’s death or Frank getting away again— or both, if we were too careless.

“Hotch, we think we might know where Frank is keeping Tracey Belle,” JJ said as she, Emily, and Reid all stormed into the room. Hotch raised a curious brow. “Jane said that he is obsessed with his mother. Well, I did some digging, and it says that she’s still living in the Upper East Side in New York. Since taking Tracey, he would have had enough time to drive up there, leave her with his mother, and he could be back in time for our meeting at Union Station.”

“He would want to get her as far from us as possible,” Emily shrugged, explaining further, “just to make sure that we don’t get to her before he gets Jane.”

Hotch nodded, “No lead is a bad lead. JJ and Reid, take the jet to Mary Breitkopf’s home, see if you can find Tracey there. Meet with the field office there and have a task force go with you. We can’t afford to let Frank or his mother get away.”

JJ and Reid left together to get ready for their flight to New York while the rest of us looked back at the map of the train station. Hotch showed us exactly what plan he had in mind for the 7AM meet time. Our team, along with backup from SWAT, would move into the station and clear it out as quietly as possible. Frank won’t leave or hide in the crowd because he knows that this is his only chance of getting Jane back— just like when he stayed around in the diner in Nevada. Hotch was going to talk to Frank first, see if he would budge and tell us where Tracey was, even though that wasn’t very realistic. Eventually, we would have to show Jane to Frank in order to get Tracey’s location, since by the time Reid and JJ would get to his mother’s house in New York to check if she was there, this would all be unfolding. If it came down to it, we would have to give Jane over to Frank, and he would likely tell us to wait so that they could run again; but the local PD would have road blocks surrounding the area to make sure that he wouldn’t get too far. Our job would be to help find Frank once he was gone, but there wasn’t much we could do to stop him while at the station if things progressed, unfortunately.

At 6:30, we geared up and headed out to Union Station. The SWAT team was waiting in the back of the parking lot for us since they didn’t want to scare off the public or Frank just yet. We needed to make sure that Frank remained calm until 7AM when we would find him somewhere inside, so it was a safer bet if our team went in quietly without our weapons out. People were in too much of a hurry around the station to notice a few FBI agents spread out amongst the building. Hotch put me and Emily on guard at the inside platform, and Morgan and Hotch were going to take the lobby. We headed in quietly and calmly, Emily and I splitting off from the boys as soon as we entered the building.

For the thirty or so minutes leading up to 7AM, Emily and I paced and searched the platforms to see if we could spot Frank anywhere. If we were lucky enough, we’d catch him in the crowd and we could take him in for interrogation over anything else. Frank liked being in control and being powerful, and by taking a hostage, he had both because we were playing by his rules. But if we shoved him in a dark, windowless interrogation room for long enough, he would tell us where Tracey was.

At 6:58AM exactly, the SWAT team moved into the station to start clearing out all of the civilians. Emily and I searched every face that passed by us to make sure that Frank wouldn’t slip out— just in case our profile of him was wrong. He wanted Jane, yes, but maybe he would get scared off by all of the armed agents running around. But there was no sign of him on the inside platform after everyone cleared out. Even if he was on the outside ones, he would have needed to pass by us or the boys in the lobby. He was either waiting somewhere for us or he was long gone.

“The building’s clear,” we heard from the SWAT team through the comms. Emily and I exchanged a glance. “Target spotted on the platform outside. Target spotted.”

“Emily, get Jane,” Hotch said over the comms.

Emily turned around and headed back for the lobby and the parking lot where Jane was sitting in one of the cars, waiting for us to get her. I immediately jumped onto my toes and started racing for the tunnel that led to the outside platform. The platform was entirely clear except for Frank, who was sitting alone on a bench, and Morgan and Hotch who were carefully approaching. Morgan passed the back of the bench to stand on Frank’s left side, while Hotch and I stood on his right side.

Hotch stood his ground and stared at the man sitting on the only bench on that side of the platform. “Frank,” he greeted casually.

“Agent Hotchner. Agent Greenaway. It’s a pleasure to formally meet both of you finally.”

“Where’s Tracey Belle?” Hotch wasn’t having any of Frank’s shit. We weren’t going to give up Jane until we knew for sure that Tracey was still alive and well. When Frank didn’t respond, Hotch asked again, to which he was met with Frank asking if we brought Jane. “Maybe we did. Tell us where Tracey Belle is and we’ll give you Jane.”

Frank tsked his tongue, “That’s not how this is going to work, Agent Hotchner. I see Jane first and I will tell you exactly where the girl is.”

Hotch sucked in a deep breath, his face still sour and flat. He waited another minute in silence before lifting his wrist comm to his mouth and telling Emily to bring Jane out. The platform was quiet again as everyone maintained their footing and aim at Frank. The clacks of Emily’s boots and Jane’s heels echoed in the station as they walked up to mine and Hotch’s side. Frank looked over and smiled at Jane, but she didn’t smile back. Hotch asked his question again as Frank stood up.

“Did you not think that I’d come looking for you?” Frank addressed Jane.

Jane hid slightly behind Emily. “You killed two innocent women, Frank, and you took that little girl. Why?”

“For you, my love. Without you, I am nothing. I had to do everything I could to get you back.”

“Tracey, Frank,” Emily said, irritated with how they were dancing around the information we needed.

“Not until we’re safely away.”

“Stop it, Frank. I’m not going with you,” Jane insisted, moving behind Emily a bit more.

“Jason, wait—” Hotch pleaded with Gideon as he came running onto the platform with his weapon raised at Frank.

Both of us tried to stand in his way, but he pushed past us and stepped closer to Frank. “Sarah was a doctor,” Gideon said behind gritted teeth. So that was his date’s name. “She ran a cancer treatment center. She dedicated her life to easing the pain of others. You took the lives of hundreds all because your mother was a whore.”

Frank’s grin immediately disappeared. “You don’t know anything about my mother.”

“Mary Louise Breitkopf. An immigrant from Germany, a single mother to a son named Frank, lived on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Tell me, did she do it all in the house or did she at least show you the courtesy of doing it elsewhere?”

“Shut up,” Frank hissed.

“You think that you’re special, don’t you, Frank? Well, I hate to break it to you, but you’re not. You’re nothing.”

Frank glanced over Gideon’s shoulder to look at Jane again. “Jane, this world isn’t meant for us. We don’t fit in here. We should go Come with me and we can be together forever.” Jane stepped around Emily slowly and started walking forwards. No one tried to stop her, but we were keeping a close eye to make sure that neither of them would try anything. “I love you, Jane.” He held out his hand for her.

She took his hand, “I love you, too.”

He pulled her close for a kiss, and both Emily and I stepped forward to intervene, but Hotch put an arm out to the side to stop us. The approaching train blared its horn to signal its arrival, so none of us could hear what was said between them after they parted from their kiss. The next thing we knew, Frank kissed Jane’s knuckles and they made a run for the train tracks. We all tried to run after them to grab them, but they were just too far ahead of us. Before we could stop them, both Frank and Jane jumped in front of the train.

I threw my palm to my forehead as my jaw fell and I let out a gasp. This was Frank’s endgame. He knew that we weren’t going to let him get away again, and he wanted to make sure that he was with Jane for forever, just like he said. He didn’t really care about her, though. As a psychopath, he was incapable of loving her the way she assumed he did. He just wanted one more victim to go down with him. She was supposed to be his first and only, but he couldn’t stop himself from killing, even in the end.

Gideon’s phone rang as he reholstered his weapon. I looked over at Hotch and he looked just as shocked as me. No one cared if Frank died, though it would have been nice if we could have arrested him; but Jane was just an innocent, naive, lost, and broken woman. She didn’t deserve what Frank put her through. That seemed to be Hotch’s biggest regret— not getting to help her more.

“Reid and JJ have Tracey,” Gideon told us, still on the phone. “She’s safe.”

“And Mary Breitkopf?” I asked.

Gideon shook his head, “Reid estimates that she’s been dead over twenty years.”

Frank started killing people around twenty years ago… The death of his mother— if he hadn’t killed her himself— was his stressor. He did all of this for her. But it was over now. Frank and Jane were gone, and they had left a trail of blood behind them; but Tracey was safe. That was a win. We failed Rebecca, but we didn’t fail that little girl or her parents.

It was over. Finally.

“Hey, Greenaway,” Morgan said as he approached my desk. “Wanna go for a drive?”

I shook my head while still collecting all of my things for the night. “Hotch and I are going to pick up Jack from his aunt’s house.”

Morgan kicked my ankle playfully to grab my attention, so I gave in and looked up at him with a glare. “I want to show you something. It’s important.”

“But Hotch—”

“I already talked to him. Trust me, it won’t take that long.”

I looked up at Hotch’s office to see that he had just finished packing up his briefcase for the night. Morgan stepped in front of my gaze and smiled at me. I rolled my eyes and gave into his offer with a silent nod. His smile widened as I got out of my seat and walked towards the glass doors of the BAU.

Morgan drove us about thirty minutes out of town to a suburban neighborhood that was in the middle of development. We pulled up to one of the houses that was practically just a skeleton with half of a roof. As Morgan put the car in park, I asked myself what the hell we were doing there. How did Morgan know about this place and what was so important to show me all the way out there?

I followed Morgan’s lead as he got out of the car and walked up to the house he had brought me to. There was no door, so we just stepped in between two beams. We ended up standing in the middle of what looked like would eventually be a living room. After a minute of me spinning around to try to figure out the significance of this place, I gave up and asked Morgan where we were and why we were there.

“You know how I own a bunch of different properties?” he asked me and I nodded. “Well, this is one of them.” That was great and all, but why were we there? “What happened to us, it doesn’t define us, but there are a lot of kids still out there who don’t know that— and a lot of them end up in the system. If there had been a place where I could have sought out help, I would have taken it, but I didn’t have anyone. We save all different kinds of kids all the time, and sometimes they end up in a system that can’t give them the help or resources they need, and I feel like I have the ability to help them, so I bought this place and I’m going to turn it into a foster home for kids who have been removed from abusive families.”

“Morgan, that’s…” I was absolutely speechless.

It was amazing. No one ever looked out for kids like us when we needed it the most. We always felt so alone and misunderstood— like somehow it was all our fault. Morgan knew that feeling better than anyone, and he took the initiative to find a place that could help kids. If I would’ve had something like that after… Well… Again, speechless.

“Do you still have them?” he asked, referring to the pictures while pulling out something from his pocket. I nodded. He flipped open a lighter, “They don’t exist, right?” I smiled lightly as he ignited the flame. “Let’s make it official.”

I reached into my suit jacket and pulled the pictures out of the inside pocket. I kept them face down because I didn’t want either of us to look at them again. I wanted that night to be remembered for the kindness and friendship Derek Morgan showed me, not because it was the last time I ever stared at those nightmarish photos. Morgan took the photos carefully from my grip and I watched as he held one of the corners over the flame. The photos took a moment to catch on fire, but once they did, Morgan lit another corner just to make sure it would keep going and not fizzle out half way through.

When the flame got too close and hot to his fingers, Morgan dropped them on the dirt ground. We stood shoulder to shoulder in silence for a minute until I finally found the courage to say what had been on my mind all day since we found them in Rebecca’s room.

“I’m going to tell him,” I whispered as we watched the photos burn. “I’m just scared.”

“Y/N.” I looked up at him. “Hotch loves you more than anything. He’ll listen and he’ll get it. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“I don’t want to lose him because he thinks differently of me.”

“I swear to you, if that happens, I’ll shoot him myself.”

I laughed, “Well, that’s a little hyperbolic.”

Morgan reached over with both of his arms and he enveloped me in a warm hug. “You’re going to be fine.”

I wrapped my arms around Morgan’s chest and hid my face in his shoulder, “Thank you, Morgan.”

“Anytime, sunshine.”

The small fire died out as the photos were turned to nothing but ashes. It was like they never existed, which was exactly what I wanted. No one would ever see those photos again. They weren’t even a memory, if I were being honest. It happened, I moved on, yet they were exhumed for the purpose of hurting me again, and I just needed to get over it again. Time was the best way to heal before, and it would be again… as long as I had Hotch and Jack with me every step of the way. Knowing that I wasn’t alone anymore, that someone like Morgan got it, it helped tremendously; but Morgan was right, Hotch deserved to know why I was hurting because if anyone could help ease my suffering, it was the man I loved most. I didn’t have to be alone. I didn’t have to drown in my sorrows all over again like I did after high school. I had people who loved me and wanted to help me. All I needed to do was ask.

So I asked Morgan to drive me home as fast as he could before I could change my mind about it all. I watched the moon move in the opposite direction of us as he drove me back. The stars sparkled and the wind blew in my face as I stuck my head out the window and rested it on the windowsill. It was good to appreciate the smallest things like how nice the night was when our work consisted of so many terrible things. It was easy to lose faith in humanity and life if one got too caught up in the work and ignored the good that came out of it all. For instance, without the BAU, I would have never met Hotch and Jack. Without the BAU, I wouldn’t have found the closure I needed from that night in high school.. Without the BAU, I would have never met Morgan, Emily, Reid, Garcia, or JJ. The people I held most dear wouldn’t know me without the job we had. I had so much to be grateful for, and it all came from the opportunity I was given. I had to remember that every time a case took a toll on me or anyone else.

I thanked Morgan for showing me the foster home he was building and for driving me home afterwards. He insisted that it was no problem and if I ever needed a ride again, he’d be more than happy to lend a hand. I hit his arm playfully and told him that he had to get in line behind Hotch and his gun if he were ever going to get a chance with me. Morgan laughed and threw his hands up in surrender before I thanked him again and got out of his car. I watched as he drove off into the night to head back to his own home.

When the street was quiet, I headed into the house. The lights were off in the living room, kitchen, and dining room, but the hallway light up the stairs was on, meaning that both Hotch and Jack were upstairs. I circled back to the front door to set the alarm before heading upstairs. I dropped my bag off in the hallway just outside of Jack’s room and quietly knocked to see if he would respond. When there was no answer, I carefully opened the door to see if he was asleep or had headphones on while playing a game on his tablet. My heart melted as I saw Jack curled up under the blankets on his bed. He looked like he had been asleep for hours despite it still being fairly early in the night.

I snuck over and discreetly sat on his bed so as to not disturb him. I leaned down and kissed the top of his head, “Goodnight, little man.” I sat back up straight.

“He crashed as soon as we got home,” Hotch whispered from the doorway. “I think he had a longer day than we did.” I smirked while brushing Jack’s hair out of his face gently. “Are you okay?” he asked me. I shrugged and he tiptoed closer to me before taking a seat on the bed, too. “What’s wrong?” he snaked his arms around my waist and kissed my temple.

“I can’t get the sound of Tracey Belle’s mom crying out of my head. They were so worried about their daughter… I thought that Mrs. Belle was going to have a heart attack then and there on that sidewalk.” I sucked in a quiet but deep breath. “And all I could think about was how I’d die if anything happened to you or Jack. He doesn’t deserve the cruel touch this world can have.” I reached up to my face and wiped a tear that managed to escape before I could blink it away.

There was so much out there that Jack wasn’t prepared for, and he never would be. Hotch and I knew of every evil imaginable, it came with the territory of the job, but I never wanted Jack to have to face any of it. Worst of all, I didn’t want him to end up in a lonely situation like Tracey Belle went through… or the unthinkable, what I endured.

Hotch kissed my cheek, “We’re going to be okay.” He hummed against my ear as he rocked me back and forth slightly. “I promise that nothing will ever happen to us. I swear.”

I stood from Jack’s bed, took Hotch’s hand in mine, and began to lead him towards our bedroom. He followed without arguments or playfulness like he normally would. In our bedroom, Hotch sat down on the bed while I closed the door. For a moment, I continued to face the door, my back to Hotch, my mind racing with thoughts of how I was going to approach this.

When it came to Morgan, everyone found out before he could even say anything the way he wanted to, but now I had to come up with the right words to make sense of everything for Hotch. The worst part, though, was the anxiety of not knowing how he was going to react. There weren’t many people out there who could learn about something like what I went through and then go on like nothing happened. I didn’t want things to change. I liked how Hotch and I were. I liked how he loved me when he was trying to be romantic, how he got rough when he wanted to be dominant, how he knew exactly what I wanted without even having to ask. It was our thing, and it made me happy. But people had a tendency to treat survivors like they were fragile, and I wasn’t fragile. I was more than just what happened to me. I didn’t want Hotch to be scared to do things anymore because he knew about my past. I didn’t want him to stop loving me because he might think differently of me. But Morgan had a point… Hotch would eventually find out one way or another, so it was best if I just told him.

“Baby,” he whispered from the bed.

He never called me that. It wasn’t like we didn’t want to or anything, but we just… hadn’t… so when it took me by surprise, I felt my heart and stomach do simultaneous somersaults. I didn’t want to lose him. It was my worst nightmare to have the only man I had ever loved to look at me like he was mad or disappointed. I didn’t want that. But he seemed so worried about me, obviously, or else he wouldn’t have slipped up on the name. Or maybe it wasn’t a slip up at all and he just felt like it made sense to finally say it.

“What is it?” he asked me. I turned to face him. “Is this about me jumping in the dumpster? I said I’m sorry.”

I smirked and shook off a laugh. He wanted to cheer me up and brighten the mood, and it was working, but my nerves prevented me from acting normal, which only concerned him even more. So, while fidgeting with my fingers, I sat next to him on the edge of the bed while maintaining a safe distance from him. There was no doubt in my mind that Hotch was definitely profiling my behavior. I was quiet, distant, my eyes were looking anywhere but at him, and I was shaking like a chihuahua in the snow. Something was obviously wrong, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what other than the fact that what happened with Tracey Belle made me worry about Jack— but there was no reason for me to still be this worried about it when he had just calmed me down. So it was something else, he knew that much, and he was going to give me the time and space to say it however I saw fit.

“Do you remember how Randall Garner stole the jewelry box Elle gave me?” I asked quietly, still staring at the floor. I spotted Hotch nodding out the corner of my eye. “You remember I told you that there were supposed to be pictures inside—”

“I know, Y/N,” he interrupted before I could say more. I finally looked up at him with confusion plastered to my face. “Garcia found out about them, and you know how she is, she’s ridiculously protective of us all, and so she wanted to find the guy who blackmailed you, I guess. She didn’t find what the photos were, but… we connected the dots when we saw that he had at least ten other girls come forward against him, claiming that he did the same thing to all of them when he left for college.”

My eyes fell shut and I cringed. At least ten other girls. It should have ended with me, right, but that wasn’t how sociopaths like him worked. One victim just wasn’t enough to quench his thirst. Frank was the same way.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he took my hands.

“It was so long ago—”

“You don’t have to invalidate how you really feel about it.”

“I’m not.”

Hotch tilted his head to the side and gave me a look that said: “Seriously?” I shrugged. “Look at me,” he said before he gently grabbed my chin and made me stare at him. “What he did to you shouldn’t have happened, and I’m sorry that it did. But you didn’t have to be afraid to tell me and you don’t have to be scared to admit how you still feel about it. I need you to believe me when I tell you that it wasn’t your fault.”

He was right. I knew it. Both Morgan and Hotch had told me practically the same things, and yet it was still hard to believe them. At least this hasn’t gone as poorly as expected. I would definitely need to talk to Garcia about keeping her fast, little, hacker fingers off my past, but I was honestly glad that I didn’t have to say it. While I should have been mad at them for snooping around in business that didn’t concern them and should have been my right to tell them, it was a relief that I didn’t have to relive any of the memories by telling Hotch everything. It could just go unsaid and the healing process could begin with him by my side.

I escaped from his touch before letting my face fall into the crook of his neck. “Please don’t treat me any differently,” I begged quietly.

“I’m not going to,” he answered quickly while petting my hair.

I grabbed onto his shirt and twisted the fabric in my hands. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner imagines

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hedwigstalons · 4 years

Text

SpaceBear - bit 3

The SS Rare Pair now has a ship name. A little bit longer this time - Alan and Brandon got a little friendly so minor smut warning ahead.

Thanks to @willow-salix for many notes and prods. @ak47stylegirl big brother makes an appearance but you will need to wait for bit 4 for the fallout, I absolutely loved your sketch though.

Bit 1 is here, Bit 2

Bit 3

“So did you kids have fun today?”

Alan facepalmed, “I’m not twelve years old any more, or have you forgotten I can fly a Thunderbird.”

Scott smirked from his place at the controls, well aware of the embarrassment emanating from the crew seats behind him, or at least the one containing Alan. There was just something about being able to wind up younger brothers that made it one of life’s simple pleasures. “No, but at the moment you’re getting a lift in my ‘bird. So, little brother, how was your day?”

“It was great, Scott. Real great.” Once Scott got into dad mode Alan knew he wouldn’t be appeased without an answer, the problem was he still had a lot of unanswered questions of his own about the day.

“Show some enthusiasm, why don’t you? You’ve been bugging me about this Expo for weeks.”

However, it was Brandon that launched in with the rundown of the day, or at least an edited version of it. There was something about travelling at supersonic speeds that always got him hyped up and energetic. “It was, like, totally awesome. We got to try all the new tech and Alan here totally rocked on the flight simulator.”

Scott gave a chuckle. “I should hope so. Can’t have you doing anything that might show International Rescue in a bad light and failing on a flight simulator would just about cover it.”

Alan tried to sink lower in his seat; a futile task given there was a safety harness holding him firmly in place. He wondered what sort of light was cast by him and Brandon kissing for the cameras. He just hoped any coverage stayed within reports about the Expo where Scott was unlikely to see it otherwise he sensed a lecture on PR obligations as a minimum.

The merciful thing about flying in Thunderbird One was that even when Scott wasn’t punching it a flight never took a long time. Within minutes they were on final approach, the pool retracting to give them entry to the underground hangers.

“Dinner’s at seven” Scott announced as he started post flight checks, “so don’t be late, I know what you can be like if you get too involved in a game.”

It was a clear enough dismissal and Alan and Brandon took it as their cue to leave. They made their way through to the upper levels of the villa and along to Alan’s room as normal, Brandon babbling away about the various games they had tried and how he needed to stitch together some footage for his vlog. It was as though he needed to keep the air filled with noise, there was just no let up.

Once in Alan’s room Brandon made his way over to the desk and Alan followed after, hovering behind the chair while Brandon made himself comfy. Now that they were finally alone, something he had been trying to achieve ever since Brandon had pulled his stunt after the snowboarding, he was lost for words, unable to broach the topic that had been bugging him for hours or months if he examined his deeper feelings.

“Mind if I get get these vlog posts sorted?” Brandon asked, not stopping to wait for an answer before booting up Alan’s computer. “Got to keep on top of my media presence and give the viewers what they want. We can’t all of us rely on other people doing something stupid to stay in business.”

Alan’s thoughts were in turmoil. Brandon was acting as if absolutely nothing had happened between them. If it wasn’t for the fact that he knew there was video evidence out there to back him up he might have started to doubt that the whole thing had ever happened. Did Brandon just want to forget it? Did it mean absolutely nothing and this was a sign that Brandon just didn’t care for him in that way?

With Brandon’s back turned towards him, settled in front of the now glowing screens, Alan found it a little earlier to find his voice. There was something about looking into Brandon’s eyes that sent him tongue tied, but faced with the back of his head Alan was able to draw on some of that courage that marked him out as a Thunderbird. As they say, if you don’t ask you won’t know, and he’d had enough of not knowing. “Is that what today was? Giving the viewers what they want?” The words were spat out with rather more venom than Alan intended as he tried to keep a check on his feelings, hurt that his friend would use him as a way to boost his ratings and grab the limelight.

Brandon’s shoulders slumped slightly but he didn’t turn around, not daring to face those startling blue eyes that could knock him sideways. Not wanting to see their usual kindness turned to hate. He might have all the bravado and swagger in front of the camera but without an audience to play to he felt all his courage ebbing away. It was only because the damn cameras had been rolling that he’d felt able to make a move in the first place. It was a decision he was now regretting and he wished the floor would swallow him up; anything to stop him being alone in Alan Tracy’s bedroom.

He wished that whole sorry moment had never happened but self-control had never been his strong point when he knew the world was watching. With his arm slung around his friend that adorable smile that made him glow every time he saw it had been too much to resist and buoyed by the Dutch courage given to by a rolling film he’d acted on the thoughts he’d been harbouring for too long.

“You...you’d...kiss me as some stupid stunt for the media?”

Almost alone.

The venom had been replaced by hurt and Brandon winced internally at the thought of having ruined a perfectly good friendship by overstepping the mark. Hurting Alan had been the last thing he wanted but it looked like the damage was done and lying wasn’t going to make it any better; honesty was a big thing in the Tracy household and he’d rather tell Alan the truth than leave him thinking he’d just played him to gain subscribers.

“Is that what you want it to be? Just a stunt? Cos we can call it that if you want but I like you Alan...really like you.”

There was silence between them as Alan tried to process that answer, the response certainly wasn’t what he’d been expecting. There was no ‘It’ll be great for the ratings’ or ‘Lighten up and live a little’, not even a ‘Gotta give the fans something to buzz about’.

As the seconds stretched into eternity Brandon spun the chair and finally met Alan’s eye, trying to convey that for once in his life he was serious.

“You do? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Not very good with words, I’m more an actions kinda guy.”

“And you thought slamming your face into mine in front of the cameras was the right way to let me know?”

“No, I get it, I screwed up. I wanted to talk to you at the Expo, talk properly, but I just had such a buzz and there you were and….urgh…put me in front of a camera and I can’t help doing dumb stuff. See, you’re the smart one, I just ruin everything. I’m sorry it happened.”

He expected the anger to return, expected to be told to get ready to leave the island and get out of Alan’s life.

“I’m not. I just imagined our first kiss to be a little more private, that’s all.”

Alan looked at the upturned face that he’d spent far too long lusting over. Brandon has been first an idol and latterly a friend after fates and rescues thrust them together but Alan had never dared to act on his hopes that one say they could be more than friends. The Bear, with his brash confidence and a partner in every ski resort, was everything he wasn’t with his sheltered island existence. Now though, those delicious chocolate brown eyes were marred by worry suggesting that the confidence part might not be true.

“Can we start over? Maybe do things your way?”

Alan swallowed nervously, eyes fixed on the mouth that seemed to be drawing him in like a magnet. He leant forward hesitantly, worried about screwing things up, all the times he’d played through this moment in his head suddenly seemed poor preparation for the reality. Brandon leant forward to meet him and their lips brushed gently. It was the polar opposite of the crushing assault of the Expo but it still left Alan tingling as he pulled away a moment later.

“So, are we good?”

Alan felt Brandon’s hands reach out and take hold of his hips, gently pulling him forwards until he was sat straddled across his lap. “I think we’re more than good, rocket boy.”

Alan smiled as a warm glow filled him. He leant in again, a little more confidently this time, continuing the kiss that he now knew they both welcomed. A warm tongue swiped across his lips and he readily granted entry, happy to let Brandon take the lead as he gave in to the desires that until now had only been played out in his head.

He ran his hands through Brandon’s hair and was rewarded with a stirring beneath him that suggested Brandon enjoyed the feeling very much indeed. His own body tensed in response, the sensation sent his head into overdrive but this was unknown territory and he was both nervous and excited about where things might lead.

Sensing the tension Brandon broke off from the kiss. “You okay?” He worried that the young Tracy was already having regrets, his actions were so chaste and not at all like the fans Brandon was used to relieving his frustrations with. But then this was pretty different for him too, it wasn’t often that he had feelings invested in these encounters.

“I’m fine,” Alan’s hands dropped to his shoulders, suddenly finding the floor very interesting, “this is all just a little new.” He flushed slightly at the admission of his inexperience.

Realisation hit that it wasn’t just the concept of ‘them’ that was new to Alan. “Oh...you mean?” The sight of Alan biting nervously on his lower lip, unable to meet his eye, gave him silent acknowledgement.

“Not a lot of opportunity when you're related to everyone on the island.” There, he’d said it. Brandon was probably going to think he was a right idiot.

Brandon’s fingers skittered upwards along the line of Alan’s ribs, breaking the tension and causing him to squirm. “Damn you’re cute when you blush. How the hell did I get so lucky?”

“You don’t mind?”

“No, why would I?” Brandon snorted, “But we can take things slow if you want.”

In answer he found Alan’s hands tangled in his hair again, the fingers carding through, nails gently scratching against his scalp in a way that had him moaning. He might be a novice but he was a quick learner. Teeth clashed together as both decided at the same moment that they’d had enough of talking.

Brandon’s own hands roved upwards, sliding under the hem of Alan’s t-shirt, rucking up the material as they travelled up his back, strong fingers tracing up the line of his spine causing Alan to shiver in delight. The shirt suddenly felt far too warm and constricting, his skin yearning for more touch and the material was just a hindrance to that. He broke the kiss for a moment and leant back slightly.

"Mind if I…?" he let the question hang unfinished but the intention was clear as he grasped the hem, pausing for an answer.

"Whatever you want is good with me, rocket boy. We can stop this at any time though, just say the word."

A moment later and Alan was ripping the hem upwards, getting slightly tangled in his haste to shuck the garment off.

The sight of the exposed torso normally covered by a shirt or encased in body armour, stretched out in front of him and showing off every sculpted muscle, brought out the devil Brandon and he planted a kiss on the bare chest then flicked a tongue over a nipple in a way that had the sensitive bud stiffening in an instant. He worried that he’d gone too far and messed things up again but the burning eyes that met his own when Alan had finally freed himself and thrown the shirt to the floor showed that Alan’s mind had clearly gone to the same place his had.

For Alan the feeling of Brandon touching him, kissing him, was awakening all his senses and setting his nerve endings on fire. His body was crying out for more and all thoughts of taking it slow were long gone. Even the undercurrent of fear of doing or saying the wrong thing had been fairly successfully shoved to the back of his mind.

Brandon remembered his own early experiences, the flood of hormones finally getting a chance at release and that overwhelming desire to touch and be touched. It could be so easy to take advantage but he didn't want Alan to end up with any regrets. He wanted this to be a relationship that meant something, not one that turned sour with broken trust. He'd crashed into Alan's life, literally, and then Alan had crashed into his heart in a way he had never expected; he really didn't want to mess this up. One thing he knew for sure though, the chair really wasn't designed for two.

"Al," he mumbled into Alan's collar bone as he trailed kisses from neck to shoulder, "can we move somewhere more comfortable?" Alan's slender form might be light but he was still starting to lose circulation to his legs.

"Oh God, am I hurting you?" Alan pulled away, the devastation etched across his face.

His concern was touching and Brandon was quick to give a reassuring grin. "I'm fine, honest. I just thought we could have more fun over there," he nodded towards the bed, "but only if you want to."

Sliding backwards off his lap, Alan pulled Brandon upright and allowed Brandon to lead him the few steps towards the bed. He sat down and watched wide eyed as Brandon pulled off his own shirt before joining him.

Alan shyly reached out and stroked the exposed skin, tracing his fingers down Brandon's sternum, ghosting fingers around the outlines of pecs honed by years climbing mountains and riding the slopes. He still couldn't quite believe that this was happening, that Brandon could be interested in him in this way.

Brandon sat there, enjoying the sensations as Alan explored, that was until Alan raked his nails against his scalp again and primal instincts kicked in. They tumbled back onto the mattress, Alan ending up bottom of the pile, pinned down the Bear. Hungry mouths sought each other out again and hands roved, driven by pure lust. Brandon ground his hips downwards and Alan could clearly feel the solid bulge which matched his own. Even through several layers of material the feeling was enough to white out Alan’s thoughts for a moment and he gasped as his whole body felt electrified.

Neither heard the door.

The voice that cut across the room was stern, causing their heads to whip round in shock. Twin blushes formed at being caught, almost literally, with their pants down.

“Alan, Brandon, get dressed. You’re late for dinner.”

The commander of International Rescue did not look impressed.

-TBC-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #Alan Tracy #Brandon Berrenger #SpaceBear #SpaceBear ship #rare pair #indulgent fluff

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