#honors college took my dream journal

[ssahotstuff]

Aaron Hotchner Playlist Collection 💕

She Will Be Loved by Maroon 5 here

Word count: 7.4k

I should add that there are a lot of time jumps which I typically break with ✨✨✨ this emoji but it’s used for time jumps too. This is laid out differently because originally it was like a bunch of smaller chapters. This part contains the first 3 chapters.

This will have MULTIPLE parts so I’ll update my master list so they can all be found. Reader is a member of the BAU.

Warnings: cursing, some fictional cases that I totally make up from random bits of the show, talks of drinking. No smut yet. Slow burn friends to lovers fic

You took a deep breath as you walked up the large concrete steps of the Training Academy, your new place of employment. You'd been assigned to the BAU right out of college per the recommendations of your professors and a few strings pulled by someone from your past— Erin Strauss. She'd called you in weeks before graduation to talk to you about an incredible opportunity, one you wouldn't be able to pass up if you tried.

"Now you understand that this is a demanding job, right? You'll be on the road often," you tried not to let your excitement show as she offered you the dream of a lifetime.

"I don't exactly have any family I'm leaving behind, ma'am."

Her eyes softened as she scanned your features. You knew it was because you reminded her of the man she once loved more than anything—your father. You knew your presence was difficult for her, you were a painful memento of the man she left behind, her biggest regret. You wondered if the job opportunity was her way of making things right in her own way—you deserved the job, but her guilty conscience and your ability to learn quickly had made for the perfect set of circumstances for you.

"I know that. I know you can handle it. Forgive me, but I still worry about you."

She was cold, but something about you melted her; she'd always had a soft spot for you, but this was different, almost maternal.

"I appreciate that ma'am. You're the closest thing to family I have left. I won't let you down."

She shook her head, brushing her hair back behind her ears as she leaned forward.

"I know you won't. You're going to do great things. I just know it."

You found yourself nervous as you stepped into the large office area, eyes frantically searching for your superior. You'd met him once before, although you doubted he remembered. It had been early in his career, and you were young. You would understand if he didn't recognize you, but you'd never dare tell him who you were if he didn't already know.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for SSA Hotchner," you stopped the first person you saw, a young guy, maybe a little older than you, with a head full of brown hair and a purple tie.

"His office is at the top of the steps. You must be Y/n," he offered a small wave instead of a handshake, so you smiled back at him.

"You must be Dr. Reid. I've heard a lot about you."

His lips turned up in a smile before he spoke again.

"Spencer. We have the same IQ."

You couldn't help but laugh because that was the first thing Strauss had told you about him.

"But you have more degrees. I'm down by one," you'd double majored, which was stressful, but you'd received an abundance of grants and scholarships due to your achievements before college, so you dedicated your entire college experience to learning as much as you could. In the end, it was what had made you stand out among your classmates. You'd received a plethora of awards at graduation, the highest honors possible, going above and beyond what was required of you. You'd been published in the same Psychology journal as Dr. Reid once before, and you'd framed every copy you could find.

"I read your article. Your theories on substance abuse linked to childhood trauma make a lot of sense scientifically. I know you were coming from a more personal perspective because of your mom, but childhood trauma actually damages the brain, altering the actual influence it has over the human body."

You cleared your throat at the mention of your mother and checked to make sure no one else was listening.

"No one else has read that, right? Just you? Would you do me a favor and maybe not mention my parents around the others? It's just— it's a lot to explain—"

He put his hands up to stop you and nodded his head in understanding.

"I get it. I don't think anyone else read it, but I'd never say anything like that in front of people. But if you ever want to talk about it, I feel like now that you're in the BAU, we could learn a lot from you, since you've been there firsthand. I just want you to know, you're not alone. I've been there too."

It came out almost as a whisper, and you realized you made your first friend more easily than anticipated. You already had a bond, something that distinguished the two of you from everyone else. You'd seen Hell and conquered it.

"It's not so easy for me to talk about, but I'll keep it in mind. I'm pretty early, what are you doing here already?"

You changed the subject, hoping he'd get the hint. He did, shooting you a sympathetic look.

"I was up already. Let me introduce you to Hotch. He was really excited about you joining the team. Thought we'd make a good pair," he said the last part enthusiastically, and you had no doubt that you and the Doctor would be a good team.

"He's right. I was so nervous when I walked in but you helped that a lot. Thank you, Spencer." You stood outside of your Superior's door, taking a deep breath before knocking.

"Good luck. I'll see you on the jet," he descended the steps at the same time that Agent Hotchner told you to come in.

He was more handsome than you remembered.

You noticed he was missing his wedding ring now—you wondered what happened. He stood up, coming around his big desk to shake your hand.

"Agent Y/l/n, good to finally meet you."

You were taken aback by his deep, neutral toned voice, it rumbled through you and made your brain go white hot.

"It's good to be here. I'm excited to have the opportunity."

He studied you for a moment as he invited you to sit down, his hands clasped together on his desk.

"I can't help thinking that I know you," he said after a moment, and you tried to put on a poker face; you weren't sure you wanted him to remember you.

"I've been in DC a while. I'm sure we've ran into each other before."

He nodded, going over your paperwork in front of him.

"We're leaving in an hour to consult on a case in Tennessee. Can you be ready by then?"

You nodded, because you'd came prepared. There was a go bag already packed in your car, per Strauss's suggestion.

"Perfect. I'll let you find a desk and introduce yourself. I'll see you on the jet."

✨✨✨

"Y/n is onto something, I think the counselor knows more than he's telling us," Spencer said, going over his witness statements once more. It had been a long day, and it faded into night quickly. You were at the hotel, Spencer and Hotch standing in front of you.

"First thing in the morning, you two go check him out at work. We need to try to get a little sleep," Hotch reasoned, and you nodded in agreement. You were exhausted; you'd been going all day long with no signs of stopping. They'd showed up at nearly the same time, and you three had been bouncing theories off one another for half an hour.

"I'll be ready by 7," you told Spencer, and he nodded before he let himself out and headed to his own room. Hotch stayed behind for a moment.

"You did really good work today."

That was all he'd said, so you patted yourself on the back before heading to bed yourself.

The next morning, Spencer knocked lightly, waiting for you on the other side of the door.

"We'll say we're just doing a follow up interview, see what details about his private life we can get," Spencer already had a plan.

"You should do the talking. He doesn't take women seriously," you'd noticed it the day before when his secretary made a comment and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. He'd been short and rude with you and JJ, which was why you had doubts about him in the first place. He didn't like that you were meddling.

"Good idea. I could tell how annoyed he was when JJ corrected him," the address for his office wasn't far, so you drove. Spencer actually handed you the keys and let you take the wheel.

"So what happened with Hotch? He used to be married," Spencer's face fell before he explained Haley's tragic death and their divorce months prior. It happened nearly two years before, but he obviously still carried the weight of her lord.

"How did you know he was married?" He asked finally, but you didn't have time to answer because you'd arrived at your destination.

The first thing that you noticed was how he seemed shakier than he was the day before; when he led you to his office, he was nervous, agitated.

You took in your surroundings and almost immediately made a connection, looking at a framed piece of artwork on the wall. You noticed the signature belonged to one of the other victims who'd been an artist.

"You didn't tell us that you knew both victims," you said suddenly, making him clear his throat for a third time since he'd started talking to Spencer.

"I uh, didn't think it was important. I bought art from her occasionally."

The signature was the same on all the art; the first victim had been Dr. Trent's running partner, which made him the number one suspect now that you knew he was the only survivor. It made no sense for the unsub to leave him alive, that wasn't a part of his method.

"So what I knew them both? You can't prove anything," he defended, which made you turn sharply on your heel, looking back at him.

"We're going to have to ask you to come with us," Spencer said firmly, the handcuffs on his waist clinking together as he retrieved them.

"Did you know I asked her out, bought her stupid artwork, and she still wouldn't date me?! As far as I'm concerned, she had it coming! She loved Stan, who couldn't even run half a mile without gasping for air! They got what was fair!" Spencer cuffed him as he made his confession, easier than you'd anticipated. You stepped aside to call Hotch.

"We got a confession. We're bringing him in," you told him, and you were met with silence on the other end.

"You've only been gone twenty minutes."

"It didn't take much. We'll see you at the station," you couldn't help but feel a tiny bit proud of being the crucial part of solving the case. You wished you had a family to call and tell about it.

"Nice work. We'll see you there."

Dr. Trent was chatty, giving you both all the grave details on the ride in. You led him into the precinct, watching the other officers talk amongst themselves about how you all had been able to crack the case so swiftly.

You were back at the hotel within the hour, grounded for the night due to some uncertain weather. It was sleeting outside, ice particles slapping against your window. You'd just showered and gotten changed when there was a knock at the door.

"Spencer says you're the one who found the missing pieces. The artwork, the confession, he gave you all the credit."

Hotch was staring back at you, baffled as to how you'd managed to do it.

"Every time you asked him about his running partner, his jaw would clench for half a second. I barely saw it. Thought it was coincidence until it happened three times."

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the door frame.

"I missed it."

He sounded partly amused, like he still couldn't believe it.

"It was easy to miss. I've seen it before."

He nodded, gesturing towards the hall.

"We're getting dinner down the street if you want to ride with me. It's sleeting too hard to walk," you opened the door the rest of the way, slipping on your coat and shoes before grabbing your key. You could feel his watchful gaze on you as you maneuvered around the room, his eyes darting away when you joined him again.

"I bet there's snow by morning," he stopped in the hall to take a look out the big bay window. You took a moment to admire all of his great features, the curve of his jaw, his nose, perfectly framing his face. He'd always been handsome but age had treated him well. His voice was stern but smooth, and it made you powerless.

"Think we'll be stuck for more than a day?"

"It's a good possibility," he confirmed, pressing the button for the elevator while you waited. You were cursing yourself silently for letting his attractiveness make your judgement cloudy, but you couldn't help it. Everything about him made you want to know more, from his firm body to what was going on in his mind.

"Gives me time to finish my report before we get back," you had just made it to the lobby, Derek and Spencer already waiting for you. Rossi and JJ were the only missing ones.

"I hope they hurry, I'm starving," Derek complained, earning an eye roll from Spencer. He made his way to stand next to you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He made small talk until the elevator dinged and everyone else joined you, and then you were on your way. You climbed into the passengers seat and realized you were the only one riding with him, everyone else had climbed into the other SUV.

"Try to relax a little tonight. You've earned it. Everyone is impressed with you," it made you happy to hear, a little more like an actual member of the team.

"I know everyone else has been with the team a while. Having someone new means big expectations," you'd been worried about feeling like you fit in among a group of established friends, but they'd been so welcoming that your worries had eased significantly.

"You're doing just fine. Don't worry."

You arrived at the restaurant, sitting between Hotch and JJ, who leaned in quickly when she saw Hotch was distracted with Rossi.

"Do you two know each other?"

You shook your head, raising an eyebrow at her questionably. Her own eyes bounced between the two of you before she continued, her hands covering her mouth as if she were telling a secret.

"He just warmed up to you really quick is all," she wasn't entirely convinced, but you weren't going to explain any further. Spencer saved the day, asking JJ a question across the table, giving you something new to chat about. You noticed Hotch's stare on you multiple times as you talked, but you didn't think much of it. You wanted to blush beneath his gaze, and there were occasions when you felt the heat in your cheeks. By the time dinner arrived, you weren't sure what to think about his attention.

"So, Y/n, are you seeing anyone?"

Derek always had a question for you, curious as to what he could find out about you. You shook your head before explaining that you'd been focused on school and didn't have time to date.

"You sound like Reid," Derek teased, but you shrugged in response, sipping your wine.

"I was a busy girl. I just didn't want to waste my time on something that wasn't going to last after graduation."

"Smart," Hotch said softly, smirking behind his glass at you.

"Well that all changes now that you're a hotshot," Derek joked, and you rolled your eyes dramatically before finishing your dinner. You weren't exactly looking for a relationship, and now that you were a part of the BAU, it seemed like a thing of the past, being close to someone. You'd been looking for a distraction to keep you busy, and traveling nonstop was the perfect tool for combating the loneliness. You were surrounded by some of the brightest minds on the planet as far as you were concerned, and you couldn't wait to see what life looked like as a part of the team.

The following day, you were grounded, as Hotch predicted. JJ and Emily invited you out for brunch, and then it unanimously became a group activity when everyone was in the lobby at your agreed upon meeting time.

"I hope everyone is ready for bottomless mimosas. We're off the clock," Emily whooped, and you piled into an SUV with Reid, JJ and Emily, who was turning in the passengers seat to look at you.

"Okay, spill it. What's the deal with you and Hotch? He's got like, puppy dog eyes when he looks at you," she made a face and you giggled softly, shrugging your shoulders.

"I don't know if I should say anything. We've met before. I was fifteen, so I doubt he remembers me, but I'm sure he's trying to."

You recalled the day you met him like it had just happened. It had been ten years ago, and you were begging anyone who would listen to get you out of the situation you were in. It wasn't until he was called back to profile your mother that he'd believed you, offering a sincere apology and a sad goodbye. He'd felt for you, and it was obvious in the way he came to your school just to check on you the day after everything transpired, to make sure you were settling in okay in a new place.

"He's acting weird, I noticed it too," Spencer agreed, and you weren't sure what could be causing him to act out of character. He had no reason to feel bad anymore; it was a long time ago, and truth be told, your story was a hard one to believe. It had seemed too theatrical for him, you saw it in his eyes when you pleaded with him to listen to you. He wanted to believe you, but without any evidence, he couldn't. It wasn't until a Social Service worker was alerted about your situation that anyone took you seriously. For the first time in your life, you had a voice, and you fucking used it to tell your story.

Hotch was asked for a private consult by the local authorities and he came, interviewed you and your mother, and then he left again. He was the first adult you trusted, but he was still fresh in his career. You didn't blame him. He wasn't the only one who didn't listen.

"So what happened when you were fifteen?"

Emily knew you didn't want to talk about it, but you just told her that he worked a case you were involved in and you left it at that. She nodded, knowing there was more that you'd share when you were ready.

"Do you not want him to remember you?" JJ asked from the drivers seat as she pulled in next to Hotch, Derek and Rossi.

"Not like that. I don't want him to think I'm a victim."

The car fell silent so you stepped out, everyone else following your lead. JJ put a comforting hand on your shoulder, and you gave her a soft smile in return. They were only curious, but you had nothing to compare Hotch's normal behavior to how he was acting now, all you knew was that everyone had noticed a change.

"They can get kind of rowdy," Hotch told you, at your side before you could blink. He spoke to the hostess and when it came time to choose a seat, he'd already offered you the chair next to him. You decided it was too early in the day for you to be drinking, so when the mimosas were passed around, you, Hotch and Reid all politely declined. You opted for coffee instead, excited to try breakfast at a new place. You scanned the menu and Hotch did the same, occasionally stealing a glance at you from behind his menu.

"What are you thinking?" He asked, and you shrugged before pointing to something called simply 'The Special' which was a little bit of everything, and it sounded delicious.

"What are you getting?" He pointed to the steak and egg combo, and you weren't surprised that he'd be eating a ribeye at 11 in the morning.

"What do you have planned for the rest of the day?" Everyone else was lost in a group discussion and Hotch was sneaking behind his menu to talk to you like the two of you were school children.

"I was just going to finish up some work," he sat down his menu, shaking his head.

"We're grounded, off the clock. Please don't spend it shut off in your hotel room. There's always time on the jet for reports. Try to enjoy yourself a little. I'm sure the girls could use you as a good influence today," he chuckled, nodding towards Emily who was already on her second glass.

"If I drink this early in the day, I'll be trashed. The last thing I need to do is embarrass myself," you muttered, his eyebrow raised questionably at you.

"You don't strike me as a drunken party girl," there was the faintest smirk on his lips while you tried to backpedal.

"I just—I can get kind of honest when I drink," what you were trying to say was, you had no filter and you surely wouldn't be able to stop yourself from openly flirting with him if given the chance.

"Drunk words are sober thoughts," he told you, and you shrugged, knowing some thoughts should be kept a secret.

"I'd like to keep my sober thoughts private for now," you joked back before ordering your food. JJ hadn't stopped staring at the exchange between the two of you, a sly grin on her lips as she winked at you from across the table. You thought you'd been subtle, but the whole chatting behind the menu trick had proven itself faulty because she was onto you. You knew you could only avoid their questions for so much longer—then the fun would really begin.

✨✨✨

Adjusting to the BAU took very little effort. After a few weeks, you easily fell into routine with the rest of them. Hotch had silently made you his partner after he saw what an asset you were to the team, and no one questioned it. He paired you up with him for nearly everything, always asking for your opinion or input. A level of trust had been established and the two of you often did reports together either in his office after everyone had left or in your hotel rooms while everyone else was out partying. It wasn't uncommon for him to wander to your room, pen and folders in hand, or vice versa.

He'd sit on one side of the bed and you on the other, silently working together to finish what needed to be done. It was just easier if you did it as a team, and he didn't mind the help. It meant he could go straight home to Jack when you landed.

On this night in particular, everyone else was in their rooms while the two of you worked to build a profile. He was pacing, snowballing ideas at you while you wrote furiously, putting the pieces together.

"Sharp blows to the head, ligature marks. I can't charm my victims, I can't over power them. I'm guessing he has some sort of disadvantage, like being physically smaller or under average weight," you suggested, and he nodded, his hands on his hips.

"Being small would make sense. Blow to the head will knock anyone out no matter what size you are."

You then had a shocking realization that it wasn't a man at all.

"It's a woman. Think about it, all of the victims had been cheating on their wives. It's a mistress, or an ex. Someone who's been scorned. The letters said 'We were insignificant,' talking about the women being cheated on. Why use the term we if you're not putting yourself in the same category?"

The lightbulb clicked for him seconds later as the two of you worked tirelessly to revise the profile now that you knew the unsub was a woman. By the time everyone else was awake and in the lobby at your meeting time, you and Hotch were already downstairs, chomping at the bit to deliver the new profile and narrow down the parameters.

"We'll need an entirely new perspective on suspects. Reid and Emily will work on the geographic profile, Dave and Morgan will revisit the first crime scene to canvas with our new information. Y/n and I will talk to the wives of the deceased and see if they knew anything about the mistresses."

You all went your separate ways, with Hotch behind the wheel. The two of you were up all night, so his first stop was a coffee shop.

"I figured we could use it considering we were working all night. We can't make a habit of that, you know. It's bad enough that I do it," he was hinting that you should've gotten sleep when everyone else did last night instead of staying up to help him.

"I wasn't going to be able to sleep until we caught a break," you told him, and he nodded in understanding. His mind worked and operated in the same way, often restless when there was still work to be done.

"In that case, I'm glad you can keep me company. It's a lot easier working with you than on my own," he admitted, and you felt your stomach do flips at the fact that he enjoyed having you around.

"We work pretty well together."

He smirked slightly as he handed you your coffee, his fingertips lightly brushing yours during the exchange.

"You have surpassed every expectation I had for you. I'm glad you're a part of this team."

✨✨✨

By the time afternoon rolled around, you had a viable suspect and you were on your way to her apartment, back up close behind. Reid and Emily would be arriving shortly after you, but you weren't too worried. Her apartment was quiet, so the two of you proceeded with caution.

"Living room's clear," Hotch called, and just as you were about to say the same for the bedroom, there was a crash behind you as your unsub tried to take you out from behind, like her previous victims. You'd narrowly missed her, kicking her legs so she lost her footing and fell to the ground. She was about to throw a punch from below you that you managed to dodge before pinning her down.

"Don't even think about it," you growled as she resisted you, but you managed to get her cuffed and stood her up before Hotch rounded the corner.

"You alright?"

His eyes quickly scanned your body as you nodded, gesturing to the woman next to you.

"She tried to knock me out."

The two of you led her outside to the rest of the team and local PD, where she sat in the back of a cop car before being driven away. You took a second to regroup now that you were finished with the case.

"We'll fly out at 8 am sharp tomorrow, so everyone meet in the lobby by 7. As far as I'm concerned, you've all earned a night off," he looked to you briefly, the same exhausted look in his eyes. You knew the girls would all invite you out with them, but your plans involved dinner and bed, in that order.

"Let's all grab a drink at least," Morgan said to Hotch, who thought for a moment before nodding back at him. You were all going to meet at the hotel bar and have dinner and a drink before parting ways for the evening. You rode back in the SUV with Hotch, who couldn't seem to keep his eyes on the road. They darted towards you every spare moment he got, making you feel a bit insecure under the scrutiny of his gaze.

"Is it the coffee shop on 14th Avenue? Is that where I know you?"

You were a bit surprised that he didn't remember you given his knowledge of previous cases was extensive. You shook your head, a teasing smile on your lips as you bit your tongue.

"You really don't remember, do you?"

He nearly stopped in the middle of the road, but he caught himself, clearing his throat before he spoke again.

"So we have met before."

You weren't ready to explain to him why he couldn't figure it out. You wanted to leave it for a bit longer, give him time to really think about it before you spilled your safe kept secret.

"I'll make you a deal. If you don't remember by the end of the month, I'll tell you."

You had nearly two weeks for him to come to realization on his own or you'd fill him in. You were hoping he'd have a moment where it clicked and he'd drop it entirely when he did remember so you didn't have to relive that experience. You were dreading the day you'd have to tell him the truth.

"I can't help but feel like there's a reason you aren't telling me now." His curiosity was getting the best of him, but you were saved, pulling into the hotel parking lot.

"You'll remember. I have faith in you," you winked at him, hearing his low chuckle that came shortly after. You knew he wasn't sure how to take your playful nature at times, considering he was the polar opposite. That's partly why you made such a great team; you were balanced in ways you'd never dreamed of being with another person. Where you fell short, he picked up the slack.

"We'll see. Let's get you something to eat so you can go to bed."

Dinner was mostly uneventful, and when you finally crawled into bed, you felt more relief than you ever thought possible. You set an alarm just in case, but you ended up waking up around midnight anyway, bright eyed and full of life. You took a shower, hearing the person on the opposite wall doing the same thing. You got out first, drying off and dressing in something more comfortable. You'd fallen asleep in jeans, and you woke up partly because they were so uncomfortable.

You'd just sat down to finish your reports, a cup of coffee cooling in a mug when a knock came at the door. You assumed it was Hotch because you weren't sure who else it would be, but you were met with Spencer instead.

"Spence, what's up?"

His hands were stuffed in his pockets and he shrugged awkwardly as he struggled with what to say. His eyes told a sad story, something you feared you'd have to answer questions about because he'd been snooping.

"I uh, I wanted to talk to you about something. I just don't want to make you mad," he explained, so you invited him in after making sure he was the only person in the hall.

"What is it?"

He took a seat at the table and invited you to sit across from him, his hands fidgety as he avoided your eyes.

"I'm not going to tell anyone, but I know how you and Hotch know each other."

Your heart sank to your stomach as you processed his words, knowing that Hotch wouldn't be the only one to know about your past when it was all said and done.

"It's public record, Spence. I wouldn't be mad about that. You said you've been there too, so you can understand why I don't want everyone knowing."

Although it was before anyone but Hotch was in the BAU, you didn't want your personal business aired out for the entire team to hear.

"Are you okay? I read the case file and I almost didn't believe it. What she did to you, it was—"

You put your hands up to stop him because the last thing you wanted to talk about was your mother. It held a tremendous amount of trauma for you and it was best to avoid the topic at all costs.

"I'm fine. It was a long time ago. I know if I need anything, there's always a Doctor close by," you smiled at him, making him grin back at you in return. He was concerned and he had every right to be, but unless it affected your ability to perform, you didn't want to speak about it.

"I'll let you work, I just wanted to make sure you knew that I'm here for you."

You knew he didn't do hugs, so you gave him a quick fist bump before he showed himself out. You decided to make a walk to the vending machine, colliding directly into Hotch as you rounded the corner. You walked right into him, more shocked to see him standing there than anything. His arms reached out to steady you before he took in your attire; you were just in a t-shirt and shorts, but his eyes traveled up your body like he'd never seen anything quite like you before.

"Sorry, I didn't realize our snack schedules are in sync too," you told him as he gave you a genuine smile, his fingertips lingering on your shoulder, brushing a stray strand of hair back over your shoulder.

"I woke up in the mood to work," he said simply and you nodded as he made his choice and stepped aside so you could too. He stood and waited with you so he could walk you back to your room, standing outside of the door.

"I'm working too if you want to come over," you told him, and he nodded before going to retrieve his things, spending yet another night in your bed, a pen scribbling furiously in his hand. You managed to finish up around 5 AM, the two of you opting to drink coffee and stay awake.

"Will you at least give me a hint?" He was laying on his side, facing you on the bed as you laid flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling. You turned to look at him, scrunching your face up in indecision before giving him one tiny detail.

"Foster High School."

He sat thoughtful for a moment but eventually drew a blank, sighing heavily as he closed his eyes.

"It's driving me crazy. I just can't believe I could forget a face like yours," he blushed like mad, but you felt a smile creeping onto your face at how smooth your demanding boss could be.

"Well, I certainly couldn't forget you. I always wondered where you ended up. I knew you'd be doing something spectacular."

His face only grew more red as he took you in, from your feet to your face, his eyes trailed over every inch of you.

"I don't even know where Foster High School is," he groaned, and you giggled lightly, standing up so you could stretch out. You were feeling the weight of exhaustion, and so was he. His eyes were dimmed red, but they were glued to you.

"You'll remember. Promise me you won't ask Garcia, I want you to remember on your own," he rolled his eyes playfully before agreeing, standing up to head towards the door.

"Ride with me to the airstrip?"

You nodded and he was out the door, off to get ready to fly home.

✨✨✨

"I love Halloween!" Spencer was passing out treat bags around the bullpen, making sure you got one as he handed them out. He even went to give one to Hotch, who wasn't exactly excited that we were having a Halloween Bash at Rossi's the following night, but he was trying to be.

"You all got your costumes?"

You and Emily exchanged a look before nodding, because you, Emily and Penelope had a perfect group costume that involved leather and feathered wings, something you'd been planning for weeks.

"Oh we've got them," you said, a cocky grin spread out on your face. When you'd tried them on, the three of you had looked incredible and that was without hair and makeup. JJ and Will were doing a costume together, so the three of you quickly set to work on a trio costume.

"Who wants to bet that Hotch doesn't dress up?" His office door was closed but you could see him on the phone through the blinds. Rossi had intended for everyone to crash at his place after so no one had to drive, and you wondered if he'd stick around too. It had been almost two weeks and he was nowhere closer to figuring out where he knew you, so you planned to tell him soon.

That night at Emily's getting ready, you couldn't help but feel good. The three of you made a stunning group and even though Penelope was the only one who decided to wear wings, it was obvious that you were Charlie's Angels.

"We look HOT!" Penelope cheered as you rallied into her car, blasting music as you made the drive to Rossi's. Everyone else was already there, the garden lit up purple to match the evening festivities. Spencer was Frankenstein's Monster, you could see his mask as you were walking in. Hotch had certainly dressed up, that was for sure. He wore a silky black dress shirt, no tie, and black slacks, the combination striking with his eyes. He was the first to catch your gaze lingering on him, his own eyes raking you in as you approached him and Rossi.

"Ah, the Angels," Dave remarked, handing the three of you a drink. Hotch refilled his glass, his eyes lingering on your chest long enough for your face to heat up.

"You guys win best costume," he told you, and you swore you saw him wink at you when Rossi wasn't looking.

"I like your costume too," you smirked, and he made a face before leading you away from the crowd.

"I was hoping you'd tell me tonight," he purred, his voice dangerously low and sexier than he intended.

"Let me have another drink and I'll think about it."

He nodded, eyeing your glass.

"I can give you a ride home later if you want, I just assumed you didn't drive," he offered, and you nodded, telling him to let you know when he was ready to leave. You'd never pass up the opportunity to have him alone, even for a little bit.

"Go have fun. We'll hang out later," he promised you, so you went to enjoy the party with your friends.

Hotch found you a few hours later so you said your goodbyes, happy to be going somewhere you could take off your heels. You'd no sooner climbed into Hotch's car when he was taking you by surprise.

"Want to come back to my place? You can change into something of mine," he offered, and you gave him a small nod, because you'd never been to his house before and the idea of it thrilled you.

"You sure you don't mind?"

He shook his head, taking off in the direction of his place.

"You're good company."

A few minutes later and you were in his clothes, clutching a glass as he set to work on playing music, his record player spinning a Beatles album. You sat at the kitchen table but he offered you his hand, helping you to stand. It took you a minute to realize what he was doing when his hand met your waist and he started to rock back and forth with you.

"You didn't dance with me once all night. I wanted to make up for it," he said simply, twirling you around the kitchen. He was a really good dancer, you let him take the lead and he whisked you around, making you giggle lightly.

"I would've asked but you didn't strike me as the dancing type. Now I know I was wrong. You can be my dancing partner any time," you told him, watching his cheeks go pink as he beamed from ear to ear.

"Ready to tell me how we know each other?" Your head was on his chest and for now you were just enjoying the moment, wrapped up in him.

"In a minute," you assured him as the song changed, but neither of you stopped swaying; he kept dancing slow with you despite the quickened pace of the song. You were enjoying just being close to him, and he didn't bother moving either.

You leaned back to look at him, knowing everything would change after today. If Hotch told anyone, it would snowball out of control, and everyone would know in a matter of days.

"You profiled my mom. I bet you remember her," you said sadly, because who could forget someone so horrific? You often wondered how he slept after she so easily described every heinous thing she'd done to you, to the missing children in the surrounding towns. You'd seen them all come, but they never got to leave.

"Your mom? Let's sit on the couch," he poured another drink, his mind reeling. He offered you one that you took gratefully, following behind him to the living room. You were close, sat in the middle, but there was still some space between the two of you.

"Her name is Vivian Hall. I took my foster family's name after about 6 months. I kept getting her—her fan mail," it was a collection of disturbing men, all wanting a chance to be loved by your cruel mother, who'd never loved anything in her life.

"Wait a second," you could practically see the gears turning as he put the pieces together, his eyes wide with shock as he stared back at you.

"I don't know how I ever forgot," he said softly, a sullen look on his face. You drained your glass, staring into your lap. You thought you might've been imagining his hand reaching for yours, but it wrapped tightly around your palm, squeezing ever so gently.

"I always wondered what you'd do, who you'd become. Look at you now," he mused, his tone much more easy going than you'd ever heard him. He must've been drunk, that had to be it. He was being entirely too nice and it was blurring your judgment by the second.

"I take it you remember me now," you whispered, capturing his gaze momentarily as he nodded back at you before letting go of your hand. It was as if he remembered you were still his subordinate and touching you might make you something more.

"You're crazy if you think I could forget. I couldn't get your face out of my mind for months. I—I didn't listen to you and I should have. I'm sorry for that," he sputtered, his eyes filled with guilt. That was something you were trying desperately to avoid—it was a hard tale for anyone to believe until you gave them the proof they needed.

"You don't have to apologize, Hotch. It was a really long time ago. It's still hard for me to believe. I can only imagine what you thought."

It had been ten years since you'd willingly given anyone information about what happened that day, but you felt safe on his couch for the first time in a long while.

"I knew those kids were missing. But I never would've suspected Vivian. She was so—"

"Normal?"

He nodded, and you sighed, because she'd been more than normal, she was upstanding. She held awards from the Mayor for her outstanding achievements, and she would've been the last one anybody thought could do something so evil and vile.

"No one listened to me until I gave them the photos. Don't feel bad. I didn't have proof for the first three, and that my fault for not thinking sooner, but the other 5...I knew I'd need something because it was already so hard to believe."

He sat straight up, blinking at you as he tried to figure out what he could say that would make everything better.

"None of that was your fault, Y/n. You tried to tell anyone who would listen. Every single adult you trusted failed you. You did everything right and you got her caught."

You stood to your feet, running a frantic hand through your hair as you fought the demons of the past, still lingering around every corner if you thought about it too long.

"8 kids, Hotch! There was so much evidence that pointed straight to her," he was standing too, wrapping his strong arms around you to keep you still, his hand placed firmly at the small of your back.

"I know. I know."

There was nothing left for you to say—he knew now, and things would change forever.

Taglist: @wheelsupkels @hausofwhores

[jadewanas]

Greetings!

Hi! I am Jade Carlos Wanas, currently studying at Perpetual Help College of Manila. I am a Grade 12 Humanities and Social Sciences student who aims to be a teacher one day.

I've been a consistent TOP student ever since I started my Highschool life. Grade 7, I got the recognition of Best in Math in our section and I was also the top 6 of our class the whole year. Grade 8, I wasn't consistent with my rank. I moved from top 4 to top 8 then to top 9 the following quarters. Grade 9, the first quarter, I was top 8 then I moved to top 9 for the third quarters. Grade 10, I was a top 9 the whole year. When I enrolled to Perpetual, to be honest, I was scared of not making it to the honors. But guess what? I did it. I was a consistent honor student the whole year. This academic year or my graduating year, I plan to still do it. I'm working and also hoping to be included on the students who will be recognized as a honor student on the day of our graduation. When it comes to other things, I was also a boy scout member since I was grade 1 to 5. During my time in Perpetual, I started to join a lot of activities and achieved rewards and recognitions for it. I was one of the dancers who represented our strand last year in Interpretibong Sayaw but we didn't made it to the placements. Last year's presidential week, I was one of the representatives for our strand in Palarong Pinoy where we ranked as the Champion in Luksong Tinik and ranked as the 1st placer in Batong Bola. Also, for the last year's Intramurals, I only joined 2 activities which is the CODM tournament where my team got the 1st place and chess where my teammate and I also got the 1st place. I also took part on the Presidential Week's journalism training where I almost got the Anchor but unfortunately, I didn't. But, I was still a part of the Journalists last year. But this year, I was officially recognized as one of the Reporters of our campus' journalists which is The Perpetualight. This year, I am the head of the Election committee which handles the vote countings and anything related to elections. In terms of leadership, I also partaken in our school's Student Council. Last year, I ran as the Assistant Treasurer but lost. This year, I ran as the Grade 12's Male Representative but, I lost again. However, I still have my role as an Escort in our classroom.

I have a lot of interests and if I were to talk about all of those, it would literally take a week. So, I'll be talking about some of my interests which I really like doing. Firstly is music. My love for music is something that can't be measured. When I'm sad, I listen to music. When I'm happy, I listen to music. It is because of my passion which is to create my own music where I would express the feelings that I experience and also the happenings or events that happen to me. It is something that I really want to do. If I were to sacrifice my favorite items in order to fulfill that dream, I would do it. I make song covers but I don't show to publicly. People who sees and hears my song covers is only my close friends and my Girlfriend. Music is my passion and nobody can take it away from me. Another one is writing poems and reading them. This is a secret so don't tell anyone about this, okay? I have an instagram account dedicated to my poems which I read by myself and put emotions into it because in that way, I can fully express my feelings appropriately. I also like walking alone at night. Although I understand the risk of walking alone, still, I find it therapeutic and it really helps me to calm my mind and think about the things that are bothering me. By doing it, I am able to solve some of my problems before. It has been a hobby of mine since last year because, to be honest, I don't really know. It just comforts me in a way that I could think of all the things that I need to think about. It brings me peace.

Now that you know me and some of secrets, why don't we become friends? I would really love to!

[stitches-and-icecream]

a couple of weeks ago we got a dozen donuts and obvs by now theyre hella stale im talkin rock hard i can barely eat them even when theyre drenched in coffee so the other day i threw them away BUT

last night i had a dream that i woke up and walked into the kitchen to see the donut box there like “wait didnt i throw that away” and then my spouse was sitting at the table and was like “yeah you did but i realized you were making one of the biggest mistakes of your life and i couldnt just stand by and watch” 

and i just opened the box to inspect that the remaining two donuts were still inside and rock hard and sure enough they were 

[jellybeanbeing]

The Raven Boys Quotes

I actually forgot how much I love this series and I recently have been looking through them again so here are some quotes that are my favorite and/or resonate with me.

“His heart hurt with the wanting of it, the hurt no less painful for being difficult to explain.” (20)

“What he meant by this was that he was worried that one day someone would fall on Ronan and cut themselves.” (38)

“It was somehow intimate in its complete lack of privacy.” (42)

“His code of honor left no room for infidelity, for casual relationships. It wasn’t that he didn’t condone them; he couldn’t understand them.” (49)

“Gansey could’ve had any and all of the friends that he wanted. Instead he had chosen the three of them, three guys who should’ve, for three different reasons, been friendless.” (50)

“Because it was never Ronan by himself, it was Ronan as part of the inseparable threesome: Ronan Lynch, Richard Gansey, and Adam Parrish.” (53)

“There was something hungry about all of the boys.” (58)

“They wore matching raw expressions. Different wounds inflicted by the same weapon.” (73)

“It was only Gansey who seemed afraid that Ronan would learn to live in the dirt.” (75)

“What she wanted was to see something no one else could see or would see, and maybe that was asking for more magic than was in the world.” (79)

“More than anything, the journal wanted.” (84)

“It had been a long time ago, but also, it was no time at all.” (91)

“Sometimes, Gansey felt like his life was made up of a dozen hours that he could never forget.” (91) 

“Everyone dreamed, only some forgot.” (97)

“There was something about his stare that took something from the other person.” (115)

“So many things survived here without really living.” (133)

“Gansey could see his irises moving underneath the thin skin of his eyelids, a dreamer awake.” (135)

“Gansey. This was Gansey.” (140)

“They filled the hallway to overflowing, somehow the three of them, loud and male and so comfortable with one another that they allowed no one else to be comfortable with them.” (140)

“It also made her feel strangely jealous; she wanted something like that, a bond strong enough to transcend words.” (144)

“’I don’t have a brother, ma’am,’ Adam replied. But Blue saw his eyes dart to Gansey.” (145)

“The approval of someone like him, who clearly cared for no one, seemed like it would be worth more.” (146)

“Something about Gansey made her feel so strongly other that it was as if she had to guard her emotions against him.” (148)

“In this room with Maura and Calla and Persephone, time felt circular.” (149)

“But more than that, he missed the Ronan that had existed when Niall Lynch had still been alive.” (159)

“‘Do you not want me to come?’   Something stuck in Gansey’s chest. ‘I would take all of you anywhere with me.’” (163)

“And now Gansey was king here, and he didn’t even know how to use it.” (174)

“Adam wouldn’t admit it to anyone, least of all Gansey, but he was tired.” (186)

“‘If magic exists, I just want to see it. Just once.’ ‘You’re as bad as Gansey,’ Adam said, but he didn’t sound as if he thought that was very bad at all.” (193)

“‘Is this thing safe?’ ‘Safe as life.’” (195)

“It was some private joy that she managed to be in on by virtue of being in the helicopter and, just like that, Blue was excited, too.” (197)

“The journal and Gansey were clearly long-acquainted, and he wanted her to know. This is me. The real me.” (205)

“You’re right, Ronan, it’s starting, something’s starting.” (207)

“It was suddenly difficult not to be excited by the idea of explaining it all to her.” (208)

“Gansey grinned at them both. He was hard to resist in this form: glowing with rows and rows of white teeth, a college brochure in the making.” (213)

“Everything was alive, alive. She breathed. ‘This is lovely.’ It was for Adam, not Gansey, but she saw Gansey glance over his shoulder at her.” (219)

“This was a wordless discussion, too, though she didn’t think either of the boys knew what they were trying to say.” (222)

“Gansey looked up to them, and she saw in his face that he loved this place. His bald expression held something new: not the raw delight of finding the ley line or the sly pleasure of teasing Blue. She recognized the strange happiness that came from loving something without knowing why you did, that strange happiness that was sometimes so big that it felt like sadness. It was the way she felt when she looked at the stars.” (223)

“She felt like she was part of a dream this place was having, or it was a part of a dream of hers.” (225)

“Gansey had a sense of incredible rightness, then, with everyone assembled by the Pig... She was right like Ronan had been right, like Adam had been right, like Noah had been right.” (232)

“...and they were loud and triumphant and kings of Henrietta, because they’d found the ley line and because it was starting, it was starting.” (234)

“As Adam stared at his lap, penitent, he mused that there was something musical about Ronan when he swore, a careful and loving precision to the way he fit the words together, a black-painted poetry. It was far less hateful sounding than when he didn’t swear.” (238)

“Now, it was real. Magic existed, and Adam didn’t know how much that changed the world.” (241)

“This, Blue had discovered, was how Gansey got places—striding. Walking was for ordinary people.” (264)

“Ronan says that memories are like dreams.” (269)

“This was Gansey who had written the journal. The truth of it, the magic of it, possessed her.” (271)

“’You’re looking for a god. Didn’t you suspect that there was also a devil?’” (284)

“He wasn’t lost for words; he was observing.” (302)

“‘I want you to know, I was... more... when I was alive.’” (305)

“‘Coincidence,’ Ronan said, because it wasn’t.” (307)

“But it was him. He was giving everything that he’d worked for away.” (316)

“‘If you’d just asked,’ Gansey said, ‘I would’ve told you everything in there. I would’ve been happy to. It wasn’t a secret.’” (316)

“And his journal. He felt raw: the chronicle of his fiercest desires stripped from him by force.” (318)

“It’s got a lot of energy, so it’s like having you in the room all the time. But it’s like your boys. It’s quite loud.’ My boys! Blue thought, first in a huff, then flattered, then in a huff again.” (327)

“Above him, the stars were brutal and clear.” (338)

“Gansey was just a guy with a lot of stuff and a hole inside him that chewed away more of his heart every year.” (351)

“They were always walking away from him. But he never seemed able to walk away from them.” (351)

“He was full of so many wants, too many to prioritize, and so they all felt desperate.” (370)

“...to belong somewhere, to go home, to go home, to go home.” (370)

“Cabeswater was as literal as Ronan was.” (382)

“‘Onward and upward.’” (390)

[carnegiemuseumnaturalhistory]

The Strange Saga of Spinosaurus, the Semiaquatic Dinosaurian Superpredator

I’ve been captivated by dinosaurs for as long as I can remember. My parents tell me that I told them that I wanted to be a paleontologist as early as age four. Naturally, then, I had lots and lots of books about dinosaurs when I was a boy growing up during the 1980s. One of the dinosaurs that always fascinated me the most was Spinosaurus aegyptiacus. Found in 1912 in the Bahariya Oasis of the Western Desert of Egypt (could anyplace sound more exotic to a small-town kid from upstate New York?!), Spinosaurus was originally known from a highly incomplete but also very large and extremely distinctive partial skeleton found in a middle Cretaceous-aged (roughly 95-million-year-old) rock layer in the oasis. Among the few skeletal elements known were part of a strangely shaped (for a dinosaur) lower jaw, some crocodile-like teeth, and most strikingly, several back vertebrae that each sported tall spines, some of them measuring nearly six feet. These spines clearly impressed Ernst Stromer von Reichenbach, the German paleontologist who studied the skeleton and gave the animal its name in a 1915 publication. Tragically, however, that original Spinosaurus skeleton—and all of Stromer’s other dinosaur fossils from Egypt—were destroyed during the Second World War, more specifically in a British Royal Air Force bombing of Munich on April 24, 1944. The story of Stromer’s lost dinosaurs found its way into many a children’s book, including several that I read cover-to-cover. As such, the tale took on near-legendary status for me, and, I’m sure, many other young dinosaur enthusiasts around the world. Here was an absolutely extraordinary dinosaur from a faraway land, similar in size to the gargantuan Tyrannosaurus rex, but clearly very different from all other predatory dinosaurs known at the time – and it was represented only by a few teeth and bones that had been blasted into oblivion decades ago and so now existed only as pictures in books.

A scan of my photocopy of plate I of Ernst Stromer’s original 1915 publication on Spinosaurus aegyptiacus, showing some of the teeth and bones preserved in the holotype (= name-bearing) partial skeleton, discovered in 1912 in Egypt’s Bahariya Oasis. Check out the long spines on the back vertebrae at lower left!

Stromer’s conception of Spinosaurus, as depicted in a 1936 publication and on a glass slide of his that colleagues of mine scanned during our visit to the Paläontologisches Museum München in Munich, Germany in 2001. Stromer knew this animal was big, as evidenced by the human skeleton he included for scale. Interestingly, too, he reconstructed Spinosaurus with unusual proportions for a carnivorous dinosaur, such as an abnormally elongate torso and short hind limbs. We’ll come back to those odd proportions a little later…

When I arrived in graduate school at the University of Pennsylvania in 1997, one of the first things I did was make a lengthy list of all the paleontological sites I was interested in exploring, ranked by their potential (in my mind, at least) to produce scientifically significant finds. The Bahariya Oasis and the search for a ‘replacement Spinosaurus’ quickly rose to the top of the list. Amazingly, no one had ever found—or at least officially reported—new dinosaur fossils in the oasis in the more than half-century since Stromer’s beasts were obliterated during that fateful airstrike. A need to keep this post to a reasonable length prevents me from describing the stars that had to align to make this happen, but in January 2000 I found myself in the Bahariya Oasis—one of the places I’d dreamed about going since I was a small child—as part of the first significant ‘dinosaur hunt’ to take place at the site since the early 20th century. It was bittersweet, though, in the sense that we never really found that ‘replacement Spinosaurus’ I’d fantasized about – all we ever discovered of that creature were a few isolated, fragmentary teeth and bones (and, in a very different location, a couple previously unpublished photos of the original skeleton in a Munich archive). We did find and dig up a gigantic new species of long-necked, plant-eating sauropod dinosaur, Paralititan stromeri, a creature that to this day is one of the largest land animals of any kind that’s ever been found, anywhere – but that’s another story for another time.

One of the rare contributions that I personally have made to scientific knowledge of Spinosaurus: a glass slide showing the only known photo of the right dentary (tooth-bearing lower jaw bone) of the original, name-bearing partial skeleton from Egypt. Like all of Stromer’s Egyptian dinosaur material, this specimen (including this bone) was destroyed in a British air raid on Munich during World War II. Several colleagues and I ‘rediscovered’ this photo—which nobody apparently knew existed—in an archive at the Paläontologisches Museum München in 2001. We published it and one other previously unknown photo of the Spinosaurus type specimen in a 2006 paper in the Journal of Paleontology.

A much younger yours truly digging up the incomplete left humerus (upper arm bone) of the gigantic sauropod (long-necked herbivorous dinosaur) Paralititan stromeri in the Bahariya Oasis of Egypt, February 2000. Paralititan is one of the largest dinosaurs ever discovered – a nice ‘consolation prize’ given that we didn’t find much of Spinosaurus during our expeditions to Bahariya. (A cast replica of the complete right humerus of Paralititan is on display in PaleoLab at Carnegie Museum of Natural History.) Credit: Josh Smith.

Back to the matter at hand, meaning Spinosaurus. Fast-forward to 2011. I had the honor of serving as the external thesis examiner for Nizar Ibrahim, a promising doctoral student at University College Dublin in Ireland. I’d known Nizar for years, ever since he reached out to me by email while an undergraduate at the University of Bristol, England, to discuss our mutual interests in African Cretaceous dinosaurs. Nizar’s Ph.D. thesis was on dinosaurs and other middle Cretaceous-aged vertebrates from the celebrated Kem Kem beds of southeastern Morocco, a set of rocks that had yielded a fossil fauna very similar to, though seemingly more diverse than, that of the Bahariya Oasis. Among the many finds that Nizar documented in his colossal thesis were intriguing new remains of Spinosaurus. I went to Dublin to participate in his successful thesis defense, and afterward, he and I hit up some of the city’s finest public houses to celebrate (no surprise for those who know me). Over a pitcher of yummy Irish stout, he told me an exciting story – he and his team had lately discovered not just isolated bones of Spinosaurus in Morocco, but parts of a probable new skeleton. If so, this find would be the first skeleton since Stromer, and moreover would be exceedingly important given how little was known about Spinosaurus, even as recently as the early 2010s. The more parts we paleontologists have of a given fossil animal, the more we can generally learn about it, so the prospect of a new and relatively complete Spinosaurus skeleton—in other words, many bones belonging to a single individual dinosaur—was thrilling to say the least.

Again I’ll skip details for brevity’s sake, but fast-forward once again, to 2014. I was contacted by an editor of Science—one of the foremost scientific journals in the world—to peer-review a paper that had been submitted by (you guessed it!) Nizar and a long list of collaborators describing that new skeleton of Spinosaurus that he’d told me about over beers in Ireland three years before. Nizar and team had revisited the quarry and it had panned out in a big way. From this one, single individual Spinosaurus—again, the first associated skeleton of this dinosaur to have been found in roughly a century—they had bones from the skull, backbone (including a few of those famously long-spined vertebrae!), forelimb, pelvis, and hind limb. More importantly, these ‘new’ bones revealed that Spinosaurus was even more bizarre than anyone imagined! We already knew, from Stromer’s specimen and other, isolated finds made through the years, that the shapes of the skull and back were really weird for a predatory dinosaur. Now, the new skeleton showed that the bones were remarkably dense, the hind legs were oddly short, and the hind feet may have been webbed! All of this led Nizar and colleagues to propose that Spinosaurus may have been semiaquatic; in other words, that its lifestyle was much more comparable to that of a modern-day alligator or crocodile than it was to a more ‘typical’ land-living predatory dinosaur such as T. rex. Other evidence for an affinity to watery habitats had been found in Spinosaurus and closely related dinosaurs (known, perhaps unsurprisingly, as spinosaurids) before, but this was, in my mind, the most convincing case yet made that these animals spent significant amounts of their time at least partly submerged in lakes and rivers. The paper was published in Science a few months later, accompanied by a cover story in National Geographic magazine and a special on the venerable PBS TV series NOVA. Almost exactly one hundred years after it had been named, Spinosaurus had become a celebrity.

Nizar Ibrahim and colleagues’ initial conception of Spinosaurus aegyptiacus in the flesh, released to coincide with the publication of their Science paper in 2014. Two aspects stand out: as Stromer already knew (see his skeletal reconstruction above), the animal is enormous, but it was more oddly proportioned than even he had imagined. Note also the ‘regular-looking’ (for a dinosaur) tail, and read on. Credit: Davide Bonadonna.

Semiaquatic Spinosaurus chowing down on a tasty lungfish in what is now northern Africa some 95 million years ago. Italian paleoartist Davide Bonadonna has produced some of the most beautiful and accurate modern depictions of this extraordinary dinosaur, and I’m grateful to him for letting me reproduce his art here.

But the story didn’t end there. Some prominent paleontologists criticized Nizar and colleagues’ semiaquatic interpretation of Spinosaurus. These opinions weren’t a final judgment. Instead, this is just how science works: we scientists propose ideas, or hypotheses—in this case, that Spinosaurus lived and behaved more like a crocodile than your garden-variety carnivorous dinosaur—and then test these hypotheses by reevaluating the existing evidence and/or bringing new information to light. If a hypothesis repeatedly stands up to testing, then it gradually gets incorporated into the body of knowledge. Other paleontologists presented evidence that they claimed refuted the semiaquatic hypothesis, but Nizar and team eventually countered with new data of their own. In late 2019, another prominent scientific journal—this time it was Nature—came calling, asking me to review a second paper by Nizar et al. on Spinosaurus. What, I thought, could these researchers have to say about this dinosaur that they hadn’t already said before? Well, as it turns out, Nizar and colleagues had kept digging at their Spinosaurus skeleton site, and incredibly, they’d continued to find important new bones belonging to the same specimen. Among these post-2014 finds was the almost complete tail. When I saw what it looked like (via an illustration in their paper), I literally laughed out loud with surprise and delight. Somehow, the shape of the Spinosaurus tail Nizar’s team had discovered—the first even reasonably complete tail of this dinosaur to have ever been unearthed—was simultaneously both unexpected and predictable. It looked really dissimilar from the tails of other predatory dinosaurs, but it was nearly exactly like what one might expect for a dinosaur that used its tail to propel itself through water. In other words, the tall, fin-like tail of Spinosaurus looked more like that of a supersized alligator or newt than that of T. rex.

Nizar and team’s Nature paper on their Spinosaurus tail was published this past April 29. Is it the last word on this dinosaur and its mode of life? Most certainly not, but the evidence is now stronger than ever—in my opinion, very strong—that Spinosaurus spent more time in the water than any other non-avian (= non-bird) dinosaur that we currently know about.

The modern view of Spinosaurus, not as a ‘regular’ predatory dinosaur, but rather as a specialized semiaquatic hunter that spent much of its life in the water. Self-serving side note: the three smaller, spiky-looking fish are Bawitius bartheli, a polypterid (an archaic, still-extant group of thick-scaled ray-finned fishes) that several colleagues and I named in 2012 from fossils found in the Bahariya Oasis. The larger fish at lower left is the giant coelacanth Axelrodichthys (sometimes called Mawsonia) libyca. Credit: Davide Bonadonna.

Two Spinosaurus invite the sawfish Onchopristis numidus to lunch in what’s now northern Africa some 95 million years ago. Look at those fin-like Spinosaurus tails! Credit: Davide Bonadonna/National Geographic.

Nizar (who’s a Research Associate here at Carnegie Museum of Natural History), myself, and our many colleagues and collaborators are continuing to study the mysterious dinosaurs and other fossil vertebrates from the middle and Late Cretaceous of northern Africa. Indeed, Nizar and I have several collaborative papers in the works right now, and I’m also working with an amazing team of paleontologists at Mansoura University on multiple new Egyptian fossil finds. It’s a good bet that African Cretaceous dinosaurs even stranger than Spinosaurus are still out there, waiting to be discovered!

Further reading/watching:

Nothdurft, W. E., with J. B. Smith, M. C. Lamanna, K. J. Lacovara, J. C. Poole, and J. R. Smith. 2002. The Lost Dinosaurs of Egypt. Random House, New York, 256 pp.

Smith, J. B., M. C. Lamanna, H. Mayr, and K. J. Lacovara. 2006. New information regarding the holotype of Spinosaurus aegyptiacus Stromer, 1915. Journal of Paleontology 80:400–406.

Ibrahim, N., P. C. Sereno, C. Dal Sasso, S. Maganuco, M. Fabbri, D. M. Martill, S. Zouhri, N. Myhrvold, and D. A. Iurino. 2014. Semiaquatic adaptations in a giant predatory dinosaur. Science 345:1613–1616.

Bigger Than T. rex (NOVA documentary): https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/video/bigger-than-t-rex/

Henderson, D. M. 2018. A buoyancy, balance and stability challenge to the hypothesis of a semi-aquatic Spinosaurus Stromer, 1915 (Dinosauria: Theropoda). PeerJ 6:e5409.

Ibrahim, N., S. Maganuco, C. Dal Sasso, M. Fabbri, M. Auditore, G. Bindellini, D. M. Martill, S. Zouhri, D. A. Mattarelli, D. M. Unwin, J. Wiemann, D. Bonadonna, A. Amane, J. Jakubczak, U. Joger, G. V. Lauder, and S.E. Pierce. 2020. Tail-propelled aquatic locomotion in a theropod dinosaur. Nature 581:67–70.

Matt Lamanna is Mary R. Dawson Associate Curator and Head of the Section of Vertebrate Paleontology at Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Museum staff, volunteers, and interns are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

Carnival of Hearts (Part 3/6) ~ Bucky x Reader College!AU

A/N: Happy Friday my lovelies! Part 3 is here. :) 

This is my entry for @buckysknifecollection​​ ‘s 3k Follower Challenge. Congrats on the milestone lovely! Go check out the blog. Personal fave is Hush (a must read if you’re into soft!Biker!Bucky)

Prompt: Our friends set us up on this carnival date but we’re both pining after someone else and this a bit awkward

Summary: When you’re set up on a carnival date with Bucky Barnes NOTHING turns out the way you expected.

Rating: T

Warnings: Language

Word count: 2090

Story Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When you came back from the restroom, Bucky was sitting at the picnic table scribbling in a notebook.

“So you’re a writer?”

Bucky jumped and snapped the leather bound journal shut.

“I… what? This was just a grocery list.”

You frowned at the obvious lie, but decided not to call him on it opting for a different tactic.

“Oh. Sorry. Nat had mentioned you were doing a minor in creative writing, so I kind of just assumed. Sorry.”

You sat down beside him.

“No apology necessary. And I am doing a minor in creative writing. And that wasn’t my grocery list.”

“I figured.”

You smiled encouragingly.  

“I guess I just don’t consider myself a writer. I mean I want to be… Someday. That’s the dream.”

“Do you write now?”  

“Yeah, but it’s just a hobby.” He shrugged. “I’ve never been published.”  

“You don’t have to published to be a writer. You just have to write.”

“Well when you put it like that…”

“I’m sure that you’re a great. You see the world in a different way. What do you write about?”

He exhaled a laugh, bobbing his head slightly.

“Love mostly. Wanda calls me a hopeless romantic. She’s right of course.”

You nudged his shoulder with your own.

“Well, you’re in good company. Love’s a big topic though.”

“I’ll never run out of material that’s for sure. Recently I’ve been favoring quiet love. Love that comes out of nowhere but that you can find everywhere. Love that surrounds you until you couldn’t be more sure of it.”  

“Wow,” you breathed out. “If that’s just you talking I can’t imagine what your writing must be like.”

Bucky blushed at the praise.

“Thanks, doll.”

“Have you ever shared your writing?”

He hesitated before nodding.

“I have a blog. Anonymous, because I’m so not ready to put my name on anything.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to. But it’s great that you’re putting it out there. If you ever want to share it - not anonymously - let me know.”

You were happy to leave it at that, but Bucky surprised you when he pulled out his phone. You quickly grabbed his hand to stop him.

“You don’t have to show me.”

“I know,” he smiled. “I want to. I’m not sure why. But I want to.”

“I’m honored.”

He scrolled through his phone for a few moments before handing it over.

“Read this one.”

You nodded, and cradled the phone in your hands as you began reading.

 Longing from right beside you.

We embrace, my limbs slow, awkward as if rusted.

Your hand in mine, my cheeks red, hotter than a furnace.

Your smile brighter than the sun at daybreak, it warms me.

It disarms me.

I am seventeen again.

Hiding. Questioning. Unsure.

My desire is benign. It is pure.

Nine o’clock every morning - a new quiet beginning.

Seven o’clock every evening - the sweetest homecoming.  

One press of your lips on mine hits me like a freight car.

I am lost.

I am yours.

 “Wow, Bucky, this is…”

“Terrible. Dry.”

“No. It’s beautiful. And I can feel the emotion. Oh my. You are so talented. Thank you for sharing this with me.”  

“Thanks for not judging me.”

“Why would I judge you?”

“Some people think writing is dumb.”

“I think those people are dumb.”

“I dream of being a published author someday. But every time I start making plans, I’m reminded that writing isn’t a guaranteed career.”

“There are no guarantees in life. And if you ask me, you should take some of your own advice.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You told me that you think Sam should be a chef because it’s what makes him special.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, your writing is what makes you special. And you should give it a fair shot. I think the world needs the words of Bucky Barnes.”

“Thank you for that.”

“Any time. I like to aggressively hype up my friends, so you should probably get used to it.”

Bucky’s laugh was deep and booming.

“You’re the best.”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

Bucky let you read a few more pieces, each more beautiful than the last. He had the heart of a man in love.    

“So since you know mine, what’s your dream profession?” he asked as you walked back towards the roller coasters after completing your first circuit.

“Photographer,” you replied without skipping a beat.  

“Damn, I had my money on news anchor.”

“Well, I am a journalism major. It seemed like a safer bet.”

Bucky arched an eyebrow at you.

“You don’t have to say it.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes.

“When did you fall in love with photography?”

You had to think for a moment.

“When I was six or seven, my dad bought me a toy camera and I immediately ran around the house taking a million pictures. And when we got the prints I glued them onto construction paper and taped them up around my living room like it was a gallery that I forced my parents to tour. They were very supportive considering it was mostly blurry pictures of a mop.”

“But I’m sure your passion showed through.”

You smiled appreciatively.  

“Still. But I fell in love with it when I realized that two people can look at the same photo and see a totally different story. And both of them could have a different understanding than the photographer.”

“It definitely illustrates the effect of the consumer’s perspective. That was always my favorite part of literary discussions.”  

“Yes. Totally.”

“Okay, so if journalism isn’t the goal, what is?”

“Freelance photographer I guess. I actually had this idea to make a blog and do weekly photo story prompts, so people could submit their stories based on the pictures and then people could come read and enjoy them. And if it got big enough I could start hosting writing challenges and contests. Steve keeps hounding me to set it up. He says it would give people a chance to fall in love with my photos in a different way.”

“That’s a great idea. I think you should do it.”

“Nah, I doubt anyone would want to do something like that.”

“Are you kidding? It sounds amazing. You would just need to get the word out in the writing community. I would definitely participate.”

“Really?” you asked, excited by the prospect.

Bucky smiled and nodded.

“I might even put my name on it for you.”

After the roller coaster, you made your way to the pirate themed pendulum ride, trying to position yourselves so you’d have your pick of seats by letting a few people go ahead of you.

“Do you have a favorite photograph you’ve taken?” Bucky asked, as you let another family pass you.

You bit your lip.

“That’s a yes. Will you show it to me some time?”

“I can show it to you now if you really want to see it.”

“I would love to.”

You could sense that his interest was genuine so you slipped your phone out of your pocket and opened Instagram.

“This one is my favorite,” you stated, clutching the screen against your chest.

“You don’t have to show me, you know.”

“I know.”

You smiled and with a deep breath turned the phone to show him.

“Umm that’s just the background.”

You looked at it and sure enough you’d accidentally exited the app.

“Damn it. Okay one second. Here we go.”

You showed him the phone with much less fanfare, but his reaction was immediate.

“Wow.”  

You’d taken the photo after dinner one night. Steve was leaning against the wall on the balcony sketching by the light of a full moon and the mini lanterns you’d wrapped around the railing. You had to capture the moment. Steve heard you fumbling with your camera and looked up just in time, a soft smile gracing his features.

“Perfect,” you murmured as you looked at the shot.

“Yeah, you are.”

“Steve’s the one who encouraged me to put some of my photos on Instagram. But I told him I’d only do it, if that was the first one. It’s still my most popular post. Nat says it’s cuz he’s pretty.”

“He is for sure,” Bucky chuckled. “But he’s also soulful. I want to know what makes a man that happy.”

He had his suspicions.

“I think this should be my next post,” you cooed as you showed Bucky the picture of him cuddling the plush wolf you had won him at the ring toss.  

“Delete that.”

“Literally never.”

He pouted. “Come on, please.”

You shook your head.

“Nope. This is my new favorite photo. You’re adorable and I’m never deleting it.”

Bucky had only known you a few hours, but he could tell when he should cut his losses.

“Fine. But if you’re keeping that one. We should at least have a cute one of the both of us.”

“That’s a fabulous idea.”

Bucky moved so he was straddling the bench of the picnic table, and you shuffled so that you were in between his legs. You put your phone in selfie mode and took one photo before a woman approached you.

“Would you like me to take a photo of the two of you?”

“Sure, that would be great!”

You handed her your phone as you and Bucky re-situated yourself so you were sitting side by side. Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulder and the stuffed animal sat on your laps.

She took several photos and you were giggling when Bucky had his wolf kiss you on the cheek.  

“Here you go. I took a bunch.”

“Thank you so much.”

“It’s so nice to see a young couple so in love.”

She walked away before you or Bucky could respond. You both shared an unsure expression as an awkward silence fell between you.  

“Do you want to plan out what to do until lunch?” he asked, not making eye contact.

“Yeah, sure. That sounds like a good idea,” you agreed.

That woman’s comment was repeating on a loop as you thumbed through the pictures she took. You did make a cute couple, but despite having a great time with him so far, you weren’t feeling a spark. What if Bucky was though? Had you been leading him on?

“Y/n, are you okay?”

“What? Sorry, Bucky.”

Bucky chuckled and you saw understanding in his expression which made the knot in your stomach loosen.

“Did it freak you out too?”

You laughed half-heartedly. “That obvious huh?”

“Only a little.”

“Don’t get me wrong. Today has been awesome. And you’re fantastic.”

“Thank you.” He bobbed his head in gratitude. “So are you.”

“Thanks. But,” you drew out the word. “I just don’t feel that spark.”

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you braced for his reaction.  

“Oh thank god.”

You turned to him with wide eyes.

“I don’t either.”

“You don’t?”  

Bucky shook his head. “You’re amazing. And I really want to be best friends with you. But…”

“That’s all,” you finished for him.

He nodded. You blew out a relieved breath.

“Full disclosure. I think Wanda set this up because she was tired of me pining over someone.”

“You mean Sam?” you asked with a knowing smile.

He was unsurprised you’d figured it out.

“I don’t hide it well, do I?”

“I had my suspicions, but you could probably chalk it up to be being best friends and roommates. But it’s all over your writing.”

“That’s fair.”

“And in the interest of honesty. Nat 100% set me up so I would get over my own dumb crush.”

“On Steve,” he stated matter-of-factly.  

You swatted at his arm when you saw his smirk.

“Don’t be smug.”

“I’m not. I’m amused. Your art gives you away too. The way you see Steve comes through in your photos. They’re beautiful, breathtaking even, but definitely an insight into your heart.”

“Not the worst critique of my work I’ve received,” you joked, making you both laugh.

“This is pretty awkward huh. We’re on this date - which is honestly one of the best I’ve been on - and we’re both pining after other people.”

“Well, at least we’re not pining after the same person. That would be way more awkward. And it’s one of the best dates I’ve been on too.”

“I know that this isn’t what they were hoping for, but I’m really glad that Natasha and Wanda set us up.”

“So am I.”

A/N: EEEEE okay, so I hope that you enjoyed this. I know it may not be what you expected (or you might totally have expected it) just sit tight. It’s gonna be fluffy I promise. 

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[oddishfeeling]

Remember when I dropped out of college for the 4th time jus 20 somethin credits shy of my lil journalism n mass comm degree bc I hate school but agreed to write someone’s research project that I aced that catapulted me into this ux/ui bootcamp n now I have to use my brain cells to revise user flows n wireframes n presentations n shit??????? Remember when I put my writing dream on the back burner after writing on the hs newspaper because I jus took everyone’s word for it when they said I’d never make money that way... n the last thing I wanted was to not make money . I am so shallow no scratch that hallow because of this I do not honor my inner child

[baycityx]

Maribelle Wagner is 29 years young, She blows out the candles every October 14th and she currently resides in Nob Hill. Maribelle is currently a reporter for the SF Chronical. but when she isn’t working you can find her having dinner with friends and walking my dog, Luna at the park . If you were to ask her to describe herself she would say she is caring and trustworthy but also clumsy and blunt.

keep your head up. 

Last thing bought on amazon: A new journal 

song constantly on repeat: 911 - Lady Gaga

Show currently being binged: Greys Anatomy 

If you’re looking for her social-media you can find her on instagram and twitter at @vintagejournalistxo

My name is Maribelle Anne Wagner I was born on October 14, 1991 in Cedar Sinai Hospital of Los Angeles, California. I am the oldest of two, just two years later my parents welcomed my sister Brianna Wagner into the family. It was true that at first, I was a bit jealous of my baby sister, but honestly as time went by, things changed. I became acquainted with my sister and a bond started to grow as any sibling bond does. As I got older, I liked to be independent, I did not like help as I liked to try things for once by myself. I am incredibly determined to complete something when my mind is placed to it. Growing up, I took ballet classes, soccer, and even piano lessons but the one thing that brought me happiness was a creative writing class I took when I was a teenager. This was the beginning when I fell in love with writing. I graduated out of high school, and then went on to UC Santa Barbara to fulfill my dream of obtaining a degree in communications with an English minor. Five years later, I finished my degree with honors, and I moved to Los Angeles from Santa Barbara. When I came back to Los Angeles, I started working in different jobs, perhaps odd jobs to be independent on my own. The jobs I was doing were not in my field, but they help me get by. At a point I did think about possibly becoming a stripper to earn money for the mean while to wait for the opportunity, but she didn’t. I decided to keep the job as a waitress by night, and a secretary by day. Being a secretary was draining to a point, I didn’t like it. I knew though that this was for just know, it was draining that it had caused her to become depressed. Sometimes it would be days that I would go without going to either of her jobs, it would take days for me to get up and keep going with my life. My sister, Brianna would come to visit me at times and help me get up and make me see that I needed to get up and go. I didn’t realize how much I missed him, my high school sweetheart, we broke up when we went our separate ways for college. I packed my bags and decided to travel north, perhaps a change of scenery and a change of atmosphere would do me good. A new change and what better place than San Francisco. I do remember visiting it with my parents and sister when we were young, now I am doing this, on my own.

[noladyme]

Skip To My Lou, My Darling - Chapter 3, Too Perfect I

The road so far…

Deadly nightmares. Immortal countesses. Lulu thought she’d seen it all since she’d first met the Winchester brothers. Extreme circumstances pushed her into the arms of the eldest brother, Dean – and she hasn’t been able to stop thinking of him since. Now back to her every day life of bartending and the occasional visit from a certain angel, what will happen when she finally sees Dean again? Is there still a connection – or was it all in their heads?

Our story continues in season 5

Rated M

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added) @edonaspanca​ @wonderlandfandomkingdom​

8 years ago.

Night shift again. Luckily, it’s a slow one tonight. Only a few guests strewn across the place. “Lulu!”, Ricky calls from the kitchen. “Order’s up for 13”. “13 is Janice’s table”, I answer. “She called in sick again”, he shrugs. Dammit. I know it’s because it’s her boyfriend’s home from college. I walk over to the serving hatch; grabbing a large order of bacon, and a slice of cherry pie. Weird order for dinner, but who am I to judge. I’ll gladly throw back some jalapeño poppers at any time of day.

I walk over to table 13 with the order; placing the two plates in front of a dark-haired man, who’s in a deep conversation on his phone. “… no, Dean. Silver. Iron won’t do anything, I told you… yeah…”. I begin to walk away. “Miss?”. I turn around. The man at the table is looking at me. He’s cute, in an older guy kind of way. Much too old for me, but a girl can dream. “Can you top off my coffee?”, he asks, covering the mic on the phone. I smile, and nod; going to get the freshly brewed pot from the machine behind the counter.

I look down at my uniform, cursing myself that I didn’t chose the one that was just a tiny bit shorter, to show off my legs. As I walk back towards the table, I hear the man continuing his conversation. “Well read up!... Yes. Latin… No, I didn’t call him. If he wants to talk, he has my number… Ok. Call me when it’s finished”. He hangs up, as I pour some fresh coffee into his mug. “Kids, right?”, he mutters with a smile, before looking up and meeting my eyes. “Though, you’re probably a bit young to have any of those yourself”. I blush slightly. “Yeah… not really there yet”.

The man gives me a once over. His gaze isn’t leering, but it is appreciative – and I stifle a smile. “You must have someone out there willing to give you a few little ones”, he says. He takes a sip from his coffee. “You in college?”. “Saving up for it”, I smile. “Leave me a nice tip, and I’ll get there even sooner”. He chuckles. His voice is warm, and his caramel eyes glinting with amusement. “Tell you what. Get me another dollop of cream for the pie, and I’ll make that happen”, he says. I wink at him and walk away.

“Are you flirting with Daddy over there?”, Ricky jeers, as I come over to grab some cream. “Serving my way to the top”, I chuckle. “He seems nice. Nothing else”. “Sure thing, Lulu”, Ricky smiles.

I go back to table 13; and put a large dollop of cream on the man’s pie. “There you go, sir. Enjoy”. “Thanks, Lulu”, he smiles. I wrinkle my brows. “Your name tag”, he grins. “Oh!”, I giggle. “Yeah”.

He has a leather-bound journal in front of him. The page is opened to a picture of a pretty blonde woman. “Your wife?”, I ask. He looks up at me with a slight grimace. “Sorry… Not any of my business”. “No, it’s fine… Yeah. My wife”, he mutters. “She’s pretty”, I say. “Must have made those kids of yours some kind of beautiful”. “They’re not half bad”, he chuckles. “Good boys. Don’t see them too often. Work”. “Oh… too bad. They with your wife?”. He shakes his head. “No… she passed some years ago”. I frown. “Sorry to hear that”, I say quietly. “Me too… thanks for the cream”, he says.

That’s my cue to leave. I flash him a bright smile, and saunter off. “Oh, Lulu?”, the man calls after me. “Yes, sir?”, I ask. “Have you heard about those cattle mutilations, out at that farm?”. I frown. “No more than what was in the news… why?”. He shakes his head. “Never mind… Just… if you do hear anything, could you give me a call?”. I blush again. “I don’t have your number, sir”.

He pulls out a note from his pocket, and scribbles something down on it – then hands it to me. It’s a twenty-dollar bill, with a phone number now written at the bottom. “This is way too much, sir!”, I gasp. “Keep it. As a thanks for friendly conversation. And it’s John”, he smiles.

His phone rings, and he picks it up. “Bobby?... Yeah… I’ll be there”. He hangs it up. “Can you pack this to go?”, he says to me in a rushed tone. I run to grab a to-go box; and quickly pack up his food, handing it to him, as he gathers the papers he’s strewn upon the table. “Here you go, John. Have a nice evening”, I smile.

His tense body language relaxes a bit. “I will. Thanks, Lou”. He hands me another twenty. “Keep the change”. I let out a short laugh. “This is still too much”, I say. He tilts his head. “My youngest is in college. I know it’s expensive… Keep it. And take care”.

He puts on his coat, and leaves the diner.

---

Now…

Hurricanes. Successful nuclear tests in North Korea. Terrorists attacks on convents. Swine flu. The world seemed to be coming to an end – and I was wiping down a bar-counter in Denver. “I’m off”, our newest bartender – Pete – called out to me. “That offer of coffee still stands, Lulu”. I smiled. “Thanks, Pete; but I have plans”, I said. “Grab the trash, would you?”. He nodded, and grabbed two large bags; heading towards the back door. He winked at me; and closed the door behind him. Avoiding the dark spot on the floor we hadn’t been able to remove, after my encounter with Erzsebet; I walked over to the door Pete had gone through, and locked it. I didn’t really have plans; but going on a date with a coworker wasn’t high on my list of wants.

I checked my phone. The only message was a picture of Raul and Chad on their honeymoon. The two men had worked fast after Raul had avoided murder charges 6 months earlier. Once Chad had healed from the surgery to get rid of his little extra asset; he’d dropped down on one knee on a busy night at Buddy’s – and with tearstained cheeks, Raul had accepted his proposal. I’d been the maid of honor to both men – dateless, I might add; as the only man I wanted at my side at a romantic ceremony joining two paramours, was somewhere driving across the states, trying to hunt down monsters and ghosts – or stopping Armageddon; I wasn’t sure at this point.

Dean hadn’t been in touch for months. Not in person, anyway. I understood he was busy, but it hurt not to know where he was – and if he was ok.

Arriving at my small studio apartment that night, I brushed my fingers over the carving on my door – sending a warm thought at the two men who’d saved my life twice. Once inside, I got in my comfiest leggings, socks, tank top and cardigan; and went to read my current book – one about witchcraft and hoodoo. It was the middle of the night; but my sleep schedule as a bartender didn’t exactly make me a day person. I began reading from the part I’d gotten to, and sipping at a mug of cocoa.

There was a knock at the door. I glanced at the wall clock. 3 am. Looking through the peephole, I sighed, and slowly opened the door.

“Hello, Lulu”. “Hi, Castiel”, I said quietly. “Thanks for knocking this time”. The angel smiled gently. “Well, last time you were… undressed”. I moved out of the way, so Castiel could step into my apartment. “Yeah. Literally in the shower as well. I would have offered you a towel, but…”. “You were busy punching my face, and putting a knee to my groin”, the angel said. I chuckled.

Closing the door behind the angel, I went to sit on my couch again. Castiel had been coming around every few weeks – just for a few minutes – apparently to check on me. “So, as you can see, I’m alive”, I muttered. “Are they?”. Cass nodded. “They are working on… something”. “Vague as ever”, I smiled sarcastically. “He has my number. He could just call me”.

Castiel frowned. “I’ve come to take you with me…”, he said. I stood up, and held out my hands to stop him. “Whoa! No… Every time you do your… angel teleportation thing on me, I end up in some random place, without my shoes. And it gives me motion sickness”. “I’ve only done it twice; and one of the times, it saved your life”. I sighed. “Yeah, fine… but still. No thank you”. He stepped towards me. “I’m afraid I must insist”, he said. “Why?”, I frowned.

There was another knock at my door. I stepped over to check the peephole; but Cass held out to stop me. The knocking turned in to a pounding. “That’s why”, he said. “They found you”. My eyes widened. “Who?”, I breathed. “Who found me?”.

Castiel put his hand on my shoulder; and we were standing in front of a lit fireplace. My stomach was churning. “Lulu?”, a voice said. With wide eyes, I turned around, and saw Bobby Singer – seated in a wheelchair – looking at me in wonder. “I got her before they took her. You can take it from here”, Castiel said; and was gone. I looked down. “You forgot my shoes again!”, I snarled.

Bobby smiled at me. “How are you, kid?”, he asked. “Very confused”, I admitted. “Yeah, he does that”, Bobby said. “So, do I get a hug?”.

I grinned, and ran over to embrace the man; who – the last time I’d seen him – was standing. “What happened?”, I asked. Bobby shook his head. “Demon…”, he grunted. I laughed. “Demon…”, I said. Bobby raised a brow at me. “Seriously?”. Bobby gave me a crooked smile. “It’s a whole new world, darlin’”. He patted my arm; not able to reach my cheek from the chair. “I’ll have the guys fill you in when they get back”. I swallowed hard. “They’re here?”, I croaked. “About 30 minutes out. Coffee?”. “Please…”, I said, and followed him to the kitchen, grabbing two mugs from a shelf.

Bobby poured us both a mug of coffee, and I went to sit on a couch in the living room/study/something that looked like a place a fortune teller might set up shop. Bobby rolled over to face me. “How have you been?”, he asked. “I heard about what happened in Denver…”. I pulled up the sleeves of my cardigan, and ran my fingers over the slight scars there. “Turns out my boss was really sorry he hadn’t paid for security, and let a deranged serial killer get at his favorite employee; as he called me”, I grinned. “I think he was just worried I’d sue him. But he paid my doctors bill, and for a plastic surgeon to make the scars less visible”. Bobby winced. “Looks like you went through it”, he said. “I’m happy you’re better”. “Yeah”, I smiled. “No permanent damage, save for the occasional person thinking I cut myself on purpose”.

“Bobby!”, a voice called out – a voice I recognized immediately, and made my heart skip a beat. “In here”, Bobby answered. “We got scotch. Liquor store was out of bourbon”, Sam said, as he stepped into the living room. His eyes widened when he saw me; and he ran over to embrace me – lifting me off my feet in a warm hug. I heard the front door close. “Dude, are you gonna make me carry everything?”, Dean growled, and dropped two plastic bags on the kitchen table. Sam put me down. “Dean”, he muttered. “What?”, Dean grunted; and turned around.

His face went through a range of emotions – before, with three long strides; he stepped over to me. Just as I thought he was about to take me in his arms, he pulled out a knife. “Did you check her?”, he growled. “She came in with Cass”, Bobby said. “Did you check her!”, Dean repeated. Sam sighed, and handed me a flask. “Take a sip”, he said. I frowned – taken aback by the cold reception from the man I’d spent months missing. “What is it?”, I asked; looking at the knife in Deans hand. “Holy water. Just drink it”, Sam muttered.

With a cold look at Dean, I grabbed the flask, and drank the liquid inside. Dean looked at me for a few seconds; and seemingly satisfied I wasn’t going to burn up in flames or melt – or whatever it was he’d expected – he put away the knife. “Lulu…”, he muttered. “Cass brought you?”. “Just a little while ago”, I said quietly. “Thanks for the warm welcome, by the way”. Dean clenched his jaw in anger. “Dammit, he wasn’t supposed to bring you here”, he growled. “Maybe he was sensing how grumpy you’ve been”, Bobby grunted in response.

Dean did look extremely grumpy. And tired. “Sorry, Lou… This isn’t a good time”, he said. I made a scoffing laugh. “Well, just call Castiel. I’m sure he can take me back to my apartment”. “No”, he said. “You can’t go back there right now”. “Why?”, I sneered.

Sam cleared his throat. “Angels… and demons… They’re using the people we care about to get to us”. I shook my head in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”. Dean sighed. “We got wind that they were coming to nab you. I asked Cass to bring you somewhere safe”, he said. “Not here”. I shrugged; trying not to seem hurt about Dean’s standoffishness. “So, what happens now?”, I said. “What happens now, is you stay here”, Bobby said. “Bobby!”, Dean snarled.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Keep your pants on, Dean”, he sneered. “And I mean literally. At least until we’ve left the room”. He rolled towards us. “You don’t think we’ve noticed how you’ve been missing this girl?”. Dean met my eyes for a second. “It’s not safe”. “It’s never safe, son”, Bobby said. “But this place is warded better than any other I know. As long as Lulu doesn’t leave, she should be fine. And maybe you can get that stick out of your ass, and be able to do the job”. Dean scoffed. “So, now I can’t do the job?”, he grunted. “Not well”, Sam muttered. “You…”, Dean said; pointing at his brother. “Shut up!”.

I sighed and looked at Sam. “You said you brought alcohol?”, I muttered. “Give it”. Dean shook his head. “No”, he said. “No alcohol. Call Rufus. Have him take her”. “I’m really feeling the romance in the room”, Bobby grunted. “I’m beat. Going to bed”. He rolled out the door, and down the hallway. “And I’m going to go… away from here”, Sam said; almost running for the stairs. Dean and I stood for a moment in silence; before I stepped towards the kitchen. “Well, I’m having a drink”, I said.

Suddenly, his hand was on my wrist, and he pulled me towards him – wrapping me in his arms. I couldn’t fight the urge; and embraced him right back. “Are you ok?”, he breathed. “Yeah… just confused”, I muttered. Dean pulled back a bit, and looks me in the eyes. “You’re here… I should have… I don’t know what to say”.

“Try an I’m sorry!”, Bobby called from down the hall.

Dean looked towards the hallway, and frowned. “I’m sorry”, he muttered. “I know that’s probably not the welcome you had expected”. “I don’t know…”, I grunted. “It’s not the first time you pulled a knife on me”. “Yeah… sorry. Again”. I sighed. “Can open a window, and let in some air? This place smells like old farts”. He smiled slightly. “Hex bags. We made some earlier. The smell goes away after a while… How have you been?”, he asked. “Fine… I guess. It took a while to heal properly since… last time”, I said. Dean frowned. “But you’re better. Right?”. I nodded. “I’m… living. Moving on”. “Good”, he said. “That’s… good. That you’re moving on, I mean”.

He cleared his throat, and let go of me. The separation was almost painful. “Thanks for checking in, by the way…”, I said. “Castiel’s been a real hoot”. Dean didn’t meet my eyes. “I should have called”. “Yeah, you should have”, I muttered. “You didn’t call either…”, he said; a slight accusation in his voice. I looked at him in indignation. “You told me you were going out to stop the devil”, I said. “I didn’t figure I should be the one to check in”.

I sat back down on the couch and yawned. “Let me go put away the groceries, and I’ll show you where to sleep afterwards”, he said. “Sounds good”, I said quietly. I pulled my legs up under me, and leant my head against the armrest. The smell of the hex bags had dulled; and I now noticed another scent – one of gunpowder, wood and metal. The hunter smell, I thought to myself. My eyes began drooping, and the last thing I noticed was a soft kiss to my temple, and a blanket being tucked around me.

“Goodnight, Lou”, Dean whispered.

---

The sun hitting my face woke me up. “Mornin’ kid”, Bobby muttered from his table. “Fresh coffee on the pot”. “Thanks”, I rasped. I got off the couch, and stretched. “Where are the guys?”, I asked. “Checking on a lead”, Bobby grunted. “Grab me a cup?”.

I went into the kitchen, and filled two mugs with coffee; bringing one over to the desk. “Demon stuff?”, I asked. Bobby shook his head. “Ghost”, he said. “Yankton…”. I frowned. “Yankton… I’m in South Dakota?”, I asked. “Yeah… you’re about 600 miles from home”, he said. “Well, that’s just great”, I muttered. “And this is your place?”. “Singer Scrap”, he nodded. “Good cover”. A scrapyard owner. I knew it, I smiled to myself.

I looked over the many books and papers strewn about the room. A row of phones were hanging on the wall; each with a sticker on it, letting Bobby know what persona he’d need to take on when he picked up. The was an old cookie-tin filled with different fake id’s – FBI, Wild Life Service, Sheriff’s badges; the list went on.

“You have a pretty bad-ass setup here, Bobby”, I said. “Also 100% illegal I’m guessing”. “This job isn’t exactly easy to do if you follow the rules”, Bobby said. I sighed. “Is there anything I can help with?”, I asked. “What, are you bored?”, Bobby smiled. “Yes”, I nodded. “You can make lunch; it’s almost noon”, he said. “I don’t cook… but I know how to order a pizza”. Bobby frowned. “I’ll call the boys, have them bring something back”. I shrugged.

Bobby narrowed his eyes at me. “Did you… uhm… kiss and make up last night?”, he muttered. I chewed my lip. “Not exactly… He seemed preoccupied”, I said. Bobby chuckled. “That’s Dean for you”, he said. “Always so busy trying to save everyone else, he doesn’t see when his own salvation is staring him right in the face”. “I don’t know if I’m a salvation, exactly”, I said. “I’m a bartender from Denver with a teaching degree”. “Maybe you can teach him some manners”, Bobby grunted and returned to his document. “Grab me that magnifying glass over there”, he said, and pointed towards the coffee table.

I handed him the magnifier, and picked up an amulet that caught my eye. It was almost glowing in the sunlight. “Put that down”, Bobby yelled. I almost jumped, and dropped the chain to the table. “Sorry”, he muttered. “I haven’t been able to break the curse on it yet… and I’m pretty sure you’d be a lot less pretty with an extra nose stuck to your chin”. “It’s cursed?”, I asked. “Maybe you should lock it up somewhere”. “Tried that”, he grunted. “It reappears there every time I do”. I studied the amulet closer. “Hoodoo, right?”, I muttered. Bobby looked at me. “Is it?”, he asked. “I think so… It looks like a sigil I saw once, in a book”, I said. Maybe cover it in goofer dust, and bury it in an old grave…”. I met his incredulous eyes, and blushed. “Or, something else. I don’t know”.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “What do you make of this?”, he asked, and pushed an old newspaper clipping across the table. I read through the text. “Another strange case of a dead body in Yankton this month, when Thomas Clayton was found near Yankton Municipal Cemetary – his neck broken; and his lower body buried into the ground. He leaves behind a wife and two children…”. “Sounds like a myling”, I muttered. Bobby frowned. “How’d you know about those?”, he asked. “I read… a lot”, I replied. He looked at me disbelievingly. “You call studying Scandinavian ghosts leisurely reading?”. “I was almost killed by two supernatural beings”, I shrugged. “Thought I’d study up in case anything happened again”. “Huh…”, Bobby said. “So, you think it’s a myling”. “I’m no pro, so I wouldn’t know for sure”, I said. “But the half-buried thing? And just outside a cemetery… More like he was forced to carry a ghost on his back; but didn’t make it to hallowed ground”. The corner of Bobby’s lip raised in a crooked smile. “But you already knew that”. “Was beginning to come to that theory myself”, he said. “You have some knowledge in that head of yours, kid”. I blushed again.

There was a knock at the door. I looked through the kitchen window. Outside stood a darkhaired policewoman. “It’s the cops”, I muttered. “Crap”, Bobby groaned. “Woman? Looks like she eats nails for breakfast?”. I looked again. “Yup…”. Bobby began rolling away from the view of the windows. “I’m not here”, he said. I shook my head. “Fine, I’ll talk to her”, I said, and walked to the front door, opening it.

“Hello”, I smiled at the woman. She looked mistrustingly at me. “Miss… I’m sheriff Mills. Is Bobby Singer in?”. I shook my head. “He’s out…”. “Out cold?”, she grunted. “Bobby! Roll your ass out here”.

Bobby appeared behind me. “Sheriff…”, he grunted. “What did I do this time?”. The sheriff sighed. “Your neighbors have been reporting strange smells from your house”. “Stranger than usual? This is a scrap yard, sheriff”, I smiled. She narrowed her eyes at me. “And you are?”. I thought fast. “Ann Wilson”, I said brightly; and reached out my hand to shake hers. “My niece”, Bobby said. “She’s staying with me to help out since my accident”. “All right…”, the sheriff said. “If you say so”.

I cleared my throat. “You were saying? About strange smells…”. “Yes”, the sheriff said. “You can’t be polluting the air with methane gas, Bobby. Your neighbors say the smell was so rancid, their eyes watered”. Bobby sighed. “Look, my nearest neighbor is 3 miles away. If any of them have been reporting any smells, it means they’ve been trespassing – and I’d be in my right to shoot them”. The sheriff clenched her jaw. “With what weapon? I don’t believe you have a license”. “I do”, I said. She lifted her brows. “Can I see it?”. I smiled. “I never mentioned a gun, or using one for that matter. So, you don’t need to”. She stifled a smile. Under different circumstances, I might have liked her. “If there’s nothing else, uncle Bobby needs to have his lunch now”.

“All right”, sheriff Mills said. “Just, keep down the stench, all right?”. “Absolutely”, I smiled. “Goodbye, sheriff”. She walked off the porch, and got in her car. I waved as she drove away. I turned to look at Bobby. “That was fun!”, I grinned. “Yeah, a real giggle of a time”, Bobby grunted, and went back into the living room.

One of the phones rang – one labeled CDC. Bobby picked it up. “Fisher here… Yes, he’s one of mine. He in some kind of trouble?... That’s ridiculous, son… No, you listen to me. Let him finish his job… Put him on”. I heard him mutter idjit below his breath. “Garth? You moron. You told them it was a strain of the plague?... Yeah… Give him back to me”. There was a pause. “Officer. Agent Fitzgerald is right. Let him look at the autopsy report… Thank you. Bye”. He hung up. “Stupid son of a bitch”. I chuckled.

Bobby began rolling towards his desk, when another phone rang – the one labeled FBI. I looked at him pleadingly. “Be my guest…”, he grunted. I picked it up.

“Nicks here”, I said. “Yes, hello ma’am. This is detective Alan Jackson from the Yankton PD”, a tired voice said. “I have two men here claiming to be FBI…”. My eyes lit up. “Let me guess. One is a 6’3 puppy, and the other looks like he’d flirt with your daughter right in front of you, and not be ashamed of it?”. “That sounds about right”, the man muttered. “Yeah, those are mine”, I said. “What’s the problem?”. “They want to examine the body of…”. “Thomas Clayton?”, I asked. “Yes…”, the man said. “And what seems to be the problem?”, I asked. “Well they don’t have the right papers to begin with”, he answered. “The FBI rolls into town, asking to oversee a murder-case, and you refuse them?”, I said. “Won’t look good on your yearly report, detective Jackson”. “Ma’am…”, the man began. “Look, I don’t have time for this. Put me on with your captain”. Bobby’s eyes widened, and he shook his head fervently. “Ma’am, I’m sure that won’t be necessary…”, the detective muttered. I scoffed. “No? Well, you’re not being very forthcoming with my men…”. “I’ll let them look, ma’am. Right away”. “Thank you. Please put the pretty one on”, I said. “Your boss wants you”, the man muttered, and I heard the phone change hands. “Hello?”, I heard Deans voice. “Speaker?”, I asked. “No”, he grunted. “Good. Bring back lunch. Bobby’s hungry”, I said. “Yes, ma’am”, Dean grunted, and hung up.

I put the phone back on its hook. “That was even more fun”, I grinned. Bobby chuckled. “You could come in handy, Lulu”, he smiled. “Good job”. “Thanks”, I said. “Bobby… you wouldn’t happen to have some shoes laying around I could use?”.

---

A few hours later Dean and Sam came back from Yankton. Dean looked like a thundercloud.

“What the hell, Bobby?”, he growled. “You have Lulu doing jobs now?”. “Just this one”, he smiled. “And she’s done a fine job, as well”. Dean stepped towards me with and gave me a searing look. “You don’t ever do that again!”, he roared. “Why?”, I frowned. “You could have had us thrown in jail!”, he said. “Horse crap”, I said. “You were fine”.

Sam put down some cardboard boxes on the coffee table. “We brought pizza”, he said. Bobby groaned. “We were in a rush”, Sam muttered. I grabbed a slice, and sat down on the couch; putting my feet on the table. Dean looked at me with hard eyes. “Comfy?”, he grunted. “Very”, I smiled. He cursed below his breath.

“Lulu’s got a theory on the ghost”, Bobby said. Sam looked at me with pleased surprise. “Really?”, he asked. “Tell us”. “A myling”, I said. “An unwanted child, killed by its parents; and buried in non-consecrated ground”. Dean frowned. I handed him a slice of pizza, and he accepted it without thanks. “A mew-what?”, he asked. “Myling”, Bobby said. “Tell ‘em, Lulu”.

I took a bite, and chewed enthusiastically. “It crawls onto people’s backs; wanting them to bring it to consecrated ground to rest”, I said; mouth full. “Usually, the weight of it on the victims back will make him or her sink into the ground before they make it all the way. The ghost will be pissed, and kill them – strangling them or breaking their necks”. “How do you know this stuff?”, Sam smiled. “She reads… a lot…”, Bobby muttered.

Dean looked at Bobby’s desk. “Where’s the cursed amulet?”, he grunted. “Covered it in goofer dust, and buried it out back with my old dog”, Bobby said. “Well, Lulu did”. I smiled, and wiggled my feet – on which I was wearing a pair of old loafers Bobby’s wife had used when she was alive.

“You shouldn’t be meddling with any of this”, Dean growled. I shrugged. “Your pet angel kidnapped me, and brought me 600 miles away; without my shoes or my phone. Might as well keep busy”. “Don’t you need to go to work?”, Dean grunted. “Yeah, like 3 hours ago”, I admitted. “I’m probably fired”. Dean frowned. “And you don’t care?” I looked at him exasperatedly. “Of course I care, Dean. My whole life is in Denver”, I sneered. “But you’re also telling me that angels and demons are out to kill me. Being there right now would just bring people in danger. I’m staying away… To keep them safe”.

Dean raised a brow at me. I realized then that’s what he had been doing. In his own way. “I called Cass. He’s gonna take you somewhere safe”, he said. I frowned. “Bobby said…”. “You’re leaving, Lou”, he said. “That’s final”.

“She can’t…”, Castiel – who’d appeared from nowhere – said. “Cass!”, Dean growled. “Get her out of here!” “There’s no where I can take her”, the angel replied. “You wanted her safe. She is safe here”. “Hardly”, Dean said. “We’re up to our necks on this case, and Ironside over there can’t even get off his porch on his own”. He gestured towards Bobby.

Bobby frowned at him. “Where do you want her to go, son?”, he asked. “Rufus is buried in vamps in Wichita, Martin’s in the psych ward… Ellen and Jo? That’s the only people I’d trust her to be safe enough with; and they’re dead!”. Darkness ghosted Deans face. “Lulu is safest here, Dean”, Sam said.

Dean shook his head, and looked everywhere but at me. “If you didn’t come to take her away, why the hell are you here, Cass?”, he snarled. “To give you this”, Castiel said. He pulled out a knife I recognized as being an angel sword. “We already have one of those”, Sam said. Cas shook his head. “It’s not for you, it’s for her”.

Castiel went to hand me the knife. Dean stepped between us. “Whoa… no, no, no. That’s not happening”. “Excuse me?”, I frowned. He looked at me indignantly. “You’re not gonna be walking around with a heavenly weapon in your purse”, he said.

I put down my pizza, and stood up – fully ready to smack him across the face. “I’m a grown ass woman, Dean. I can make my own decisions”. “Not this one”, he grunted. “You can’t even shoot a gun”. “I can shoot a damn gun; I told you!”. “And fight with an angel sword?”, he asked indignantly.

He took the sword from Castiel. “I’m keeping this. Having two is always handy”. “Dean, Lulu needs to be able to protect herself from my brothers”, Castiel said. “No”, Dean said. I stepped up to him; and looked him square in the face. “Give me my sword, Dean…”, I snarled. “Take it”, he smiled; and held the sword over his head – knowing full well I wouldn’t jump for it like some child. I looked at him with sad eyes. “I really don’t want to do this…”, I muttered. Dean chuckled.

I walked behind him, pretending to give up. “Good call, sweetheart”, he muttered. Quickly setting my foot between his own from behind, my knee between his; I crouched, leant forward, snaked my arm across his torso – and flipped him backward over my thigh – making him land with a bang on his back. “Ow…”, he gasped. “Roller derby”, I growled; and snatched the sword from him. “Thanks, Castiel”, I muttered.

The three men still standing, all looked at me in surprise. Sam bit his lips to stop from laughing. “Not funny, Sam!”, Dean growled from the floor. “Dude, she just railed your ass!”, his brother grinned.

Dean got on his feet, and stretched his back. “Fine!”, he roared. “Take the damn sword… That was cheating, though”. “Might have earnt me a penalty back in the day; but still my favorite move”, I muttered. “You’re just pissed you got beaten by a girl”. “That has nothing to do with it”, he frowned. “Women can fight…”. “I just can’t, is that it?”. He shook his head in indignation. “We’ll talk about this later”, he grunted coldly. “We have a case to get back to”. I smiled. “No, Lou. We have a case. You don’t”. I rolled my eyes. “Roll your eyes all you want, sugar. That’s what’s happening”.

I went into the kitchen, and grabbed a beer from the fridge – opening it, and taking a large sip. Castiel walked over to join me. “I take it you haven’t had intercourse yet”, he muttered. I grimaced at him. “Cass. Stay out of my sex-life. Ok?”. He nodded, looking almost embarrassed. “I just meant – seeing as Dean is still in a bad mood – you must not have…”. “Stop”, I said, and held out a hand at him. “You’ve done plenty of damage as it is”. “I apologize for that. It wasn’t my intention”. I sighed. “I know… you were just trying to help”. I looked up at him. “Look, Cass…”. He was gone.

I couldn’t help but feel bad about how I’d spoken to him. He was a friend – not just to Dean and Sam – but also to me.

---

The three hunters spent the next hours researching mylings; and it seemed Dean had to relent and agree that I had been right.

“So how do we get rid of it”, he grunted. I was seated on a kitchen chair, pretending to read a book on the with trials of Salem. “Salt and burn, like every other spirit”, Sam offered. “Yeah, except we have no idea where the kid is buried”, Dean said. “Bobby? Any ideas?”.

The elder hunter looked towards me. “She knows more about them than any of us…”, he muttered. “Yeah, well; she’s not a hunter”, Dean grunted. “Just, give it a rest, Dean…”, Sam sighed. “Get over yourself, and let Lulu help”. Dean rolled his eyes. “Roll your eyes all you want, sugar…”, I sneered. “Just… help us out here, kid”, Bobby said.

I stood up, and walked over to the desk. “Putting the spirit to rest by salting and burning sound good enough. But you could also just give it what it wants”. Sam narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean? Carry it to the graveyard”. “I don’t think you need to throw yourself into the fire this time, Sam”, I smiled; remembering how he’d almost let himself get killed by the maren, who had been haunting my dreams when we first met. “Find it’s parents…”. “They’re probably dead too…”, Bobby said. I shrugged. “Can’t you, like… summon them?”, I asked.

Dean scoffed, and chuckled. “Great idea; except that’s impossible”. “It’s not…”, Bobby said. “There are ways”. “Of course there are…”, Dean snarled. “Why don’t you three do this job, and I’ll go hit a bar. Don’t seem like you need me here anyway”. “Dean…”, Sam began. “No, really; Sammy. Go ahead. Looks like Lou’s got this one”, Dean said. He grabbed his jacket, and left the house.

“I’ll go talk to him”, Sam muttered. “No, I will”, I said. “This is on me”. Sam nodded, and I went out the front door.

---

[brightbeautifulthings]

THE MALL BY MEGAN MCCAFFERTY BLOG TOUR & BOOK REVIEW

"Totally rad! This former 1990s mall teen loved The Mall, an ode to tall bangs, boys with good taste in music, and female friendship, set in the only place that mattered. What a joy to have a new book from Megan McCafferty, who knows exactly how to make us laugh, cry, and fall in love with her characters." -- Amy Spalding, author of The Summer of Jordi Perez and The New Guy

New York Times bestselling author Megan McCafferty returns to her roots with this YA coming of age story set in a New Jersey mall. The year is 1991. Scrunchies, mixtapes and 90210 are, like, totally fresh. Cassie Worthy is psyched to spend the summer after graduation working at the Parkway Center Mall. In six weeks, she and her boyfriend head off to college in NYC to fulfill The Plan: higher education and happily ever after. But you know what they say about the best laid plans... Set entirely in a classic “monument to consumerism,” the novel follows Cassie as she finds friendship, love, and ultimately herself, in the most unexpected of places. Megan McCafferty, beloved New York Times bestselling author of the Jessica Darling series, takes readers on an epic trip back in time to The Mall.

About the Author:

Megan McCafferty writes fiction for tweens, teens and teens-at-heart of all ages. The author of several novels, she’s best known for Sloppy Firsts and several more books in the New York Times bestselling Jessica Darling series. Described in her first review as “Judy Blume meets Dorothy Parker” (Wall Street Journal), she’s been trying to live up to that high standard ever since.

Review:

"Troy's dislikes were about so much more than ridding controversial items from my wardrobe. They were about removing controversial ideas from my brain."

Year Read: 2020

Rating: 4/5

Thoughts: I'm honored to be asked to read this book, since I'm not sure it's one I would have requested on my own. Its title doesn't do it justice. The Mall makes it sound like it's a story about vapid, Clueless-era mallrats--no hate, I adore Clueless and I'm fond of malls, but this story is far more charming than the title lets on. First of all, it's a love letter to the 90s. If the mall of the 90s was your natural habitat as a teenager, then you're sure to enjoy all the nostalgic references to stores that are no longer around, like Kay-Bee Toys, Orange Julius, and Sam Goody. It really took me back to days of hanging at the mall with my friends, stocking up on 10 for $10 jewelry at Claire's, and searching for clearance band/horror movie t-shirts at Sam Goody, Suncoast, and Media Play before there ever was such a thing as a Hot Topic at my mall. I love that McCafferty set her story in this time period, and it's sure to resonate with readers slightly older than the average YA audience.

It's also fun for anyone who's ever worked in a mall, since they develop their own weird inner cultures. Cassie has Kool-Aid and Everclear and a Cabbage Patch Kids treasure hunt; I had urban legends about cursed objects and The Buckle challenge, wherein employees of other stores try to make it to the back wall of The Buckle without being pounced on by another retailer. The treasure hunting plot is fun, not unlike the teenagers trying to crack Russian codes in Stranger Things (without the guns and monsters). It gets enough attention to keep the plot moving, but as in life, it's not always the obvious things that end up having the most impact. The treasure hunt turns out to be secondary to the real plot development of the novel, which is Cassie's self-discovery and her friendship with Drea. It's a funny, moving coming-of-age story that handles its issues with humor and just the right amount of heart.

I like Cassie; she's my people. She's a straight-A student and an over-achiever, and her brand of know-it-all humor is just my style. McCafferty manages to capture that purely teenage arrogance that comes from being one of the smart kids without making Cassie wholly unlikable. She obviously thinks she's too good to work in a clothing store, and the mall is just a holdover until her real life starts in New York. Yet the book pushes her (not always gently) toward a more adult perspective that there are all kinds of worthwhile jobs in the world and that being a snob to people who earn their living in a mall isn't acceptable. I enjoyed her conquering her fears of her ex-boyfriend and discovering new sides of her personality, her cute new summer romance with "Sam Goody", and most of all her friendship with Drea. They're opposite poles, with Drea being the popular, sophisticated friend with panache, and I like how the book allows them both to be vulnerable in different ways. Cassie is far from a perfect person, and she doesn't give Drea's dreams the respect they deserve but, as with the best characters, she tries hard to learn from her mistakes. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

I received a free e-ARC through NetGalley from the publishers at St. Martin's Press and an invitation to join the blog tour. Trigger warnings: sexual harassment, slut-shaming (mostly countered on-page, or at least hilariously avenged), divorce, cheating.

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[lizziesquire]

Aren’t you ever afraid you’ll fail? Or you’ll never accomplish your big dreams and just be ordinary? That all of this was a waste and there will be a crash soon?

hi bb!!

no.

That is--I’m not afraid that I will fail my life. Am I fearful of failures along the way? Yes, absolument! I’m scared that I won’t graduate with the honors that I want, that my grades won’t be what they want them to be. I’m scared that I may not get the jobs I am hoping for for next summer and post-grad. I’m scared that I won’t make it onto the journal that I want to be on. I’m scared that I took on too much and may lose sight of my vision for each of the organizations that I’m a part of leading and, as a result, not making the changes that I want to make for the incoming classes at my law school. I’m scared that I’ll find myself stuck in a set career path one day, with difficulties figuring out what to do next. 

But not once have I ever feared that I will fail my whole life, because I know that my life won’t be failure if I don’t let it. As in, I will never choose not to get back up again. 

As much as I joke about being the appblr poster girl for rejection, I think about just how many times I’ve personally failed myself. I didn’t get into my dream school for undergrad; I didn’t get into my dream school for law school; I didn’t get my first-choice internship for junior year summer; I didn’t get the grades I wanted last semester; I am nowhere near the level of accomplished I’d aspired to be, when I dreamt about what being 23 years old (almost 24! in exactly a month!) would be like. Does that frustrate me more often than I would like to admit? So much. Constantly. I lose sleep quite frequently over it. But! Am I afraid that it will always be this way? 

No.

I think about all of those personal failures that I’d just listed. I didn’t get into my dream college (the OGs who’d stuck around with me since the very beginning of this blog probably remember just how insufferable I had been about loving Yale......memorizing all 16 minutes of “That’s Why I Chose Yale” and knowing all the res colleges in alphabetical order? Who was I???? Why didn’t y’all tell me to shut up more?! I’m so sorry!), but I ended up a) meeting some lifelong friends at C0lby and b) getting exactly the college experience I never knew I needed, at C0rnell. I didn’t get into HLS, but that turned out to be a blessing in disguise, having been able to stay in my home city, close to my family and SO, and just a 15-minute car ride away (and thus coming home often, whenever I needed the emotional support/time with my maman and papa). I didn’t get my first-choice internship for my junior year summer during undergrad, but that turned out to be the biggest blessing in the world, because I worked at a place where I didn’t have to split my time among studying for Series 6, 7/CFA Level I, retaking the LSAT, and applying to law school. Even despite having accomplished none of my personal goals, everything turned out.......more than just fine. With each punch in the gut that I’d felt in those moments, of being told no, your specific vision is not coming to fruition, I got back up again. And I’ve done it enough times to the point where that knowledge empowers me, more than anything.

I have been through it before, and I will go through it again. 

Failure makes it sound like there are these XYZ criteria of things that you need to accomplish in your life, or else it’s a failure--but that’s just the thing. It’s absolument not true. Your life is what you make of it; your failures are what you make of them; your successes, your joy, your happiness are what you make of them. I’ve “failed,” time and time again. But for someone who’s failed her way to where she is today, I’m pretty damn happy with where those closed doors have led me, via the rerouted route that I was directed toward. 

The going gets rough, for sure, but I don’t think that any of it will ever be a waste. Just because of how much of these experiences have strengthened me, made me kinder, more patient, more resilient. It terrifies me to say this, but! If I die ordinary, then so be it--I am happy with that, as long as I did my absolute best to get to where I want to be. (If the crash is referring to a recession, I still stand by my point; what’s important is that I will have my J.D., and I will figure out the rest, as they come). For what it’s worth, I don’t think that there will ever be a point where I look at myself and say, “wow, I’ve done it. I’m extraordinary.” I think that the persistent need to constantly be better, do more, will always be there... and you know what? I hope that it never goes away. Life, for me, is about constantly working towards the next thing while actively taking the time to appreciate life for where it is, in that very moment. 

this has been such a ramble but thank you so much for dropping by, and sending all my love. You are doing your best, and that’s more than enough. it will be more than enough. you are more than enough. x

[yoonseoksoftie]

study buddies.

› pairing: bts x reader › word count: 1.5k › tags: poly!bts | idol!bts | fluff | slice of life  › summary: ❝ college is difficult and stressful, everybody knows that. after several hours of trying to finish off an essay for a class, you find yourself questioning your abilities and desire to finish your studies. fortunately, you have the company of your seven amazing boyfriends to remind you that there isn’t an obstacle you can’t overcome. ❞ › a/n: to anyone struggling with school, don’t give up! you are smart enough and you will graduate! everything will be alright! with that said, please let me know what you think of this.

The glowing screen of your computer stared back at you, the brightness of the artificial light straining your eyes. You didn’t know where you had gone wrong, you had planned everything to perfection. Every indent, comma, sentence, and paragraph yet, your brain refused to cooperate with you. The first hour and a half the information had spilled from your brain like a river, your fingers typing word after word as if you were a scientist explaining his newfound discovery. But somewhere between the tenth page of your paper and the sunlight outside your window slowly dispersing, your brain had turned into mush. The last hour had been spent deleting half-completed sentence just to re-write another half sentence before deleting it.

A frustrated sigh left your throat, annoyed you slammed your laptop shut and pushed it against the wall. This wasn’t supposed to be happening to you, you had gone to the library and read countless of books and academic journals regarding your topic, jotted down notes with useful information and highlighted key details that you were sure were going to earn you a few extra points. All of your planning was for nothing. You felt your throat closing up and a burning in your eyes as you held back tears. Was it even worth it? Countless of hours gone to waste over a sudden writing slump, it was truly unfair.

“Baby?”

The sound of your boyfriend’s quiet yet firm voice made you jump in surprise. You had been so caught up in your work you had forgotten he was sitting a few feet away from you. Your frustration slowly transformed into embarrassment. Here you were crying over a paper while he and your six other lovers dealt with one of the most demanding jobs in the world day in and out without a complaint. You let out a small sniffle before smiling at him, pretending as if nothing was wrong, you didn’t want to worry him any further. With their comeback right around the corner, the last thing you wanted was to be another source of distress.

“Heeey!” You let out, waving at him as if it were the first time you were seeing him, your voice an octave higher than usual.

“Everything all right?” He questioned skeptically, his brows creased in a frown. “You sounded like you were having a little trouble back here.”

“Oh no, everything is fine back here.” You spoke, lying through your teeth.

“Really?” The tone in Jimin’s voice was that of a parent trying to out their child on a lie. Walking towards you, he crouched in front of you, taking both of your hands in his. Warm plush lips met the cold flesh of your hands.

“Out with it, c’mon.”

You sighed, glancing up at the roof. The faucets in your eyes began turning once more, releasing the flow of tears. How could you explain to your boyfriend that you were ready to give up on your dreams over a twenty-paged paper? It was ridiculous.

“You’ll think it’s stupid,” You tried to reason, the fight in you was weak as he rubbed his thumbs over the top of your hands.

“I doubt it,” he answered immediately, offering you a kind smile as he wiped your tears away with the pad of his finger. “There’s nothing stupid about you.”

You remained silent for a few seconds, trying to find the right words to make yourself sound rational and not like a whining baby. The boys had commented before on your refusal to accept help from anyone, claiming that welcoming a helping hand didn’t automatically cancel out your independence.

“Babe,” you heard Jimin call for you again, the one syllable drowning with concern. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

He was right, of course, he was right. Perhaps speaking with him would clear your mind. He was a good listener, after all, that was one of the many reasons you fell in love with him. You cleared your throat and looked at him.

“You have to promise not to laugh, okay?”

He raised his right hand, a small smile extending the corners of his lips. “Scouts honor.”

The simple action brought a side smile to your face, without much effort he was already making you feel better. You had really hit the jackpot with these boys.

“There’s just this paper I have to finish by midnight and,” you paused, your face heating up in slight embarrassment. “I can’t seem to write it no matter how hard I try and I swear I did all of my research! I did!”

You quickly reached for your notebook in an attempt to defend yourself from the non-existent judgment coming your way.

“Hey, hey,” he spoke softly, pulling the journal from your hands. “I don’t doubt that you did your research. You’re one of the most intelligent people I know, you’re just a little frustrated it seems, and I bet you a box of donuts you haven’t taken a break from writing since I got here.”

You hanged your head in shame, once again he was right. This was all your doing.

He brought your hands to his lips, placing a soft kiss on each hand before standing up and bringing you up with him.

“Go wash your face and change into something more comfortable,” he said, looking down at your skinny jeans in distaste. “It’s going to be alright, I promise.”

You nodded and followed his instructions. Making your way into your bedroom you changed into a pair of sweats and one of Jungkook’s old t-shirts. Standing in front of the mirror you took in your appearance for what felt like an eternity. The long hours were starting to take a physical toll on you, the bags under your eyes were prominent and you were sure makeup wasn’t going to cover them very well. You hair resembled a birds nest, sticking in every which way. You opened the faucet and splashed cold water onto your face. Drying your face you took one last look at yourself, “You got this!”

Stepping out of your bedroom and onto your living room you were taken aback by the increase in testosterone in the room. Surrounding your dining table were your seven boyfriends all in deep conversation. They quieted down when they became aware of your presence. Your eyes met with Jin’s, who instantly got down from the kitchen counter to greet you.

“Hello, sweetheart.” He wrapped you in his arms and placed a kiss on your forehead. The warmth of his embrace made you feel like a child once more, safe and carefree.

“W-what are you guys doing here?” You questioned, coming out of your miniature daydream, still a little confused as to why all seven of them were occupying your living room.

“A little bird told us you were having trouble with your homework,” You turned in the direction of the deep voice, your eyes landing on your box-smile wearing boyfriend. “And now, I may not be the best at writing papers but I can offer an endless supply of encouraging words.”

You felt your heart swell at his words. Had Jimin done this while you were changing? It made sense if he had, unlike Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook, Jimin wasn’t one for grand gestures. He showed his love through actions, just like right now. Sneaky little man.

“I brought some of my old textbooks,” you heard Namjoon speak from behind a stack of thick hardback books, his head peeking to the side, a dimpled smile adorning his face. “From the looks of it your notes will be more than enough but a little extra information never hurt anybody.”

“I,” exclaimed a voice to your left. “Complied the most amazing study playlist.” Standing next to your Bluetooth speaker stood Yoongi, phone in hand as he tried to connect the devices. “Trust me, now this is a study playlist.”

Your eyes were filling up with tears once again, but this time they were tears of joy. You loved these boys so much and despite their busy schedules they still made time for you and your problems.

“B-babe?” Strong and firm hands enveloped your face. “Is something wrong? Is this too much?”

“Too much?” you repeated, dumbfounded. “Never. T-this is perfect, I just— thank you, for making time for me.”

You wiped your eyes and looked at Hoseok’s deep brown eyes.

“Always.” He murmured gently, his words heavy with sentiment. The emotion his words carried fueled you, suddenly you felt strong enough to tackle any obstacle coming your way. You were going to kick this assignment’s butt.

“Good, I’m glad that’s settled,” you heard the youngest one speak, a beaming bunny smile taking over his face. “Because I brought snacks!”

“See,” Jimin commented, taking a small bag of your favorite snacks and shacking them lightly. “I told you it was going to be all right.”

You smiled at him, nodding. They were always there for you when you needed them, ready to aid you in any way they could. You only hoped you were able to reciprocate and make them feel just as loved.

“Okay,” you clapped your hands together, rubbing them against each other. “Who’s ready to finish this paper?”

The room was instantly filled with whooping sounds and something that sounded like a war cry. You could definitely do this.

[entertheembrace]

One - The Morning After

What have I done? I can’t believe it. After sixteen years of marriage, the last ten spent as a traveling salesman, I have never been unfaithful to my wife. Never, that is, until last night.

The last twelve hours have been very strange and I’m not sure that I can trust my memory to tell me what is real and what is fantasy. I’m starting this journal to keep track of my thoughts until I can figure what, exactly, is going on.

It started last night in a New Orleans bar.

This week began like most others. I left Philadelphia late Sunday night to fly to New Orleans for a big software convention. As always when flying to New Orleans, I brought an Anne Rice novel to read on the plane to get me in the mood.

I met David and Harry, two other sales representatives from my company, at the hotel. The software convention starts today, Tuesday, and is supposed to run until this Thursday. We spent yesterday morning and most of the afternoon setting up our booth and then went back to our rooms to prepare for a night of wining and dining old clients and potential buyers.

This is how we ended up at the Hurricane Bar on Bourbon Street, where I met Marie.

After ten years of traveling all over the world, I have met many beautiful women. And, while I never had the urge to stray from my wife, the salesman in me can’t help but talk, and flirt, with most women I find myself in the company of.

Marie was a pretty girl. I say girl because she looked so young. I would have said she was eighteen at best, but since she had no problem walking into the bar or getting served a drink, I figured she had to be a little bit older.

Her clothing was simple, yet on her it looked exquisite, if not exotic. A simple white silk peasant blouse with a low, square neck had sleeves that gathered at the elbow and an elastic band around the waist, just above the hem of her long, black silk skirt that reached almost to her ankles. Beneath the skirt was a pair of black leather boots with heels. The tops of the boots were not visible, but wondering just how far up they went stirred the imagination…and a few other things as well.

Her skin was very white which contrasted with the black hair that hung to the middle of her back and appeared to be made of the same material as the blouse and skirt. Her features looked Middle Eastern, possibly even Egyptian, but that didn’t go with the pale white skin.

She stood with her back to the bar staring out at the crowds, looking like she was on a New Jersey boardwalk staring at the ocean.

In her hand was a red drink with a stick of celery protruding from the rim. As I watched her, I felt drawn to her. I felt the need to start a conversation with her just so I could hear her voice and feel the weight of her eyes looking at me.

I shook my head and shifted myself on the stool to make room for the slightly enlarging visitor tucked away in my pants. What was wrong with me? I was feeling like a college freshman at his first frat party looking at the upperclassman co-ed and dreaming of what if.

I was about to turn away to say something to Harry who was sitting next to me when I saw her drop her napkin from under her drink. I felt the urge to rush over and grab it like some medieval night picking up the hankie of the fair maiden.

Luckily, before I completely embarrassed myself, she moved to pick it up herself. As she bent over, I sat back to stare. The thin material of her skirt went taught over her backside showing a small, perfectly formed, heart shaped rear. Her blouse rode up just a bit to reveal the bright colors of a tattoo low on the small of her back.

While I may look like an uptight, starched shirt business man, I do have a hidden passion for tattoos. I have almost a dozen various tattoos strategically placed about my person that can be easily concealed while wearing most suits and business casual outfits.

Besides my wife and kids who see me in various stages of dress around the house, most people know nothing of the artwork unless they get a glance of it in the locker room at the YMCA.

The tattoos are all of a Druidic theme of knots and vines to honor not only my Irish heritage, but the wishes of my grandmother. My grandmother is a devout woman who attended mass daily, but mixed her Catholic beliefs along with various forms of fortune telling, hexing and general good luck charms so that she could be best described as the Irish version of a gypsy.

While I keep my tattoos private, I make it a point to admire other people’s body art when I can. The small flash of color and design below the hem of her skirt was just enough to pique my interest and to give me a reason to talk to her.

I approached her. She turned to look at me as if I were nothing but a curiosity. I pointed to her drink and said, “Isn’t it a little late in the day for a Bloody Mary or did you just get up?”

The corners of her mouth twitched ever so slightly up in what may have been a smile as she said, “This is a special drink that François makes just for me.”

I looked to the bar to see a tall, thin bartender dressed all in black whose long, greasy hair and white skin left you with the feeling that he needed to spend some more time in the sun and the shower. The name tag on his shirt read François.

I turned back to her and said, “I couldn’t help but notice that tattoo on your back. I didn’t get a very good look at it, but it seemed very intricate. What is it?”

She looked at me and asked, “Do you always ask complete strangers such personal questions?”

Taken back, I began to stutter, “No, I mean, I didn’t mean to...”

“All I meant,” she broke in, “was that I don’t even know your name.”

Her voice was like honey pouring from the hive. Her accent was a mixture of French and the Deep South, but nothing like the Creole accent I was used to hearing when in Louisiana. It was much more exotic.

“Mike,” I said stupidly, “Mike Murphy,” feeling more and more like that college freshman again rather than the thirty nine year old man that I was.

“Well Michael, I don’t share my tattoo with just anyone. I will, however, share a dance.” She took the celery stick out of her glass. The red drink clung to it heavily.

Slowly and seductively, she lowered the celery into her mouth while never losing eye contact with me. The sudden “snap” of the celery as she bit down and cleanly sliced it in two, was enough to make me jump and send a phantom pain to my lower regions.

She put down her glass, turned and walked to the dance floor, with just a bit of that tattoo showing. This is where I made my real mistake…I followed.

We danced for what seemed like hours, though I can’t be sure since I lost all track of time.

I seemed to be in a spell and was ready and willing to do anything that Marie desired or commanded.

The next thing I know, I was sitting on my bed in the hotel room. She stood in front of me, staring with those gray eyes.

“So, you really want to see my artwork?”

All I could do was nod. I wasn’t sure what I was doing or if I had control of myself.

Without fanfare, she pulled the blouse straight over her head. She wore no bra, yet there was no movement of her breasts. They hung there, turning upward in the way of only the young.

With a pull of a string, the skirt dropped to the ground to pool around her ankles. She wore no panties.

Her skin was white and smooth as cream. I sat in a daze, not sure what to do. She walked forward, grabbed my head and pulled it to her stomach.

Her skin was as smooth as the silk clothing that had been covering it moments before. There was a perfumed smell coming from her skin that I recognized but could not place.

I reached up and grabbed her hip and began to kiss her stomach. She shuddered and pulled away.

“I thought you wanted to see my tattoo,'' she said. Her gray, sultry eyes looked like those of a predator about to devour its prey.

She slowly turned around. Her hair was thrown over one shoulder covering it entirely. Her backside was right in front of me and I had an up-close view of that object that had caught and held my attention in the club; the tattoo, not the backside.

It was like nothing I had ever seen before. The colors were brilliant and seemed to swim in the milk that was her skin. The contrast was stunning.

The design is something that, thankfully, I’ll never forget. It was a silver and gold dagger running right down the line of her spine, pointing down with the tip of the blade stopping short of the top of her rear. The handle of the dagger was in the shape of a fan with beautiful etchings and a wave like design moving throughout it. Wrapped around the blade was a thorny vine leading up to a blood red rose near the top of the handle.

I traced my finger around the design which forced a fierce shudder from her. “What is it?” I asked.

She turned to me and said, “You could say it’s a family symbol”.

Before I could ask more, she pushed me to the bed and began pulling off my clothes.

Our love making was frantic and forceful with Marie taking complete control to try to satisfy what appeared to be an unsatiable appetite for sex. That recognizable scent seemed to pour out of her in her sweat, thoughI still couldn’t place where I knew it from. 

She climaxed hard and loud within minutes, then slowed her movements and smiled down at me. I dumbly smiled back as my hands found her breasts and began to massage them. She bent down and began to kiss my neck. The kisses became nibbles. Suddenly, a strange feeling went through me as I realized that she had broken the skin on my neck. I didn't feel any pain, but I could feel her teeth sunk into my skin and a sticky, warm stream running down my neck.

“What are you doing?” I yelled as I pushed her up.

What looked down at me nearly stopped my heart. Blood was dripping from her lips. The gray eyes had become tinted with red so that the look of the predator she showed earlier now took on the un-human look of a monster.

Scared for my life, I tried to push her tiny body off of me, but she clamped her knees on either side of my hips and I couldn’t move. She smiled and continued to ride me.

Frightened, I continued to struggle, but there was nothing I could do.

Suddenly, a knife appeared in her hand. Where it had been, I don’t know but now all I could think of was that this was the end of my life and I’ll never see my family again. 

I was half right with that thought.

She turned the knife on herself and sliced the skin of her left breast. Blood began to pool in the wound.

I stared, horrified. Marie grabbed my head and pulled my face to her breast. I fought but she only laughed and rode me harder. My body betrayed me in release and as I filled her, her blood filled my mouth and throat.

It was at that point that I sat up and screamed. My head swam and my stomach did flips in protest of my sudden movements. I was alone in bed, obviously the victim of an extreme nightmare.

It was all a dream, Marie was never here, we never made love and she never pulled out a knife.

Then I noticed the smell. The room was filled with the scent of sex and I had that post-copulation sticky feeling about me. It wasn’t all a dream.

If the sex was real, then what else was real? I ran to the bathroom to inspect my neck and shoulders. No cuts, no bite marks…that part was a dream.

I wasn’t feeling well. I lay back in bed to take inventory of myself.

My head was pounding and all of my muscles were sore. My skin was tingling and where it came in contact with the sheets it actually felt like sandpaper was being rubbed against me. Lastly, my stomach was growling for food.

I called room service to order breakfast and jumped into the shower for a quick wash-up.

I got out and got dressed. While putting on my clothes, again I got the feeling of sandpaper being dragged over my skin except for my shirt: the silk slid smooth over my skin without irritation.

I sat at the hotel room desk to try to figure out what was going on while I waited for my breakfast. Now that the smell of sex was gone there was a stronger smell…her smell. It was strong enough to make me think that Marie was back in the room with me.

The smell was something from my childhood, something reverent. That’s when it hit me. Incense. That’s what her perfume reminded me of, the incense that was burned in church when I was a boy. I remember that it was only burned on special holy days and at funerals. The incense was always burned at funerals, used to bless the body and the casket of the departed. Why would someone want to smell like that?

My skin was sensitive, my smelling was acute, and my head and muscles ached. She obviously slipped me some kind of drug, like a mickey. Why would she do that? What did she give me?

I needed to find her and find out. With the security clearance our company has with the governor, the last thing I can afford is to fail a random drug test. I needed to find her for that reason. I kept trying to tell myself that that was the only reason I wanted to find her.

How could I find her? Where would I start? I could go back to the bar and ask François, but I didn’t think I would get very far there.

I looked at my laptop. I’d do what every adult and most children would do, I went to Google.  But did I have enough information to start? What did I know about her?

I had the tattoo. Reaching for a pencil and some paper, I sketched out the design. The beautiful rose wrapped around the threatening dagger was an unnerving site. It looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it. 

As I sat looking at the picture, I suddenly picked up the scent of body odor. It was very slight at first, but it was getting stronger. I checked myself and smelled nothing. I looked around the room for the source to no avail.

When the scent got to the point where I felt I was surrounded by it, there was a knock at the door. The sound made me jump…I was overly sensitive to sights, sounds and odors, not to mention the strange feeling of my skin.

I answered the door to a man in his early twenties pushing a cart with my breakfast. I found the source of the smell. And while I could smell the body odor coming from my server, the smell for some reason wasn’t unpleasant…in fact it was almost pleasant. When did BO become a pleasing smell?

I told my server to put the cart next to the desk while I contemplated this latest fact.

“Are you a fan?” my server asked me, breaking my concentration.

“Excuse me?” I answered.

“I asked if you were a fan?” he said again while pointing at the drawing on my desk. “You don’t look the type.”

“Do you recognize that?” I asked excitedly.

“Sure” the young waiter responded, “That’s the symbol for Anarch.”

“Anarch,” I questioned, “what is Anarch?”

“It’s only one of the best Goth bands to play in New Orleans. Have you been to a show?”

I thanked him and escorted him out the door with a tip so that I could have some time to consider this new piece of information.

A Goth band. Could that be it?  Was she nothing more than a Goth groupie? She was beautiful, but it would explain the dress and the weird actions. It would also explain where she would get the drugs that she obviously slipped me.

I turned to the laptop and entered the name Anarch into the Google search box and hit enter.

As I nibbled on my breakfast, I noticed that the smell of BO was gone but was replaced again by Marie’s peculiar scent. I also noticed that I didn’t smell my breakfast. Come to think of it, I didn’t really taste it either.

This was getting strange. It was then I decided to put all of this down in my journal to help me straighten things out.

I need to get to the convention center. I will try to sneak out early so I can have some time to sit and thank and then I will decide how I’ll go about finding Marie.

Of course, I’m still not sure what I’m going to do once I find her.

[atlasfms]

                                                                                                                                                       𝐆𝐐   𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖   𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟗   .

                     By   Jonathon   Heaf                      ➥   3   December   2019

The   now   twenty   -   four   year   old   talks   about   his   rise   to   fame   ,   his   family   and   just   about   everything   in   between   .   .   .

Honorable   Mentions   :   @alanncs​   ,   @nsfwviolets​   ,   @veraffs​   &   @viclents​   .

           It’s   been   a   year   and   a   half   since   I   last   had   the   pleasure   of   catching   up   with   the   Golden   Boy   that’s   known   as   Atlas   Deniro   ,   but   in   that   seemingly   short   space   of   time   a   lot   has   changed   in   his   life   and   there’s   so   much   to   catch   up   on   .   At   the   beginning   of   2018   ,   he   was   most   known   for   being   the   son   of   a   billionaire   and   fluttering   hearts   by   his   steaming   Instagram   posts   ,   as   well   as   sauntering   down   runways   in   clothes   designed   by   some   of   our   favourite   names   ,   but   things   didn’t   really   get   started   for   him   until   mid   -   June   .

        After   his   debut   as   being   the   main   face   and   male   Ambassador   of   Paco   Rabbane’s   iconic   1   Million   fragrance   ,   Deniro’s   popularity   sky   -   rocketed   and   it   wasn’t   that   long   after   that   he   released   his   first   song   .   Since   then   ,   the   heartthrob   has   been   the   most   sought   for   male   face   for   most   of   our   favourite   brands   ,   even   having   his   own   clothing   line   collaboration   with   Calvin   Klein   and   winning   the   Fashion   Award’s   Model   of   the   Year   2018   ,   and   only   growing   in   success   after   dropping   his   debut   album   ‘   Damage   Control   ’   which   solidified   it’s   place   at   the   top   of   the   charts   for   months   ,   he   rang   the   new   year   in   with   a   bang   ,   but   2019   was   a   little   more   of   roller   coaster   .

           After   returning   home   from   Italy   once   his   family’s   annual   holiday   get   -   together   was   over   ,   Deniro   and   his   friends   took   Dubai   ,   UEA   by   storm   and   gave   us   something   to   remember   them   by   when   they   aired   a   one   -   hour   documentary   on   Netflix   revealing   what   they   got   up   to   .   If   that   wasn’t   exciting   enough   ,   then   maybe   his   Thailand   Arrest   story   will   ring   a   bell   .   But   that’s   all   been   and   gone   ,   and   after   that   the   now   twenty   -   four   year   old   kicked   himself   into   shape   once   his   Debut   World   Tour   dates   were   released   .   However   ,   we’re   all   aware   of   the   days   that   led   to   Deniro’s   3   day   coma   ,   which   resulted   in   him   having   to   cancel   his   tour   in   favour   of   taking   some   time   to   recover   .

          Since   then   ,   the   model   -   slash   -   singer   has   had   a   relatively   quiet   few   months   ,   and   after   coming   back   to   Instagram   a   few   weeks   back   and   reminiscing   about   his   time   with   long   -   time   girlfriend   Violet   Lennox   ,   GQ’s   International   Male   Model   of   the   Year   2019   is   here   in   celebration   of   his   turning   twenty   -   four   ,   the   struggled   of   growing   up   in   the   spotlight   and   just   about   everything   in   -   between   .   So   ,   how   about   we   get   started   ?   He’s   wearing   a   cozy   looking   black   rib   roll   neck   sweater   paired   with   a   washed   grey   set   of   jeans   decorated   with   his   iconic   silver   chain   .   Sitting   across   from   me   ,  he   looks   as   collected   as   ever   .

𝐆𝐐   :   𝐒𝐨   𝐡𝐨𝐰   𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬   𝐢𝐭   𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥   𝐭𝐨   𝐛𝐞   𝐆𝐐’𝐒   𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥   𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞   𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐥   𝐨𝐟   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫   ?

Atlas   Deniro   :   Honestly   it   feels   kind   of  surreal   .   There   are   so   many   talents   out   there   that   deserve   it   just   as   much   as   I   do   ,  so   I   was   surprised   to   even   be   nominated   for   it   .  Winning   is   crazy   ,   though   .   I   remember   when   I   won   the   Fashion   Awards   last   year   and   was   like   ‘   this   is   it   ,   this   is   the   highlight   ’   .   I   never   even   dreamed   I’d   win   a   prestigious   award   like   this   ,   especially   so   early   in   my   career   so   thank   you   .

𝐃𝐢𝐝   𝐲𝐨𝐮   𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭   𝐭𝐨   𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞   𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬   𝐟𝐚𝐫   𝐢𝐧   𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫   𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐫   𝐬𝐨   𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧   ?

Definitely   not   .   Up   until   my   (   Paco   Rabanne   )   promotion   I   was   pretty   much   just   getting   booked   into   whatever   gigs   my   agent   could   find   and   working   my   way   through   college   .   It   was   kind   of   weird   ,   because   one   day   I   was   mostly   just   walking   on   runways   and   building   up   my   name   ,   but   the   next   my   face   was   all   over   and   it   was   like   ,   wow   ,   I   did   this   .   I   actually   did   this   .

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭   𝐝𝐢𝐝   𝐢𝐭   𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥   𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞   𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧   𝐲𝐨𝐮   𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭   𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞   𝐨𝐧𝐞   𝐨𝐟   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝’𝐬   𝐀𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐬   ?

Crazy   because   the   1   Million   fragrance   is   my   absolute   favourite   and   I’d   never   dream   I’d   get   to   be   the   face   representing   it   .   Weird   because   Jordan   Barrett   is   one   of   my   buds   and   replacing   him   on   the   commercial   was   strange   .   But   he   was   cool   with   it   ,   though   ,   so   I   guess   it   all   worked   out   .

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞   𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭   𝐢𝐭   𝐰𝐚𝐬   𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞   𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧   𝐲𝐨𝐮   𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝   𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫   𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭   𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠   .

It’s   impossible   to   describe   because   no   word   can   explain   the   amount   of   pride   and   happiness   you   feel   when   it’s   out   there   .   Like   ,   that’s   your   baby   .   You’re   letting   it   out   to   be   judged   by   the   world   and   that’s   ,   like   ,   your   pride   and   joy   .   But   honestly   the   feedback   was   surreal   :   people   always   have   reservations   when   models   turn   into   musicians   as   well   ,   and   I   must   have   said   ‘   music   coming   soon   ’   so   many   times   before   choosing   the   track   to   drop   that   would   put   me   in   the   same   race   as   everyone   else   took   longer   than   actually   creating   an   entire   album   .

𝐇𝐨𝐰   𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠   𝐝𝐢𝐝   𝐢𝐭   𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞   𝐭𝐨   𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞   𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫   𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭   𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐮𝐦   ?

Between   college   and   modeling   gigs   ?   Years   ,   probably   .   Writing   the   songs   didn’t   take   two   seconds   ,   but   actually   recording   them   and   putting   everything   together   takes   the   longest   time   .   Like   ,   you’re   creating   something   that   you   want   to   take   people   to   another   place   ,   and   making   the   perfect   song  to   do   that   is   difficult   .   There   was   a   lot   of   switching   and   shuffling   around   ,   too   many   songs   scrapped   because   they   weren’t   good   enough   .   It’s   a   long   process   ,   but   definitely   worth   it   .

𝐀𝐫𝐞   𝐲𝐨𝐮   𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠   𝐨𝐧   𝐚𝐧𝐲   𝐧𝐞𝐰   𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜   𝐚𝐭   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭   ?

I’m   working   on   new   music   everyday   ,   it’s   just   a   little   difficult   because   everything   is   so   personal   and   depends   on   what   happens   during   that   day   .   I think   people   don’t   understand   that   a   musician’s   album   is   literally   their   most   private   and   secret   thoughts   put   into   one   place   .   It’s   like   a   journal   ,   and   that’s   why   not   only   creating   these   songs   ,   but   performing   them   is   so   hard   to   describe   .

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭   𝐰𝐚𝐬   𝐢𝐭   𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞   𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧   𝐲𝐨𝐮   𝐡𝐚𝐝   𝐭𝐨   𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐥   𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫   𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐫   ?

Absolutely   heartbreaking   .   I   made   so   many   promises   to   my   fans   and   the   dream   of   being   able   to   travel   the   world   ,   playing   my   own   music   is   something   I’ve   wanted   all   my   life   .   Hands   down   ,   it   was   the   hardest   decision   I   ever   had   to   make   .   But   I   needed   to   do   it   ,   and   I’m   feeling   so   much   better   now   .

𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬   𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭   𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧   𝐰𝐞   𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝   𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭   𝐧𝐞𝐰   𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐫   𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬   𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦   𝐲𝐨𝐮   𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧   ?

I   may   have   something   up   my   sleeve   for   after   the   New   Year   .   It’s   kind   of   an   apology   mixed   with   another   surprise   I’m   not   going   to   ruin   ,   but   it’s   good   .   Trust   me   .   You   won’t   be   disappointed   .

𝐈’𝐦   𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞   𝐰𝐞   𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭   .   𝐃𝐨   𝐲𝐨𝐮   𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞   𝐚𝐧𝐲   𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫   𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐬   𝐟𝐨𝐫   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞   ?

For   now   I’m   just   continuing   with   my   music   ,   my   modeling   ,   and   spending   some   time   with   my   beautiful   girlfriend   .   We’re   going   to   Italy   to   spend   the   holidays   with   my   family   soon   ,   so   it’ll   be   nice   to   get   away   from   New   York   for   a   little   while   and   be   able   to   spend   time   with   the   people   I   care   about   the   most   .

𝐘𝐨𝐮   𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞   𝐚   𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐞   𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲   ;   𝐡𝐨𝐰   𝐝𝐨   𝐲𝐨𝐮   𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥   𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡   𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭   ?

With   extreme   difficulty   [   laughs   ]   .   You   should   try   having   to   remember   all   the   names   of   your   Aunts   and   Uncles   ,   as   well   as   your   cousins   and   their   children   .   It’s   hard   ,   but   the   thing   about   my   family   is   that   even   though   there’s   so   many   of   us   ,   we’re   close   .   We   always   have   been   .

𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞   𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧   𝐭𝐨   𝐈𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐲   𝐚   𝐥𝐨𝐭   ,   𝐛𝐮𝐭   𝐚𝐫𝐞   𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞   𝐚𝐧𝐲   𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫   𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬   𝐲𝐨𝐮   𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞   𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠   𝐭𝐨   ?

Bali   ,   for   sure   .   It   holds   a   special   place   in   my   heart   ,   not   to   mention   it’s   so   remote   and   beautiful   that   it’s   hard   to   not   fall   in   love   with   the   place   as   soon   as   you   get   there   .   It’s   a   little   far   from   home   ,   though   ,   so   I   don’t   get   to   go   often   but   every   time   I   do   ,   I   always   have   the   best   time   .

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬   𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫   𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞   𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐲   𝐢𝐧   𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐢   ?

Definitely   when   I   went   for   the   first   time   a   few   years   back   .   It   was   with   Violet   ,   of   course   ,   although   Alanna   and   Amara   insisted   they   would   come   and   didn’t   talk   to   me   for   a   week   straight   when   I   told   them   no   .   But   one   day   ,   we   decided   to   just   stay   on   the   beach   .   We   stayed   there   all   day   until   the   sun   set   ,   and   I’m   pretty   sure   we   left   being   as   red   as   lobsters   ,   but   it   was   the   most   relaxed   we’ve   ever   been   .

𝐘𝐨𝐮   𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞   𝐚   𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝   𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩   𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡   𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫   𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬   ,   𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭   𝐲𝐨𝐮   ?

The   best   ,   which   I   probably   should   be   grateful   for   since   there    are   a   lot   of   people   out   there   who   can’t   really   say   the   same   ,   but   they’re   my   best   friends   .   I   think   us   all   growing   up   with   the   same   problem   of   having   no   privacy   made   us   closer   ,   and   also   made   us   realise   we   can   trust   each   other   with   anything   .

𝐈𝐬   𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫   𝐟����𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲'𝐬   𝐓𝐕   𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰   𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥   𝐢𝐧   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬   ?

Yeah   ,   for   sure   .   But   there’s   only   a   certain   amount   of   content   our   producers   can   use   ,   and   given   the   amount   of   episodes   they   need   to   film   to   create   an   entire   season   it’s   taking   a   while   ,   but   it   will   be   finished   soon   .   Maybe   even   sooner   than   you   think   .

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭   𝐚𝐫𝐞   𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫   𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬   𝐨𝐧   𝐭𝐡𝐞   #𝐙𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭   ?

Couldn’t   be   happier   for   them   ,   and   people   need   to   lay   off   with   the   judging   .   If   they’re   happy   ,   they’re   happy   ,   so   why   don’t   they   just   leave   it   at   that   ?   Now   we   just   have   to   wait   for   the   wedding   .   .   .

𝐇𝐨𝐰   𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝   𝐚𝐫𝐞   𝐲𝐨𝐮   𝐭𝐨   𝐛𝐞   𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠   𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲   -   𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫   ?

I   think   exciting   is   the   wrong   word   for   it   ;   who   even   enjoys   getting   older   ?   But   birthdays   mean   lots   of   presents   and   partying   ,   so   I’m   looking   forward   to   it   !

[goodjobcornjob]

I was tagged by @icedchailatte, people like never tag me in these things I feel so honored lmao.

Don’t feel obligated by any means if you’re in this list, but I’m tagging @pumpkin-queef @msblam @cydoniadreamland @flaccid-robot-penis @borjaxton @lethargicthylacine @coffeeofthegay

1. Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? Black.

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? Country, then I could have sheep!

3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? Fencing! I took a week long fencing class once when I was little and have wanted to get into it more since.

4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? I drink coffee with a blinding amount of sugar, but with tea it really depends. Usually some sugar but not much.

5. What was your favourite book as a child? Not to be a furry on main but the warrior cats books were my JAM.

6. Do you prefer baths or showers? Showers. I used to prefer baths but then someone pointed out to me that bathing is stewing in your own filth and now I’m grossed out by them. Do love bath bombs tho.

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would it be? Does shapeshifter count? That would be best for my indecisive ass.

8. Paper or electronic books? Paper. The physical thing just hits different yknow?

9. What is your favourite item of clothing? Either a Ghost band shirt I have, since they’re one of my fave bands and my partner gave it to me, or this t-shirt I got from a friend with a smug looking frog face that says “yikes” on it.

10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it? Already changed it baybee ;)

11. Who is a mentor to you? I have a friend who’s like a master class level cosplayer who’s slowly but surely teaching me The Ways Of The Cosplayer™️.

12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for? Sometimes I think so, I’d love to make a huge number of people happy either by being funny or with my art, plus I’d love to be able to help spread awareness and end stigmas through fame, but then I remember how paranoid all that attention would make me. Long story short, no.

13. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? Not really, but I can be if I wanna be.

14. Which element best represents you? Personality quizzes reliably tell me earth, so earth I guess?

15. Who do you want to be closer to? My friends from college. We never talk unless it’s in person and I don’t get to see them much :(

16. Do you miss someone at the moment? Yeah. I cut ties with my old Favorite Person (a thing related to BPD) about 1 1/2 years ago because she’s toxic af, I still regularly think about/miss her.

17. Tell us about an early childhood memory. When I was 11 I pulled out my two front teeth (not baby teeth, the actual legit ones) pulling open a drawer with my mouth while pretending to be a cat. I had to get a root canal to put them back in place, and was a lil celebrity at my dentist for years because of it. All the dentists loved root canal cat kid xD.

18. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? My childhood house is so dusty I could (and regularly did) catch dust in my mouth like snowflakes until I learned what it was.

19. What are you most thankful for? How well my transition has gone so far/the fact I’m able to transition at all.

20. Do you like spicy food? I desperately want to cause so much food from other cultures is spicy, but my acid reflux prevents me from building much of an immunity to it so I’m way too much of a wuss.

21. Have you ever met someone famous? I shook Bill Nye’s hand when he visited my hometown for a talk.

22. Do you keep a diary or journal? Yes, for therapy mostly, but I usually forget to write in it.

23. Do you prefer to use a pen or a pencil? Pencil. I goof way too much to not be able to erase.

24. What is your star sign? Virgo. I don’t care about or believe in astrology at all tho.

25. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? Crunchy, I’m no heathen.

26. What would you want your legacy to be? I just wanna be known for being helpful.

27. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? I love reading, but haven’t regularly since early high school. Last book I read was a wholesome manga called Merman In My Tub. I recommend it.

28. How do you show someone you love them? I usually send them lots of things related to stuff they like and make gifts for them.

29. Do you like ice in your drinks? Absolutely.

30. What are you afraid of? Spiders (not nearly as much as I used to be thanks to exposure therapy), ticks, parasites, death, confrontation, losing my friends.

31. What is your favourite scent? Probably either rose or campfire.

32. Do you address older people by their name or surname? First name unless they tell me otherwise.

33. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? I’d live on a commune with my close friends. We wouldn’t be totally self sufficient, but we’d grow/make at least half the food and clothes we use. I’d come as close to having a private zoo as a person can actually ethically do without cramping/neglecting the animals. I’d play video games more than I worked. I’d regularly house people with nowhere to go. I’d sell sewing commissions and work somewhere like an animal rescue facility. A guy can dream 😔.

34. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? Pools. If I think too much about how much poop has to be in any natural body of water it sets off my OCD (I’m fine if I forget to think about it tho).

35. What would you do if you found $50 on the ground? Keep it. There’s no way to track who’s it is, if there was I’d try to return it.

36. Have you ever seen a shooting star? A few times.

37. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? I don’t want kids, but if I did I’d want to teach them how to recognize differences in cultural practices without putting value judgements on them.

38. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? I already have one (zelda tattoo on my shoulder), and am planning many more. Next one I want is a paw print from my cat on my stomach where he likes to knead.

39. What can you hear now? The wind in the trees outside, the fan, my partner shifting his feet, I think cicadas?

40. Where do you feel the safest? The living room when I’m alone in the house, listening to music and snuggling with my cat.

41. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? Either my misophonia or my fear of confrontation.

42. If you could travel back to any era, what would it be? Pre-colonialism North America. I’d love to see this continent in its not fucked up state.

43. What is your most used emoji? Tie between 🅱️, :’) and 😬

44. Describe yourself using one word. Clown.

45. What do you regret the most? Never standing up for myself or my friends as a kid/teen.

46. Last movie you saw? Hamilton. Very good but also overrated.

47. Last tv show you watched? Something I don’t remember the name of on PBS about octopi.

48. Invent a word and it’s meaning. Schlumple. It’s like when you’re sitting slumped and squished in on yourself you’re sitting all schlumpled. My rats do it all the time.

[gotham-ruaidh]

Truth to Triumph

Previously…

Chapter 7: The Invitation

August 25, 1904

Article published in the New-York Daily Tribune on Sunday, August 28, 1904. Captain Van Schaick was at the helm when the Slocum burned. Bellevue is world-renowned for its mental illness ward. This small story, of a man literally gone mad with grief, humanizes this tragedy. And is emblematic of just how deeply this disaster scarred the city. 

--

In early August, Mr. Pulitzer gave Jamie a hearty raise.

 Jamie thanked him by donating it to the World’s Slocum widows and orphans fund.

In turn, the German community thanked him – for the fair, honest depiction of their community he had shared with the world, and for his own personal generosity – by declaring they would host a dinner in his honor, at one of the beer gardens on the Bowery.

 This invitation was the prime topic of conversation the next time he dined with Claire, the Beauchamps, and Henry – who brimmed with joy at being invited to sit with the grown-ups. True to his word, Jamie had breathed not a word of Henry’s existence to anyone. He had continued to call on Claire – and she had surprised him with a few unannounced appearances at his office – all the while remaining respectful of her boundaries.

 He’d invited her to dinner at his cramped rooms on Stanton Street; she insisted on buying groceries from several Italian pushcart vendors along the way, and together they cooked a simple yet delicious meal. Swapping stories about growing up in the city – the crowded public school he had attended in Chelsea, punctuated by occasional ferry trips across the Hudson to visit his mother’s brothers in Newark; playing hide-and-seek with her funny Uncle Lamb in the basement of her grandfather’s department store, and sneaking into dusty libraries to find a respite from yet another boring social occasion.

 Learning each other.

 Jamie had continued to impress all three adult Beauchamps with the way he partnered with Claire to shine a light on stories that the public may otherwise ignore or overlook – lending her work the credence it deserved.

 “I’ve been to a few dinners at these beer gardens,” the elder Henry shared, tucking in to the cool asparagus salad that Claire had helped the cook, Mrs. Crook, prepare. “They’re outside – or if they’re inside, the ceiling is made of glass panes that can be opened to let in the air. Entire families will come, squashed side-by-side onto picnic tables.”

 “Is it safe to presume that plenty of beer is served?” Julia smiled from behind her napkin.

 “It is, dear wife,” Henry replied. “Along with a good deal of other food – sausages, sauerkraut, potatoes. All very good, if a bit monochromatic in appearance.”

 “What’s mono-chromatic?” Young Henry speared an asparagus on his fork and wobbled it a bit over his plate.

 “‘Mono’ means ‘one,’ lovie, and ‘chromatic’ means ‘color.’ Anyway, Papa, It’s remarkable how the Germans do everything together – how they bring entire families to an event.” Claire gently pushed her son’s elbows off the table. “That’s why so many families were on the Slocum to begin with – they don’t like separating the men from the women, the women from the children.”

 “In that respect, they’re not so different from many of the other immigrant groups in New York,” Jamie reflected. “The Jews, the Italians, the Syrians, even the Chinese – everything becomes a family affair. They live together, work together – and have fun together. It only seems that the Americans – or to be specific, the Knickerbockers – don’t have this same custom.”

 “That’s because they can choose to pack away the children with the staff – and because the men are too idiotic to want to spend time with their wives,” Henry huffed. “Not for me to share now – with the little pitchers at the table. But Julia knows full well, the number of times I’ve had to turn down certain…invitations.”

 Claire raised an eyebrow at her father, then turned to look at her son – blissfully unaware as he munched on a cold chicken leg.

 “Still.” Jamie sipped his whisky. “I’m honored to be invited. Truly.”

 “You’ve done so much good, Jamie. Honorable good.” Henry raised his own glass of whisky in a toast. “And I’m pleased it’s being recognized.”

 “By the people whose opinion matter most,” Claire added, clinking her own glass of whisky against Jamie’s.

 He looked into her eyes. Knew that she wasn’t just referring to the Kleindeutschlanders.

 --

 Later, after the dessert plates were cleared, Jamie refused the elder Henry’s offer of a nightcap and welcomed the younger Henry’s enthusiastic good-night hug, before retreating alone to the parlor that overlooked East Twenty-Second Street. As was their custom after dinner, Jamie waited as Claire put her son to bed – sometimes reading from one of the storybooks Jamie had so thoughtfully given Henry for his fifth birthday – before they shared a quiet hour or two in the parlor. Alone. Getting to know one another.

 Always on Claire’s terms.

 Sometimes they talked about her work – a challenging patient she had treated; a new doctor who had doubted her abilities; a recent scientific breakthrough she had learned about in one of the journals she subscribed to.

 Sometimes they talked about his work – how he had had to fight his editors to use true and honest language and avoid sensationalism in his Unsung series; salacious stories that the newspaper had trumpeted – or ignored – based on Mr. Pulitzer’s whims and relationships; the faces and stories of everyday New Yorkers he had met in the course of his travels around the city.

 Sometimes they talked about their families – her, of happy childhood memories growing up in this house, or traveling with her beloved Uncle Lamb as he lectured about anthropology in various colleges across the Northeast; him, of the foods his mother had cooked in their tenement on West Thirteenth Street, and the happy life his sister and brother-in-law led on the farm in Nova Scotia he had heard so much about but never visited himself.

 Usually they sat side-by-side on the settee, facing each other, both nursing a glass of brandy. He never drank very much in her presence – knowing how gravely she had suffered at the hands of a drunk man. And he never touched her – never even took her hand – without her touching him first.

 Silently signaling how much he respected her.

 Aching for more with her – this woman whose strength inspired him, whose grace astounded him, whose beauty haunted his days and his dreams.

 How deeply he wanted everything with her – to have her at his side, as his wife and partner and confidante. To provide for Henry – to be a father to him, to give him his name, to guide him as he grew. To give Henry sisters and brothers to play with.

 The settee shifted beside him – and she was there. Smiling. So beautiful and radiant.

 She held out her hands – and immediately he took them within his own. Caressing. Eyes intent on hers.

 “Is he asleep?”

 She nodded. “He so loves the book of Mother Goose rhymes you bought him. He can read them on his own now. So he insisted on reading to me tonight.”

 He returned her smile. “He’s a smart boy.”

 “He is.” She glanced down at their hands. How his fingers so perfectly twined with hers, thumbs gently stroking the pulses and tendons on the inside of her wrists.

 “Will you come with me to the dinner, Claire?”

 Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “The one at the beer garden?”

 He nodded. “I would like nothing more than for you to be at my side. I wouldn’t be there – wouldn’t have been able to meet such wonderful people, or to have had such an impact – had it not been for you.” He swallowed. “But for you to do that, would mean that we – we would be seen together in public. As a couple.”

 She didn’t speak, silently squeezing his hands.

 “I don’t want you to think that I’m – I’m ashamed of you in any way, or that I don’t want to be seen with you. It would make me so proud, to have you there – to introduce you as the most important woman in my life. But Claire – Claire, I don’t know if you want that.”

 “Of course I want that,” she replied, incredulous.

 “But are you ready for that? To be in the papers again, potentially? I know you didn’t care for it very much the last time it happened – and now that my name is becoming more well-known…it may be a topic of interest to some people.”

 She pursed her lips. The fine lines at the corners of her eyes creased in the lamplight. “I understand that – and I accept it. I can’t hide from it forever, Jamie. I’m ready for it.”

 “Are you sure?”

 “I am. Do you know why?”

 “Why?”

 She shifted closer to him. “Because you came to me through what I can do. Not because of my family. Or my looks. Or our money, our house. The influence we have. You came to me because of something terrible, which allowed me to express how skilled I am. Because of what I can do. Because of what I have worked so hard to demonstrate.”

 She paused, considering her words very carefully.

 “Jamie – other people see those things first. You don’t. You see me for who I want to be – for how I want to be seen. Purely because of me. Do you know you’re the only person – except for my son, perhaps – who has ever done that for me?”

 Now the words flooded in a torrent. “You make me stronger – more confident. You don’t owe me anything, and yet you support me anyway. So I know that your support – your faith in me – is genuine. And you demonstrate that faith by allowing me to help you find people whose stories need to be told – and then by telling them honestly. Earning their trust and respect. My trust and respect.”

 She dropped his left hand. Reached to cradle his cheek for the first time. Overcome, he brought her left hand to his thrumming heart – and closed his eyes, nuzzling her palm.

 “You one said that you wanted to know me. Do you remember?”

 He nodded.

 She swallowed. “I think I’ve come to know you well, Jamie Fraser. Would you say the same about me?”

 “Yes,” he breathed.

 “So of course I’ll accompany you. To the beer garden, and anywhere else you go.”

 His eyes opened, and joyfully he kissed her palm.

 “Always?” he whispered, so hopeful.

 “Always,” she promised, bringing their joined hands to her own heart so that he could feel it racing.

 “I – I…” he stammered. “I would very much like to kiss you, Claire. May I?”

 Forever she remembered that moment, when the world seemed to stand still, and she lost all sense of her surroundings – save for Jamie’s eager face, and his burning eyes, and his soft, soft touch on her wrist.

 “Yes,” she breathed. And the world exploded with color.