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writing-the-stars · 5 months ago

Note

Hiii! You’re fics are amazing i’m in awe of your writing & the tension that you build between characters💞

I was wondering whether you could write an Aaron Hotchner fic which maybe follows on from your most recent fic about him, where Aaron and reader have their first kiss. I feel like it would all be in the little moments, like him being so gentle & reader being so nervous 🥹🥹🥹

Unraveled, Unveiled

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: After finally breaking through Aaron Hotchner’s walls, a quiet, undeniable tension begins to build between you— one that can no longer be ignored. What starts as an evening of uncertainty and vulnerability gradually unravels the emotional barriers between you both, leading to a deeper connection neither of you expected.

Warnings: Angst (But it's not that bad. They're just nervous and awkward), Fluff, No Use of Y/N or Physical Descriptors (Hotch does call reader beautiful though), Smooching. Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Hi Anon! I was so excited to see your message in my inbox!! Thank you for requesting this!! Honestly, so happy you all loved my previous fic so much and I am so appreciative of the support! This is a continuation of the previous fic, but can be read as a stand alone. Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoy!! Have a wonderful day!

Masterlist | Criminal Minds Masterlist

There’s a familiar tension in the air of the bullpen—the kind that comes with working a case. This one, a series of abductions around McLean, Virginia, has a particular edge to it. While a local case makes it easier for the team to collaborate, it still never sits right when the danger is so close to home.

A flurry of activity surrounds you—agents moving in and out, phones ringing intermittently, the steady clicking of keyboards and pens. Yet, despite all the motion, your attention is elsewhere.

You sit at your desk, eyes skimming through the case files in front of you. But you’re not really reading. You’d like to blame it on the exhaustion you’re experiencing from the long hours of work, but it is something else entirely— a subtle pull that keeps tugging at you, an energy that hums quietly beneath your skin.

Across the room, you find the source of your distraction, Aaron Hotchner, standing near the whiteboard. His posture is stiff with concentration as he discusses how the latest victim correlates with the other abductees. His usual commanding presence is softened tonight, more by the weariness of the case than anything else. But his jaw remains tight with that familiar, quiet intensity.

The air between you has shifted ever since that quiet night in his office—a soft electric current that pulses in the spaces between your words. It fuels the quiet moments, sitting in the presence of each other, silent exchanges unnoticed by your unwitting team. The stolen glances, charged with something deeper than the usual camaraderie you used to trade. The brief brush of his hand when he passes you by. It’s consuming, this energy growing between you, undeniable.

As if pulled by the same magnetic undercurrent, his eyes meet yours and your heart stutters caught in that spark. His gaze lingers, longer than it normally would, eyes skimming every part of you before quickly snapping his attention back to the board— your shared moment of connection ending just as quickly as it began.

You lean back in your chair, case files momentarily forgotten as you let the cool air from the ventilation above wash over your face. Everything in the room feels louder now, sharper. Your heart squeezes at the thought of what’s to come. In the week that’s passed, things have been quieter. No grand gestures. No long talks about where things are going. You aren’t trying to rush anything. You know Aaron needs time, but you’d be lying if you said the burgeoning tension wasn’t about to make you snap. You long for a space with him where case files don’t matter, where the professional boundaries of the BAU are nothing more than an illusion. Somewhere far from the constant pressure of work—where you can just be.

Deciding you have spent far too much time ruminating over this, you sit up, ready to return to your case files, and are surprised to find Aaron’s eyes already on you. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even seem to breathe for a moment, but there is a flicker of understanding there. A soft, unspoken promise.

And then, the text.

“How about I pick you up at 7:30 tonight? I’ll take you to dinner— just us. No cases.”

The words are simple, but the implications hit you all at once. Aaron Hotchner wants to take you on a proper date. The realization makes you feel suddenly vulnerable. Nerves pulse through you, but you can’t help the flutter of excitement that curls in your gut. You’ve been waiting for this.

-*-

As 7:30 draws near, you find yourself standing in front of your hallway mirror, second-guessing every outfit you own. Is it too much? Too little? Will you seem too eager? Or too reserved? You want to look nice, but not like you tried too hard—something that says this didn’t take nearly as much effort as it actually did.

After your fourth change, you finally settle on a simple look: the outfit you wore to your cousin’s wedding a few years back. It’s one of your nicer outfits, but you can’t help the small seed of doubt that lingers. You’ve never worn anything like this in front of Aaron before. Usually, it’s sharp business attire, tailored suits, and the professional look you know best. But tonight? Tonight is special. You want your appearance to match the moment.

There’s a knock at the door, and your stomach flips. It’s time— no more second-guessing. You take one last glance in the mirror, smoothing a hand over your hair, and open the door.

There he is.

Aaron Hotchner stands in front of you, and for a moment, your breath catches. His usual impeccable suit has been swapped for a crisp button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up just a touch, paired with well-tailored slacks. But it’s not the way he looks that steals your breath; it’s the way he’s looking at you. His gaze trails over you, not overtly calculating, but with something more subtle, more intense. There’s awe in his eyes, and for a moment, it’s as if he forgets how to breathe. His lips part slightly, like he’s about to speak, but the words get stuck in his throat.

The sight of you standing there, bathed in the soft light of your hallway, makes his heart stutter in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Your outfit is simple, but somehow, it accentuates everything that makes you... you. Aaron has always admired your professionalism, your sharp mind, and the way you carry yourself. But now, something else hits him— your grace. It’s as though he’s seeing you for the first time— not just as his colleague or close teammate, but as you. And he can’t help but think how stunning you look.

He swallows, forcing himself to regain his composure.

You feel your pulse begin to thrum, a nervous flutter you can’t quite control. You knew he’d be here, but seeing him now— seeing him look at you like this— is a shock to your system.

You swallow and break the silence. “Hi,” you manage, even though it feels like the most inadequate word you could say in this moment.

“You look…” he falters, his voice deeper than usual, a slight rasp. He clears his throat, but there’s no masking the way his gaze softens as he looks at you. “You look beautiful.”

The compliment is simple, but the way he says it— like everything else between you and him— feels loaded with meaning. The words settle into your chest, warm and comforting. No one’s ever made you feel seen quite like this. No one ever looks at you the way he does now, like you’re the only thing that matters in this space.

An uncontrollable smile stretches across your face, warmth pooling in your chest. You try to calm yourself. This is just Aaron. Just Hotch. You’ve worked together for years. You’re friends. But this? This is something different. And everything about tonight feels new.

“Thank you,” you reply shyly, wishing you could say more— something that could convey how much his words mean to you. But you’re not sure how to verbalize it, how to make sense of the nerves suddenly wreaking havoc on you.

He smiles, a small, genuine smile that makes your chest tighten. It’s a rare crack in his professional exterior. His gaze flickers down to your lips for just a moment, a quiet hesitation before he meets your eyes again. The silence stretches between you—almost too long—before he reaches for you with a gentle, almost hesitant gesture. His hand is steady, but you catch the slight tremble in his fingers.

“Shall we?” he asks, the words hanging in the air like a soft invitation, a gentle nudge into the unknown.

With a nod, you slide your hand into his and allow him to lead you to his car. Like a true gentleman, Hotch opens the car door for you, letting you slide inside before he closes it gently and moves to the driver’s seat.

You buckle your seatbelt, your hands trembling slightly as you adjust it, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than the way Aaron sits beside you. He starts the engine, the soft hum of it filling the car, but it’s as if neither of you knows what to say. The conversation between you, usually easy and casual, feels foreign now.

You glance at him— he’s focused on the road, his jaw set, his hands gripping the steering wheel, but there’s a tightness in his posture that wasn’t there before. You’re used to Aaron’s stoic, controlled demeanor, but now, there’s a slight edge to his movements, a quiet nervousness that surprises you.

For once, Aaron doesn’t feel like he’s in control. He doesn’t feel like the Unit Chief of the BAU or the calculating prosecutor he once was. He feels like a man standing on the precipice of something new— and he doesn’t know how to navigate it.

He didn’t expect this. Didn’t expect to feel so much. But this is just like him, always a step behind when it comes to his own emotions.

He steals a glance at you, only to find you already looking at him with that same wide-eyed gaze he has come to adore. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He thinks back to that fateful day, the moment he feared he would lose you— that you would never look at him that way again. A frown tugs at his lips. His grip on the steering wheel tightens. He had come so close to watching one of his greatest fears come to life.

You feel the drastic shift in Aaron’s demeanor, the subtle change as his tension takes on a darker form, something more than just nerves.

“You okay?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but it’s enough to break the quiet bubble between you two.

He glances over at you briefly, his dark eyes catching yours for a moment, and there’s something unspoken in that brief exchange. His expression softens, and his hand— still on the wheel— flexes slightly before he answers.

“I’m fine,” his voice is calm, but there’s an underlying warmth in it now— something unguarded, vulnerable. “Just…” He hesitates, and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to find the words. “Just glad to be here with you.”

You blink at the simplicity of his words. It should’ve been obvious, but you hadn’t expected him to be so open— so real— about it. You nod slowly, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m glad too,” you reply, and the words feel more truthful than they ever have before.

-*-

The restaurant is quiet, intimate—just the right place for a first date between two people who have spent more time working together than anything else. The low hum of conversation and the clinking of silverware fills the air, but in your small corner booth, it feels like the world has narrowed down to just the two of you. No team, no cases, no distractions. It feels like the first real moment where you can both breathe without the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Aaron is polite, professional, just like usual, but there’s still an edge to him that wasn’t there before. His movements are slightly more careful, his glances lingering just a little too long. It’s subtle, but you can feel it. The air between you feels thick with unspoken words, with things that haven’t yet been said— haven’t even been acknowledged.

An unexpected shyness swells up inside you. The weight of this moment finally settles over you. You had longed for a moment like this. A chance to be with Aaron in a more intimate setting, to step away from the roles you’ve both played for so long, to just be. The chemistry between you, the moments that lingered just a little too long, the small touches that didn’t feel quite so professional anymore— these things have been building to this exact moment. But now that it’s finally here, you’re terrified.

Not of Aaron. Not of the way he looks at you, but of yourself.

What if you ruin it? What if this is just a fleeting moment of warmth and compassion on his end? What if it’s an illusion that will vanish just as quickly as it appeared? And if it does— what will that do to you? To Aaron? To the team?

You realize just how fragile the balance you and Aaron have been maintaining is.

You reach for your napkin, fingers restless as you fiddle with the edges. You haven’t been on a date in years— not since college. Back then, everything seemed so simple. You were so carefree, your heart open and unafraid of the consequences. But now, everything is complicated. With all the history between you and Aaron, the stakes feel higher, the potential for things to go wrong just a little too real.

You shift in your seat feeling the awkwardness of the space between you. The tension between you both builds with every passing minute, the unspoken words sitting between you like a quiet invitation.

Clearing his throat, Aaron breaks the silence.

“Jack really enjoyed that recipe you gave me. Although I’m sure he’d much prefer it if you made it instead of me.”

You laugh, a genuine sound that has Aaron’s chest tightening in a way he isn’t ready to admit. There’s something about it— your laugh that feels more open, more real than the usual quick exchanges you share at work. You seem more... vulnerable tonight. Softer, in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

“Well, you earned Jack’s approval, so it sounds like your version is just as good,” you tease, but the smile you share with him falters for just a second. There’s a certain hesitance in your eyes, an unease that he can see you try to cover up.

But it’s there, unmistakable.

The silence falls again, this time a little heavier, a little more awkward. You take a sip of your wine, the cool liquid offering some comfort as you try to find your footing again. Aaron, ever the profiler, picks up on every shift in your body language. The tightening around your eyes, the slight tension in your shoulders, the way your gaze flits to his face before bouncing anywhere else. This is a reaction he didn’t expect. You’ve always been calm, collected, and self-assured. But tonight, you’re something else— he can sense the uncertainty beneath the surface.

Aaron had been so focused on his own nerves, on maintaining control. He never stopped to consider that you might be feeling just as uncertain as he is. It’s a humbling realization.

“What are you thinking about?” The question comes out softer than he intended, like an invitation to share something more than just surface thoughts. You realize, in that moment, that Aaron is asking for something deeper than just a simple response. It surprises you, though it really shouldn’t.

You meet his gaze, and it pulls you in, making you feel like you can’t hide behind your usual calm demeanor. “Nothing really... just nervous,” you admit, a shy smile spreading across your face as your eyes flicker down to your wine glass before meeting his again. “I’ve never really done... this before.”

Aaron’s brow furrows at the confession, and for a split second, his mind scrambles to find the right response. “A date?” His voice is soft, unsure if he should push or give you space.

You chuckle, a little self-deprecating, like you’re embarrassed by your own admission. “Well, no. Not since college. It’s been a while,” you confess to him, your fingers absently tracing the rim of your glass.

The revelation hits Aaron with an unexpected weight. He hadn’t anticipated this— hadn’t considered that you might be just as vulnerable as he is in this moment. It stirs something protective within him, an instinct to shield you from the unease you’re clearly feeling, though he doesn’t quite know how to do that yet.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was the one giving you nervous butterflies.”

There’s a playful edge to his voice, but it’s gentle—reassuring in its own way. He’s trying to lighten the mood, trying to ease the tension. He wants you to know it’s okay to be this nervous, that it’s okay for both of you to be feeling your way through this.

You laugh again, the sound more relaxed this time. It feels good to admit it, to share something so personal with him. Something that feels so... human.

“It's not you,” you clarify quickly, shaking your head with a soft smile. “It’s just... been a long time. And this is, well, different.”

Aaron leans in slightly, as if trying to understand the weight of your words. “Different how?” His voice drops, a hint of curiosity threading through the quiet.

You hesitate, searching for the right words. You weren’t expecting this kind of openness from him— this willingness to understand what’s remained unspoken. It makes something in your chest loosen. But you’re not sure how to articulate it. Not entirely. So you start slow, the words coming out haltingly.

“I don’t know,” you say finally, feeling the weight of it as it settles in your chest. “It’s just that... all these years, we’ve always been on the same team, right? Always professional, always focused on the job. And now...” you shrug, a little self-conscious, but there’s a warmth to your smile as your eyes meet his. “There’s a new dynamic here, and I’m not sure how to handle it.”

Aaron watches you for a moment, absorbing what you’ve said. He feels a slight shift inside him, a slow understanding of the weight of what you’re saying. You’ve never hesitated before, never seemed unsure. And now, here you are—open, fragile in a way he’s never seen. It makes something twist inside him, protective and tender in equal measure.

“I get that,” he says quietly, his voice low, steady, “I’ve been feeling it too.”He pauses, then adds with a half-smile, “Though I didn’t think you’d be the one who needed more time to adjust.”

That pulls a soft laugh from you, the tension easing from your shoulders. You shake your head in mock exasperation. “I didn’t realize you were so smooth. But now that I know you’re actually just as nervous as I am...” you raise an eyebrow, teasing him a little, the playful banter easing the air between you.

Aaron chuckles, his eyes warming in response, “Guess we’re both pretending to be less nervous than we really are.”

The way he says it, so openly, makes your heart settle a little. You take a small sip of your wine, considering your next words. “I didn’t think we’d ever get here,” you admit quietly, your voice soft, unsure. “I mean, I had let myself hope, but with everything that’s happened.”

Aaron’s expression softens, and there’s a quiet understanding in his eyes. “Yeah. I’ve thought about that too,” he murmurs, his jaw tightening just a fraction, as if the memories are sharper than he’s willing to admit. “We’ve both been through a lot. And I wasn’t sure what this... us could look like.”

The rawness of his words catches you off guard. There’s an honesty in them that feels almost like a relief. This isn’t just a date. It feels like a kind of truth that has been long overdue— something neither of you has ever fully addressed, but always carried.

“And now that we’re here,” you say softly, your voice tentative but sincere, “What do we do with it?”

Aaron exhales slowly, leaning back just slightly, his gaze flicking to the table before returning to you. There’s something different about the way he looks at you now, as if he’s no longer trying to figure out the next step, just... accepting it.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice steady but with a hint of vulnerability. “But maybe... maybe that’s the point. We don’t need to have it all figured out right now.”

The weight of his words lands between you like a small relief, a shared surrender. The uncertainty, the not-knowing, doesn’t feel heavy anymore. It feels like a mutual acceptance, a quiet understanding that, for tonight, it’s enough to just be here. To let whatever happens next unfold without needing answers.

“I think I can live with that,” you murmur, smiling softly, your heart still beating a little faster than usual.

Aaron gives you a small smile, that familiar flicker of warmth in his eyes. The air between you both shifts again, this time more relaxed, less tense. There’s no more pressure, no need to define everything in this moment. Instead, it’s just the quiet promise of now, and maybe, just maybe, that’s all either of you needs.

The rest of dinner passes in a warm blur. The nervousness from earlier dissipating. You begin to feel more at ease, more sure of yourself in his presence. His presence has always had a grounding effect on you, but tonight is different. There’s no longer any distance. No professional separation.

He listens intently when you talk, eyes never straying from your face. There’s something about the way he is so present with you— like he’s hanging on to every word, absorbing everything you give him.

And when he laughs? When he smiles like he truly means it— it’s a rare thing. It makes your heart flutter. It’s the first time you’ve seen him so... unshielded. No armor. No walls. Just Aaron.

As he walks you back to your apartment door, you can’t stop thinking about him. About the way he looked at you all evening, like he was struggling to maintain control. But even through his efforts, you could see the way his gaze kept drifting over you, lingering just a bit longer when he thought you weren’t looking. There was something in it— something that made your heart flutter, a warmth spreading through you.

“I had a really great time tonight, Aaron,” you tell him once you reach your door, your voice soft but sincere.

Aaron smiles at that, his heart inexplicably light. “I did too.”

And then, his hand brushes yours, and suddenly you’re aware of how close you are. The contact is small, but it feels like everything. It sends a jolt through you, and your pulse quickens— nerves, anticipation, excitement all rushing through your veins.

You had wanted this. Wanted him. But now that you’re standing here, so close, it feels different. More real, more tangible than you ever expected. You’re afraid to move forward— afraid of what could come next.

And yet, in the silence, you don’t need to say anything. You feel it— an unspoken invitation in his eyes. The way he steps closer, ever so slightly, until there’s no more space between you. Aaron understands exactly what you want.

“Can I…” he hesitates, his hand lifting slowly, then pausing for just a moment before it gently cups your cheek. His touch is so soft, so tender, like he’s waiting for permission. Like he’s afraid to rush this. You feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the scent of his cologne— familiar and comforting— encapsulates you, making your pulse race. His chest rises and falls just as erratically as yours.

You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed, the warmth of his hand against your skin a silent promise.

The world seems to pause just before his lips touch yours, and for a breathless moment, you’re not sure if it’s the right decision. But then his lips are there— soft, gentle, asking without words, and you know it’s the only choice that matters.

It’s tentative, careful. He’s holding back, as though afraid you might break. But the tenderness of it only makes the ache inside you deepen. You’ve waited for this. Both of you have, in your own ways. And here, now, it’s finally real.

You kiss him back with all the softness you had been holding inside, feeling the months of longing, of unspoken desire, finally spilling out. It’s nothing like you had imagined. No fireworks. No grand, sweeping declarations. It’s tender. It’s soft. But it’s everything. It’s an unspoken conversation between the two of you. An acknowledgment of everything that’s been left unsaid, of the quiet trust between you. Of how, despite everything— despite his professional walls, despite the stakes of your job— he’s letting you in.

The way he holds you so carefully, like you’re something precious. The way his lips move against yours, as though asking for permission, as though he doesn’t want to take anything from you— just offer it.

His hand moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing the curve of your jaw, a touch so intimate, it feels like a promise. The kiss deepens just slightly, but there’s no rush. It’s everything you’ve wanted without either of you saying a word.

You pull away slowly, forehead resting against his absorbing the intimacy of the moment.

“Wow,” you whisper, the words escaping before you can even think about them.

Aaron chuckles softly, a quiet sound that makes your heart flutter. “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice thick with emotion.

With a final, tender smile, he leans in to kiss your forehead, a gesture so intimate it almost feels like a promise. He steps back slowly, eyes holding yours as if making sure you know he’s leaving, but he’s not really leaving.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, voice hoarse.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” you smile, the dreaminess of the moment filling you up, still feeling the warmth of his kiss lingering on your skin.

As you close the door behind you, you lean back against it, your hand resting for a moment on the handle. Your heart is still racing. You hadn’t expected a kiss like that—gentle, sweet, full of promise. But as you sink back against the door, a soft, satisfied smile tugs at your lips.

It had been worth the wait.

If you want to be a part of my taglist, please submit an ask specifying series, fandom, or all and I will happily add you!

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fluff

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corroded-hellfire · 2 years ago

Text

Sniffles and Snuggles - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Collaboration with my dear @munson-blurbs 💕

Older!eddie edit by the lovely @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

Summary: When your baby girl wakes up sick, her daddy is there to take care of her

Note: The thought of Eliza being all clingy to Eddie because she doesn’t feel well and just wants her daddy inspired this so I hope you enjoy the thoughts that just pop into my head

Words: 4k

[As You Wish Masterlist]

A familiar cry wakes you from your slumber. It’s muffled—coming from down the hall. Your eyes open in the darkness of your bedroom. Glancing over at the window you see the slightest gray creeping into the blackness of night. Morning must be rolling around you surmise as you stretch your arms out above your head. The cry sounds again and you stare up at your ceiling while you wait to see if it’s going to continue or not. There have been times where Eliza has woken up, cried out a few times simply because she wanted attention, then let it go.

Eddie’s fast asleep next to you, turned your way, giving you a clear view of the drool dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. A soft chuckle falls out of you as you trail your gaze down to see your husband’s bare chest slowly moving up and down with his steady breaths. Another cry from your daughter breaks your focus on your sexy man though, and you push yourself out of bed to go see what’s bothering her.

The closer you get to Eliza’s room, you can hear the different noises she’s making. These aren’t just the typical cries she sometimes has in the middle of the night. There’s whining and a whimpering that’s breaking your heart.

“Hey, what’s going on in here?”

As soon as you see your one-year-old you know something is up. Her cheeks are flushed and her brown curls are matted to her forehead in sweat. She’s holding onto the bars of her crib like she’s an inmate begging to be freed from their jail cell. The moment her eyes land on you, the whining picks up and she’s scrambling for your attention.

“What’s wrong, Sweet Pea?” you ask.

Not even making an attempt at the few words she knows how to say, Eliza simply raises her arms for you to pick her up. The heat radiating off of her little body in its pink onesie is evident the moment your hands are on her. Frowning, you hold her against your chest and gently press your lips to her forehead.

“Oh, you’re burning up, baby. Is someone not feeling well?” Eliza buries her head in your neck, and you have your answer. “Come on, you. Let’s take some medicine that’ll help you feel better.”

Intermittent sniffles come from the baby as you walk with her into the kitchen. The medicines are kept on a high shelf and there’s no way you’ll be able to rummage for what you’re looking for with your daughter in your arms. Luckily, her Disney Princess highchair is only a few feet away and you move to set her down in it. This elicits an immediate negative reaction from Eliza.

“It’s just for a second, sweetheart. Give Mommy one moment to find your medicine.” She clings to you as you try to place her in the chair, but a couple of kisses to the head and whispered assurances that you’re not going anywhere have her finally releasing her vice grip on you. As you watch her slump to the side in her seat, eyes glazed over and staring somewhere in the distance, you think her lack of strength or energy also contributed to her finally letting you go.

The children’s Tylenol is easily findable, and you pour some of the thick berry flavored syrup into a small dosage cup. Eliza eyes it warily, as if already knowing that she’s not going to like it. She wrinkles her nose up as the blue medicine comes closer to her and her whines start up again.

“This is going to help you feel better, my love. I promise.” You can’t blame Eliza for her cranky attitude, but you just wish she’d believe you and take the medicine without issue. But since when do children behave that way? Especially the children of Eddie Munson.

“Come on,” you say as you set the little cup on the tray of her highchair. “It’ll be over really quick. You might even like how it tastes.”

After a few more whiny protests and some cranky writhing in her seat, Eliza stares down at the liquid that might give her some relief. You’re pretty sure you can see the resignation in her brown eyes as gazes at the medicine.

“Here we go.” You lift the small cup up to her lips—which she begrudgingly opens—and tilt it up so the Tylenol pours into her mouth. The moment it’s all swallowed and Eliza closes her mouth, her face scrunches up in revulsion and she shakes her head. It doesn’t seem right to laugh when your daughter is feeling so lousy, but you can’t help but let out a chuckle at her visceral reaction to the taste. “Why don’t we watch a movie, huh? One of your favorites.”

Eliza’s body heat takes you by surprise again as you lift her from her chair. Her head lolls onto your shoulder as you walk into the living room and snatch up the movie on the top of the pile. The Little Mermaid disc isn’t in the case, and it doesn’t shock you at all. It’s probably already in the player, all ready to go.

You scoop up the remote on the way to the couch and click on the television. Eliza’s curls tickle your chin as you hit the buttons that will lead you to the DVD screen. As suspected, The Little Mermaid is in there and ready to be watched for the thousandth time.

“Here we go,” you say, snuggling into the couch with her. “Let’s watch Ariel, yeah?” You’re hoping that the medicine will allow her to get some more sleep. The way she holds herself to your body lets you know she wants to be cuddled. Adjusting yourself so that it’s comfortable for the both of you, you lean back and kick your feet up on the coffee table, allowing Eliza to use your torso as her bed. Her big eyes turn towards the television at the familiar sounds of her favorite movie. One of your hands goes to her tiny back, rubbing reassuring and calming circles, while the other gently strokes her soft downy hair.

You’re fighting sleep when you hear the heavy-footed sound of Eddie padding out to the living room. His hair is a mess, curls askew, and he scratches at his stubble as he yawns.

“What’re my sweet girls doing up at this hour?” he asks softly, re-tying the strings of his plaid pajama pants.

You return his yawn with a weary smile. “Someone is sick and spiked a fever, so I’m just laying with her until the Tylenol kicks in,” you explain, kissing your baby’s sweaty curls.

Eddie looks at you, kindness and empathy still radiating from his tired eyes. “Babe, you look exhausted.” He leans down to try and take Eliza from your embrace, frowning when you pull back. “Let me help.”

“S’okay, Eds. I got it.”

“But you need to sleep so you can go to work tomorrow,” he protests.

Noting that you’re distracted by the conversation at hand, Eliza takes advantage and wriggles from your grasp. She plops her head down on a nearby pillow and almost immediately falls asleep, congested snores emanating from her tiny nostrils.

You furrow your brow, lowering your voice so you don’t disturb your daughter’s slumber. “No, I’m staying home with her. You go into work.”

“I have more vacation days saved up,” he points out, holding out his arms. “Hand me the child and go back to bed.”

You give in, too tired to argue further, kissing him and Eliza before trudging back to bed. You look over your shoulder before you head down the hall, back to your bedroom. Eddie has made himself comfortable on one side of the couch, placing a throw pillow on his lap. He carefully maneuvers Eliza so she can curl up in the same position, rubbing gentle circles on her back to try and break up some of the congestion. It’s not his first rodeo with a sick kid, and based on his older children’s experiences, it won’t be his last.

When your alarm goes off an hour later, you feel anything but rested. Your muscles ache as your body all but begs for more sleep, but you try to shove away the discomfort with a warm shower. It helps somewhat, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t almost fall asleep standing up.

The family room is quiet; the only sound is the soft hum of the DVD player whirring, the movie long over. Eddie is sprawled out on the couch, his long limbs flung in every direction over the furniture like an overgrown starfish. Eliza, always one to copy her daddy, is spread out on top of his chest. They’re both snoring, though you truly can’t be sure which one of them is louder.

Trying to make the least amount of noise possible, you head into the kitchen and prepare breakfast for yourself and the boys. You know the drill by now: cereal for Ryan, Eggos for Luke. This particular morning though, you don’t think you’ll be able to ingest anything other than a large cup of coffee.

The ringing of two alarm clocks faintly reaches you in the kitchen. Knowing it takes both of them a minute—or a few in Luke’s case—to get out of bed, you know you have time to finish prepping the food before you head down the hall to intercept them. You have to inform them that on this side of the house there are two sleeping beauties currently sawing wood.

“Hey,” you say in a hushed tone as you meet up with the boys in front of their rooms. “Daddy and Eliza are sleeping on the couch. You have to be quiet, okay?”

“Good morning to you, too,” Ryan grumbles, rubbing his left eye with the heel of his hand. Sometimes his preteen moments popped up when you were least able to handle them.

“Why are they on the couch?” Luke asks, voice lower for him, but still a bit loud.

“Eliza isn’t feeling well, and they must’ve fallen asleep waiting for her medicine to kick in,” you explain.

“Is she okay?” Ryan asks.

“She’s fine, sweetie. Just some sniffles,” you tell him. “Now come on, your breakfasts are ready.”

Most of breakfast manages to go smoothly and quietly, until Luke drops his fork on the ground, and it lands on the linoleum with a definitive clang. Your second oldest winces as he turns to you. “Sorry,” he silently mouths. Honestly, you had expected him to make a bigger noise than that at some point, so this is nothing.

Once they finish their breakfast, you usher the boys down the hall and tell them to get ready for school. You finish getting ready for work as well. It’s hard to focus on doing your hair or finding a pair of shoes when you know your baby girl is sick in the other room. But you know she’ll be fine; she’s with Eddie. Super Dad. Being a mom came with a boatload of anxieties, but Eddie always managed to make everything better and less stressful. You joke to him all the time that some magic must’ve rubbed off on him after all the times he’s played D&D throughout his life.

You finish getting ready the same time the boys do, and you see them slipping on their backpacks in the family room. They make no noise, yet their presence in the room must have been enough because both Eddie and Eliza stir from their nap.

“How are you feeling, Eliza?” Ryan asks, tone still soft and low.

His baby sister’s only response is to heave an overdramatic sigh, very reminiscent of her father.

“Feel better!” Luke chirps with far too much enthusiasm.

With an irritated whine, Eliza puts her hands over her tiny ears at her brother’s loud volume. She buries her face in Eddie’s chest, signaling that the conversation with her siblings is over. Eddie uses one hand to caress his daughter's brown locks, hoping it will calm and relax her, and waves to his sons with the other.

“Have a good day at school, guys,” he tells them. The two of them wave back and say their goodbyes before they head out the front door to get to their bus stop down on the corner of the street.

It’s your turn to leave now and you really don’t want to. This is the hardest you’ve ever had to push yourself to get out of the house and go to work. A restless night’s sleep or a massive headache making you not want to go in is nothing compared to knowing your child is home sick.

Once you have everything ready to go, you walk over and lean down to press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead.

“I gotta go now, baby. But I don’t wanna.” You give him the most adorable pout that has a smile lighting up his tired face.

“I’ll hold down the fort,” he tells you. “Have a good day at work. Though it won’t be as amazing as Eliza-Daddy Day.”

“I’m very jealous that I don’t get to be a part of it.” You smile down at your daughter, who has fallen back asleep, and admire the adorable features that she’s inherited from the both of you. “I’ll see you guys later. I love you.”

“We love you too, baby. I love you more, though. But don’t tell Eliza I said that; she’s a very territorial little girl.”

Chuckling, you lean down and press one more kiss to your husband’s lips. “Bye, baby.”

Eddie dozes on and off as he stays as still as possible on the couch so as not to wake the baby. It’s certainly not the most comfortable position, but he’ll be damned if his daughter is awake because of him. He keeps one hand on her back; she’s so little underneath it, and he’s suddenly overcome with a fierce urge to protect her.

Eliza eventually wakes up around lunchtime, tears immediately springing to her eyes. Her face crumples when she tries to breathe in through her nose and realizes that she can’t.

Eddie sits up a bit straighter, keeping his daughter close to his chest. “How ya feeling, baby girl?”

“Uck,” she grunts out, swiping messily at her runny nose.

“Are you hungry?” Eddie asks before deciding for her. “You need to eat something.”

He picks her up and starts to set her in a flowery pink baby walker—surprisingly, Luke had been the one to pick it out at Babies R Us—but Eliza is in no mood to be put down. She lets out a whine that sounds more like a shriek.

Eddie winces at the piercing noise, instinctively bringing her against his chest again. “Hey, hey, what is it?” he softly asks, but she just whimpers and hides her face in his neck.

“Dada.”

“Sweet pea, I was just gonna go into the kitchen to get us some lunch,” he tries to explain, knowing full well that it’s next to useless. “You’ll be able to see me the whole time.”

Eliza shakes her head against his body and sniffles pathetically. “Nooooo. Dada!”

Eddie sighs, giving in to the prospect that the two of them will be attached at the hip all day. “Okay, Lize, you can come with me,” he acquiesces. “We can make a mess of the kitchen together.” He lowers his voice before adding, “just don’t tell Mommy.”

He makes two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with one hand, the other holding on to Eliza’s diapered butt while he works “And they said I had no talent. Ha.”

“Goo Dada.”

Eddie’s glad he understands her normal baby talk enough, because interpretation is even harder now that she’s congested.

“I did good? Why, thank you.” He hands her a piece of sandwich and she immediately drops it on the ground.

“Eliza!”

She crosses her tiny arms and twists her whole body back and forth in protest. “Ucky.”

“Lize, you love peanut butter—”

“UCKY!”

“Okay, no peanut butter for you today,” Eddie mutters, shoving half a sandwich in his mouth. “Let’s see what else we got.”

There isn’t a whole lot in the freezer, but Eddie spots a box of frozen Italian ice cups and pulls it out. He flips the lid open and purses his lips when he only sees a few yellow cups inside.

“Guess your brothers ate all the cherry ones,” he grumbles as he rummages through the box, just to make sure he didn’t miss a red one. “Looks like we just have lemon left.” He makes an unamused face, but Eliza reaches out and grabs it anyway. “You want—y’know what? Sure.”

Eddie grabs a spoon from the utensil drawer and uses his foot to pull Eliza’s high chair over to the kitchen table—lest they be too far apart from each other and Eliza gets all fussy again. She willingly complies since she sees her Daddy will be sitting right in front of her. He pops open the lid of the frozen treat and sets it on the tray in front of her.

“All right, this is gonna be sour,” he warns, but she still eagerly accepts the bite.

Her lips pucker immediately, her nose scrunching up like a bunny at the strange sensation on her tongue.

Eddie lets out a laugh at the adorable and hilarious expression on her little face. “I told you! You want that sandwich now?”

Face still pinched up, Eliza vehemently shakes her head.

“Mo!” Eliza stretches out her hand towards the cup.

“I’ll be damned,” Eddie muses, but he obliges. She makes the same expression with each bite, but she eats nearly half of the serving before declaring, “no mo!”

Eddie gets Eliza cleaned up, not worrying about the mess in the kitchen right now. He’ll take care of it later, as he’s sure the sick girl will take many naps today.

He picks his daughter up out of her highchair and holds her on his hip. “Whatcha wanna do now?”

Eliza lets out a wet little baby cough and gives a shake of her head.

“You don’t know?” Eddie asks. “Hmm. Ah, I’ve got it.”

He stands up, balancing Eliza on his side. She lays her head on his shoulder while he walks into her princess-themed room, using his elbow to flick on the overhead light.

“Okay,” he says, kissing her temple, “let’s see what we’ve got.” He quickly scans the little bookshelf next to her bed to find her favorite story. With a triumphant grin, he plucks The Poky Little Puppy from its spot.

He tucks himself into the rocking chair, settling in and shifting his daughter into his lap. Reaching behind him, he grabs the bright pink throw blanket and drapes it over her, digging his toes into the carpet to gently sway back and forth.

Eliza is enraptured by her dad reading her favorite book to her, eyes wide as she clings to every syllable. She usually falls asleep to it, conditioned from countless nights where it’s been used as a bedtime story, but she’s still fresh from her nap. Besides, she’s having too much fun with this daddy-daughter bonding to be sleepy.

She only gets fussy again once Eddie closes the book, her symptoms more prominent without the distraction of Eddie’s story-telling skills.

“I think it’s time for another dose of medicine, baby girl,” Eddie whispers, trying to appear enthusiastic despite his own waning energy levels.

She downs the syrup easily, so out of sorts that she doesn’t even process its rancid taste until after it’s done. Eddie laughs at her contorted face, plopping down on the couch. “All right, my brave little girl,” he says as he grabs the remote, “what should we watch?”

The mere question brings a tiny spark to Eliza’s eyes, giving her just enough energy to bounce in her dad’s lap and point at the TV. “Mermah!”

“The Little Mermaid again?”

Eliza nods and Eddie internally groans. It’s a cute movie, but he’s pretty sure he could recite it line for line at this point.

“Okay, let’s go under the sea,” he says as he starts the movie from the beginning, settling in to listen to Sebastian belt out “Under the Sea” for the umpteenth time.

Still curled up into his chest, no indication of moving anytime soon, Eliza wipes her runny nose on her dad’s t-shirt. She doesn’t take her eyes off of the screen as she rubs her nose against the soft cotton with a sniffle.

“Thanks, kid.”

“Welcuh.”

Eliza settles her head on the middle of her father’s chest and watches the different colored fish and sea life all gather together at the concert for King Triton. Eddie doesn’t really pay attention, mostly just focusing on how the little girl’s breathing is sounding and trying to keep her body supported up against his.

But Eddie’s ears perk up when a familiar little voice joins in with the singing on screen. Ariel is singing “Part of Your World” and there’s a small, congested mumble singing alongside her. Eddie grins to himself as he listens to his daughter’s rendition.

“Schingamabobs? Gots twenny. Bu’ who cawes? No bih deal. I wan’ mooooooo.”

All the times Eddie insisted on singing to Eliza while she was in your womb have seemed to pay off. She’s a little musical prodigy after his own heart.

“You wanna be a mermaid, Lize?” Eddie asks her softly. She nods in response, never taking her eyes off of the television screen.

Eddie half-heartedly watches the movie with her from that point forward. When it comes to the scene of Ariel using a fork as a comb for her hair at the dinner table, Eliza reaches up and begins to play with her own hair. Silky brown curls slip through her little fingers as she absentmindedly strokes her locks. Eddie would love to know what’s going on inside her head right now. Is she thinking of trying to use a fork as a comb? When Eliza brings a few pieces of her hair in front of her face to study, Eddie has another thought. He wonders if she wants to have the same red hair as her favorite Disney princess. To show her that he loves her hair just the way it is, Eddie presses a few soft kisses to the top of her head.

As the movie progresses, Eliza becomes stiller on Eddie’s chest, and she’s not made a peep in a while. Her father watches her tiny back move up and down and sees it’s going in a slow, steady rhythm. As if to further prove his suspicion that she’s asleep, the sounds of her stuffy snores reach Eddie’s ears, making him smile.

Eliza stirs a bit, wiggling around in an attempt to get comfortable in a new position. Eddie gently wraps his arm around her to rub her little back in calming circles. Within seconds, she’s out like a light again.

“Daddy’s always gonna be here for you, Liza Bean,” he murmurs against her scalp, sweaty from fever. He takes a deep breath and settles in.

Neither he nor Eliza wake when you return home, both of them sound asleep on the couch. The kitchen is a mess; there’s a random piece of sandwich on the floor and a melted lemon Italian ice on the table, but clean-up can wait for a moment.

You watch the two of them breathe in tandem, heart soaring at the way your daughter curls up into her dad with all the love and trust in the world.

Fatherhood looks perfect on him, you think, but wrinkle your nose upon further inspection, but the booger stains on his shirt definitely do not.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #AYW #AYWS

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mxcottonsocks · 1 year ago

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Reading Like A Victorian

A while ago, I discovered the website 'Reading Like a Victorian', a digital humanities project from The Ohio State University and collaborators.

Since tumblr's been going through a bit of a serial-literature revival, I thought I would share...

Here are some extracts from the website's 'About Us':

RLV is an interactive timeline of the Victorian period. It focuses on serialized novels [...] and adds volume-format publications for context.

When we read Victorian novels today, we do not read them in the form in which they originally came out. Most Victorian novels appeared either as “triple deckers,” three volumes released at one time, or as serials published monthly or weekly in periodicals or in pamphlet form. Serialized novels’ regularly timed, intermittent appearance made for a reading experience resembling what we do when we are awaiting the next weekly episode of Game of Thrones, watching installments of other TV serials in the meantime. Whenever we pick up a Penguin or Oxford paperback of a Victorian novel today, we are engaged in the equivalent of binge-watching a series that has already reached its broadcast ending [and is] a very different experience from what Victorian audiences were doing with novels. Reading Like a Victorian reproduces the “serial moment” experienced by Victorian readers [...]

More info and screenshots and so on below the cut:

[...] if reading serial installments at their original pace is valuable, it is even more valuable to read them alongside parts of novels and of other kinds of texts that Victorian readers could have been following at the same time [...] [...] a reader who, in 1847, had been following the part issues of both Dickens’s Dombey and Son and Thackeray’s Vanity Fair and then picked up Jane Eyre, published in volume form in October of that year, might notice in Florence Dombey, Becky Sharp, and Jane Eyre a pattern of motherless or orphaned girls trying to negotiate a hostile world on their own. While this figure is well known to be a character type in Victorian fiction perfectly embodied by Jane Eyre and Florence Dombey, Becky Sharp does not often emerge among the heroines who fit that type; reading the novels simultaneously foregrounds parallels between Becky, Florence, and Jane that are not at all obvious if their storylines are experienced separately

I find that, for browsing, the website is easier to use on a computer or tablet than a phone, but it's ok on phone to search for something specific.

The timeline:

Here's what the timeline looks like:

It shows 12 months at a time, and using the left and right arrows will move you back or forward by a month. You can use the 'Jump To Date' function to navigate to a different twelve-month period. Or you can use the 'Author Search' function to navigate to particular works if you know the author's name.

In the above screenshot of the timeline, which shows the period January to December 1852, there are several works shown, including:

ongoing serialised works which had at least one installment published prior to 1852;

works which began serialisation during 1852;

works published in three-volume format during 1852;

other works published during 1852

Details about each work:

You can click on the bar that represents a book's publication to get a drop-down that provides information about that book, its publication, and links to help you read the relevant serial parts.

Here's what happens if you click on Elizabeth Gaskell's Cranford:

On the left of the drop-down, there's some general information about the work, its publication history, and how to use the links.

On the right, there's information and links to help you experience the book in its serial parts: it separates out the parts, indicates the month and the year they were published, and what chapters of the work were published in that part. It also provides notes on each part where helpful. There is a scroll-bar at the right of the drop-down, so you can scroll down to the later installments of the work.

[I chose Cranford as an example as it helps demonstrate the value of the Reading Like a Victorian website... From what I understand, Gaskell initially wrote 'Our Society at Cranford' as a standalone piece of short fiction, but was encouraged to write more, so further pieces also set in the fictional town of Cranford were published intermittently in the same magazine over the next year or so. While a particularly dedicated Gaskell fan who wanted to 'read along' with Cranford following the original publication could probably search 1.5-years-worth of a weekly magazine to find the 9 issues which included the material which would later be published as Cranford, the Reading Like a Victorian website has already done that work for them... and also for anyone else who might be interested, but not quite that interested.]

The links

You can then click on an individual chapter to get links to various places to read it online:

When available / where possible, the website tends to include links to:

a facsimile copy of either the relevant serial part in the original publication, or in an 'annual' or similar volume collecting together the content of that publication, or a volume-form edition of that work if the work was not published serially or if facsimile copies of the original serialised publication are not available. [Most of the facsimiles are hosted by either the Internet Archive or the Hathi Trust Digital Library, but some are hosted as part of smaller, more specific collections, such as - in the case of Cranford - Dickens Journals Online which provides online access to the journals/magazines edited by Charles Dickens);

the text, usually on Project Gutenberg (this is usually the volume-form text, so the exact content and chapter breaks and so on may be different than originally published in serial parts; the Reading Like A Victorian website will generally explain when this is the case);

audio recordings, usually volunteer recordings from Librivox (again, the recordings are usually based on the volume-form text, so the exact content and chapter breaks and so on may be slightly different than originally published in the serial parts).

So yeah, I just thought it was a cool website and worth sharing. I believe the website is already used as a resource by some University courses and for academic research, but it can also be used by book clubs and to aid personal reading, etc. I'm using it to inform a personal reading project for 2024-26 where I follow along with six or seven novels serialised in 1864-66.

To save a scroll to the top, here's the link to the RLV website again: Reading Like A Victorian (osu.edu)

[If you want to join an already-planned read-along based on the original serialisation schedule, @dickensdaily will be doing Charles Dickens's historical novel Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty from mid-February 2024 to late-November 2024, to follow along with the original weekly publication of the novel in Master Humphreys Clock from February 1841 to November 1841. I personally found Barnaby Rudge a really engaging, thought-provoking read, and I'm really looking forward to reading it again. (Anyone with particular triggers or other reasons to be wary of the content or language used in older books may find it helpful to look up content warnings for the book before making a decision to read it.)]

#reading like a victorian #victorian literature #victorian era #serial reading #serialisation #digital humanities #tumblr book club

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fatehbaz · 6 months ago

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hello fatehbaz dot tumblr dot com, I seem to recall that years ago you posted an article or articles about the construction of canals in Arizona & the threat it posed to desert cienegas. I tried finding it on your archive to no avail. I did find research about similar circumstances in chihuahua, but not specifically what you posted. i seem to recall that the specific canal was the CAP. does this ring any bells?

Thank you for sticking around and tolerating me for such a long time. Glad you're here. And thank you for remembering the posts (from August 2020) about Cuatro Cienegas in the Chihuahuan Desert.

---

Thinking of Arizona specifically, what you described sounds similar to an August 2022 post about ephemeral intermittent streams of the Agua Fria and canals to service Prescott/Phoenix? (Briefly describes progression from early water diversion to grow alfalfa for cattle; then the damming of Agua Fria to make reservoir in 1930s; then the construction of 16 copper mines. Cites an article from Rachel Howard at Edge Effects: "The history of the Agua Fria can be read not so much as a warning but rather a symbol of what happens to small bodies of water in Arizona. This is the state of the five Cs: cotton, copper, cattle, citrus, and climate.")

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From August 2020, might be thinking of this post about the unique endemic Yaqui catfish, an icon of the desert; post described the drying of cienegas (and how the fish is functionally extinct in the US) due to progression of cattle rangeland, farms, and canal diversion? (About how despite popular conception of the desert as dry, "prior to European colonization, the region supported rich waterways and aquatic communities." Post described how, by the 1880s, to service agriculture, "meandering cienegas" were strongly channelized and became deep-etched arroyos. And by 1960s, the pumping of water had meant most cienegas were gone. And by 2016 it was estimated that maybe only 30 of the fish remained in Arizona, a fish sometimes described as the "only catfish native to US west of the Rockies." Which also brings to mind, for me, the 2016 edition of Inland Fishes of the Greater Southwest: Chronicles of a Vanishing Biota from University of Arizona Press.)

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Also sounds similar to this one from July 2020? That one was about cienegas in Arizona, specifically the corridor of riparian habitat (cottonwood, mesquite, etc.) along the San Pedro. Post made criticism of Arizona agencies which managed surface water and groundwater separately despite their physical/ecological interconnectivity. Post made mention of Arizona eryngo (Eryngium sparganophyllum), which only survives at three-ish sites specifically at cienegas within borders of Arizona and one site in New Mexico; couple of years after that post, the US federal government formally recognized it as endangered.

---

But in 2020, I also made a series of several posts about Quitobaquito Springs (at Arizona-Mexico border, in the Sonoran Desert) and Indigenous efforts to protect it? (The springs are a rare freshwater ecosystem at Organ Pipe Cactus area. US border wall construction was extracting and pumping vast amounts of water every day. In 2020, major demonstrations were held by Akimel O'odha, Tohono O'odham, and Hia-Ced O'odham. Brings to mind how, in the same area in 2019, Indigenous people brought more widespread attention to how a major global surveillance tech company collaborated with US border security agencies to field-test new a surveillance "command and control center" on Tohono O'odham communities, like a laboratory; the "virtual wall" functions with multiple towers which continuously surveil personal devices, sound, physical movement, etc. In those posts, I also mentioned that the springs at Quitobaquito are also pretty much the only home within US borders to the endangered Sonoyta mud turtle and endangered Sonoyta pupfish. The entire subspecies/lineage of the turtle only lives in maybe 5 sites total.)

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Somewhat related, also made many posts from 2019 to 2023 about Indigenous protection of Oak Flat Chi-chil Bildagoteel in Arizona?

Regarding more recent irrigation and water loss in Arizona, I've posted about Natalie Koch's work in Arid Empire on the impact of diverting water for alfalfa farms and how current Arizona agencies facilitate the "colonial technologies" and market "the desert as a narrative resource"; she also describes how, in 1940s/1950s, the US State Department had a hand in encouraging international petroleum investors to invest in hundreds of thousands of cattle for dairy farms, a network which still influences much water diversion today. Aside from the Sonoyta mud turtle, also brings to mind threatened amphibians in Arizona related to cienegas, like Sonoran tiger salamander (likes permanent or standing water, estimated to survive in about 50 ponds in Cochise and Santa Cruz counties) and Chiricahua leopard frog (also likes the standing water, which is often diverted for agriculture or overtaken by non-native bullfrogs, estimated to survive in maybe 80 to 100 ponds). (Vaguely related but fun: There were a couple of long effort-posts I did about historical distribution range of American crocodiles in mangroves and coastal marshes on far southern edge of the Sonoran Desert general ecoregion before lower Yaqui river was depleted by agriculture.)

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Shout-out to Cuatro Cienegas in the Chihuahuan Desert.

An oasis. A "bacterial lost world." About 300 pools. More than 90% dried-up in historic record; agricultural canals drain tens of millions of gallons of water a year. Home to 38-ish endemic animal species. Not one, not two, but three endemic species of turtles: A slider, a softshell (I love softshells), and the planet's only "aquatic" species of box turtle (I also love box turtles). Home to some of planet's only terrestrial or freshwater populations of stromatolites (bacterial mats composing structures reminiscent of Precambrian era; usually found in deep-sea hydrothermal vents, but here have been isolated from the sea for millions of years). Also home to some of planet's highest diversity of Archaea (taxonomic order of lifeforms potentially "older than bacteria"?).

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affixjoy · 8 months ago

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As we inch closer to the US election* and the creeping dread threatens to overtake us, let’s celebrate our own creativity and hard work.

(*insert whatever Horror is affecting you. I know the list is long and unrelenting worldwide)

I want to know about your favorite thing you made in 2024. Art, writing, blog post, meme, whatever. Whatever makes your heart swell and you say to yourself yes I did that (positive) I want to hear about it.

What is the thing?

What inspired the thing?

What was your process for making the thing?

What part of it are you most proud of?

Anything else you want to say?

I want to read you ramble, this is a time to be self indulgent!

I’ll go first:

What is the thing?

I’ve set myself up with an impossible question. The thing I’m most proud of is that I wrote SO DAMN MUCH this year. I think, including original stuff, I’ve passed 200k, which feels like a huge accomplishment.

Picking one thing though, I think I have to go with The Sum of All Our Accomplishments that @spongynova illustrated. (Star Trek TOS, rated E, Spock/Kirk with some friends with benefits McCoy on the side)

What inspired the thing?

This fic was part of the Shore Leave Th’y’la Reverse Bang, so the main inspiration was Spongy’s art! Once we were paired I spent a day driving around thinking about the art and what I wanted to do with it, and I caught on the idea of the way memories seem to layer and come forward when you go to the same place over and over again. During that brainstorming time I went to the beach for a few days in the town I’ve been going on vacation at since I was born, and the way memories wrap around you in a place like that is beautiful and intense and sometimes a little bittersweet. I feel like I did a pretty good job of capturing that feeling!

In a less tangible way, the boomdeahda song was also a big inspiration.

What was your process for making the thing?

Interestingly, I struggled A LOT writing this. I kept feeling like I couldn’t get it where I wanted it to be, and it felt like wrestling a bear for most of the writing process. I think I complained a lot on the McSpirk server.

This was the first year I ever tried to participate in fandom events, and I have mixed feelings about how that went. I’ve loved meeting people and collaborating with artists like Spongy! Some of my best work came from events and me forcing myself to finish things for them! But also, it took away time from things I really wanted to write especially original stuff. Next year my goal is to have a better balance.

What part of it are you most proud of?

I really love how I wrote Bones as their friend with benefits here. I love all flavors of the three of them together, but this is closest to what I see as my favorite. He loves them, they love him, but it isn’t a soulmate/romantic love in the same way Spirk is. He’s got his own stuff going on outside of them. I love how I wrote their first time together here, and I’m really proud of it!

Anything else?

This part isn’t me bragging so much as fawning over Spongy’s art again. Like WOW go look at it! Even if you don’t want to read the fic the art is just so vibrant and beautiful.

Tag some people!

@spongynova @ncc1701ohno @strangenewwords @tigereyes45 @twinkboimler @eternally-intermittent @calliecat93 @purpleenma @starrylol @celestialvoyeur

Join in, distract me from The Horrors by bragging about your creative work!

#tag game #brag about yourself #creative process #creative hobbies #writing #art #fic writing #fandom stuff #what are you proud of?#2024

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aran-morinorea · 2 months ago

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I keep rereading the recent snippets of Donating Blood and Annatar's Shit Paradigms and I think it might fry my brain

I'm okay with this ☺️

... may or may not have spent more time than i had writing some more ASP for you

… Celebrimbor didn't know he could do that. "That's great, I love it, that's so hot," he says. "Also. In an unforeseen circumstance where I need to get out of there and you're not there. What am I going to do?" Annatar ponders this for a moment. "Unfortunately that is a required question."

Shrugging, Annatar says, "I don't intend to be out of earshot at any point. If I had to leave the tower, I suppose we would just have to call a halt to it."

Celebrimbor hums, considering the possibilities. "Counterpoint," he says, "Do you remember that recent attempt at palantiri that we abandoned because we couldn’t find a way to extend the range far enough? But we got it to a mile or so?"

"Yes," Annatar starts, "but I don't really need-"

"Consider this, though," interrupts Celebrimbor. "If we have them as a backup option, I can beg you to come back while I’m alone in the room, and you’ll be able to tell for certain whether it’s because I’m actually having a bad time or because I want to distract you while you’re trying to get actual work done."

Annatar stares at him for several seconds. Then he mumbles, "You make a compelling argument."

They discuss like that a little more, and then get quite distracted, and then eventually Celebrimbor does have to actually sleep. It takes several more days of intermittent negotiation (okay, most of it is just collaborative fantasizing) for Celebrimbor to really feel comfortable trying it out for real, and then they both have to wait until the mysterious Incarnate-inaccessible room is outfitted to Annatar's satisfaction.

They pick a week expected to be very quiet, politically. Sometime in there Celebrimbor is going to get kidnapped and not seen again by anyone but Annatar for five days. It's not clear how restful of a vacation it's going to be, but Celebrimbor is excited for it regardless.

#gem writes #silvergifting #aran morinorea #annatars shit paradigms #augh i have to go to the vampires in the morning #and its BEDSTIMES #whatever i can have a little hoarding kink. as a treat

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imperator-kahlo · 7 days ago

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Sirène - Transcript

Part Two of my very intermittent, non-chronological transcribing of the game's ambient and cutscene dialogue. Previous installment, Visages, can be found here.

Will tag any hypothetical future installements #COE33 transcripts. If anyone else is working on transcriptions (or data-mining of dialogue files), feel free to let me know so we can collaborate a bit or to repost/republish any of mine for that project.

What follows is all, to the best of my knowledge, ambient banter and cutscene dialogue that takes place within Sirène's coliseum. I don't include the wrap-up dialogue back at camp.

On entering

Lune: The architecture looks very different here. Monoco: This kind of place never existed before the Fracture. Sciel: It's beautiful… Feels surreal…

Approaching Sirène for the first time

Lune: Is she the Axon? Monoco: Sirène. She Who Plays With Wonder. Verso: Putain. Lune: It's so— Maelle: Lune? What's going on? Lune: I—I don't know— Monoco: She's manipulating your emotions! You have to focus. Remember why you're here (he waves away the dancers, the others come back to themselves). Be careful. They call her She Who Plays with Wonder. But what she really does is play with your head. Verso: Let's move fast, before we all lose our minds.

Exploring

Verso: Don't look at her for too long or you'll go insane. I've seen people jumping off a cliff just from looking at her… Lune: It is… mesmerising. Maelle: This dance feels familiar. Was this kind of dancing taught in Lumière? Sciel: I don't think so, never seen it.

Maelle: This place is huge. Verso: Thank Expedition 67 for destroying a lot of the walls to get further. Couldn't progress without that. Lune: It feels like home.

Gestral: (lying dramatically upon stairs) It's been so long. The days spent surfing on the dunes... Gone. Whoever built this colosseum... SUCKS.

The Fading Man

Fading Man: … As I get older, I wonder, can you ever truly know someone else? Then again, how many truly know themselves?

Player: A lucky few, perhaps. Fading Man: Is it a blessing to understand your darkest nature… Or a curse to which we turn a blind eye.

Player: Everybody knows themselves. Fading Man: Would there be art if that were the case? Aren't we all pursuing this unattainable answer?

Fading Man: We lie to ourselves all the time, don't we? About things we'd rather not admit. Or confront. About ourselves. About each other. Then there are the things we genuinely don't see… Player: (only option) Isn't that human nature? Fading Man: I wonder… I have nothing but time these days to wonder… What I missed… that might have changed things. What is it that I didn't see? That I couldn't make myself see? Player: (only option) It sounds like you have many regrets. Fading Man: When did she start pulling away…

The Tisseur

Maelle: What's THAT? Verso: The tisseur, it works for Sirène. Lune: So he creates all of that for her. Verso: We should take it out. It would definitely be an advantage against Sirène.

Verso: Good job, no other expedition managed that. Maelle: No other expedition had a Lumina converter. Lune: Yet this victory feels hollow.

Monoco: We're finally there. Verso: She's waiting at the end of this tunnel. Lune: Then we should prepare before we head there.

Lune: She's even grander than I thought. Verso: Lune, you're ok, right? Maelle: I swear I've seen this dance before.

(No further dialogue)

#not a lot of dialogue here #but I have some THOUGHTS #but first I have to make several dozen gifs and stare at everyone's microexpressions for a while #coe33 transcripts #claire obscur: expedition 33 #clair obscur spoilers #expedition 33 spoilers #sirene #aline dessendre #renoir dessendre #lune expedition 33 #disaster expedition #alicia dessendre

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aspiringsophrosyne · 26 days ago

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Transistor And Hades 2

What's the deal with these two games?

Long running game companies put Easter eggs from earlier projects in their latest games sometimes; SGG included. Transistor’s Red has toys that reference Bastion, Thanatos’ portrayal (same voice actor and all) may be a nod to Asher, etc.

But hasn't Hades 2 been a little different, in that it's had multiple significant nods to Transistor specifically?

And I can’t help but wonder...Does that hint at where Mel’s story is going?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

But just for funzies, I'm gonna unpack them.

Spoilers for every Super Giant game (but especially Hades/Hades 2 and Transistor) under the cut:

Oceanus

The ambient music here is the distant song of the sirens. The lyrics get louder and more distinct the closer you get to the biome’s end, but at first, it’s wordless humming. If Mel’s equipped with the Moonstone Axe—or any of its variants—she drags it along behind her with that humming in the background.

In Transistor, Red will hum along with the BGM at your prompting. Red’s not a professionally trained fighter or very strong—and hers isn’t a conventional weapon—so as she hums, she drags the heavy and unwieldy Transistor along behind her.

This was a cool little callback to notice once the early access had been out long enough, but it didn't strike me as particularly noteworthy at the time.

Until War Song.

The War

As of the latest update, the last boss is the Father of All Monsters. But he's so nightmarishly huge that even before Mel reaches him, Typhon’s tail sends repeated, intermittent attacks her way, bleeding her health and magic before she can reach the summit to do direct battle with the monster progenitor.

In Transistor, there’s the Spine boss. Before Red encounters the monster in its entirety, its tail sends repeated and intermittent attacks her way, disrupting the man in the Transistor and earning her ire. This motivates her to confront the Spine to do direct battle with and triumph against it.

In the same update, you can stumble across Dionysus’ hidden hangout: a relaxing break from the main game that’s devoid of enemies, where you can take a minute and pick up an extra boon.

In Transistor, by the time you’re fighting the Spine, you’ll have unlocked the Sandbox through the Backdoors, a relaxing break from the main game that provides challenges, new abilities and the opportunity to listen to the game’s soundtrack.

Lap of Luxury is even reminiscent of the Sandbox’s theme, despite elements of On The Coast solidifying it as its own thing.

The Song

Before the events of Transistor, Red writes a song that causes a minor uproar.

Fans suspect it’s “We All Become” from the OST, and it’d fit. The Country is Cloud Bank’s euphemism for the afterlife, and Red’s song not only warns against losing yourself in the city, but brings up the possibility of her moving to the Country to avoid said fate. (Which serves as potent foreshadowing.)

SGG’s lovely long-time collaborator, Ashely Barrett, provides Red’s singing voice for the song in question, which includes these lyrics:

Think I’ll go where it suits me Moving out to the Country With everyone, oh everyone Before we all become one

In Moonlight Guide Us, the new song in the aptly named War Song update, Artemis (who Ashley also provides the singing voice for) intones twice:

Moonlight, guide us home tonight In shadow, all are one

...

Moonlight, guide you home tonight In shadow, all are one

Among all the other Transistor references, this juxtaposition strikes me as....pretty interesting.

What’s next?

Do Supergiant’s games usually come down on the side of conflict and war?

Or preserving the status quo?

There’s no way to permanently return to how things were in Bastion due to an ongoing genocide. The Commonwealth in Pyre won’t persist no matter what choices you make. The people of Cloud Bank are lost before Transistor even begins. And Hades’ rebellious prince brings sweeping change to the Underworld while carefully avoiding a war with his Olympian relatives.

What's the status quo of Hades 2?

Mel has never known her immediate family, and is a weapon forged to win the war with Chronos. Various people she knows and cares about are suffering under not only her grandfather, but under curses laid by her allies and relatives. All while Hecate reigns as the supreme authority over the resistance effort.

Could all these nods to Transistor be the set up for how Hades 2 will break its own status quo? Could Mel be in for an ending similar to Red’s? (Albeit one that’s hopefully much less tragic?)

What is Cloud Bank? Its nature's ambiguous. The names of the techniques you use, the Backdoors, the way the Process works and the unlimited control Red gains over the city at the end all suggest it’s not strictly real. Perhaps virtual? Or digital? But maybe not the real, physical world.

And…well, isn't Melinoë a goddess of nightmares?

In Hades 2 thus far, her grandfather somehow returned and took everything from her in her infancy, Hecate's tutelage made her a single-minded warrior with little to no sense of self, and the Unseen are trying to end a war between branches of Mel’s family that's heavily hinted to not have a good ending.

To say nothing about us players: many of us got quite attached to the House of Hades and the Underworld's inhabitants. And so we worked to give them the happy reunions that their myths and the game itself denied them. We worked to renovate and improve the House itself. And we worked to peacefully bring together the Chthonic and Olympic gods.

And now all the rewards of our time and emotional investment? Unceremoniously undone.

All of that sounds like a nightmare, doesn't it?

And if it is…

Is the only way out….for Mel to wake up?

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