#one part to go and we're done for the first update

[amxrany]

!! WHITE RABBIT FESTIVAL EVENT SPOILERS !!

Summary of the First Update (Part 3):

On the way to Deuce's home, the group learns that the Mother and Son live close to "Clock Town Museum". It's the apartment looking building next to the White Rabbit's House (which got that rook bowl cut 💀)

Ortho was sad at first since he couldn't wear a costume just like the rest, but he can make his own using a 3D printer. Deuce tells him it's possible since there's a workshop next to the apartment (yey)

We then get a costume reveal, Silver wears the Drummer March Rabbit, Epel and Ortho are in the Aristocrat Rabbit costume (with some gear parts for Ortho) and Grim gets a new ribbon. Yuu feels embarrassed wearing the Rabbit costume at first, but Silver reassures them saying that they look great in the costume (another awww for the crowd). For this event Ortho actually chooses to stay on the ground and not float to be on par with the theme

We can't forget the star of this event, Deuce was still feeling embarrassed about the whole thing that he was just hiding the corner (no bby don't be shy). But his mom told him to not be embarrassed and everyone else supported Deuce. Deuce also tells Yuu to not feel shy and asks them to join the festival together with the others

Deuce's costume actually belonged to his mother (and similar to an older costume i think?), which was given to her by a colleague since they didn't have enough to buy a new one. Deuce felt sorry for trying to decline the request before, but she was fine about it. Dilah also brings up that back when Deuce was still a child he always wanted to wear the costumes and never change out of it (WHAT A CUTIE)

Now they're doing the group photo, Yuu can choose between the heart or the fist (i don't get the fist help 😭). But if Yuu chooses the heart then they complete the heart pose with Ortho and Ortho said that it's something that idols do (which is actually true btw)

Turns out, Dilah isn't that familiar with technology and/or machinery like Deuce. So when she tried to take a picture using Deuce's phone, she had a hard time cuz it was different from her phone (it's ok dilah my mom is also like that)

Once everyone is done, Deuce's mom gets back to work. She tells Deuce to just have fun and enjoy the festival, he understood but still feels uncomfy about the costume

Previous: Part 2 Next: Part 4

[mantisgodsdomain]

Now that we're not too thick into things to lose sight of our own... self, things are both more manageable and a bit more embarrassing. It's been a while since we've fully broken down like this, and doing it again is a mixture of Not Fun and Something We Sort Of Feel We Should Have Grown Beyond. Something between the normal breakdown emotions and the awareness that we have the tools to handle this, we should be able to handle this - and yet, here we are again, not handling it. We are aware, in theory, that there's no accounting for irrational thinking, but in practice, we cannot help feeling a bit... something, with ourself. Keeping our own brain stable remains, as always, a full-time job. Awful work, as always. But it has to be done. When it comes down to it, there is no one who can help us navigate our own head but ourself, and it is our responsibility to ourself to make sure that we do not end up making things worse than where we started.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

UPDATE What's up, it's the proposal guy. You said you wanted to know how this turned out, so I figured I'd tell you. First some context though, because I'm mean and I wanna keep you in suspense longer.

1- I don't wanna doxx us so I'm not telling you where we live, but suffice to say, neither of us are American, and gay marriage has been legal here for less than five years. For both of us, this is the first relationship we've had where marriage was even an OPTION, and I think that's where we've been getting some of that whole 'this has to be a REAL proposal with EVERYTHING' idea.

2- I gotta figure out how to explain this properly. So, I'm pretty used to being the GUY guy in relationships? I was always the one who did the nice gestures, not the one they got done for. Before I met my dream guy, I didn't really notice or care that it was such a thing, I just assumed that's how shit worked. Also, I promised I wouldn't talk a lot about his stuff here, but his last boyfriend before me SUCKED. Anyway point here is, it turns out we both REALLY like feeling swept off our feet sometimes, and a big part of finding each other has been getting to feel special for once? That's a stupid sappy way of putting it the point here is I think all that's what morphed into "I need to be the one getting proposed to, also it has to be completely perfect", and then our Petty & Extra genes got involved.

So I'm sitting in bed thinking about all that up there, and watching all the comments coming in basically being like "Dude, you are BLOWING this" on repeat, and telling me to compromise, and I look up and see him flossing in the bathroom and making all these doofy faces at the mirror, and it's like a switch just flips in my brain, and I'm like "Oh, I'd rather he gets to have his perfect proposal than we both have an okay one". I'm gonna do it.

Morning rolls around, and while I'm 'out for my jog like normal' I hit up a pawn shop for a temp ring (the ring pop thing is cute but NOT HIM). I found one I was at least confident wouldn't get ruined the first time he got his hands greasy (he fixes old machines as a hobby it's hot as hell), got back home, and hid the box in the toe of my nasty ass workout shoes in the bedroom closet, since I figured he'd check there last.

He was still asleep, because he stays up late no matter what and then is SHOCKED he's tired the next day, so I called and booked a table at our usual anniversary spot. (Side note about the 'he picks bad restaurants' thing. This isn't an 'I like Greek, you like Chinese' situation, dude's just BAD at finding places. He either assumes pricey is tasty and I get to eat some overrated gourmet bullshit, or he'll try and find something hip and underground and risk giving us food poisoning again, and he REFUSES to give up and pick somewhere we've been before when it's his turn to plan date night. I'm obsessed with him <3.) Date was set, I'd propose on the 21st.

Some of you might have noticed this, but fun fact! It's currently the 16th.

Last night I'm doing dishes and he's been sent to our room for mug collection duty, and he's taking FOREVER, so I go check just in case he found the ring, because the man's a gift tracking BLOODHOUND. Turns out he hasn't, he's found my Angry Box.

I assume other people have an Angry Box? Basically, we had this huge messy fight right when we first moved in together, and I never wanna let it get that bad again, so I have this shoebox where I keep a bunch of our stuff I can look at if we're fighting and hopefully cool off. There's one of those photo booth roll things, letters we wrote when he moved back with his parents for COVID, the wine cork from our first date, shit like that. Anyway, he's just sitting on the floor staring at it, and I explain about the Angry Box, and then he! Proposes!!! Kind of.

He definitely didn't have anything prepared, because by 'propose' I mean 'ugly cried & rambled at me for several minutes before I figured out it WAS a proposal', but once I got on the same page it was amazing. I said yes, and he had to admit he didn't have a ring for me because he was CONVINCED he'd win and I'd do it, so I grabbed mine because, yeah, he was right. He was like "this is the ugliest ring I've ever seen" and I was like yeah well the plan is to replace it later and he went "No. You can pry this off my cold dead fingers. After I'm buried with it." So I guess it's not a temporary ring anymore.

I'm just gonna go ahead and skip to this morning. I pointed out we still have the reservation, and he said I should propose there anyway because "We can get a free dessert. They have those creme brulee shot glasses you like. And for love, or something" and I said ok deal, but that means you gotta get me a ring to keep it fair, and his eyes LIT UP. When I swung by his work for lunch he was still on the phone with a jeweler and he had a whole page of notes on three other ones. Pray for me.

OH PS: I was RIGHT that he'd been the one behind the cat biting me, but it wasn't about the proposal stuff, it's because I paid my baby sister three dollars to shout 'fuck you' every single time he enters a room she's in for (if you ask me, he should be madder at my sister for charging so little), and he did it by giving her a bunch of treats for biting his hands too, so now neither of us can pet our baby girl without oven mitts on. HOLY SHIT I love this man.

Oh my goddddddd I love everything about this <333 I awwww'd out loud on a voice call, like, six times while reading. You two are friggin perfect for each other and so obviously smitten with each other and I wish y'all all the happiness in the world

PS Are y'all planning to have a big wedding? If so oh boy I can't WAIT to get that one in the inbox

Original post

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 14

Let's just ignore I've updated this story three days in a row, @ailithnight asked me to make them cry, so we're giving the challenge a shot. This was written today and may very well have typos. Also it literally can't go on like this, I have work tomorrow.

First | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom: DP x DC Summary:

Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.

Jason had called ahead to let them know he was coming to the cave and then promptly turned off his comms again. He didn’t need to hear their questions. Not on comms. It was bad enough he had to face them. 

He drove into the cave, his resolve the only thing keeping him from turning right around. Everyone but Bruce were in their civvies at this point. Jason shouldn’t be so surprised Bruce had called it a night. Not after ghost jumping off a roof in front of them. 

Bruce did care, and Jason could tell himself that now without poison dripping into his ear about how it was only to keep his little soldiers at the top of their game. He was too exhausted to appreciate the missing put at the moment, he just wanted to go home and try to forget for a moment that Ghost had left again, but he had to do this. 

Dick was sitting with an arm around Tim on the meeting table. Tim looked wrecked - good, he thought grimly and immediately felt guilty. He didn’t even have the pit to blame and yes Jason was angry about what had happened tonight, but really he was just as angry at himself. Jason might have tried to make them understand that Ghost needed help, but he’d done a poor job of it and they didn’t hear his grief for themselves. 

They hadn’t felt Ghost’s terror in their electricity trap, his desperate fight to control his panic, they hadn’t felt it as he fell or the shock of pain as he landed. They hadn’t felt the panic reach a fever pitch and then utter silence.

They hadn’t been 50 yards away on another building, running, because they knew something terrible was about to happen. They weren’t the ones who thought they might have already been too late even as they caught him out of the air. 

But Ghost had been alive. He’d been breathing. Panicked, but breathing, yet still utter silence. 

Jason had been terrified. 

And yes he was angry. He should have never let it get so far even in his desperation. They needed to stop chasing him. It wasn’t working. 

It had nearly cost him his life. 

He was a fucking burglar, not a rogue! He wasn’t a murderer who would kill someone if he wasn’t stopped. They should have never used this level of force. They never would have used this level of force if it wasn’t for Jason and his erratic behavior. It was on Jason, not Tim who was a seventeen year old kid just trying to keep this cursed family together. 

Damian was sitting at the meeting table a few seats away from where Tim and Dick were sitting on the table and for him to willingly be that close to Tim without any needle-ing commentary it was practically the equivalent of a hug. 

Jason sighed, then pulled off his helmet and left it on the bike. He couldn’t hide behind the safety of its smooth surface, not for this. He walked over to the meeting table, knowing it would draw the rest over there.

Damian took one look at him, with that sharp judgment that was always in his eyes. “You let him get away.” Jason grit his teeth, refusing to rise to what was just an observation, but it had been a trying night and it was tempting to snap, that he didn’t let him do anything. 

“His powers returned,” he said finally, carefully even-toned.

Tim looked up shortly at that and Dick squeezed his shoulder. Normally, Tim would have been on that detail like a hawk. How long did it last? Did the powers return gradually or all at once? Were there other adverse effects? And probably more questions Jason had not even thought to consider because that was just Tim. Now, Tim was silent.

“Jason?” Bruce asked carefully from somewhere to Jason’s left. Jason couldn’t look at him. Last time they’d been this close Jason had almost shot him. 

Stephanie and Cass joined Tim and Dick to sit on the table, and Damian allowed Cass’ hand in his hair only because she could kick his ass six ways ’til Sunday. Duke was the last to join their loose circle standing to Jason’s right. 

Jason didn’t have any excuses left. He even saw Alfred standing a ways further by the wall. Everyone was here. Babs was definitely still on comms with Bruce, even if the cowl was pulled back. 

He tried to take a steadying breath without being too obvious about it. He probably failed, horribly. 

“You have to leave Ghost to me.”

“Jay… you’ve not exactly…” Dick said carefully, the only one willing to even go near the fact that Jason should be the last person to go after Ghost. That he had been far from rational about the whole thing. That he was invested, personally more than they could even guess. 

“I need-“ Jason looked to the ceiling, breathing for just a moment, before looking down again. “I need you to trust me on this, to let me handle it. What happened tonight… it cannot happen again.” 

He clenched his hands, gathered every shred of courage, then looked to Bruce. 

“Dad, please…” He ignored the gasps from his siblings, from shock or outrage that he of all people pulled this card, maybe both, it didn’t matter. Jason only had eyes for Bruce’s stunned face, for the way his jaw tightened and his eyes were moist under pained brows. He only had ears for the way Bruce’s voice broke partway as he said: “Of course, Jaylad.”

“Thank you,” Jason whispered, afraid his voice would fail him if he spoke any louder. He held Bruce’s gaze with his as he said it, because he deserved to know how much that meant to him. The urge to go over to Bruce was strong, to see if his dad would hug him if given the chance - he thought he would, but that, that would be too much, and the pit would be back in a couple of days. 

Jason couldn’t handle any more tonight. 

He gave Bruce a tight nod and turned to leave, avoiding looking at the reactions of his siblings. 

Out the corner of his eyes as he left, he absently noted the purple backpack he’d stolen from Ghost sitting by the evidence board and that metal cylinder, Ghost had left behind the night Jason had met him, sitting on a shelf amongst other knickknacks. 

In the back of his mind an idea was taking shape, but he'd only realize that the next day.

-

I made myself cry writing this, that happens very rarely. Jason has had a really bad day, but it was the father-son feelings that did me in.

I do not know when I will update next time, the chapter this part belongs to is like 2/3rds done now, but it's the middle I need to fill out. Oh well, I'm enjoying the writing bug while it lasts. Update: Next

[alltimefail]

Agency Assignments: A comprehensive to-do list for saving Dead Boy Detectives!

I'm very easily overwhelmed, so I wanted to break down all the ways to help "Save Dead Boy Detectives" that I have seen floating around. This is meant to be something you can reference when you feel like there is so much you need and want to do to help, but don't know how or where to start.

Note: I will be updating this post as we go when necessary, so feel free to bookmark it in your browser for easy access, add it to your homepage, whatever! I'll always have a link to it in my Pinned Navigation post on my blog as well!

It is of the utmost importance that we fight as an organized, well-informed front. We need to be on the same page if we're going to save our show, so let's get into it! 💜💀🔎

➪ First and foremost, follow @savethedeadboys! They're going to be our best resource during this fight.

➪ Next, follow @deadboyagency for news and updates: they've been around since the show dropped and have been an invaluable source of information the entire time.

Now for some task breakdowns:

"One-Time" Tasks

➪ Like the header says, these things can only be done once. Once you do them, you don't have to give them any space in your mind.

Sign the petition*

Review & Rate Dead Boy Detectives on Google, IMDB, Rotten Tomatoes. Be sure on IMDB you don't just rate the show as a whole, but you also rate each individual episode! You can also "Like" the show on Google and click "Watched" which helps the show's engagement scores. (If there are other popular sites I haven't listed here, feel free to share them and rate Dead Boy Detectives highly on them!)

Notify Netflix customer service (through their online chat feature) that you're unhappy with the cancelation of Dead Boy Detectives. This is a short, 5-minute task that I wrote a guide on (with an example message) here!

"Repeat" Tasks:

➪ These tasks can become a part of your daily routine; do what works best for you! You don't have to do every single one of these tasks every day if that is overwhelming!

Share the petition* over and over again, on every one of your socials! Make everyone you love sign it!

Stream Dead Boy Detectives!* Keep it on a loop in the background on low volume as much as possible. Try to get others to stream it as well, especially if they haven't watched it before! Netflix cares about VIEWS: views save shows and I broke down the reasoning here. (Bonus: if you post over on Twitter about your rewatch, use the tag #ReviveDeadBoyDetectives)

Talk about Dead Boy Detectives!* You're probably doing that already, but just be sure that you're tagging your posts. Here on Tumblr use the "Dead Boy Detectives" tag at least (to boost our tag to trending) and anywhere that uses hashtags (Twitter, Facebook, Instagram for example) I would recommend #SaveDeadBoyDetectives and #DeadBoyDetectives as those seem to be the most commonly used tags! IMPORTANT: do not use more than 20 tags here on Tumblr! Any more than 20 and your posts might be marked as spam and hidden from the tags!

Create art, edits for TikTok, fics, gif sets, doodles, crafts, analysis posts, and so on for Dead Boy Detectives.* Having fun is important, too! This is an extension of the "Talk about Dead Boy Detectives" point, but it needs to be stated - don't remove the joy from the fight. If a drawing of our boys or a smutty fic with your favorite trickster cat king is what you can bring to the fight on any given day, that is a perfectly valuable contribution! It's not all emails and hashtags.

Daily request a show through Netflix. Bonus if you're signed in! (I do 3-5 times a day)

Send Emails advocating for Dead Boy Detectives (Email list & Email Template). You can do this as much as you want or just one time.

Send Snail-mail (physical letters) to Netflix advocating for Dead Boy Detectives. I also send a copy of my letters to Warner Bros. Studios. Again, you can do this one time or multiple times. There are dates set aside for "mass" mail sending as well, so check out info on that here!

Interact with articles posted about Dead Boy Detectives. Read them, share them, comment on them, thank the writer for writing them, etc. We want lots of press about the cancellation, and supporting journalists and publications will make them want to write about Dead Boy Detectives more.

NOTE: Anything marked with a * means it's extremely important; if you can only do a few things, these tasks are the ones that you should focus on first. Remember to take care of yourself. This is a marathon, not a sprint, so don't burn yourself out!

WE WILL SAVE THIS SHOW.

Say that to yourself as many times as it takes for you to believe it. We're doing this to get justice for the writers, the actors, for ourselves, and assert to these companies that diverse, queer stories are not disposable one-offs; they deserve to be told in full!

Hugs and Handshakes to you all - whatever will suffice. 💜 Always feel free to reach out if you have any questions, whether that be through private message or my ask box. I'm not going anywhere!

- V

[ladysisyphus]

For the past eight or so years, I've been off and on doing research on a particular group of (mostly) gay men from the '80s. The going has been slow, in part because in all this time, I've never once been working at a job that paid me for my research product. But whatever, you know, we're academics, it's what we do, so I'm knuckling down this summer and getting some work done.

Even though most of the people involved in this group, you will not be surprised to learn, have been dead for decades now, after spending this long with these materials, I feel almost like I know these guys. I recognize their names when they pop up in newsletters and editorials. I even know what some of their voices sound like, thanks to dedicated preservationists and digital archivists. That's part of what keeps me going with it, you know? It feels less like work and like I'm doing a favor for some friends.

Most everybody I'm focusing on, I know a fair bit about them, including where they were born and when they died. But there's still some people on the periphery of the story where I know their names from their interactions with the group, but I don't know much about them otherwise. After reading about a particular event yesterday, I decided to ask Google about one of those men, expecting the search to turn up maybe some newspaper articles and an obituary.

The first hit was a Facebook page. Well, sure, his name's pretty uncommon, but not completely rare, so this could be... No, there were too many very specific clues about his identity to be a coincidence. This man that I 1000% had assumed was dead? Retired and living comfortably several states away, with a Facebook he'd updated five hours ago.

And the thought that burst fully formed from my head like Athena herself was:

OMG IT'S BLORBO FROM MY RESEARCH!!!!!!

So I sent him messages on Facebook and Instagram, and he responded, and now I'm corresponding with Blorbo from my Research to set up a time where I can interview him. And maybe put him in Situations? No, see, I think he put himself in Situations forty years ago, and that's why I've come calling. Anyway, the punchline to this story is that I am not a functioning adult with a doctorate, I am 30-50 feral memes in a trenchcoat.

[newobsessionweekly]

Puppy Bradford

part 1

Main Masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: You consider fostering Charlie after his mom's passing, but things don't always go as planned, they are better when Tim proposes to you.

Fluff

Requested: yes

Words: 4k

The weeks after Charlie's initial stay at your home saw a transformation none of you anticipated. Tim's grumpiness was gradually replaced by a quieter acceptance, and Charlie began to see you both as the support system he desperately needed.

"Hey, Y/N," Charlie called one evening, the excitement in his voice palpable through the phone. "I got an A in Geometry!"

You smiled, pride swelling in your chest. "That's amazing, Charlie! I knew you could do it. Tim's going to be so proud when he hears."

"Yeah, he really helped me study," Charlie admitted, a hint of admiration in his voice. "Can you tell him I said thanks?"

"Of course, sweetheart. He'll be thrilled," you replied, glancing at Tim, who was engrossed in a football game. You nudged him playfully, and he glanced at you with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" he asked, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Charlie got an A in Geometry."

Tim's face softened, a rare look of pride shining in his eyes. "That's great. Tell him good job and to keep it up."

This became a regular occurrence. Charlie called you often, updating you on his progress at school, sharing his successes and his struggles. Each conversation filled your heart with a sense of purpose and joy, knowing you were making a difference in his life. Tim, too, found himself eagerly awaiting these updates, though he tried to mask his growing affection with his usual gruff exterior.

"Hey, Y/N, guess what?" Charlie's voice crackled through the phone one afternoon. "I made the basketball team!"

"That's fantastic, Charlie!" you exclaimed, "We'll have to come to your first game."

"Really? You and Tim would come?" His surprise and joy were evident.

"Absolutely. We're your biggest fans."

Tim and you make it a point to visit the hospital every few days, ensuring that Charlie and his mom, Lisa, have everything they need. The sterile smell of antiseptic and the quiet hum of medical equipment become familiar as you navigate the hallways.

Every time you walk in, the air feels heavy with unspoken words and lingering fears. Lisa's frail frame lies against the pillows, her eyes lighting up at the sight of you. Charlie hovers by her side, offering what comfort he can.

"Y/N, Tim, you didn't have to come again," she would say, her voice frail but warm.

"We want to," you would reply gently, setting down a basket of fresh fruits and some books. "You're part of our family now."

Tim would give her a reassuring nod, his eyes softening as he took in the scene. "Is there anything you need, Lisa?" he'd ask, always ready to lend a hand.

Her gratitude was palpable, her eyes brimming with tears at the kindness you both showed. "You two are a godsend," she'd whisper, "I don't know what we would have done without you."

You'd sit by her side, holding her hand, feeling the frailty of her grip. "We're here for you, Lisa. For both of you."

"I can't thank you enough for everything you're doing. Knowing Charlie has you two... it makes this a little easier." Lisa said softly.

Tim, standing at the foot of the bed, nodded respectfully, "We're happy to help. Charlie's a good kid. He deserves the best."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked between the two of you.

"I've made peace with what's coming. Knowing my son won't be alone, that he has you both... I can go in peace. Thank you."

You squeezed her hand gently, your heart aching at her words. "We'll take care of him. You have our word."

The phone rang late one night, jarring you awake. Groggily, you reached for it, your heart dropping as you saw Charlie's name on the screen.

"Charlie?" you answered, your voice thick with sleep and concern.

"Y/N... it's Mom. She's... she's..." he said, his voice breaking.

You sat up, your heart aching. "Oh, Charlie, I'm so sorry. Tim and I are on our way, okay?"

Tim is already moving, grabbing his keys and your jackets. "Let's go."

The drive to the hospital was silent, the weight of the news heavy in the air. When you arrived, you rushed through the hospital corridors, finding Charlie sitting alone in the waiting area, his face pale and eyes red from crying.

"Charlie," you called softly, moving towards him with Tim close behind.

He looked up, his face crumpling with relief and grief at the sight of you. You pulled him into a tight embrace, your heart breaking for the young boy.

"We're so sorry," you whispered, holding him close. "We're here for you."

Tim knelt down beside you, placing a comforting hand on Charlie's back. "I'm so sorry, kid," he said, "We're going to get through this together, okay?"

Tim exchanged a glance with you, silently communicating his thoughts. He then turned back to Charlie, "How about you come home with us tonight? Dinner's ready, you can get some rest. We'll come back in the morning."

Charlie looked between the two of you, uncertainty and exhaustion evident in his eyes. "I don't want to leave her," he said, his voice trembling.

"We get that," you replied softly. "But we want you to be safe and taken care of. We'll come back first thing in the morning. Your mom would want you to take care of yourself too."

Tim nodded, "She's right, Charlie. It's important you stay strong and healthy. We’ll call the school in the morning and let them know you’ll be taking a few days off."

Charlie hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Okay," he whispered, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his grief. "Thank you."

The days turned into weeks, and Charlie had become a permanent fixture in your home. His presence brought a sense of warmth and life to the house, despite the somber circumstances that had brought him there.

You and Tim did everything you could to make him feel welcome and loved, supporting him through the funeral and the tough days that followed.

"Hey, Charlie, want to help me with dinner?" you called out one evening, poking your head into the guest room that slowly turned into his own.

Charlie looked up from his homework, "Sure. I'll be right there."

As he joined you in the kitchen, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride watching him chop vegetables.

"You're getting pretty good at this," you remarked, handing him a bowl to mix the ingredients.

He grinned, a hint of color rising to his cheeks. "Thanks. Tim's been showing me some tricks."

Your boyfriend wandered into the kitchen just then, a tired but contented smile on his face. "Smells good in here," he commented, leaning against the counter.

You smiled back at him, a warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of him. "Charlie's been a big help," you said, nodding towards the boy beside you.

Tim's smile widened, and he ruffled Charlie's hair affectionately. "Good job, buddy," he said proudly.

Later that evening, as you and Tim sat together on the couch, you couldn't shake the thought that Charlie's stay with you might be more permanent than originally planned. You turned to Tim, the question weighing heavily on your mind.

"What's going to happen to Charlie?"

Tim sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, he's a minor, so he'll probably be put into foster care," he explained, his expression grim.

You frowned, the thought of Charlie being sent to a foster home unsettling. "But he's been through so much already," you protested. "He shouldn't have to go through even more trouble."

Tim nodded in agreement, his brow furrowing, "I already talked to Social Services," he admitted. "They said the judge will likely consider foster care over emancipation."

You chewed your lip, mulling over his words. "What if... what if we fostered him?" you suggested tentatively.

His eyes widened in surprise, and he looked at you, his expression unreadable. "Foster him?" he repeated, as if trying the idea on for size.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "Yeah. We've been with him through everything, Tim. We care about him. What do you think?"

He contemplated for a moment, his gaze distant. Then, to your surprise, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "You know what? That's not a bad idea," he admitted.

You couldn't help but smile, "Timothy, I never thought I'd see the day when you wanted to foster a teenager," you teased, nudging him playfully.

Tim rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression. "Hey, I have a heart, you know," he replied, his tone gruff but affectionate.

You laughed, leaning in closer to him. "I know," you said softly, reaching for his hand. "And it's one of the things I love most about you."

His expression softened, his gaze warm as he looked at you. "I see Charlie as a son I always wanted," he admitted, "And I think we can give him a good home."

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently. "I think so too," you agreed, feeling a swell of gratitude and love for the man sitting beside you.

Tim leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'll talk to Grey and Luna in the morning," he said, his voice filled with determination. "Luna can help us with the process of becoming foster parents."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. Leaning into his embrace, Tim held you close, his arms strong and reassuring.

Next morning, as the three of you gathered around the table for breakfast, an unspoken tension filled the air. Tim focused on flipping pancakes, while you tried to find the right words to broach the subject with Charlie. The smell of fresh coffee and syrup filled the kitchen, but the comforting scents did little to ease the anxiety gnawing at you.

"We wanted to talk to you about something," you began, meeting Charlie's gaze across the table. Your voice was calm, but your heart raced.

Charlie nodded, his expression guarded. "Okay," he said softly, his tone wary.

"You've been staying here for a week now, and..." you trailed off, searching for the right words.

"And you want me to go," Charlie interjected, his voice tinged with bitterness. "I bothered you enough."

Tim turned off the stove and wiped his hands on a dish towel before stepping over to the table. He pulled out a chair and sat down, leaning forward with a serious expression. He placed a hand on your back and another on Charlie's shoulder.

"No, buddy," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "We want you to stay here with us."

Charlie looked at both of you, surprise and confusion flickering in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"We know how hard this is for you," you continued softly. "Losing your mom... it's not something anyone should go through alone. We want to help you, Charlie. We want you to finish high school, have a good future."

"We know the foster care system can be rough," Tim said, his gaze steady on Charlie. "And legally, you'd be put into a foster home. But we want to be those foster parents. If you want that too."

Charlie's expression hardened, his grief morphing into anger. "Why do you even care?" he snapped. "You don't know me. You think you can just replace my mom?"

"We're not trying to replace anyone," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "We just want to help."

"Help?" Charlie scoffed, "You think I'm just some kid you can take pity on?" he spat, his voice laced with bitterness.

Tim's jaw clenched, his expression tight with frustration. "That's not what we think, kid," he said firmly, his voice unwavering. "We care about you."

But Charlie wasn't listening. He pushed his chair back abruptly, the screech of metal against tile echoing through the room. "I don't need your help," he said bitterly, his tone final. "I can take care of myself."

You watched helplessly as Charlie stormed out of the house, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you realized that your efforts had been in vain. You turned to Tim, your eyes pleading for understanding.

Tim placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, pulling you into a tight embrace. "We tried," he said softly, his voice filled with sorrow. "We did everything we could."

You nodded, unable to find the words to express your grief. The loss of Charlie felt like a weight pressing down on your chest, suffocating you with its intensity. You buried your face in Tim's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

"I thought we could help him," you whispered.

His hand moved up to stroke your hair, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I know," he said softly. "I know."

As Tim prepared to leave for work, you stood in the hallway, your heart heavy with the weight of the morning's events. He turned to face you, his expression tender and filled with understanding.

"Hey..." you called out.

Tim stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. "I know," he said simply, his voice a soft murmur against your ear. "I'll keep an eye on him."

You clung to him, finding solace in his strength. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Tim pulled back slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "We'll figure this out."

Weeks passed, and Charlie found himself shuffled from one foster family to another, never quite fitting in. Each new home brought fresh disappointment and the deepening sense that he didn't belong anywhere.

You and Tim dedicated yourselves to the process of becoming foster parents. The paperwork was extensive and the wait felt endless, but you both knew it was worth it.

Tim reached out to his ex-girlfriend Rachel—who worked for CPS — and with her help, he managed to keep an eye on Charlie's progress. What he saw only confirmed his fears: Charlie was not adjusting well to his new life.

"How's Charlie doing?" Lucy asked, breaking the comfortable silence. "And how's Y/N holding up with everything?"

Tim tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road. "Not great," he admitted. "When we told Charlie about the foster care system and that we wanted to be his foster parents, he didn't take it well. He's been bouncing from one family to another, and none of them seem to be a good fit for him."

"He'll come around," she said softly. "Whether you like to admit it or not, the kid has a place under your skin and vice versa. He's just hurting right now. He'll come back asking for help when he's ready."

"Yeah, tell that to Y/N. Maybe she'll listen to you." Tim sighed, a heavy sound filled with frustration and worry. "I don't like seeing her so sad because of some puppy. I don't want to tell her 'I told you so,' but I did tell her it might not be a good idea to get involved with him."

Lucy gave him a sympathetic smile. "Tamara did the same, and now she's the best roommate I've ever had."

Tim chuckled softly, "Jackson would disagree with you."

"Bradford, someone's asking for you at the front desk."

Grey approached them as soon as they walked back into the station. Tim watched Lucy process the suspect before he headed out to meet his visitor. With a nod of acknowledgment, he made his way to the front desk, his steps quick and purposeful.

Tim's heart skipped a beat when he saw Charlie standing there, his posture tense and his expression uncertain. Charlie stood up quickly as Tim approached, his eyes avoiding Tim's gaze.

"Officer Bradford," Charlie began, his voice trembling. "I owe you an apology. I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you and Y/N. I'm sorry and I'm sorry for running away.

Tim's expression softened, his heart going out to the troubled teenager before him.

"Charlie," he said gently, his voice carrying a note of compassion. "It's just Tim."

The boy's eyes flickered with surprise, a hint of relief washing over him.

"Tim," he echoed softly.

Tim placed a comforting hand on Charlie's shoulder, the gesture conveying more than words ever could.

"Kid, I understand," he said,"We all have our moments. But you're not alone in this."

Charlie's gaze dropped, his guilt weighing heavily on him. "I'm just so tired of feeling like a screw-up," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want to do better."

Tim nodded understandingly, his grip on his shoulder tightening ever so slightly. "You can, Charlie," he said firmly, his voice brimming with conviction. "But you're right, there's someone else you need to apologize to."

Charlie's breath caught in his throat, the weight of his actions settling heavily on his shoulders. "Y/N," he whispered, the name a painful reminder of the hurt he had caused.

Tim nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Y/N cares about you, Charlie," he said, his voice filled with reassurance. "We both do. And we're not giving up on you."

A flicker of hope ignited in Charlie's eyes, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You still want to help me?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Tim returned the smile, a sense of resolve settling over him. "We're not here to judge you. We want to help you. If you're willing to put in the effort, we'll be there every step of the way."

Charlie looked up at Tim, his eyes shimmering with gratitude and hope. "Thank you," he whispered, "Thank you for not giving up on me. I... I would be beyond grateful if you still want to help me. If you don't hate me."

"We don't hate you, Charlie," he said firmly, "And we're not going anywhere."

The familiar scent of your cooking filled the room, providing a sense of comfort and normalcy. As your boyfriend and Charlie stepped inside, Tim saw you setting up the table for dinner, arranging two sets of everything with meticulous care. The clinking of plates and silverware was a soothing, everyday sound that contrasted with the emotional whirlwind outside.

"Hey, baby," Tim greeted softly, his voice carrying the warmth of a long day finally coming to an end.

He walked over to you and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. You leaned into the kiss, savoring the brief moment of connection. The touch of his lips was reassuring, grounding you in the present.

Tim then turned his attention to the table and added, "You might want to make three of that."

You looked up, curiosity in your eyes. "Who's joining us?" you asked, looking at Tim's expression for clues.

Tim didn't answer immediately but instead pointed to the door where Charlie stood hesitantly, his posture tense and uncertain. Your face fell, tears welling up in your eyes as you looked back and forth between Charlie and Tim, trying to process what was happening. The emotional impact of seeing Charlie there, vulnerable and seeking solace, hit you like a wave.

You walked towards Charlie, your heart pounding in your chest. Each step felt heavy with the weight of the past weeks. As you reached him, you enveloped him in a warm, tight hug, your arms wrapping around him protectively.

"It's so good to see you, Charlie." You could feel Charlie's shoulders relax a little under your touch. "Come on, let's eat before it gets cold."

You settled at the table, and Charlie's face lit up at the sight of your delicious food. He took a deep breath, the familiar aromas bringing a sense of peace.

"I missed this so much." The words seemed to break the ice, melting some of the tension in the room.

"You're welcome here whenever you want," you replied warmly, your eyes shining with kindness. You reached across the table, gently squeezing his hand.

"Or," Tim interjected, "you can just stay here with us."

"Tim..." you began, surprised by his straightforwardness. You turned to him, eyes wide with shock and a hint of hope.

"I'd love that," Charlie said, cutting through your hesitation with a hopeful smile.

"What?" you asked, stunned.

"Look, Y/N, I'm so sorry for snapping at you," Charlie confessed, his voice sincere and eyes downcast. "I shouldn't have said those things to you. After everything you've done for me, you deserve better." His voice wavered with the weight of his regret.

You gently took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "Oh, sweetheart. You had a rough time, and I understand that. We understand that. We're here if you need to talk, whenever you're ready."

Charlie took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "Actually, I was hoping I could stay here with you guys. Tim told me about the fostering process, and I was hoping it was still a thing."

You looked at Tim, your eyes wide with shock and hope. When he smiled and nodded, a wide smile spread across your face.

"Yes, of course."

Charlie hugged you tightly, and you felt his relief and gratitude in the embrace. Tears of joy streamed down your face as you held him, your heart swelling with emotion. The warmth of the hug conveyed all the unsaid words and feelings.

Tim cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him. "Actually," he said, "I was thinking adoption would be a better option."

"Are you serious?" you asked, your voice filled with disbelief, turning to look at Tim with wide eyes.

"Yes," Tim confirmed, reaching into his pocket.

You watched him with bated breath as he pulled out a small box. Your eyes searched his for answers, your heart pounding in your chest.

"What's this? Tim? What are you doing?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Tim took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. "I thought maybe it was best all three of us to share the same last name. I never imagined adopting a teenager, especially not one I arrested. But you, baby, you make me want to be a better man. And I can't do any of this without you. You showed me the bright side of this world, and you light up my life. Will you marry me? Because this kid's life is in your hands, and I don't want to do this without you 100% in."

"Yes, Tim. Oh, God, yes!" you exclaimed, tears of joy streaming down your face as Tim slipped the ring onto your finger and the touch of the cool metal sent a shiver down your spine.

"You're such a jerk," you teased, laughing through your tears as you playfully swatted his arm. "You almost ruined a beautiful moment."

"I just made sure you'd say yes," Tim retorted with a smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief. His hand lingered on your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear.

Charlie grinned, the tension easing as he watched the exchange. "Do I need to call you mom and dad or something?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Oh, no, no," you laughed, shaking your head. "I'm too young to be called a mom. But if you want to..."

"I think I'm good," Charlie said, smiling with a mix of relief and happiness.

"But you can call me Officer Bradford," Tim added, his tone teasingly gruff as he gave Charlie a playful nudge.

"Oh, stop it. Leave the kid alone," you said, nudging Tim back. "He's joking, Charlie. You need to get used to his bad jokes."

Tim grumbled, "You should be glad I'm not into dad jokes like Nolan."

"And that's why you should never call him dad," you quipped to Charlie with a grin.

"Roger that," Charlie responded, chuckling as he settled back into his seat.

[confused-pyramid]

You're the Only One Who Knows to Slow it Down | s5

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 16.2k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, major character death, gun violence, drinking, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 5x01, 5x02, 5x06, 5x09, 5x10, and 5x21

a/n: This season was really hard to write at points (I think we all know which eps I'm talking about lol) but I'm looking forward to brighter days ahead:') Also we get some more tangible tension so yay! Title is from Look After You by The Fray

series masterlist

"We're not working a case," Derek states matter-of-factly when you arrive at the crime scene. You were woken up early the next morning after getting back from Canada, and on less than four hours of sleep, your brain is struggling to function.

"Why call us to a crime scene?" you ask, walking up to the front door of the house with the rest of the team.

He shrugs. "I was hoping you knew."

You look around, trying to find Aaron, but he's nowhere in sight. He had promised to put in the team request for a few days of leave, but you presume the call came in before he got a chance to do so.

The local police let you survey the scene, explaining that a Dr. Barton got a threatening letter that someone would be murdered everyday that he didn't give up his own son. Once you're done inspecting the body, you turn to JJ, lowering your voice. "Where's Hotch?"

"He's not answering his cell," she says, her lips thinning. "I assume it's on vibrate."

You nod. "I'll try him again."

You step away from the group and click his number in your speed dial, listening to the rings until it reaches his voicemail. It's unlike him to keep his phone on silent, but you know the previous night was tough on everyone. "Hey, it's me." You tell him the address you're heading to for the case, before turning towards the car and lowering your voice. "I know you're probably just asleep, but I don't know...I have that weird feeling again that you know I get...so please just call me back." You take a deep breath, hoping you're being overdramatic, and that you'll see him pull up in a few minutes. "See you soon."

When you get to Dr. Barton's house, he still hasn't called you back. You sit with the doctor, Prentiss, and Reid in his living room, going through his recent patient files, while Morgan, JJ, and Rossi head to the school to find his son.

"Something set this guy off," Emily explains as you start poring over the records. "Odds are it's in your files."

You manage to get through about a dozen before Dr. Barton stands up with a sigh. "My son is leaving school in five hours. There's no way we can get through all of these patients in time."

You check your phone again, mostly to see the time, but you also note that there aren't any new calls or messages. "He's right. We need more eyes on this. I can get Hotch and be back in a half hour."

"Keep us updated," Emily says, nodding at you. Concern flashes across her eyes for a millisecond, and you're sure it reflects the look in yours.

The drive to his apartment doesn't take long, and you stalk down the hall, all the way to the end, until you find his door. There's no answer the first time you knock, so you reach for the spare key he gave you, but before you can use it, you realize the door is already unlocked.

Your heart drops into your stomach and you pull your gun out, using it to push open the door carefully. "Aaron? Aaron, it's me."

When the door is ajar, the sight before you almost makes you drop your gun. There's a large bullet hole in the far wall, along with a patch of drying blood and bits of broken glass on the floor. His phone is on the ground as well, and his gun and holster are lying on his dining table.

You crouch down on your heels, trying to calm your breathing, as you take in your surroundings. You need to think logically about this, or you'll be no help at all.

A few things come to you as your mind clears.

His car is still outside.

No blood splatter around the bullet hole.

No drag marks.

You dig your hand around your back pocket and pull out your phone, dialing Garcia as fast as you can. "Overtime shift, Penelope speaking."

Her chipper voice usually calms you down, but right now you need to cut to the chase. "Garcia, it's me. Something's happened to Hotch. You need to get an APB out on him."

Her breath stutters. "What do you mean, something?"

"There's blood on the floor," you whisper, willing your voice not to crack as your throat thickens with tears. "There's also a bullet hole in the wall, probably a .44."

"I'll send the whole team," she says before you cut her off.

"No, don't call the team. They need to finish the case we were assigned. Just tell Emily, since she's expecting me back, but send every other agent in the vicinity."

"On it."

The line clicks off and you release your breath, before standing up again. While you wait for the crime scene techs, you poke around his things in the main area, trying to see if anything has been taken or moved. The only thing you notice before they arrive is that a page has been ripped from his address book.

"Agent L/N?" a voice calls from the doorway.

You lift your hand. "Yeah, in here."

They come inside and get to work immediately, so you step out, just in time for Garcia to call you back. "Y/N, I checked local hospitals for his name, and I didn't find anything at first, but then one of them told me something really strange."

"Garcia," you whisper through gritted teeth. You love her, but she needs to hurry up before you explode. "What was it?"

"Someone dropped off a John Doe at St. Sebastian hospital, and that someone's name was FBI Agent Derek Morgan."

Your vision turns black for a moment. He's back. Foyet's back.

You're rushing to your car before she has a chance to hang up.

***

He's still under anesthesia when you arrive at the hospital. He was stabbed nine times. That's what the nurse told you when you flashed your credentials and asked for any information she could give you.

Now, you're standing in his doorway, trying to build up the nerve to approach his sleeping form. Even with all of the bandages covering his arms and abdomen, he somehow looks peaceful. It's been so long since you've seen his brow unfurrowed, his forehead smooth, without the tension that invades his daily life.

After a few minutes, you take a step inside, then another, and suddenly you're right beside him, reaching out to clutch his hand over the bedsheet.

His skin is cold, and you wrap both hands around his to warm it up, if even by just a little. He's usually a furnace, generating his own heat even when it's freezing out, but whenever he gets hurt, his hands turn to ice.

After a minute, your phone buzzes in your pocket and you let him go to answer it. It's just Emily telling you that she's at the hospital with the rest of the team, and you walk out into the hall to talk to them.

Rossi is the first to reach you. He squeezes you into a hug before getting back to business. "You sure it was Foyet?"

"He had Morgan's credentials," you nod, rubbing a hand over the back of your neck. Derek glances at you then, and you press your lips together with a nod.

"Did they catch him on the security cam?"

"You could see him dropping Hotch off," you explain, trying to keep your voice steady, "but the camera's only on the entrance, so I have no idea what direction he went once he left the hospital."

Emily shakes her head. "It doesn't make sense for him to have brought Hotch to the E.R."

The nurse from earlier approaches you then, pulling your attention. "Agents, he's waking up."

You shuffle inside and take his hand again as everyone walks in.

His voice is soft when he opens his eyes. "Where am I?"

"In the hospital," Emily whispers, taking care to be mindful of her volume.

He shuts his eyes for a beat. "How did I get here?"

"Foyet drove you." Rossi doesn't frown often, but the lines of his face are clearer than ever. "Can you remember what happened?"

Hotch shakes his head, closing his eyes. "What did he take? The Reaper always takes something from his victims."

"There was an address page missing from your day planner," you whisper, finally finding your voice. "In the B's."

His eyes snap open and he tries to lift his head from the pillow, but he can only wince. "Where are my clothes?"

Emily hands him a plastic bag filled with his belongings, and he ruffles through them, until he finds his wallet. When he opens it, a photograph is stuffed inside, covered in blood spatter. Haley and Jack.

Your breath catches, and he seems to realize what it means at the same moment you do. "Haley's maiden name is Brooks. I always listed her in the B's in my personal information in case it fell into the wrong hands."

You squeeze his hand involuntarily, and he exhales sharply. "He knows where they live."

***

When the rest of the team rushes off to his old house, you stay with him at the hospital. You get a call soon from JJ that Haley and Jack are just fine, and you are finally able to breathe easy for the first time all day.

"They're okay," you tell him when you hang up the phone. "That was JJ. She said Haley was home and Jack's at a playdate, but Morgan is going to pick him up right now."

He nods slowly, his body relaxing into the bed. "Good. That's good."

"It is," you say, eyeing his movements. It's still enormously difficult to look at him like this, but you won't be able to move forward if you don't know the truth. "Aaron, what happened? What did he do?"

"I don't remember all of it," he says slowly, clearly taking his time with each word. There's no rush, and he knows it. Even if it takes him hours to get it all out, you'll still be here. "I remember him being there when I got home, after I dropped you off. He fired off a shot into the wall, and then I tried to tackle him, but..."

He trails off, and you squeeze his hand tighter, as though trying to tether him to the present moment. After a few shallow breaths, he continues. "I tried to tackle him, and I got him on the ground, but then he overpowered me." You can almost see it in your mind. The picture he's painting as he weaves over the details with startling clarity. "The first one hurt the most."

The first stab. Your eyes close for a beat, like you're trying to hide from his words. The first of nine.

"I don't remember much after that." You can tell he's leaving things out, but you also don't know if you'll be able to handle it if he does tell you everything.

"That's okay," you whisper as his eyes droop down. "You should rest."

He nods slowly as the exhaustion takes over and his grip loosens around your hand as he falls asleep.

You wait by his side for about a half hour, until you spot a familiar face (with a new haircut) dawdling in the hallway.

You stand up in a fervor. "Oh, thank god."

You rush over to Haley and pull her into a hug, which she returns just as forcefully. "JJ called us when she found you, but it's still really good to see your face."

"It's good to see you too," she says with an exhale before letting you go. You look down and see Jack standing next to her, his mouth downturned as his fingers twiddle at his sides. "Do you mind staying with him while I go talk to Aaron?"

You turn around and see that he's blinking his eyes open again. "Not at all." You take Jack's hand with a smile and lead him down the hall.

"I'm sorry if the big men scared you," you tell him once you find a few seats in the waiting area. "I know it was all very sudden."

To your surprise, his face breaks out into a big grin. "Uncle Derek let me turn on the siren!"

"Wow!" you smile, feeling warm laughter echo around your chest. "That sounds super fun."

He nods ecstatically, before leaning his head over to look back up the hall. "Can I see Daddy now?"

Your smile falls as fast as it appeared and you take his hand again, pressing his fingers between yours. "Soon, baby, soon."

***

He wakes up to the sound of faint talking. He can vaguely see you hugging someone, and he blinks a few times to clear his vision as you disappear down the hall.

"How do you feel?" Haley asks as she walks into his hospital room. She doesn't come further than the foot of the bed, but he's just glad to see her here, in one piece.

He clears his throat quietly. "I'm gonna be okay." She doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't want to focus on him right now. "Did they explain to you what's happening?"

She nods slowly, looking at him for another moment. "They said the Marshal's service is taking us straight from here and putting us into protective custody."

She looks upset, and it takes him back to the lowest moments of their relationship. "Haley, I'm sorry."

She looks down and the familiar urge to comfort her returns, even while lying in a hospital bed. "Do you know where they're gonna take us?"

"No, I don't." He tries to catch her eye but she won't look at him. "And that's the point. I can't know where you're going. If you have any contact with anyone, then he could track you."

She finally looks at him then, and her sadness is tinged with exasperation. "Jack has school. He has friends. I have a job now."

He doesn't know what else to say but: "I know. I'm sorry." He hopes he's conveying what he means, but it doesn't feel like enough. "We will catch him, and you'll come back, and I promise that I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you."

She nods minutely, and he takes the small comfort. "Are you sure that we're in danger?"

"Yes." There's little else he's been more sure of.

"And what about you?" she asks, her voice small. "Are you gonna be safe?"

He doesn't want to worry her, but he also doesn't want to lie. "He wants to see me suffer. Knowing that my son is out there and that I can't see him is better than killing me."

Her brow pinches and she pushes her short hair back from her forehead. "Jack wants to come in."

He tries to argue at first, not because he doesn't want to see him, but because it will only make it harder to let him go again, but eventually she convinces him to accede.

She leaves to go get him, and he leans back on the pillows, trying not to let himself sink inside.

~

Haley finds you in the waiting area, with Jack sitting on your lap, in the middle of a game of I Spy.

"Is he ready for him?" you whisper when you see her approach. She nods and you lift Jack off your lap and set him on his feet. "Off you go, buddy. Time to see Daddy."

"Yay!" he cheers before racing down the hall, you and Haley right behind him. She steers him into the correct room, and he jumps onto the bed before either of you can stop him.

There's a quiet chorus of 'be careful's before he grunts, "Don't worry. It's okay. The doctors made sure that I'm completely fine." He turns to the small boy with a smile you haven't seen in days. "Did Mommy tell you that you two are gonna take a trip?"

Jack nods once, moving his chin up and down dramatically. "Yeah."

"So I'm not gonna see you for a while."

Jack frowns. "Why?" The word sounds so small out of his mouth, and your heart cracks in your chest.

"Well, think about it like when Daddy goes away for work. Only this time you and Mommy get to go someplace."

Jack ponders this for a few seconds, before crawling up again and wrapping his arms around his dad's neck. "Are you okay?"

"I'm very proud of you." It's a father's answer. The kind of response that doesn't tell the truth, but hides the pain with love. "Every single day. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay."

Haley says another goodbye and grabs Jack's hand before leading him out of the room. She gives you another hug, squeezing extra tight for the last second. "It's not his fault."

"Of course it isn't," you whisper, letting her pull back.

"No," she whispers, closing her eyes. "I mean, don't let him blame himself for this."

He's one of the most stoic people you know, but he can also be so transparent sometimes. "I won't. I'll be here."

"He needs you," she says with a sad smile. "He's always needed you, but he especially needs you now."

She doesn't let you respond before she's tugging Jack down the hall. You watch as she exits the side door of the wing, and only turn back when you can't see her anymore. She's one of your longest friends, and you won't be able to see her or her son for god knows how long.

When you step back into the room, you stand at the foot of his bed, trying to gauge what he needs from you, but then you see his expression. Tears prick the corners of his eyes and his mouth twists as you rush forward and grab his hand, squeezing it between yours with the grip of someone holding onto a life preserver.

"They'll be okay," you whisper, trying to keep your own tears back. "We'll get through this."

He nods, his eyes still shining. You move to sit in the chair beside him, but he tugs you back, pulling you closer. You understand the desperate look in his eyes, the need for connection and comfort from someone you care about that you've seen in yourself on so many occasions.

Slipping your shoes off, you tuck the sheet into his side and carefully climb onto the little hospital bed, taking care to avoid any of the wires and tubes. Once you're sure you're not pulling on anything, you curl up beside him and wrap yourself around his arm. His skin is warmer than it was earlier, and you take solace in the fact that he's going to be okay. Maybe not now, but he will be.

Your breaths synchronize with his and you listen to the beeping of the heart monitor as your own heart rate calms down. There's a feeling tugging at your spine, filling you up and threatening to spill over, but you shove it down, knowing it will be too much right now. You don't have the words to describe the emotions circulating through your brain, so you stick with what you know. "I love you." It's quiet, barely a whisper, but you know he can hear you. "Thank you for staying alive."

"You're welcome," he whispers back, his voice barely audible over the monitor. "I love you too."

***

You leave the hospital the next morning with a plan. He's still asleep when you wake up, so you get up carefully and thank the nurses one more time before heading out.

You make two stops on the way to his apartment, and this time, you use your spare key to unlock the front door. The crime scene crew cleaned the blood off the floor, and you told Rossi to get them to spackle the hole in the wall, for at least a temporary fix, but there's still an air about the place. It was just starting to feel like his home, and now it's soiled, once again.

You shut the door behind you and drop your bags to the ground, surveying the place one last time for any damage or mess you missed earlier. When everything seems fine, you get to work.

An hour later, you slump back against the wall and toss the packet of instructions to the ground. In front of you is a freshly installed security system, with a door proximity sensor and keypad for when he leaves the house in a hurry.

You can already hear the arguments coming, but you don't care anymore. You won't be able to sleep knowing he's in here, all alone, without anything to keep Foyet from coming back and finishing the job.

For someone who has as little of a technical background as you do, you're impressed with how quickly you were able to get the system running, and you test it a couple of times, turning it on and off and checking the doors, before you finally pull his door closed and lock it behind you.

***

The doctors don't release him until the end of the week, but once he's able to walk again, he calls you to get him from the hospital. By the time he signs his discharge papers and makes the phone call, you're already almost there, and as much as he hates putting you out on a weekend, he can't help the satisfaction that rumbles through him.

The drive to his apartment is mostly silent, with him just trying to stay still as you take the turns carefully, and drive five under the speed limit. When you arrive, you hold the bag of salves and ointments for him as you take his arm, helping him down the hall and to his front door.

He moves to grab his key, but you stop him with a forceful "Wait!"

"I can unlock my own door," he grumbles, but you just shake your head, taking the key from him and turning it slowly in the lock. The moment it swings open, a loud beeping fills the air, and you rush forward to type something into the keypad by his door. Wait...keypad? "When did tha-"

"Before you argue," you jump in, clearly anticipating his disgruntlement, "it's for me, okay."

He raises an eyebrow and you glare at him, but there's no effort behind it. "I mean, it's obviously for you, but still...it's for my peace of mind too."

You're rambling makes him crack a smile for the first time in days, and he nods slowly. "Okay."

Your mouth snaps shut and you look at him with a meek smile. "Okay."

You help him get settled on the couch, and he waits there as you scrounge up some food from the kitchen. He's not sure he has anything perishable, but you manage to put together a comforting bowl of pasta with jarred tomato sauce that makes him feel a little more at home.

As the evening turns to night, he catches himself glancing at his watch more often than not, and eventually you catch on too.

"Is it time?" you ask, your voice gentle.

After a breath, he nods, and you reach across the coffee table to grab his bag of supplies from the doctor. You lay the salve and extra gauze on the table, and wait for him to make the next move, a decision he accepts gratefully.

He's been injured before. He knows how painful it is to sanitize a wound, and especially one as deep and grotesque as his. He just needs a few moments to accept the fact that he's...scared.

"I can do it," he says once he's ready, before reaching for the salve. The simple motion makes him wince and you jump in right away, grabbing it for him and undoing the top.

"Let me," you whisper, your words somewhere between a statement and a question. "Please."

He can already feel his stitches pulling, just from the simple act of swiveling his body to face you, so he gives in with a quick nod.

He doesn't look at you as he undoes the buttons of his shirt. He's not embarrassed - you've never pitied him, even at his lowest moments - but he needs the semblance of privacy as he exposes his injuries to the open air.

The air feels cold as he pulls his undershirt over his head, and you get to work immediately, peeling back the old layer of gauze as slowly as you can. The sections directly over his wounds stick slightly, and he grits his teeth against the pain as you gently tug them free, making sure to avoid pulling his stitches.

"Do you want a break?" you ask once the gauze has been fully removed. He shakes his head, needing this to be over as soon as possible, but when he meets your eyes, he sees them welling up with tears.

He glances down at his bare torso, his eyes darting over the jagged scars ranging from his stomach to his collarbone. Your breath stutters as you take it in with him, and he looks at you. "He made sure we'd match."

He sees you rapidly blinking away the tears that rush forward, and he wants to comfort you somehow, but he doesn't know what to do. You help him lean back on the armrest, so you can apply the salve around each of his injuries, and as your fingers press into his skin, he can't help but be reminded of his childhood. The pressure of your hands as you wrapped him with bandages, the warmth of your breath when you leaned in to inspect your work.

It's usually a sad memory when he thinks back to his childhood, but with you, it was always good. He watches as you slowly tape the new layer of gauze around his abdomen, and even as tears slide down your cheeks, the way you look at him doesn't change.

"All done," you whisper after pressing on the final pieces of tape. "How do you feel?"

Anxious. Terrified. Lonely. Guilty. "Good. Thank you."

***

"Hey, it's Emily."

"What's up, Em?" you say, your phone pressed between your ear and shoulder as you hop around, trying to get your shoes on before work.

"How was your weekend?"

You pause. "Fine?" The question isn't out of the ordinary, you're just not sure why she called to ask you that when she's going to be seeing you in person in about twenty minutes. "How was yours?"

"Oh, you know." She sounds distracted, and you feel a smile pull at your lips as you realize she's avoiding something.

"Em...is there a reason you called? You know, given that we're both on our way to the same place."

She clears her throat, and you hear the indecision in her voice, even over the phone. "I know this is kind of a weird question, but would you mind if I picked up Hotch for work this morning. I left late last night, so JJ was able to brief me early, and I figured he could use a headstart."

You stop your movements, straightening up and lifting your hand to your cell. It's not at all what you were expecting her to say, but that's not all you're confused about. "Yeah, of course. You don't have to ask me first, though. We're all teammates."

She makes an little noise that you don't recognize. "Yeah...but you two are different."

You don't know what to say to that, so you just wait for her to keep going. Emily was never very good at uncomfortable silences, so after a few moments, she's back. "Anyway...I'll grab Hotch and see you in 30?"

You try to hide your grin, even though no one can see you. "Sounds like it."

"Bye."

The phone clicks off, and you tuck it back into your pocket, still smiling. You're already in a better mood than normal, because after 34 days of medical leave, Aaron comes back to work today.

You finish clasping your shoe and head out the door, more relaxed this time. With Emily picking up Aaron, you're not in a rush anymore. You take the drive at a leisurely pace, and when you arrive at the office, you run into Spencer by the front of the building.

"Wait up!" you call out, jogging over to him before he gets in the elevator. "Let me get that." You slide the strap of his book bag off his shoulder and sling it onto yours. He nods in thanks and tucks his crutch under his arm as he presses the button for your floor.

"I thought I'd be used to the crutches by now, but I keep tripping over everything." You scrunch your brow with amusement as he frowns down at his leg. "The doctors say it's healing well, though."

The elevator doors open and you step in front of him to get the door across the hall. "Does it hurt?"

He shrugs. "It really only hurts when I think about it, which is pretty much all the time."

The statement isn't exactly comical, but his deadpan tone makes you snort as you hold the door, and he smiles as he passes by you. You follow him to Garcia's lair, and she perks up upon seeing the both of you.

"My babies," she grins, pulling out a chair for Spencer. "Sit, sit."

You let out a laugh as you place his bag on the floor next to him. "I'm older than you."

"Who's counting?" she throws back, typing something furiously into her computer. She turns around a moment later, just in time to swat Spencer's hand away from the tin of cookies sitting on her table. "No, no, no."

"What?" he complains, gaping at her.

She swats him again, before pulling the tin away from him. "Get away, you. These are for Hotch."

"Butterscotch?" you ask, glancing down at the box. His preference for butterscotch cookies was something you used to tease him about when you were kids. Butterscotch Hotch.

Penelope nods and lifts the edge of the lid, implicitly offering you a cookie. When you take one, Spencer throws his hands up into the air. "Why does she get one? I get shot in the leg and I still don't get any cookies."

You laugh and break off half of your cookie, which he takes from you the moment it's in your palm. He stuffs the entire thing into his mouth, not bothering to swallow it before he pipes up again. "You know he's gonna hate the attention."

"It's cookies," Garcia pouts, "not cake."

Spencer shrugs. "He's probably gonna pretend like nothing happened, anyway."

"Well, it doesn't mean we have to."

You don't know how to weigh in to this discussion, mostly because you know more about how he's feeling than they do, but also because the idea of speculating on his recovery without him here feels like a betrayal.

"What do you think?"

You look up and realize that Spencer was directing this question to you. Swallowing down the last bit of your cookie, you cough once to clear your throat. "I think he's been through a lot, but sometimes coming back to work is the best way to take your mind off of things. Foyet was in his home. I don't think staring at the same walls that used to have bullet holes in them is exactly healthy either."

Spencer and Penelope both stare at you for a moment, before nodding and looking down. They remind you of two children who have just been reprimanded, and you smile to soften the sentiment. "I love you guys for caring about this, but we just have to trust that he's okay."

"Yeah," Penelope nods, reaching forward to squeeze your hand. "Are you okay? This can't have been easy for you, either."

"I'm fine," you say too quickly. "Nothing happened to me." It's not a lie, exactly. You weren't the one who was stabbed. Nine times. "I've just been keeping him company after work, and helping with some of his post-hospital care checklist."

"He's lucky to have you," Penelope says softly, to which Spencer nods.

"He was great too after I got shot," you add, feeling oddly defensive of your friendship. "He stayed with me for a long time when my dad was gone."

She smiles at you sadly, before holding the tin out for you. "Want another cookie?"

You let out a weak laugh as Spencer chuffs behind you, and you shake your head. "No thanks."

"Do you think he'll like them?" Her voice sounds earnest, and you nod, knowing what it's like to want so desperately to understand someone who's as closed off as he seems at times.

"Spence, Y/N, there you guys are."

You turn around to see JJ, her face lined with tension. "Are you ready for us?"

She nods. "Grab your go bag."

***

He's been erratic all day. When he snapped at Garcia earlier for missing the antipsychotics link, you wanted to throttle him, especially when you remembered the cookies she had waiting for him in her office.

The thought that maybe Spencer was right keeps flashing through your mind as you watch him get frustrated with everyone, including himself. When you all arrive at the Darrin Call's father's house, where he and a young boy he kidnapped are waiting, Aaron instructs Emily to speak with the lieutenant on scene to figure out what you're dealing with.

"The kid's in there," you hear him say, "We've got this. Tactical teams are covering the exits. Call needs a distraction. He's focused on the old man."

Emily glances back at the house as she ties her hair back. "For now. But we're gonna have to figure out the safest way to get that kid out."

"I've got a team in the back and one on the way. We're going to infiltrate."

"You do that and someone else dies."

The man just shrugs. "Either Call or a child murderer...flip a coin."

"It doesn't have to end like that." You can see how hard she's trying to make the lieutenant understand, but sometimes the locals just don't listen. "We get a confession out of Jarvis and he goes away, and Call gets his answers. No one else has to die."

There's movement behind you and you turn around at the last second as Aaron stalks past you and towards the house.

"Hotch," you call out, but he doesn't look back. "Aaron. Aaron!"

He's almost at the front door, and your feet start moving without you realizing it. You make it within a few feet of the front gate before two pairs of arms seize you from behind, halting your momentum.

"Let him go," Dave whispers as he and Derek release you. "We have to trust him."

"He's not thinking straight," you grit out, unable to tear your eyes away from the closed door as you step forward again. He wasn't wearing his vest, and you can't remember if you saw his gun in his holster. You close your eyes, wracking your brain. Think, goddamnit.

Derek grabs you again as you try to make a break for it, anticipating your movements before you even know what you're doing. "Rossi's right. We have to trust him. We can't help him if we rush inside now."

"We can't help him out here either!" Your voice sounds frenzied in your ears, but he doesn't loosen his grip, even as you try to shove him off of you.

"You know we're right." He looks at you sternly, and your resolve diminishes as reason starts to set in. "Going inside will only make it worse."

Emily comes up from behind you and takes your arm, leading you back to the street in front of the house. You back up, but you don't turn around, ready to rush in the moment anything changes.

"What's he doing?" she asks Derek, her voice quiet, like she doesn't want you to hear.

"Stalling," he says simply. "He's got nothing to lose."

Your breath catches and you lift your hand to your chest, clutching the top of your vest like it's a lifeline. You want to scream at them, scream that he has everything to lose. He has a son, and an ex-wife who loves him, and he has you.

"You got the shot?"

"Negative."

He suddenly appears in the front of the door, but you can tell he's angling his body to block the visual of the shot. What is he doing?

The door opens for a split second, and the little boy runs down the porch and into the arms of one of the SWAT members. It shuts as fast as it opened up, and you only manage to see his face for a moment before he disappears into the house again.

For a minute, there's only silence, until the air is pierced with the sound of three gunshots, one after the other. Your body visibly flinches and you throw yourself forward and over the gate, pulling out your gun at the last moment as you breach the front door.

When you storm into the living room, Aaron is putting cuffs on Darrin. The father is dead in his recliner at the center of the room.

"What happened?" Dave asks from behind you.

He purses his lips. "I couldn't stop him." It's then that he finally looks up at you, but all you can do is glare. You don't know if you've ever been angrier in your life, and definitely not at him.

His brow dips with a mix of confusion and remorse, but you just stuff your gun back in its holster, spin around, and stalk out of the house. The fresh air outside feels like a welcome respite from the emotions swirling around inside of you, and you turn your face to the sky as your brain fires off millions of questions at once.

When did he get so reckless?

Is this all because of Foyet? The need to feel like he's getting something done, with his family on lockdown?

He comes out of the house then, and you're practically shaking from the relief that he is okay, but the anger isn't fading. You can feel it flooding your veins with each breath you take.

He hands Call off and approaches you slowly, stopping in front of you with a look you don't recognize.

"This is the job," he says simply, his voice almost cold. "You know what you signed up for."

"I know what I signed up for?" Your face twists with disbelief and you look at him with contempt. "Fuck you, Hotch." His face drops slightly and it only feeds your fight. You know him better than anyone else in this world, and that also means you know exactly how far you can push him until he cracks.

"This is what we do." His voice is tight, and you see your anger reflected in his eyes. "You knew that when you joined the team."

Emily and Dave exit the house, and you can feel their eyes flickering over to you, but you can't bring yourself to care right now.

"No," you grit out, shaking your head. "You don't get to be angry with me. You don't get to say that to me."

He looks at you for a beat before his face falls and you see all the fight leave him. He sighs, his brow pinching. "You're right."

You can practically see the war going on inside his head. The battle between fear and action, where there are no winners.

You nod as you look down at the ground, and he reaches forward to take your hand. He squeezes it tightly, before lifting it to his chest. "Y/N." I love you, I'm sorry.

You nod. "I know." I'm sorry too.

***

You've been looking at the text JJ sent you for the better part of an hour. Something's going on. Strauss was in Hotch's office and it looked bad.

You're reminded of his suspension and the two long weeks you worked here without him, and you internally resolve that it won't be happening again if you have any say at all.

The next morning, you're one of the last people to arrive, and you walk into a conversation that Spencer is having with Emily at his desk.

"You're not gonna believe this," he says, turning to you and lifting his hands dramatically. "Some moron just posted a blog called 'What would Carl Sagan do?' and it's completely illogical."

"L/N, what did I miss?"

You spin around to see Derek strutting into the bullpen, his phone held up in his hand.

"What do you mean?" you ask with a frown.

He looks at you expectantly, and you start to feel like you're on the outside of something you should know. "All the emails from Hotch..."

You yank your phone from your pocket and refresh your email. "I don't have any new ones."

"Me neither," Reid chimes in from next to you.

Derek doesn't wait another moment before he's barreling past you and up the stairs to Aaron's office.

"What was that about?" Spencer asks, a confused look on his face.

"I don't know," you say honestly, "but I think we're gonna find out soon."

~

"You wanted to see me?"

He nods and you step into his office, shutting the door behind you. Ever since his private conversation with Derek this morning, you've been obnoxiously curious about what's been going on with the team, but you also know when not to overstep your boundaries.

"Take a seat." He beckons to the couch on the far wall, and he sits down across from you when you plop down. "We have to talk about something."

"If you say Strauss suspended you again-" He cuts you off with a lift of his hand. You look at him sheepishly and nod. "You were saying..."

"This is going to sound odd, but just hear me out." You're starting to get worried, but he doesn't look anxious, so that's a start. You nod, and he continues. "The bureau thinks that my ability to lead this team has been compromised. They've been questioning me since Foyet's attack, and they're not entirely wrong."

You want to refute this, but you've also been questioning some of his actions as of late. Nevertheless, that doesn't mean that you won't have his back if it comes down to it. "They can't fire you. The whole team will fight back if they even try."

He looks at you with something that resembles concern. Concern? "They won't fire me...because I'm stepping down."

"What?" you burst out, unable to help your volume. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm resigning as unit chief at the end of the week, but I'm not leaving this team."

You think you have an idea of where this is going, but his eyes are still tracking your movements, like they do when he's worried about how you'll react. You don't know how it could get much worse than this, but then you realize he hasn't told you who will be replacing him.

"I told Morgan to take my place until we catch Foyet."

There it is. You don't expect it to sting as much as it does. "Oh."

Your voice sounds small to your own ears, and you clear your throat to keep the emotion out. This isn't a personal decision, it's professional. If Strauss was telling you this now, it probably wouldn't faze you. So why does it hurt coming from him?

"Strauss wasn't happy with your decision to not take the New York position," he explains, his eyes finding yours. "You know I think you deserve more leadership roles. It was her that suggested Morgan for it, and I couldn't argue when she was already so unsure about letting me promote internally."

"I get it," you nod. Your tone a bit sharper than expected, even though you understand where the decision came from. Derek deserves this position too. "I do, I promise."

He raises his eyebrows with a check in, and after a moment, you finally nod. It's okay. We're good.

"I'll see you in the morning?"

You dip your chin. "Good night."

***

"I can't believe Hotch is stepping down."

Penelope, Emily, Spencer, and JJ are all unabashedly watching Derek as he briefs Strauss on the case he chose for today. You've been trying not to look, but every few minutes, something snags your attention.

"Morgan said it's business as usual," Emily adds, her brow furrowed as she watches them converse.

Penelope doesn't seem eased. "So we're just supposed to move forward without any discussion?"

Spencer shrugs. "After Foyet, I think we'd have to be ready for anything."

Derek finishes speaking with Strauss then, and you stand up as he asks Emily to call Rossi for the briefing. He looks official with his ironed button-down, and you can't help but wonder if he's trying to emulate Aaron.

You flash him a cheeky smile as he walks towards the conference room, but he just brushes past you. 

~

Derek steps into his new role effectively, and you even notice him provide extra feedback to everyone throughout the case. Hotch has a bit of a difficult time stepping down at first, but you know it comes from habit, not distrust.

When you're back at the office later that night, you look up to see that he is still in his office, furiously jotting something down, even though his responsibilities have been greatly diminished. You don't know why you expected the demotion to make him want to cut back a bit.

Derek is the only person still in the bullpen when you take a seat again. You finished up the last of your paperwork, so you start to pack up your stuff, but then your interaction from earlier crosses your mind again.

Latching your bag closed, you stand up and perch on the edge of Derek's desk. "Hey, boss, how's the responsibility feel?"

"Fine," he mutters, his tone snippier than you've ever heard it.

"A lot more paperwork than you were expecting, huh?"

He doesn't look at you, so you reach forward to tap the back of his hand. "Derek, come on, what's going on with you?"

You brace for him to snap at you again, but then he just sighs, setting his pen down. "You're not angry with me, right?"

"What?" You don't know where this is coming from, seeing as how he's been the one who's been avoiding you all day. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"Why?" he repeats, his face twisted with disbelief. "I basically stole this position out from under you."

You shake your head forcefully, putting your hand over his on the desk. "Not even close, hon. Anything on my end was bureau politics, but that's just one side of it. You deserve this just as much as I would have. You've even been at the BAU longer than I have."

He's silent for a moment, before he turns his hand under yours and clasps it gently. You give his hand a squeeze before bringing your other one up to his cheek. "You're doing a great job. You were an amazing leader out there today. Hotch picked you well."

Derek leans into your hand for a beat, before letting out another sigh. "Thanks."

"Seriously, Derek," you say with a smile. "This might have been one of his best professional decisions yet."

That makes him laugh, before shaking his head. "Nah, his best decision was bringing you to this team."

Your chest fills with warmth and you lean forward to pull him into a hug. His arms are strong as they wrap around you, and you settle into the hug, turning away from the office light upstairs and trying to ignore the fact that Aaron hasn't looked up from his desk since you started talking.

***

"Agent Hotchner, before you go, there's one final thing I'd like to share with you."

Karl Arnold, the Fox, has been taunting each of you throughout the whole day, and right when you finally thought you were done, he drew you right back in. You follow Hotch and Prentiss back into the interrogation room.

"So you think you found my admirer."

"No," Aaron says simply. "We found the killer."

Arnold grins. "With my help, of course."

"Your admirer is exactly like everyone who contacts you..." Emily sneers, "lost."

Arnold turns to her, and the look in his eyes makes your skin crawl. "My love, your guy is far from lost."

Hotch shakes his head, turning to the door. "We're done."

"So is he." All three of you spin back around, much to his amusement. "'Look at what I have done.' It's quite brilliant, you know?"

"We will find whoever sent you that."

"No, Agent Hotchner, I rather think he's already found you."

Aaron immediately starts flipping through the file on the table, shoving pictures and papers aside as he searches for something. Something about Arnold's tone sends your mind reeling and you grab the journal in front of you and start flipping through it as well.

"What's going on?" Emily asks, coming up behind you.

Arnold just laughs. "He's torturing him."

"Who?"

He ignores her. "It's great to see you squirm, Agent Hotchner."

You reach one of the bookmarked pages, and the symbol that greets you almost makes you drop the journal. "Aaron..."

His eyes snap to your hands as his skin turns white. "Foyet."

The three of you rush out of the interrogation room, accompanied by the disturbing sound of Arnold's laughter echoing behind you.

Just before the door shuts behind you, you hear his final words. "He knew you'd come."

***

The whole team spends days with only one goal in mind: find and capture Foyet. JJ works with you and Garcia to track prescription medications that he would be on given his self-inflicted injuries, and Spencer, Emily, and Aaron put together a geographic profile using the letters from the Fox and the proximity of nearby pharmacies. Derek's role as acting unit chief keeps him busy all on its own, but he manages to keep the team on track as he turns any new cases that come in to other teams.

When JJ returns from a local pharmacy with the discovery that many prescription meds have over-the-counter alternatives, the focus shifts. Garcia narrows down the list, and brings back a list of names that is way too long to feasibly question.

"153 names," you huff, leaning over her shoulder as she scrolls down the list.

Emily frowns. "Well, he's not gonna use his own name."

"What kind of aliases should we be looking for?"

You all consider this, before Derek chimes in. "He could have easily stolen someone's identity."

Hotch shuts that idea down immediately. "No, he's a narcissist in love with his own mythology. He'd use a name connected with the case."

"A victim, maybe," you guess, "or a cop?"

Garcia doesn't find anything on the initial search, but thankfully Spencer suggests another approach. "Guys, Foyet likes things to have meaning to him. The eye of providence, the addresses in blood he wrote on the bus that led us back to him. Maybe he's doing the same thing with the alias."

Emily frowns. "Like an anagram or something?"

Spencer walks over to the white board and writes out George Foyet, before fiddling around with the spellings of possible anagrams. You walk up behind him and follow his movements along the board. "You see something, Spence?"

He shakes his head. "Not yet."

"Spencer," you interrupt as the realization comes to you, "he named himself The Reaper."

He pauses for a beat, before switching over to scrawling out possible anagrams for The Reaper instead. After a moment, he's done. "Peter Rhea."

Penelope is already searching. "There's a Peter Rhea in Arlington."

Rossi nods, a satisfied look on his face. "We found him."

***

Garcia sends out the address of an apartment in his name, and you drive over with Hotch, who doesn't say a word the whole way over. You keep glancing at him, trying to be discreet, but the tension in his posture doesn't fade, even after the breakthrough.

The apartment ends up being empty, but when you all go inside, there's a laptop sitting on the center table. Emily dials Garcia the moment you realize that the files on it are being remotely deleted, and when she hacks in, she comes across a series of surveillance photos that make you gasp out loud. "Oh my god, isn't that-"

"That's the US Marshall protecting my family." His face looks frozen with stress as he dials Marshall Kassmeyer's number. When the call goes to voicemail, Aaron stalks out of the apartment and to the SUVs parked out front. He doesn't wait for you to get in, before he's already driving off.

"Where is he going?" Emily calls out as she exits the building behind you.

"Kassmeyer's house," you say, almost certain that you're correct. With the knowledge that his family is most likely in immediate danger, there is nothing anyone could do to stop him from trying to save them. "I'm gonna follow him."

"Here," Rossi says, tossing his car keys to you. You accept them gratefully and speed off down the road.

~

Kassmeyer is bleeding out when you get to his house. Aaron is already inside, trying to get him to explain what happened, and when he describes how Foyet taunted him and stabbed him, you resist the urge to take Aaron's hand.

"Sam," he says suddenly, leaning over him. "I need to understand. Does he know where Jack and Haley are?"

Your heart rate skyrockets as Kassmeyer mumbles another apology. If Foyet knows where they are, you don't know if any of you will be able to get there in time.

The paramedics rush in then, and they carry Sam out to the awaiting ambulance as he refuses sedation. Aaron runs out after them and throws himself into the back of the ambulance before you can catch up.

~

Without any new leads, there's nowhere for you to go, so you wait out front in your SUV as you wrack your brain for where Foyet would have told Haley and Jack to go. You don't know how long it takes until another agent calls you from the hospital with the news that Marshall Kassmeyer died in surgery.

The news hits you like a ton of bricks. One more body you can attribute to The Reaper. "Is Agent Hotchner there?"

The voice is tinny over the line. "He took one of the SUVs and left a few minutes ago."

"Where?" You can hear how frantic your voice sounds, but you don't care. "Where did he go?"

"I'm not sure," the agent says. "He sped away before anyone could ask."

You hang up the phone and turn the car on, before pulling onto the street and calling the team line. Garcia picks up on the first ring.

"Sam died in surgery," you explain as you turn at the end of the street. "Hotch is already gone, but I'm gonna go to the hospital now in case someone has more info."

"Okay, honey," she says, patching in the rest of the team. When they answer, she repeats your statement, before she gets cut off. "Guys, Hotch is calling Foyet."

"Patch us in," Derek instructs over the line, before going silent. You mute yourself as well, before turning back to the road.

"Agent Hotchner."

Foyet's voice makes you nauseous, and you can practically hear the grin behind his words.

"If you touch her..." Aaron doesn't even finish the threat, but you can feel the rage within it.

"Be gentle, like I was with you?"

Your eyes prick with tears as you remember the scars that are now a permanent fixture on his body. The matching scars. The idea of Haley ending up the same way, or Jack-

"What the hell took you so long?" Foyet complains, his tone playful. "I was beginning to think this phone was dead or something."

Aaron doesn't answer him, and the anger is almost palpable over the line.

"Why so quiet? You usually lash out when you're frustrated."

"I'm not frustrated," he finally responds. "You're more predictable than you think."

"Am I?"

He starts to recount the tale of Foyet's life, weaving in details that you didn't know from his childhood and the pain he was causing before he was even old enough to drive. You suppose this was what all of those late nights at the office were for. You hope they were worth it.

"That's the thing, George," he continues, his voice suddenly softer. It's like he's pleading with him. "This isn't a fairy tale. You don't have to write this story. Haven't you gotten what you wanted?"

There's silence for a few moments, and you can hear your heartbeat in your skull. Eventually Foyet comes back. "You know what I've been thinking? Haley looks pretty good with dark hair."

Your heart falls into your stomach. He has her. He already has her.

"She's lost some weight. Must be all the stress you caused her."

Just when you think that might be the worst of it, he continues. "Where's the little man? Oh. There he is. Does he like Captain America because of you?"

He has them both. You can barely see the road through the anger and fear that is coursing through your veins. Another phone rings and Foyet answers it, leaving his line with Hotch on as well. "Mrs. Hotchner. I'm here. Open the gate and I'll drive in."

You can't hear her reply, before Foyet returns to the call you're listening to. "Aaron? I really gotta go."

The call disconnects, and you can't breathe. Open the gate. The gate. What gate?

Think, think, goddamnit think.

The answer hits you like a truck. "His house. They're at his old house."

Emily whispers something that sounds like "shit" and you swerve across the lanes to make a u-turn. "I'm heading there now."

Assuming Aaron was already heading back after leaving the hospital, he would reach the house before any of you. You can only hope he'll be there in time.

Your knuckles have turned white from how hard you're gripping the steering wheel, and when Garcia patches you all in for another call from Foyet, the tears are already flowing down your cheeks.

"Aaron?"

It's Haley's voice. You gasp out loud from the relief that she's still alive.

"You're okay?" She sounds so scared, but at least she's alive. That's all you can focus on right now.

Aaron answers with a defeated sigh. "I'm fine."

"But...he said that..." The realization hits her, and she lets out a small sob. "Oh, Aaron."

"He can hear us, right?"

"Yes."

His voice is softer then, wet with tears. "I am so sorry. Haley, show him no weakness, no fear."

"I know." Of course she does. She was married to a profiler for years. She knows what all of this means, but she doesn't deserve any of it. "Sam told me all about him. Is he, uh..."

"No," he says gently. "Sam is fine."

Foyet's voice is like the hiss of a snake as it joins the call. "Aaron, Aaron, Aaron. Is that why your marriage broke up, because you're a liar?" His voice is too close to the phone. You want to scream for him to get away from her, but you're not supposed to be listening, and your car isn't moving fast enough.

"He's trying to scare you, Haley." His voice is trembling, and you can hear the tightness behind each of his words.

When Foyet mentions the deal, your stomach roils with nausea. You can picture the exact look on Aaron's face as he blames himself for this entire situation, even though it's happening to him, not because of him.

"Don't react."

Haley's voice is shaking too as she whispers, "What is he talking about?"

"Tell Jack I need him working the case."

"What?" She sounds confused, and that's when you remember the signal he told you about. The words that only Jack knows that are meant to keep him safe from situations exactly like this.

"Tell Jack I need him working the case," he repeats, his voice steadier. But all of it goes away the moment Haley hands her son the phone.

"Hi, Daddy."

"Hi, buddy." His voice cracks and you feel your heart crack with it. The tears are rushing down your cheeks now, and you wipe them out of your eyes with the back of your hand as you get closer to the house. But not close enough.

Aaron tells him to work the case again, and he gives Haley a hug before rushing out of the room.

"He's so cute. He's like a little junior G-Man." Foyet chuckles, before yelling out. "I'll be right up, Jackie boy!"

Aaron ignores him, and you feel his focus return. "Is he gone?"

"Yes." Haley's voice is strong, and you release a single sigh of relief as you press the gas pedal down as hard as you can.

Aaron's voice returns and you can hear the anguish as he speaks. "You're so strong, Haley. You're stronger than I ever was."

"You'll hurry, right?" The fear in her voice breaks your heart, and you want to assure her that you're all doing everything you can, but you're still a few streets away.

"I know you didn't sign on for this."

Neither did you.

She echoes your thoughts. "Neither did you."

His voice breaks into a sob. "I'm sorry for everything."

"Promise me that you will tell him how we met and how you used to make me laugh."

"Haley..."

"He needs to know that you weren't always so serious, Aaron." Her words sound so final, and you can't imagine what Foyet is pointing at her right now, but you can only hope that Aaron gets there before it's too late. "I want him to believe in love, because it is the most important thing. But you need to show him." She sounds almost resolute, and your body floods with hope for a split second. "Promise me."

His breathing is ragged as he whispers, "I promise."

Three gunshots ring out and the wheel jerks in your hand as a painful sob wrenches from your throat. No, no, no.

~

You race out of your car the moment you pull to a stop in front of the house. There's only one other SUV outside, and you don't give yourself a moment to think as you rush inside, lifting your gun at the last second.

The front foyer is empty, but then a jagged thumping fills the air and you dart around the corner to find Aaron beating Foyet to a pulp. You can tell from where you're standing that he's already dead, but that doesn't seem to matter to him.

"Aaron!" you yell, hoping to break his reverie. His hands are covered in blood as he pounds the man's face in, and he doesn't look up until you grab him from behind and yank his arms back. "Aaron, he's dead. He's dead."

He stops moving, and for one single second, everything is still. Then his body pitches forward and he breaks down as he sobs, his hands coming up like he's begging for the pain to go away.

You clutch him as tightly as you can, like if you hold him close enough, he won't fall apart. You can hear the voices of your teammates as they enter the house, but then his head lifts and he pulls himself up, dashing down the hall. You follow after him, rushing past Morgan and Rossi, and you realize where he's going in real time as he runs into his office and kneels down beside his desk.

Please, please, not him. Just not him. He opens the cabinet and you all share a gasp of relief as Jack's little face peeks out, his skin unmarred.

"I worked the case, Daddy. Just like you said."

Aaron reaches in and picks him up, before squeezing him tightly, his little face glancing around the room in confusion.

"You did a great job, buddy." He releases him after a few moments, before handing him off to JJ to go outside and away from the carnage littering the house. You press a kiss to his forehead before she lifts him up and walks out of the room.

Emily looks at you then, concern flashing in her eyes, but you just nod, and she follows JJ, pulling the door closed behind her.

You turn back around just in time to catch Aaron as he collapses to the floor. The weight sends you both to your knees, and he crushes you to him as you hold him as tightly as you can. His sobs mix in with your own, and you try not to let your body shake from the force of your crying, because you need to be strong for him.

He buries his face into your neck, his tears mixing with the blood on his face as it soaks your shirt and vest.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper into his hair. It doesn't feel like enough, but there's nothing else to say. "I'm so sorry."

~

Derek and Emily come back with the paramedics eventually to take him outside to check for injuries, and you're about to follow after them when something catches your eye. A pair of feet invade your periphery as you glance through a doorway down the hall. Oh god.

Your knees buckle and Derek catches you before you stumble forward into her room. You fall to your knees beside her, and you vaguely hear Emily whisper something behind you before there's just silence.

Her eyes are already closed, and if you really wanted to, you could try to pretend that she was just sleeping, but there's too much blood. You reach out to push her short hair back from her forehead, so that you can see her face one last time. One last time.

A sob rips out of you and you take her hand, pressing it to your lips. The scene is suddenly too much, and you close your eyes before letting out a shaky breath. You don't know what your life is going to look like without her presence. What Aaron's life with look like, or Jack's.

You squeeze her hand again before laying it on her stomach, and Emily comes forward then to help you up. Derek holds the door open as she leads you outside, and helps you tear your vest off the moment you hit the fresh afternoon air.

You bend over, hands on your knees, gulping back fresh air and trying not to throw up. Emily pats your back as you take in deep breaths, rubbing comforting circles that help to calm down your heart rate.

When you look up, you spot Aaron sitting on the edge of an ambulance. The medics are cleaning his cuts, and one of them is holding an ice pack to his head, when you walk over to survey the damage.

He doesn't look up when you approach, instead staring at his bloody hands with a look you can't discern. You can't imagine what he must be thinking right now, but if you know him at all, you know that sometimes you don't need to talk.

You reach down and take his hands, holding them in yours with a tight grip that forces him to look at you. Neither of you says anything, but it's okay, because there is nothing left to say. There will be soon, but not right now.

***

"We'll be back in a couple of hours," Jess tells you as she slings her purse over her shoulder.

You nod at her as you pick Jack off the ground and swing him up into your arms. "Take your time. We'll be hanging out here."

Aaron beckons for Jess to walk out in front of him before he dips his chin at you. "Thank you again."

"Of course," you smile, shaking your head. They're going to make the last arrangements for the funeral, and the absolute least you can do is watch Jack while they're away.

"Can we watch cartoons?" Jack asks the moment the front door shuts behind them.

"Soon, baby," you laugh lightly, before placing him on the ground and leading him to the kitchen. "We gotta make lunch first."

You throw together two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and bring them to the breakfast table, where Jack is obediently scribbling away at his coloring book. "Here you go, Jack-o-lantern."

He takes a massive bite before you can sit down, but over the next ten minutes, he only manages to finish about half of the sandwich. "I'm done."

"You sure?" you ask, scrunching your face into a playful frown. "I think you got at least a couple more bites in you."

He shakes his head forcefully, before dropping the sandwich onto his plate. You know he doesn't usually eat much, but he hasn't eaten since breakfast hours ago. "Come on, hon, at least another big bite."

"No!" he yells, pushing the plate away from him. Before you can stop him, he jumps off of his chair and races out of the kitchen, towards his bedroom.

You hear the door slam shut behind him, and you heave out a sigh before clearing away both of your plates and wiping down the counter. You don't fault him for anything, you just can't believe he has to go through something like this.

He's so young. Younger than you were when you lost your mom. There's some comfort in the fact that he likely won't remember this pain when he's older, but then comes the nausea. The sickening reminder that one day he'll forget about her. Haley, his mother, your best friend's wife, your friend.

You slowly make your way to his room, knocking on the door twice before calling out his name. When he doesn't answer, you twist the knob and gently open the door. "Jack?"

He doesn't say anything as you cross the room and sit on the floor in front of him. He's fiddling around with a set of colorful wooden blocks, and he only looks at you once you pick one up yourself. The edges have been worn smooth from being tossed around, and you run your fingers against them as you wait for him to speak.

"Did Mommy want to leave?"

You can practically hear your heart crack in two as the block falls from your hand. Tears spring to your eyes, but you blink them back, not wanting to scare him.

"No, baby, no," you say quickly, reaching forward to rub your thumb over his cheek. "She loved you more than anything in this world."

He still doesn't look convinced, so you rest your palms on his cheeks, trying to get him to look at you. "If it was her choice, she would have never left you."

After a moment, his lips jut out into a pout, but he nods once. "Is Daddy gonna leave too?"

The tears rush forward again. You want to tell him that Aaron would never leave him, that he may be gone most nights until after Jack is asleep, and sometimes even before he's up for breakfast, but he would never leave. But you also know that Haley didn't want to either, but sometimes the job takes more than you're willing to give. "He's not going to leave you. Not if he can help it."

That seems to calm him down for the time being, so you take his hand and lead him back to the living room. Once he's situated on the couch, you switch on his cartoons for him, turning the volume down low.

He settles into the cushion next to you, his arm resting on your thigh as he focuses on the screen in front of him, while your eyes wander down to the small tv stand. They land on a framed photo of Haley and Jess together, smiling at the camera as the sun shines down on their faces, and you lift your hand to your mouth to stifle the tears that rush forward.

When your eyes pan over to the photo of you and her, with Aaron and Jess right behind you, the tears stream down your cheeks, and you wipe them away quickly, trying to be quiet so as not to call away Jack's attention. But the cartoons are too quiet, and when a small sob escapes, Jack looks up, his brow furrowing with a look reminiscent of his father. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, baby," you nod, forcing a smile onto your face as you look down at him and press a kiss to his temple. "I just loved your mom very much."

***

The ground is still wet from the rain. It squelches beneath your feet as Jess clutches onto your arm, letting you lead her across the cemetery for the service.

You walk behind the pallbearers as they bring Haley to the top of the open grass and set her down carefully with a reverence that brings tears to your eyes again. You don't know if your eyes have been dry at any moment today, but the tears haven't spilled over yet. It's only a matter of time.

Aaron is ahead of everyone, looking down at the small sheet of paper in his hands, with Jack by his side. The young boy looks so small in his suit, and his eyes dart around the procession with a mix of confusion and sadness that pierces your chest.

When Aaron is ready to begin, Jessica lets go and walks up to stand on his other side, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. Your arm feels cold where she used to be, but it doesn't last long as another hand takes its place. You turn your head to see Spencer, one hand on his cane, and the other on your arm, as he holds you tightly to his side, his eyes brimming with tears as well. You don't expect that there's a dry eye in the crowd.

Aaron starts his speech with a quote, but the steadiness in his voice starts to waver the moment he says her name. "Haley was my best friend since we were in high school."

You remember how fiercely he loved her, even back then. The tenacity with which he pursued her when he realized that she was someone he wanted to spend his life with.

His voice continues as his eyes dip down. "We certainly had our struggles, but if there's one thing we agreed on unconditionally, it was our love and commitment to our son Jack." Your tears surface again, but you suck them back with a deep breath. "Haley's love for Jack was joyous and fierce. That fierceness is why she isn't here today."

Aaron looks up then, and his eyes land on the casket in front of him. "A mother's love is an unrivaled force of nature. And we can all learn much from the way Haley lived her life."

His hand flexes at his side, and you wish desperately that you were up there with him, holding his hand like he held yours when your mother died.

"I will make sure that Jack grows up knowing who his mother was and how she loved and protected him and how much I loved her."

His voice breaks and he reaches into his pocket for the scrap of paper he was looking at earlier. "I met Haley at the tryouts of our high school's production of 'The Pirates of Penzance'. I found our copy of the play and was looking through it the other night, and I came upon a passage that seemed appropriate for this moment."

The quote comes back to you as he recites it, and your mind flashes back to those adolescent afternoons when you would watch him make a fool of himself trying to impress Haley at play practice. You can't help yourself as the tears finally fall, and you feel Spencer squeeze your hand tightly, acting as the lifeline you so earnestly need.

When he finishes his speech, everyone comes forward to place white roses on her casket before it is lowered into the ground. You wait as the crowd slowly dissipates, as everyone heads to the repast, and you hold Jess's hand while Aaron picks Jack up, holding him tightly.

"Blow Mommy a kiss," he whispers, before leaning over to let Jack place a rose on the casket.

His brow furrows as he straightens again, and you watch as the familiar stoicism returns to his posture. He isn't pushing all of his emotions down, exactly. He's just tucking them away, so as to be there for his son, who needs a solid figure in his life, now more than ever.

And that's what he'll be.

***

The repast is bustling with people from all eras of Haley's life, and you sit with the team at a large table, staring at your plate of food. When Dave pulls Aaron outside to talk, you watch them leave, noting the stiffness in his shoulders as he's forced to leave Jack with Jess again. She has been nothing but grateful to see her nephew more often than usual, but nonetheless, he wears his guilt like a jagged scar across his face.

Penelope clutches your hand under the table and you give her a weak nod, unable to do more with all of the energy drained from you.

"It was a beautiful service," Emily says, her eyes big and soft as they look at you.

You nod again, before turning back to your full plate. You can't bear the thought of stomaching any food right now.

Then just when you think the day can't get any worse, Derek and JJ's phones chirp with a message at the same time. No. No.

"They can't be calling us in," Emily sighs, her lips thinning, "not tonight."

JJ shakes her head. "I'm on it." She returns from her phone call a minute later with a forlorn look. "There's no other team available."

Derek gets up with a sigh. "I'll get Rossi."

When he returns with Dave, leaving Aaron alone on the deck, you squeeze Penelope's hand before walking outside. The air is cold, and you wrap your shawl tighter around your shoulders as you approach him.

"It's okay," he says before you can open your mouth. "I'll see you when you get back."

Mind reader, you think for a split second.

He has already given you the blessing you assumed you needed when you came out here, but it still doesn't feel right. "I don't want to go."

"It's your job," he shrugs. Like it's that simple. "It's okay."

"Are you sure?" You won't be able to do your job with him here, but even less so if you're feeling guilty the whole time. "I can take time off."

"No," he says quietly, shaking his head. He looks out into the night air, and you take his hand, squeezing it between both of yours. "It'll be good for me to have some time with Jack."

You can understand that. You pull him into a hug, before dipping your chin into a nod and leaving him out there again.

***

His return to work hasn't been easy. When Strauss gave him the option to retire with full pension and benefits, it should have been an easy decision, but something was tugging at his gut, telling him that would be the wrong choice.

Now he's sitting in his office, and all of his recent life choices are swirling around him like a hurricane ready to close in. He misses Jack like he's missing a limb, and he feels terrible for how often he's been relying on Jess to take care of him, even though she readily offered her help.

His emotions are a tumbling mess, and he doesn't notice that his fingers have been tapping the edge of his desk until you enter his office.

"Coffee?" He looks up with a nod, accepting the steaming cup you hand him, before you flop down on the couch across from him. "What are you thinking about?"

He swallows back a scalding gulp that likely scorched his throat on the way down. He wants to push his emotions down and say something quippy that won't distract you for more than a few moments, but tonight he needs reassurance more than he's willing to admit. "Did I come back too early?"

He expects an immediate and bombastic denial, but you just sit there, stirring your black coffee as you tuck your legs under you. "I can't decide that for you."

It's a diplomatic answer, but he needs guidance, and he doesn't have anyone else to go to. Not that he would go to anyone else even if he did. "Do you think I'm jeopardizing the team by being here?"

This time, the answer is immediate. "Of course not. You've been doing your job effectively, and no one can say otherwise."

He pauses for a moment, ruminating over your words. He knows he's not asking the right questions. He's just delaying until he has to accept what he's feeling.

With a shaky breath, he sets his coffee down and looks at you. "Am I jeopardizing my family by being here?"

Your brows pinch. "Jack will be okay. He's young, and he'll miss you, but you're his hero, Aaron. He loves you because you keep him safe."

"But I'm never home." His voice sounds ragged to his own ears, and he's certain you can hear the pain clawing out of his throat. "How am I doing my job as a father if I'm never there?"

"Aaron," you whisper, drawing his eyes back to yours. "You're keeping him safe by catching the bad guys. He knows that. And that's what he needs." You fix him with a look that makes his back straighten. "Okay?"

After a moment, he nods. "Okay."

***

"Hi, Hales."

You sink down onto the bench in front of her headstone, before pulling the baggie of peach rings you brought from your pocket. They were the only candy you liked from your high school's vending machine, and the two of you would share them between classes during your senior year.

"I should've come sooner, but work's been really busy."

You've only visited her once since the funeral six months ago, and you wish you could've come by more, but sometimes being here is just too much. It's too stark of a reminder that she's never coming back.

You pop another peach ring in your mouth, before breaking into a grin. "Jack's growing up so fast. He's so resilient, it's amazing." He has already adjusted to living in his father's apartment full time, and he seems to like hanging out with you or Jess whenever he's stuck at work late. "I wish you could be here to see it all."

You wish for a lot of things these days. The loss seems to keep piling up, and you don't know what to do or how to feel most of the time, but time keeps passing. And with it, so does the grief.

"Aaron's starting to get better too." You don't know what you believe, but a part of you suspects she knows all of this already. "The transition back was hard on all of us, but he doesn't look as defeated all the time anymore." Your lip twitches. "He even smiles at my jokes sometimes."

You swear you hear her laughter over the rustling of the wind, but it's probably just in your head. "Anyway, I just wanted to come see you. Let you know how much we miss you."

You stand up, grabbing the bouquet from next to you, and walk over to the headstone. Without thinking, you reach into your bag of candy and drop a peach ring into the dirt. It feels juvenile, even as you're doing it, but you can't help yourself. She would find it funny. You know she would.

You tuck the rest into your pocket and walk across the grass to another row of stones. It's not a quick stroll, but it gives you enough time to take a few deep breaths before you face him again.

Jeff Adler. The letters jump out at you like flashing lights, and you blink a few times as the magnitude of your loss washes over you. So many lives, so much love and warmth gone from your life.

Bending down, you place the bouquet of carnations in front of his headstone, before kissing your fingertips and pressing them to his name.

***

"You've got to be kidding."

He just shrugs, but there's a small smile tugging at his lips. You make sure to keep your voice down as you toss your cards into the center pile and lean back against the bottom of his couch.

After putting Jack to bed, neither of you could think of anything quiet to do until Aaron pulled out a deck of cards from below the tv stand.

"I hate that you're so good at this," you grumble, watching as he deftly splits the deck and starts shuffling again. This being Go Fish.

"You're good, too," he concedes, flashing you an amused look that you don't share.

"Yeah, but you're better."

"As with most things."

You throw a card at him, but he dodges it easily. When he's finished shuffling, he deals out a card, before pausing. "We can play something else if you don't think you can beat me."

"Just deal the cards."

He lets out a low laugh and deals out another card, just as both of your cellphones chirp at the same time. You share a look before dropping the cards on the table. He stands first and gives you a hand up, which you accept.

"I'll call Jess," you whisper as he strides over to his bedroom to get his go-bag. You dial her quickly, and get the confirmation that she's coming over, before grabbing your own bag and heading out to his car.

***

"Sorry to ruin your night."

Everyone is in casual clothing when you walk into the briefing room with Aaron on your heels. JJ shoots you an apologetic look which quickly turns to surprise when Rossi walks in wearing a full tux.

"What, are you working on, wife number 4?" Derek laughs as he sets his bag down.

Dave just grumbles. "I see you people way too much."

"I hear that," you grin before taking your usual seat between Aaron and Spencer.

"Let's get started." JJ hands out the case files and clicks the screen on. "All right. Anchorage field office is asking us to investigate a series of murders in Franklin, Alaska. There's 3 people dead in less than a week."

You scan the file as fast as you can, but Spencer beats you to it. "For a town with a population of 1,476, that's fairly significant."

JJ nods. "It's their first murder investigation on record."

"Who are the victims?" Dave asks, his eyes darting back and forth between the file and the screen.

JJ looks down at her notes. "Uh, Jon Baker, a hunter. Dedaimia Swanson, a schoolteacher. Brenda Bright, the first mate on a fishing boat. There's a new victim every 2 days."

Everyone seems to be thinking the same thing, but Emily gives it a voice. "Any connections?"

"Unfortunately, in a town this small, everyone's connected."

When JJ finishes up the briefing, Aaron stands up and grabs his bag. "We'll fly out tonight. Everybody can sleep on the plane. Garcia, I need you with us."

She shoots him a confused look. "Sir?"

"I've tasked a satellite uplink and it's your job to keep us connected."

"Yes, sir."

"This town's already on the brink," he continues with a sigh, "and if this pattern continues, we've only got another day until the next murder. Let's finish this fast."

***

After barely getting any sleep on the plane ride over, and a long day in the cold, the team holes up in the lobby of a local inn, warming up around the fire.

"I'm gonna pull an all-nighter," Garcia announces when you stifle a yawn behind your fist. "I'll finish going through the town records. Should have background checks by sunrise."

"Good," Aaron nods, sitting up on the couch. "The rest of us should get some sleep, start fresh in the morning."

At his suggestion, the innkeeper steps out from behind her desk. "I've got four of the upstairs rooms available."

"Uh, 4?" Spencer squeaks, his eyes darting around the room.

"Come on," the sheriff sighs as he stands up, "that's the best we can do. Your team is double the size of my department." He glances at Aaron and they share a nod. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night."

The sheriff walks out of the inn and you lean back on the couch, turning your head to the side to look at Aaron. The question in your eyes is implicit. What's the plan?

"It looks like we'll have to double up," Emily answers for you, her lips stretching into a grin.

Derek speaks up immediately. "I'm not sleeping with Reid."

Penelope reaches over and grabs Derek's arm. "Dibs."

Emily and JJ stand together and head upstairs, and you glance at Aaron with a nod. "Let's find one of the double rooms before Emily snags it."

"Guess it's you and me, kid," Dave says to Spencer as you grab a key from the front desk and pick up your bag. The inn is so small that all of your rooms end up being in the same hallway. You leave the door open behind you as you step inside and toss your bag onto the nearest bed.

Aaron enters after you and locks the door, before wordlessly moving your bag to the other bed, away from the door. It takes you less than a second to realize why. His protective nature was always strong, but over the past year, it has kicked into overdrive, especially around you and Jack.

"Do you want first shower?" you ask as you unzip your bag and pull out a tee shirt and some sleep shorts.

"You take it," he says, shaking his head. The chilliness of the outside air hasn't left your bones, so you don't wait for him to change his mind before grabbing your toiletries and rushing into the bathroom.

While you're in the shower, Aaron takes his time fluffing out the comforter and pillows on his bed. The room itself isn't very spacious, but he doesn't mind sharing with you. The close quarters remind him of his youth when he would sneak into your room late at night to get away from his family. Just the sight of the lights through your bedroom window used to bring him peace. When he glances over at your side of the room, a tranquility washes over him, and he realizes that the feeling hasn't really gone away.

"Your turn," you say a little later when you emerge from the bathroom. Your skin is still slightly damp, and your cheeks are pink from the heat of the shower, and he has to tear his eyes away as he nods and steps around you.

The tiny mirror in the bathroom is still steamy when he shuts the door behind him and pulls off his shirt, and he lifts his hand to wipe it off, before pausing. His scars aren't something he likes to think about often, but after saving Jack, they took on a different image in his mind. He felt less like a victim.

He rubs his hand against the mirror to wipe off some of the condensation, and his reflection looks tense as it stares back at him. Back in the room, your presence felt warm and comfortable, but in here, with the steam fogging up the glass, and the scent of your perfume lingering in the air, something else roils in his gut.

It's a not-so-unfamiliar feeling that used to be commonplace when he was younger. It hadn't reared its head in years, but lately, it's been so much harder to push it down. When he sees how much his son loves you, how much he looks forward to finding you in his apartment when he gets back from a late meeting. It's been...hard.

He turns on the shower and steps in, letting the hot water wash away the notions tickling the edge of his brain. When he walks back into the room, you are tucked into your bed, the covers up to your chin.

"You look like a burrito," he notes with a small laugh.

You shrug, though it's barely visible from under the comforter. "I find this is the best way to keep out the Arctic chill that seems to have invaded our lodgings."

"Fair enough."

He slides into his own bed and clicks the switch on the wall to turn the lights off. He tries to sleep for a few minutes, but even though he's exhausted, it won't come.

It's dark enough that he can't see his fingers in front of his face, but the uneven sounds of your breathing let him know that you're still awake.

"You should really sleep," he whispers into the darkness.

"You first," you say after a moment, before your voice lowers. "How are you doing? How are you holding up, I mean."

"How are you doing?" he asks, knowing he's being unfair.

You don't let it slide this time. "You're deflecting."

"I know."

There's a pause before he finally concedes. "I think I'm okay. The normalcy is coming back, and Jack is doing a lot better, which helps immensely."

"Me too," you say after a beat.

He wants to let the subject go and try to sleep, but the words are pulling at his throat. "I miss her all the time."

"Me too," you repeat. You huff out a husky laugh, but there's no humor behind it. "God, me too."

There's a tinge of bitterness in your voice that he recognizes in himself, but it's not something he knows if he can explain. He remembers how a small part of you blamed Jeff after his death, but that's nothing like what he's feeling. He blames himself for everything but the act itself, knowing that if he had just gotten there quicker, or taken the deal, or taken the transfer-

His breath catches and he hears you rustle under your covers. He imagines you turning to face him, and as his eyes slowly adjust he sees that he was right.

"Do you remember that time in high school," he says suddenly, not entirely sure where he's going with this, "when I got detention."

"I'm gonna need you to be more specific."

He laughs, in spite of himself, and turns over to face you as well. You're so far away, but he can just barely make out your face from across the room. "When you broke me out."

Your laughter is sudden and it echoes around the small room as the memory hits you. "I do remember that. I told them your grandfather was in the hospital so that they would let you out. God, Mrs. Parker was so upset when she went to get you."

"I think my favorite part of the story was that both of my grandfathers died before I could walk."

You chuckle, your voice softer now. "I know."

His chest warms at the memory of the two of you running out to your car and driving to get a scoop of chocolate at your favorite ice cream shop. Even afterwards, you had driven around town for hours, without a complaint, and he hadn't mentioned the time once. It was so soon after his dad's death, and he hated going home for so many reasons. Sean hated him, and his mother was sad all of the time, and it was like you just knew.

"You were good at reading me," he whispers, almost to himself.

"Were good?" you ask with mock offense.

He snorts. "Fine, are good at reading me."

"That's more like it."

***

You drop your empty glass back on the table, feeling the burn of the liquor as you swallow it down. It's your second drink of the night, and while you usually don't indulge in more than one, you welcome the chance to let loose.

Everyone else seems to be in the same mindset, because JJ, Emily, and Penelope are in various states of drunkenness around the booth, and the men are either nursing a drink or driving.

"Let's dance," JJ shrieks, lifting her head off of Will's shoulder and pushing herself up from the booth.

"Hell yeah," Emily grins, pulling you and Penelope up with her.

JJ tries to corral the guys to join, but they all stay firmly seated. Dave and Will look content as they sip their whiskey, and Spencer doesn't budge, citing his leg hurting (a lie). After a bit of targeted shoving, Derek chuckles and gets up for one dance, following Penelope and JJ onto the dance floor.

"Aaaaaron," you slur, tugging his arm. He doesn't move even an inch, but the corner of his lip twitches when you don't give up.

"You used to dance in college," you point out with a frown.

Emily hoots as she saunters over to the floor. "This I need to see."

Aaron just shakes his head with a smile, and you eventually oblige, joining the ladies (and Derek) for a few dances. The dark atmosphere of the club has you feeling looser than you have in a long time, and after the next song, you join Dave over at the bar to get another drink.

You down half of it before you leave the counter, and by this point, JJ has coaxed Will out of his seat, while Spencer rushes off to find the bathroom. The tiredness hits you as soon as you finish the drink, and when you spot Aaron by himself at the booth, you glide back to keep him company.

He doesn't notice you at first as you walk over to him, and you can't help but register that he looks good in his undone button-down. You take another step forward and a thin glint of metal around his neck becomes visible. A jolt of heat shoots down your body and you set your glass down on a nearby table without looking as you approach him.

When you reach the edge of the bench, someone walking by bumps into you and you stumble forward. Aaron grabs onto you as you fall forward, and you end up crushed in his arms, your face just inches from his. Your thoughts cut out and you don't make a sound, your breaths coming out in quick spurts.

Neither one of you moves as you look at each other, so so close, so much closer than you've ever been, than you've ever gotten to be. The faintest impression of a thought - the thought - crosses the deepest edges of your mind as you lean in infinitesimally. He doesn't notice, and you barely register it either, but you can't help but notice how easy it would be to just close the gap and kiss him.

Kiss him?

Your brain short-circuits and you just barely manage to keep your eyes from widening. You have no idea where that came from, but then again, if you are honest with yourself, it has always been there, buried deep down beneath years of friendship and history.

The question invades your brain again, and this time, you're unable to stop it. What would it be like to kiss him?

You can't keep your breath from catching, and he pulls back immediately, tugging you to the side and depositing you on the booth beside him.

Your mouth falls open as you try to meet his eye. "Aaron-"

His head turns and he stands up, his eyes dark under the soft lighting. "I'm sorry."

Before you can get another word out, he's gone.

TAGLIST: @citrusiove, @yiiiikesmish, @sanayikes, @mdanon027, @alice-w0rld, @beata1108, @bakugocanstompme, @raely-study, @himboelover, @hermionegalathynius, @rousethemouse, @calif0rniadreamin, @tolerateit13, @delusional-13s-blog, @madesavage05, @littlemisskavities, @love13tter, @domithebomi, @guacam011y, @averyhotchner, @silver-studios, @whosmys (message me to be added!)

[crescencestudio]

๋࣭⭑ Devlog #41 | 5.28.24 ๋࣭⭑

It's hot girl (/gender neutral) summer season

HAPPY MAY!!

Hope you're all doing well <3 We're already getting into summer, which is a little crazy to me. The year is flying by! Before I get into what we actually did this month, it wouldn't be a May devlog without our annual Mermay celebration!

Look at those locks. His Ariel/Rapunzel era fr

Since I already had updated Mermay pieces for the Alaris LIs, I decided to do one for our beloved Van this year ^^ Hope you all like it!

For writing this month, I spent a lot of it catching up on Etza edits. Being totally transparent, I wasn't Completely Happy with their route when their draft was finished. But now that I've started the editing process with Wudgey, I'm really excited to see how their route is shaping up!!! We've been fleshing a lot of little interactions out with their route, and I can already see Etza's character really starting to shine with these edits ^^

I've also been chipping away at Kuna'a's route! While it's nowhere near finished, I'm hopeful that this upcoming month will be the month of Kuna'a now that I don't have a bunch of releases I'm trying to balance. His route is also one of the ones whose outline is more fleshed out (Druk and Etza I would say were the least fleshed out, which might be why they also took a bit longer). So I'd love to see Kuna'a's first draft complete/almost complete by the next devlog!

This month, I had to dust off my art skills tbh LMFAOIJSDF. It's been.... a WHILE since I've made CGs since I've been in the writing and coding dungeon for so long. So most of this month's art updates are me getting tilted from redrawing an ugly sketch over and over.

I DID manage to get the Van Mermay piece out. And I also was able to sketch out Kayn's Tragic End CG; that leaves only one CG that has to be sketched out! Currently, six of their CGs are finished, two need to be rendered, and one needs to be drawn still.

And since Kayn's CGs are mostly done, I've started drawing Fenir's. I was actually able to finish one because I basically Locked In when I made it, so here is a sneak peek!

Kisses his little pink nose

You might notice there's not toooo many updates on this month's devlog. The reason for that is because this month, I spent a lot of it recovering both mentally and physically. April shenanigans and those back-to-back releases took a lot out of me, and after going full speed basically since this year started, I learned I REALLY needed a break. That coupled with the concussion I got made it so that most of this month was focused on recovering and then getting back into the groove of things.

Another thing I tried to focus on this month was finding a balance in my workflow. Going into this month, I felt like I was on the verge of a mental breakdown almost every day, in large part because I have a lot of big things I'm trying to accomplish this year. Between finishing my dissertation, Alaris, and a personal big event that I have to plan, I have a lot on my plate this year, and it's made it easy to get overwhelmed as the months pass by. So I wanted to find a balance between all three that didn't make me feel like I was also falling into insanity. After talking to beloved Wudgey of @herotome fame, I've started adopting a schedule that gives me enough structure and flexibility to feel like I'm making progress without going crazy and getting lost in the sauce.

While it's still early in the process, I'm really happy with the balance I've hit, and I'm feeling much more like myself now compared to a month ago!

I caught up on quite a few things in my backlog this month, which made me happy ^^ I always like to learn from and support other devs, so finally being able to return to that helped with the recovery process <3

I don't have any actual fanart pieces, but there are a couple of games I'd like to highlight!

First of all, of course I must talk about our hot girl (/gender neutral) summer cross-promo. If you haven't checked out these games, I can't recommend them enough!!

Links to each game can be found on the Alaris Game page under the magic and mystery otome section!

Specifically, Save the Villainess, The Good People, and Thorn for the Villain are amazing games if you're into thriller/political games layered with mystery

The Silent Kingdom (which I played recently and is AMAZING) and Dual Chroma (Otojam 2023 ALLY) have added mechanics of RPG for exciting action-adventure fantasy stories

Lost in Limbo, Obscura, and Snow White Ashes are BEAUTIFUL dark fantasy games. I've played all three of these and they have some of the most beautiful writing and visuals... BIG FAN OF ALL OF THEM.

Mask Beyond Lies and Sigh of the Abyss have that epic fantasy adventure appeal to them, in a way that I think is similar to Alaris! And Pearlglow Cafe (another Otojam 2023 ALLY) is a very lighthearted and charming game for those of you who like the comfy vibe that most of my stories have!!

Some other games that I played are Favor (@favorvn) by beloved @concreteparasite which is SOOOOO stylish. If you've played Binary Star Hero by Connie, you can expect that same stylish, dark, sultry vibe from Favor. If you haven't checked out either of those games by Connie, I can't recommend them enough, especially if you like yanderes. There is so much aesthetic and atmosphere to them!

I also played Where Winter Crows Go by @prikarin who is a VERY talented developer (and one I'm sure many are familiar with). I had a lot of fun romancing Crowe and both the MC and him have such strong personalities, it was so fun seeing their dynamic!!!! The CGs were also made by anta, who is the dev behind Thorn for the Villain, and they're BEAUTIFULLLLL. Each one has so much style and rly has a professional look to them. Can't recommend enough if you haven't played already ((heads up that it is another yandere game for those who can't do yandere!))

Okay I've yapped enough. If you've made it this far, you are god's strongest soldier LFMASLDIFJ. See you all next month with hopefully some exciting progress!

[sserajeans]

just for a moment

hanni pham x fem! reader

synopsis: you and your co-star are tasked to make a song for your web drama's soundtrack. your co-star happens to be a childhood friend whom you've had history with.

genre + others: lsrfm! reader, idol au, childhood friends to lovers, friends to lovers, fluff, second chance ish?

notes: not requested, PLS READ THE LYRICS IT'LL MATTER!!!!, how i look delaying yail update 😂😂, also yes another hsmtmts inspired oneshot, pics from @/wiotas

"what do we even fucking write about?"

"y/n..."

"sorry..."

how did you get here? glad you asked!

it's the year 2025, and a team of producers at hybe are on the works for a minor project: a web drama promoting support for the lgbtq+.

you've talked about how odd it was to your best friend, and groupmate, yunjin.

"probably good for publicity, girl. like 'make everyone know we're not homophobic!' kinda thing." was all she had to say about it, which was likely true anyways.

you were convinced the casting was done at random honestly, but it was obvious they wanted a mix of groups to garner more attention. and that landed you the lead role with, you guessed it, ms. hanni pham!

why you two when you each had members who fit the actress role better? well, that's where you thought the random part came to play.

filming wasn't much of an issue. you were comfortable with hanni, and you two worked well on and off screen, just as expected considering your history. the director even pointed out your "remarkable chemistry", but she didn't have to know why it was that way.

as a matter of fact, you guys were about to wrap up in a few days. it was a wild past couple of weeks, but it was nice to get to spend more time with hanni again.

i mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like you two cut each other off when you moved to korea, but the talking definitely decreased, and the filming made up for lost time!

now, on one of the last days of filming, your respective managers sat you two in a conference room together, and dropped the news that you'd have to compose a new song just for the web drama's soundtrack.

the task in itself didn't bother you at all, and you were sure it didn't bother hanni too. you two were experienced in songwriting and composing, your names on a couple of song credits to count, so this was actually much easier than acting.

the issue was that you had enough going on for certain... feelings to resurface.

you see, the plot of the web drama hit a little too close to home for you. i mean seriously, childhood friends with feelings for each other, but couldn't take things further due to complications, then having to work together acting in some play.

it sounded a lot like your story.

hell, they even had your character do swimming! the same sport you excelled in back in australia.

the only reason nothing has gotten too awkward on that note yet, was because of your other labelmates being there like boynextdoor's leehan, minji and danielle, even your fellow members kazuha and yunjin.

with them around, you got to reconnect with hanni, but with a couple safe boundaries! now that you two were tasked to work on something alone though? you were scared things were going to be different.

so that's what brought you two here, together, in the music room. hanni seated facing the table with a pen and paper, you on the floor with your guitar in hand.

you were strumming to any chord shape that could come to mind in hopes of finding a melody that you could build off of, and hanni was tapping the end of her pencil on her forehead for any word, lyric, or rhyme that could work.

nothing came.

so engrossed in your respective tasks, the two of you didn't notice a shadow behind the translucent door, so when a knock came, you levitated off the floor for a millisecond, and hanni let out a soft yelp.

"hey you two~"

huh yunjin.

"how are my besties doing!" she came in doing a little dance, first walking over to check on what hanni was writing before landing on the floor beside you.

"we're stuck." you muttered, head against the wall behind you.

"oh... i see." yunjin shrugged her eyebrows in confusion, because she had just came from peeking over at hanni's notebook and was 100% sure she had lines written down.

"well, let's see... you got the genre down that suits the two of you so there's that. romance obviously sells, so there's that too. maybe you guys should try... writing while in character?" yunjin did her best to help the two of you, as the mutual best friend and seasoned singer-songwriter. "or if there's an experience you guys have had before, that would definitely help. real raw emotion ya know?"

"anyways," the eldest huffed and got up from the floor, messing up your hair and hanni's before heading for the door to leave the room. "i gotta get going. you two don't come home too late okay?"

you and hanni nodded before resuming. after a couple minutes, you realized that maybe you two will have to be communicating more if it meant writing a song together.

"hey han, do you have anything written?" hanni froze for a second before turning around on her chair.

truth was she did. she wrote them down specifically as yunjin started telling you two to write based on experiences.

"i... uh... kind of? just a couple lines, i don't know how i feel about them though."

"can i take a look? might help a bit."

"oh yeah... sure..."

there was a hint of hesitance in her voice, but it'd look awfully suspicious if she scratched out lines right before you'd check.

"ah..." the initial reaction was surprise for you, and a million thoughts came racing through your head.

"yeah! it's nothing much... but i figured it was better than nothing...."

"no yeah! for sure! i'm kinda getting the vibe, wait here." you turned around and picked up your guitar from the floor and took a seat beside hanni. "uhm... okay let's try... this?"

you freestyled a riff on your guitar, allowing your fingers to move on its own to play what felt right. it resulted in one of the most simple yet enchanting melodies that seemed perfect for your song's intro.

"hey that sounds perfect! i love it!" hanni cheered and gave you a thumbs up. "okay so... since you're doing your little guitar intro, perhaps we have the first line written in your character's point of view?"

"sure... okay... uhm..." it took you a couple seconds to think of something, or to get in character on the spot. but then you remembered yunjin's advice.

an experience you guys have had before.

"uh... how's this..." you fiddled with your hands as hanni nodded along, telling you to go on with your suggestion. after about half a minute, you had a two-liner with some sort of melody that matched your guitar intro. "i fell in love with the only girl who knows what i'm about."

hanni froze for a second, which didn't go unnoticed by you, but continued nodding along as she wrote down the lines. "i like your voice in this genre."

"oh..." you looked up from your guitar and faced her side profile as she was still facing her notebook. you felt your face warm a little, but not too much for it to gain color. "that's a lot coming from you. i have your lee mujin service episode on loop."

hanni smiled, a sight you'd never get tired of seeing. "a fan, huh? which part's your favorite?" she turned to look at you, a smirk on her face to mask the flustered and proud version of herself having received praise for her work from you of all people.

she continued writing a line underneath yours, a sudden burst of inspiration coming over her.

"probably lucky."

of course it's the song about being in love with your best friend.

she chuckled at your answer. hanni wasn't dense, and she knew you weren't either.

okay maybe you were, just slightly, but you pick up on context clues.

but point is, she knew what that implied, and what everything that came between the two of you the past few weeks could've felt like for you.

but just as she was getting somewhere, her train of thought was interrupted by your "burst of epiphany", as one would call it.

"oh hey, hear this out. i think it sounds like chorus material." you tapped her shoulder and positioned your hands across the frets of your guitar. you sounded a lot happier, more energy than you did earlier in the day as you finally got a feel of what to write and play.

when we're underneath the lights, my heart's no longer broken, for a moment, just for a moment

in that moment, hanni's mind rushed with too many emotions. objectively, the melody was beautiful. your voice made it better, the guitar felt like it had a voice of its own, and the lyrics. god, the lyrics.

she knew for sure you felt what she felt.

the two of you stayed in that music room a couple more hours, discovering a new type of comfort in a person the other has always known. like reading a book you've had forever, and feeling a newfound joy in a character that has always been there.

by the end of the day, you and hanni seemed to have switched roles, your guitar in her hands, and her notebook in yours.

you were finishing up a final copy of the first half of the song along with chords in case you'd forget the sound. there was also a copy of the both of you singing on your respective voice note apps. (which, unbeknownst to you, would be on repeat for hanni later that night.)

"here we go." you sighed, it took a lot of effort trying to make handwriting like yours legible. you've always hated it. teachers back in elementary all throughout high school would always mark your papers low despite almost flawless answers, just for your handwriting.

"i've always liked your handwriting..." hanni muttered as she admired your written work, unknowingly smiling to herself.

"oh.. thanks. i've always hated it."

"i know." hanni looked up at you, observing the sheepish smile on your face. she knew all about why you hated it, and she understood, but to her, it was an art. a part of you. she thought, "that's why i like it."

there was partial truth into that. besides it being a funny add-on to hanni's compliment, it's always been her thing to love stuff about you that you hated, even if it was something as small as handwriting.

back when you two were together (or whatever that was you had back in australia before you left, neither of you stuck a label on it), she'd always talk long speeches about how your handwriting was an art. something so significantly you that you shouldn't change, and that even if you hated it, she'd love it twice as much in place of you.

as you two shared a couple more laughs, a notification popped up on both of your phones. yours first, then hanni's a second later.

a snort accidentally escaped your system as you read the texts. "sorry.. is it yunjin?"

hanni let out the loudest laugh before nodding and exchanging phones with you to read what the older sent to the other. it was the same message in different forms, panicking to get you home before chaewon freaked out and took it out on yunjin, then proceeding to fear minji and her "wrath".

despite laughing at your member's worry, the two of you stood up to pack up, which really didn't take much anyways. you slid your guitar in its case, hanni hid her notebook in her bag.

walking out of the room to the lobby together side by side was probably the most stomach-churning activity of the day. and you literally had to write a love song about each other with each other. but there was something in the way it felt when your hands touched.

as you reached the part of the building where you finally had to part ways, the two of you faced each other. both expecting something, but not quite sure with what they were expecting.

"i.. uh... it was nice to reconnect today." she started off, awfully awkward at it too.

"yeah... it was..." you smiled, hand reaching for the back of your neck to scratch. a nervous habit. "i'll let you know if i think of anything tonight."

"yeah, same here." hanni nodded back, though a pinch of disappointment evident on her face. maybe she was expecting more, or maybe it was too soon. "see you tomorrow?"

"yeah... see ya." you slowly turned around, head racing.

should you say something? should you save it for another time? would it make things awkward tomorrow?

screw it. live in the present, right?

"han... for the record, my heart does still stop when i see you."

[rainstormwrite]

The new update is now public.

Hello again, people!

That's it. This is the day.

The new update is now public.

(You're required to start a new playthrough if you don't want any game-breaking bugs, by the way.)

What's done:

All three routes are finished.

All the POVs are rewritten to be in the third person (they actually feel way better than I thought they would be).

Some parts of the first fight scene are fixed and clarified.

Some pronoun bugs are fixed.

What's planned:

…

Writing another update, obviously.

Word count:

Including command lines: 271245 Excluding command lines: 260837

But, I would ask you to temper your expectations in terms of the new content's single playthrough length. I'm going to paraphrase this from my previous post: the actual amount of content that was added with this new update is somewhere between 15 to 25 pages (approximately).

Even though the word count increased from 53k to 260k, the only event to happen in this update is one conversation/confrontation (ridiculous, I know). This is primarily due to the overwhelming amount of variable text that changes depending on your earlier choices and due to the number of routes you can take. If you're interested in the reasons for me to decide to do that, check out my previous post.

So, basically, each reader will experience the new content very differently but may not get as much satisfaction due to its shortness. If that is the case, I can only suggest you make another playthrough with different choices, but, if that's not your cup of tea, I would totally understand. But, overall, the game is very… how do I put it..? Multiple-playthroughs-friendly, I'd say.

Safe to say, the update will be incredibly polarizing, no doubt, but I'm always open to feedback.

And, even though I haven't found any bugs or inconsistencies, I am obviously aware that someone else may find them, so, if you are that someone, please report the bugs to me.

I think that's all regarding the update itself, so go ahead and play it. Hope you will like it!

PLAY THE UPDATE

Now, onto other interesting things…

From this point onward, I'm starting to take writing seriously, and that's why I've finally decided to open my Patreon page.

I've made a free introductory post there that explains what I'll be offering, but, right off the bat, I want to tell you that I can't offer you things that other creators are usually offering: Q&As and What-if scenarios. If we're talking about Q&As, I don't want to do them because I consider mystery to be a big part of my work, so I don't really want to wiggle around every question that people will ask me because it won't be fair to them and won't feel good to me. As for What-if scenarios, I don't want to write out some hypothetical scenarios when I can spend that time to progress the plot forward in the actual story. And, trust me, if I'm going to spread my attention too thin, I'm never going to finish this project… And I don't think you and I want that.

What I will provide, however, are progress updates, sneak peeks, early access, and monthly side stories, which the community will be able to choose by voting.

So, I'd advise you to read through the new update first, decide whether you're willing to put up with my approach to the content, and then consider subscribing if what I offer on Patreon is enough for you. If, after all that, you decide to become a member, I'll be very grateful to you. If not, I will still appreciate you being interested in my work and taking the time to read through it.

Thanks for tuning in, and have a pleasant day or a peaceful night!

[thefirstknife]

Literally every time I tune in for a story update and think "there's no way I'll be taking emotional damage this week" and then I do.

First I really like the added context about what an Echo is, from Ikora:

Genocide. Thousands of civilisations across the universe, all visited by the Black Fleet. All lost to the violence of the final shape. That's where this Echo comes from. At least, that's our theory. Reports from the Pale Heart, readings on the Valence emanating from the Traveler... Everything we faced when we stared down the Witness and broke its fleet. At first, we didn't know what to call them. But Echoes seemed apt. Memories from the victims of the Pyramids, held by the Darkness... then coalesced by the Light into artifacts as sharp and fatal as their pain. If Darkness is memory, and Light is form... What else could they be? But... there's still so much we don't know. Is this the only one? What forgotten people gave form to this Echo? What was their final cry at their end? For control? A means to turn back their oppressors? My Hidden will keep searching for whatever answers the Witness' death can give us... hopefully they number more than the questions it left behind. But we need to stop the Conductor and secure the Echo. Guardian, descend into Nessus. Massive amounts of radiolaria has been diverted beneath the planet's crust. We need to find out what the Vex are building there.

I think it's fair to assume that the memory of the Qugu is what formed this Echo then. That's fascinating also because of what other species we might learn about in the next two episodes.

Psion mention:

Show us the Psions. What are they doing. Don't throw these hints at me, at the same time with Otzot and OXA hints.

And then the emotional damage??? First Saint on the holoprojector:

Guardian. I hear that you are hard at work on Nessus, following the Echo and the Conductor. I know you do this in part for me, but... I do not know if I am worth the trouble. I was pulled through Nessus like a toy on a string. The Conductor's words still echo in my mind, "A copy of a copy of a copy." Osiris pushed through time to find his Saint-14. [sighs] He said he was careful, but... he reached blindly, and pulled out... only me. And no... I live a life tat does not belong to me. I am something left over from a broken timeline... a remainder. The Conductor whispered I should be thrown away... A solution as simple as, correcting an error. And maybe... that would- Ah! I-I do not know what to think anymore.

Saint. "Not worth the trouble"? Saint, I personally walked through the corridors of time to get you out. I had to see your dead body with my own two eyes. I need to tell him this. He has to know. Oh my god.

But also. Osiris did not reach blindly. I am jumping off a cliff! He spent so much time and effort trying to find the right one in the right moment. That was the whole point. But Saint doesn't know this because Osiris never told him exactly what he did. If they don't mention everything we've done in Dawn, I am just going to walk into traffic. This Saint knows that we saved him. That we gave him the shotgun. We saw him in several different moments of his life and he carried the shotgun through: this is important because he died with it originally. So we know it's the right one. That's the only reason the Sundial worked out even; because we're tied to Saint via a paradox.

And then the radio. WHAT is happening.

Osiris: You're only doing this to hurt yourself, and I will not be a part of it. Saint-14: Osiris. Answer the question. I need to know. Osiris: It doesn't matter! Not like this. Saint-14: It matters to me. Please. How did I first tell you that I loved you? Osiris: Saint... [sighs] You had asked me for something, some tactical report. I gave it to you, and you thanked me, and-and you said that you loved me. You said it as if you had, already said it a thousand times before. I was not ready to say it in return, but... it was not long until I was. Saint-14: That is not... I do not remember it this way. That is not what happened in my... my simulation. We were together in the Tower, overlooking the City. Talking about... something small. And I said what I felt in that moment. And my Osiris did not hesitate to say the same. Osiris: "Your Osiris?" Saint, you love me. It doesn't matter how or-or where that began. Not in such fine detail. Saint?

I reiterate. What is happening. We know that the story Osiris told is true because we got it as a lore tab. And we also know that we saved the right Saint. We didn't pick one randomly as he thinks, Osiris and the YW went to great lengths to do this. So what's going on. Did the Conductor mess him up? Saint has not, until now, exhibited any issues with memory and has never had different memories from Osiris or anyone else. What did she do to him when he was yoked? Did she use the power over Vex to mess with his memories? Implant memories the Vex might have in the network about him from other timelines? I'm losing it.

Speaking of the Conductor, we got a firm confirmation it's Maya in the lore tab from Polyphony. And it's MSund12 so that also tells us which Maya; one of the copies from the Vex Network. It also details stuff about her shock upon learning about the Collapse and all that was lost and how humanity never truly recovered. She thinks she can... "help" by using the Vex and simulations. This also links to the mysterious lore tabs on the exotic items from the season pass.

Anyway, I'm perishing.

[jovial-thunder]

Downtimes, module editor, water temple

Happy summer! There's smoke in Portland but it's not too bad. Bless firefighters. Work on Lancer Tactics continues apace.

This month has been mostly focused on the largest heretofore-untouched section of the game: downtimes and the module editor for designing the sequences between combats. We're not planning on doing anything particularly innovative or new in its design — if you've played Banner Saga, Fire Emblem (gameboy versions), or Rogue Squadron you'll recognize what's going on here.

Repair, level up, have visual-novel-style conversations with companions, do some light choose-your-own-adventuring, and pick & launch the next combat. All pretty standard downtime fare — games have pretty thoroughly explored these patterns as vehicles for narrative at this point.

The unique thing that Lancer Tactics is offering on this front is an editor to make your own entire campaigns. Classic games like Warcraft or Age of Empires had incredible scenario editors, but making anything more than a one-mission map was solely the domain of modders. Over the last few weeks, we've gotten a full basically-visual-novel-editor working ingame where you can orchestrate NPC story arcs, clocks ticking, branching paths, and triggered events for all the stuff that happens between combats.

All of the campaigns we ship with the game are going to be made with these same editors, which'll force us to really make sure that they're solid tools. I think it'd be very funny to someday see someone like completely ignore all the mech stuff and just make a visual novel in this engine.

There's no new preview game build this month because adding this big section of the game means too many things are under construction. I'm happy with how fast we've been able to get this going, but making ingame editors is a lot of unglamorous UI piping and data refactoring work. Fingers crossed that it'll come together enough that we'll be able to get the first version of this editor in your hands in time for the next update

Other Changelogs

Carpenter has started re-making the tutorial level from the demo in this new engine, which is pushing us to add a bunch of stuff to the combat editor. I added triggers for playing arbitrary effects on the map, moving the camera, storing arbitrary data to the battle/module states, enabling/disabling/triggering other triggers, AND/OR conditions, and putting execution limits on triggers.

Triggers can highlight UI or actions (so it can be like "use the boost to get through!" and the boost button becomes all shiny)

New "camera start" zone type

Added a "hotspot" zone type that has a little floating title, and plastered the names of other zones on the map (visual style stolen from some Foundry VTT modules)

Added water, whose level can be set via the editor or triggers.

Added unmounted pilots who can mount up into Shut Down mechs. We continue to plan to not have pilot combat be a part of the core game, but it'll be useful for scenario or scripted sequences.

Added activation pips and template icons to the mini healthbar on units.

A bunch more portrait editor assets from Martina, including facial hair. Here's a check Carpenter did where he tried to recreate some official Lancer art ingame. ✨

Schedule update

Taking a look at our original date for the "bones" of the game ("finishing the battle engine, basic character creation, 2 mechs per manufacturer, and an a 'instant action' mode"), we estimated being able to get it done by the end of November. The emotional milestone for me on this front is getting the game to a complete enough state that I feel OK about swapping it in on the itch.io page.

I've been saying that the 3D cataclysm has pushed us back back about 3 months, and I think that's still holding true. Carpenter and I haven't officially made the call yet, but I think it's likely we'll need that time to port more mech content; here's a graph they made that shows about where we're sitting on the PC and NPC mechs for the "bones" target in terms of mechanics and action icon/sprite. 

(This data is pulled from a big table they made that includes ALL talents/gear/traits where we've been marking things off as we've implemented them. Very handy for tracking where we are.)

That's all for now. Tata!

[maddymoreau]

Banban Analysis

I think Banban's story is the most interesting part of Garten of Banban and I'm extremely excited to see how it plays out. This discussion is essentially going to breakdown what Banban is and go through some of his behavior in the first four chapters.

Banban is the #6 experiment created by combining human genome from one of the doctors named Uthman Adam with Givanium for the upcoming Bring-A-Friend Day.

At the time Case #6 was considered a success outside one flaw. He views himself as human and as the actual Uthman Adam.

Once Case #6 and the real Uthman Adam were introduced to each other this lead to disaster.

As described (in Case Report #13 Update #3) Case #6 has a complete meltdown.

Which results in two things happening:

1. Case #7 named Banbaleena is created.

Since Dr. Weverly Mason was the only person Case #6 was willing to communicate with it's speculated her genome was used to create Banbaleena. Especially since the real Dr. Uthman and Dr. Mason are close.

While Case #6 and Banbaleena both view themself as their human genome donor only Case #6 was introduced to his.

It's unconfirmed how Case #6 perceives Banbaleena. Either as her human genome donor or something else. Regardless he recognizes something in Banbaleena resulting in their long hug.

Banbaleena helps Case #6 feel less alone however it doesn't change his disobedient and aggressive behavior.

Sidenote while this part is also speculation the parallels felt too similar to not mention:

During Chapter 3 when Case #6 has us make Nabnab a companion he say, "Nabnaleena was that solution. We had a theory that Nabnab was as aggressive as he was due to his loneliness."

While part of the reason we're creating Nabnaleena is because Nabnab is on the hunt making it too dangerous to do anything. I think since Banbaleena helped ease Case #6's loneliness that's part of the reason he has us help finish creating Nabnaleena. As a way to help Nabnab no longer feel lonely.

2. They used a newly-modified Givanium to lower Case #6's ability to self-think.

We actually witness Case #6 fall victim to his primitive instincts during one of the secret tapes in Chapter 3:

Case #6 is constantly struggling in between an internal battle Uthman Adam (who he perceives himself as) VS Banban (his violent primitive instincts).

After all it's Banban who has it's iconic quote:

Even though Case #6 has met the actual Uthman Adam he still perceives himself as the real one.

We witness this through countless dialogue. Even during the creation of Nabnaleena this is mentioned. "We had a theory that Nabnab was as aggressive as he was due to his loneliness." Referring to himself as one of the doctors despite the fact Case #6 isn't.

The saddest example being this conversation in Chapter 4.

"I feel now is a good time to introduce ourselves, which we haven't done up to this point if you can believe it. I am Uthman. I worked here before everything came crashing down, literally and figuratively."

"My coworkers and I should've spoken up sooner. Perhaps all of this should've been prevented then. But then again, my coworkers weren't really friends in those last couple of months anyway, so it would've needed some good planning."

"You ever had those friends that suddenly turn on you for no reason? To say mine turned on me would be an understatement. They suddenly stopped talking to me. They looked at me like I was some sort of monster. Sometimes I lose my temper, sure, but it seemed excessive. I was and still am confused, to say the least."

The awful way Case #6 was treated by his "friends" could also explain his behavior in Chapter 2.

"Look, i'm sorry I hit you but you gotta understand I needed something from you that I could only get if you were unconcious and I was all out of sedatives. If you'd seen me, you wouldn't have trusted me, I know it. But there was one thing I didn't lie to you about, and that's me knowing why you're here."

I find Case #6's confusion SO INTERESTING!!! You have a character who knows others view him as a monster yet he cannot understand why. Since when Case #6 looks in a mirror he sees "himself."

While Case #6 holds all of Uthman's memories before his creation.

Who is the ACTUAL Dr. Uthman?

We have these two notes.

Along with one letter between Dr. Uthman and Dr. Mason discussing the ball pit which reads, "This thing can barely support the amount of children we have enrolled in the kindergarten. We're having double that tomorrow. Something really bad is going to happen, and we need to be as far away from here as humanly possibly when it does. We've been on the bad side of the wrong people for a long time, and if we're still here when everything goes down, it will be the end of both of us. If not at the hands of angry parents, then at the hands of our superiors."

"A place like this should not exist. The stuff we've witnessed here should not exist. The casualties that will result from this catastrophe will only serve the greater good; which is shutting down this place once and for all."

"I'll have a plan ready for tomorrow. now, you just pack your things."

We don't know if this plan, Bring-A-Friend Day or something else are the result of how things have turned out.

Regardless both Dr. Uthman and Dr. Mason were unable to escape. We don't know what happened to Dr. Uthman but we do know Dr. Mason is currently with our child (from the notes they've left).

Boarding passes found in Chapter 1:

There's one MAJOR difference between the real Dr. Uthman and Case #6. Unlike the real Dr. Uthman who was prepared to abandon ship even viewing the potential disaster and casualties as something for the greater good.

Case #6 wants to help and even acknowledges, "My coworkers and I should've spoken up sooner."

While Case #6 may be hiding another ulterior motivate since he retains most memories of Uthman including knowledge of the secret down in the basement.

I think overall he's being honest with his goals mentioned in Chapter 2, "But there was one thing I didn't lie to you about, and that's me knowing why you're here. You're here for your children. I, too, am working towards saving them if you can believe it. But someone else has them. Someone far stronger than you and me both that resides deep in the abyss."

However due to the internal struggle he experiences falling into his violent primitive instincts from the newly-modified Givanium. When control is lost that alters his goals to eating our pancreas.

Case #6 is constantly having to work around himself.

For simplicity in this upcoming section I'm going to refer to regular Case #6 as Uthman and the Violent Instincts as Banban.

Chapter Two

The first Case #6 we meet is in Chapter Two is Banban.

At first tricking in the player and hitting them from behind Banban says, "Three birds with one stone!"

Note: Mr. Kabob Man the statue in Chapter 3 that imitates Banban also says the quote, "Three birds with one stone!"

"I get all of your keycards, I get the perfect specimen AND I don't have to deal with that thing down there. And it's all thanks to YOU! Oh come on, I didn't hit you THAT hard. Or maybe I did. Either way, it's best you take a nap while I prepare for our little surgery."

Despite this they also leaving us a note warning about the attack. However it reads as more of taunt to me.

While Banban mentions a surgery and using us a specimen nothing actually happens to the player.

Uthman could’ve gained controlled but I think that Banban was possibly prepping things when we woke up earlier then expected.

Since during Banbaleena's class Banban says, "Also teachers, please keep in mind that we are on the lookout for a very, very naughty student believed to be accompanied by a drone. If you catch them, call Principal Banban’s office immediately."

Very very naughty doesn’t feel like something Uthman would call the player.

When we later reunite with Case #6 there's a glass barrier between us. We can tell this is Uthman due to his behavior. He apologizes, is upfront with his goals and informs the player of a way to escape Banbaleena and Jumbo Josh.

Chapter Three

We first encounter Uthman over the speaker system.

"Glad to see you made it! I don't know how you did it, but then again you survived a giant elevator crash so I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"Also, again, I apologize for hitting you over the head. In fact, it is for this reason that I believe we should not meet face-to-face. You see, for whatever reason I am prone to violent instincts, and I do not trust myself to not give into them again."

"I have locked myself inside of a surveillance room. That way I can help without being a danger to you."

Uthman sticks to his word helping the player throughout the chapter. It's ONLY when brought face-to-face by Stinger Flynn that Case #6's violent instincts come out. Being drawn to the smell of the player's pancreas.

"You can run away, but the smell of your pancreas will always draw me to you . . ."

Resulting in a chase scene and eventually a fight between Jumbo Josh, Banban and Stinger Flynn.

Chapter Four

When you reunite with Uthman in the infirmary he says, "When the Queen mentioned having many new visitors in one day, I knew it had to be you. Listen, whatever happened to me . . . Whatever I tried doing to you . . . Just know it wasn't actually me. I was forced to obey without much thought. I tried communicating with you from afar for a reason. Now you know the true reason why."

"Still, I want to make it up to you. The queen filled me in on the situation with the elevator. I want to help with that. I feel much more in control now. I'll come help you find the missing pieces of the elevator. I just need to rest for a little bit and I'll meet you at whatever that station is."

Which Uthman does until a fight between him and Nabnab breaks out. Which I think is really cool considering Nabnab is his opposite. Both in name and character wise.

Despite Uthman transforming into Banban during the fight he is able to restrain himself. Not attacking us for our pancreas even though we're so close.

This is the final scene we see Case #6 AND I'M SOOO INVESTED IN HIS STORY AND SEEING HOW IT PLAYS OUT!!!!

Also I like how Case #6 cares deeply for some of the other experiments. Whether it's some form of kinship or out of a sense of duty believing to be partially responsbile for creating them.

Examples of this are:

When Jumbo Josh falls for one of Sheriff Toadster's trap Case #6 comments, "Poor Josh . . . I can't imagine how confusing this has all been for him . . ." Holding no resentment despite the fact they fought in Chapter 3.

In Chapter 4 Case #6 intends to hand over the imposter statue AKA Mr. Kabob Man to someone he describe as, "very close to me." (This is speculated to be Zolphius). Even commenting, "He must've gotten very lonely, but I got him a new friend."

In Chapter 2 Case #6 indulges in Banbaleena’s behavior. During her class over the speaker he refers to himself as Principal Banban.

I find it interesting the non-human version acts more humane than the real Uthman.

[shattered-system]

The “Redefinition” of Systempunk

Updated version!

We're not typically an essay kind of blog, but there's something l've been turning over in my mind since l've seen it.

I have the post pulled up now actually, and about 11 hours ago @/the-alarm-system "recoined" (stole) the term systempunk in a long post, as well as designed a flag with its own meaning and I want to sort through some of it.

I also have a few personal pet peeves about their flag design, given that it's color palette clashes and the flag is way too busy. I don't expect it to spread far given that it violates several rules of good design (saying this as someone who has been to school for graphic design.)

I will not post it here, because I don't care to spread it any more than this post already may.

Their flag slightly predates my own version of the systempunk flag, but given that theirs was created for a separate concept with a stolen name, I maintain that we were the first.

We begin with their definition of systempunk.

“A term or Subculture surrounding the liberation of plurals and the critique of psychiatry."

First issue lies here. Both the destigmitization of dissociative disorders and critique of the psych field are extremely important discussions to have!

But they are separate discussions. There is absolutely overlap, but combining the two here is kind of shooting yourself in the foot, because then the conversation in that tag will be disorganized.

Have a systempunk movement AND an anti-psych or psych-critical movement. That way people can easily find the relevant discussions and terms.

This is followed up with a bit about the harm the psychiatric field has caused (not delving into that as that's not what this blog is about) and then circle back onto "the future is plural."

This is not one of the instances where OP means it in the "the future is destigmitization" sense, as they are pro endo. (On a side note, even ignoring the endo use of the phrase-- if I need to read about a slogan to understand the meaning of the slogan, it's a bad slogan. The point of a slogan is to communicate a concept quickly.)

The flag has black and brown stripes akin to the progress flag to represent systems of color, which is the only part of the design we have no critique for, but are describing anyway just as a bit of information.

The purple stripe stands for:

“Endo solidarity... endogenic systems are continuously harmed by antis who remain uncritical of psychiatry."

Once again, we are mixing two expansive concepts into one term.

The term anti-endo doesn't imply a position one way or the other on the psychiatry discussion.

Some anti-endos swear by the DSM5, others don't. Anti-endo is a term that means anti-endo/ endo-critical. That is all it means.

There is a difference between holding the DSM as the complete authority on mental illness and saying that a trauma disorder is caused by trauma.

I'm not sure if OP knows that and is choosing to cast anti-endos in a bad light, or legitimately confused. However, OP is a syscourse blog who is on a lot of blocklists and is spammy in the tags, and has likely been blocked by anyone who isn't also out looking to pick immature fights. (This is a system who made a post in all caps calling for an endo raid on #systempunk.)

Continuing directly from the last quote:

“[Antis] are against the liberation of plurals and deny a plural future in order to push singlethood onto others."

It's possible OP is referring to final fusion, which the anti-endo community is not a monolith on either. Most people we've interacted with are supporters of functional multiplicity (including ourselves.)

Most likely however, they mean that anti-endos "push singlethood" by telling endogenics that they can't have a trauma disorder without trauma.

And I could go into a whole tirade about that, but dozens of systems have done it before and I doubt any pro-endos have gotten this far. I am writing this for the anti-endo and on-the-fence audiences.

Visit @antimisinfo's helpful masterpost for a list of legitimate sources.

OP seems to believe that by “forcing” this singlethood, we are contributing directly to the oppression of systems. Hypocritically, OP themselves are contributing directly to the oppression of trauma victims.

Endogenics are not part of the "diverse experiences of plurality” (we are diverse, but united in origin) given that they don't exist. And if they did, they would have such a fundamentally different experience than trauma-formed systems that both groups would need separate language and tags to have space to themselves.

And endos already have a well-established punk tag for themselves. It seems they won't be happy until they chase trauma victims out of every space they create for themselves and steal every term. They've already stolen even the medical terminology used for CDDs.

The yellow stripe of the flag is meant to represent those with actual CDDs. Once again, psych stuff is brought up. However, I do agree with OP that those who do not want final fusion should not be pushed into it.

The pink and white stripes of the flag are entirely dedicated to anti-psych points. I think this would do wonderfully on it's own flag. But bringing the large range of discussion the anti-psych movement encompasses and the large range of discussion the CDD community has into the same tags is going to make it monumentally difficult to find the conversations you're wanting to have, and weaken both communities considerably.

There is a line of barbed wire across the flag that is partially for the same anti-psych movement as well as in favor of protecting and defending endogenic "identities." The ampersand stands for plurality.

There are fangs on the flag as well, encouraging systems to be loud and proud about their existence. And I agree that systems should make themselves known. However, endogenic systems don't exist, and their promotion will continue to drag us down.

I have read testimonies about traumagenic (real) systems being fakeclaimed or denied treatment by healthcare experts who, through exposure to endos, came to the conclusion CDDs are fake entirely.

Real systems seeking treatment and help after a lifetime of horrific abuse are being denied care.

Not to mention the setback of social acceptance by endos.

“Force plural liberation down the throats of others. Force the future to be plural."

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

i promised ... and i owe ... so many of you thoughts on xavier's "no restraint" card..... SO HERE IT IS, UNDER THE CUT !! i ramble a lot so it's very long 🫶🫶

(this was so hard guys. this card was a whole entire shock factor.)

first of all...... please delight in this reaction image i can offer you. because. any of you who are reading this rn know exactly which part of the card i'm referring to when i say:

(in conclusion, my legs are open)

.. ANYWAY !!!!!!!!! CLEARS THROAT

things we're going to talk about? well, it's me, so (A) character development, (B) relationship development, but also (C) WHATEVER THE HELL WENT ON IN THAT KINDLED MOMENTS SSCENE <3

(A-1) Character Development; Xavier

over the past few cards we've been having of him, i think it's safe to say that we're familiar with a number of his mannerisms, and i've also talked about a lot why that is and what goes into that.

but a lot of it changes in this card. and it's so much more than just the moment of realization he has in 21 days, too. enough that—aside from what we know eventually takes place—we can safely assume that all this occurs after that card chronologically.

exhibit a; tendency to do things on his own.

this is something that i may not have talked about as much, but i'm pretty sure we all know it's there—that xavier has always carried this tendency to do things all on his own. there's multiple examples of this, and it goes way way way back to his anecdotes.

i.e. with "passing by" and "when shooting stars fall", we already have prime examples—

"Whether it's tasks assigned by the higher-ups or senior members, Xavier always completes them quickly and methodically. He works until they're done, but nothing more."

"Xavier stands alone amidst a circle of fallen bodyguards. In the corner, Lawrence is tied up with bed sheets, his neck at an odd angle."

"I notice the wounds on his hands and face. Catching his breath, he holds out his hand, showing me a small, glowing Protocore. This is the first time he's looked at me with desperation in his eyes. When he moves closer, I notice a ring of light around his neck. It's a striking, suffocating red."

in his lightseeker myth, too, he's also the one to take the initiative and look for an alternative to philos' sacrifice. he leaves mc behind, and he leaves jeremiah behind—it isn't until later that he's able to enlist the help of others and form the backtrackers, and even then, they all recognize that he's the most capable one among them. in fact, it's also evident in "from the stars" from world underneath:

"As the leader of the Backtrackers ... Asteroids, turbulence, and the collapse of wormholes couldn't tear Traceback ll's team apart. With Xavier there, they managed to break through the universe's most impregnable spacetime barrier."

"It seems like everyone had a reason to give up and leave halfway except you. Well, you did too, but you wouldn't because no one could replace you. We all thought that you'd still make it to the end, even if you were the only one left."

in the main story, we're also faced with multiple scenarios of xavier going off on his own to do hunter duties, or otherwise a little extra in order to find the protocore that he needs—"heartstring symphony" is also proof of that.

and lumiere's myth is no different, nor is the whole legend behind lumiere in the first place.

"Xavier is missing. He didn't show up on the set, and there was no sign of him at home either ... Since then, I've never received a Wanderer alert on my watch again. Just like Xavier predicted, the dark clouds gradually dispersed, and the heavy rain slowly became a gentle drizzle until it ceased completely. Breathtaking evening clouds replaced them. Dusk falls, accompanied by millions of glittering lights creating a spectacular meteor shower. Long streaks reminiscent of contrails are etched across the sky. Meanwhile, the newest updates are being broadcast repeatedly on the massive screen in the heart of Azure Square. The previously rampant Wanderers have disappeared overnight, leaving behind only some suspicious Protocores ... The doomsday panic, which overtook the city like an inflating balloon, shatters silently as if pierced by a pin."

"Right on cue, my watch loudly sounds the alarm, and I hear the roars of Wanderers from the flames. At that moment, Xavier vanishes, and a beam of light with as much force as a rainbow piercing through sunshine cuts through the collapsed, burning factory. In the blink of an eye, he leaps out of the raging fire, his sword still coated in Metaflux that has yet to dissipate."

"'Threat levels are at least A. I have to go—' 'Stay here. I'll be right back.' Xavier pushes down my shoulder, and a strange red light around his neck is quickly concealed by his collar."

"The red light on Xavier's neck flickers wildly. He swings his weapon, sending out a lightblade to kill the remaining, struggling Wanderer. Smoke created by the dissipated energy rises in all directions. He leans against the wall, trying to steady his wobbling form after the intense battle. 'Abnormal vital signs have been detected. Excessive use of Evol. Disengage from combat immediately and receive treatment...' Xavier turns off the annoying warning on his watch and lifts his gaze to the entrance of an alley, where several shadows are closing in on him."

moreover is the fact that from world underneath, we also know that his collar acts as a suppressor:

"'...Light Evol has been detected. Evolver's Evol limit cannot be defined.' 'Any attempts to probe its limit triggers a special neck suppressor, which prevents the Evolver from using their full power.'"

and yet despite that, he still continues to do what he does, anyway.

a lot of things play into it, and i talk a lot about how his upbringing as a prince must have largely contributed to habits like this. he's used to doing things on his own, and he's expected to, in a way—all the burdens and duties placed upon him the moment he was born, when he bever had any say in it. already in his "when shooting stars fall" anecdote, he's isolated from everyone and constantly surrounded by bodyguards, and mc acted as his only source of freedom by reaching for him past that barrier.

it's also worth noting that most (if not all) of this that he's been doing, is all and always for mc, too—as if it comes back full cycle. it's how he shows his love for her, because it's really the only way he knows how to.

which also brings attention to his always and ever highlighted communication issues—because common in all of these examples up until this card, is that he's been vague about it.

never giving the full answer.

never truly explaining what he's been up to.

and it's something that mc knows; he keeps his secrets well, and they've never really truly talked about these things.

but "no restraint" plays this out a little differently.

"Even though I still want to ask him about where he went, it's only a matter of time before more of Henrik's men arrive. Escaping is our main priority."

And yet;

"I realized I was being followed, which is why I didn't contact you. I managed to shake them off, but I was concerned they might catch up to me. That's why I searched for the Protocore by myself."

—"Why are you suddenly talking about this?"

"...No reason."

xavier willingly explains.

mc doesn't particularly ask—yet he says it anyway. to clear the air, to maybe make it known that he is putting in an effort.

in this situation, he hasn't derived from his habit of going off on his own, but he provides a good explanation of it. there's mediation; he's saying that he trusts her, and he wants to ensure that there is nothing for her to be worried about.

"I just wanted to say I'm not the kind of partner who would leave you behind... I'm also not one of those young people who take things for granted, either."

and he further willingly explains when she does probe him, replying with a reflection of the excuse she gave one of the bodyguards just to be able to get information out of him.

BUT, MOSTLY—

"i know you know" is xavier directly addressing the fact that their relationship has been curated around this trust that they've been starting to build with each other—he knows that mc was not exactly doubting him, yet he wanted to reassure her anyway, as if speaking it out loud makes it official.

sometimes you don't ask for reassurance because you know in your heart that your doubts aren't real. but receiving it never hurts—and that's how this plays out.

xavier has always known that communication has always been an issue with him.

he's willing to fix it, and willing to take that extra step to make sure mc doesn't feel unloved with him. he doesn't want to leave room for doubts.

"i know you know." i know you know i will never leave you, i know you know that i love you. i know you know, but i'll say it anyway. because i mean it. and you don't have to worry.

(LIKE DO YOU GUYS GET HOW IMPORTANT THIS LINE IS? 😭 HOW MUCH IT SAYS FOR THE EXTENT TO WHICH HE TRULY LOVES HER? 😭)

exhibit b; aloofness.

we also know that, while xavier can be pretty intense with regards to the previous point, he's always had this calm, easygoing, aloof nature to him. as if he could fade into the background, as if he's simply floating around like a little cloud—there's this aura around him that simply wants to just... be.

but, again, it's almost as if so much more hides underneath that. like it's not totally 100% inherently him. like it's not entirely natural, like the part of him that's like this is maybe somewhat a façade that he's been putting up for so long, so it's just ended up... becoming part of him, by force of habit.

there are so many subtleties to the way he seems to try to express himself—the little things. microexpressions. involuntary emotional leakage. they last for a fragment of a second, but they're there, and with xavier, they seem to always convey so much more than whatever words he can muster.... because he always finds himself short of doing it in the way he wants to.

again, it goes back to his communication issues.

he's used to being isolated. used to speaking eloquently as he does only when required, but never really quite knowing how to express affection. or, again, how to express himself in general.

"it's like he's just so used to being princely, that he can't let go of it even if he isn't a prince anymore. he wants to, but old habits die hard—he hides so much beneath that exterior still, and it's mc who's able to help him tear down those walls, mc who's able to make him want to try harder to."

and it's why we've always seen this push and pull with him. he has trouble being honest about his feelings, difficulties in telling mc he loves her, difficulties in being direct to the point with her. he'd dodge her questions, be vague about things... hints of directness, but never really pushing forward with it. he'd tease, but it falls short—mc doesn't know if he's being genuine or not. he doesn't know how to convey that. so a lot of their previous cards and previous moments have been very vague. so, so many examples, a very prime one being his lightseeker myth, because their communication issues very sincerely stuck out with that one. and the last intimate card they had—"tender nights"—and in fact, "heartstring symphony" too, very blatantly display how difficult it is for him to convey his feelings the right way.

but... again, "no restraint" plays that out a lot differently.

"If I had known, I would've kept you company until the mission ended."

"When you said no, they said— 'You're a special person. Won't you reconsider?' ... Did you reconsider?"

"'It's just a scratch. It'll heal in no time.' ... Xavier shakes his head, stands up, and leaves the room. When he returns, he's holding a box filled with bandages that have red foxes on them."

"He gets down on one knee and covers my knee with a bandage. The dim light blurs the outline of his hair ... After smoothing out the bandage, Xavier puts slippers on my feet. And then he stands up and leans against the edge of the table, shoulder to shoulder with me."

"He seems to casually glance in my direction. Noticing how I'm wearing a bathrobe, his gaze lingers on me for a second longer..."

"Does that mean you only like the bandage?"

"Before I realize it, his hand that's on the table slides over. He hooks his pinky over mine. 'I'm curious. The cupcake you mentioned—is it your favorite?'"

and...

he's more intentional with his words and his actions this time. he wants to show her that he loves her, he wants to show her that she means a lot to him. and they're still little things, not too major, but there's a certain confidence in the way that he does it. there's sureness. it's less of those awkward moments of "should i, shouldn't i?" and there's way less hesitation.

he's insistent on holding her and taking care of her wounds. he's insistent on having her say her side of things, because he wants to know what she really thinks, too. small staps towards clearer communication—and though the tension may still be high with them in this card in general, it's a kind of tension where you can feel that they're more comfortable.

it's a stark contrast.

this is the xavier that's more than just learning, more than just realizing—he's doing.

you can really see how he's grown as a person.

(A-2) Character Development; MC

BUT it's not JUST xavier who's grown. because like in all relationships, effort comes from both sides. and the main point here, is that mc has learned to trust him a little more, too.

this part is a little shorter, but i really wanted to bring attention to two scenes and how they both play out—and i'd also like to point out the very start of the card.

the card starts off very general and sets the scene quite well, but it also starts off with mc and xavier separated. this becomes largely the topic for discussion as the card goes on, because mc does wonder where he is, and why he isn't saying anything to her.

but it's not implied anywhere that she's particularly upset about it.

in previous cards/interactions, there's always a sense of exasperation behind her words—sometimes, like in "heartstring symphony", she's upset about it. she chastises him, she sometimes makes it known that she doesn't like when he does those things—

but this time there's none of that.

she allows the mission to move smoothly, doesn't react as much once she does hear xavier contact her again... and even if it shows that she keeps wondering where he is and what he's doing, and later on what he has been doing, it's founded on curiosity instead of frustration.

"Even though I still want to ask him about where he went, it's only a matter of time before more of Henrik's men arrive. Escaping is our main priority."

this is the mc that trusts him.

this is the mc that knows she doesn't particularly need reassurance from him, and she can do without it, because she knows what no matter what, she can trust what he's been up to.

and now;

if it wasn't obvious yet previously, this should make it.

because she's not upset—in fact, she's fond.

she recognizes that her own feelings stem from her own desire to have him with her at all times, too, but most of all, she recognizes that there's nothing to be concerned of, anyway.

she knows that in the end, the person that xavier loves is her. the person that xavier wants to protevt the most is her. the person that xavier wants to be with, as much as he can, as much as the circumstances let him—is her.

she's content with that.

she smiles at the bandage, because it's proof of it—he's just treated her wounds, so insistent on taking care of her even if she knows it's nothing but a scratch and that he doesn't even need to dote on her.

but he does.

he goes the extra stew to get a cute little bandage because he knows it'll make her smile more, too.

she knows that, and she's happy.

"You have your secrets too, but you're different from them."

in a stark contrast from the mc we've been used to before that seems a little on edge and unsure and so doubtful of so many things because there's a lot about xavier she doesn't know yet—this time, she accepts it. because they're both working towards communicating more, and being more affectionate... and there's just no reason and no need for be to be concerned.

it's a big step for her to take, and this is a surprisingly big amount of trust she's putting on him, but it's further proof of how much she—they—have grown.

"You're like.. a cupcake I tucked away so I can have you all to myself."

this is also a line that holds so much in it.

it's really struck out to me, and for a number of reasons, too— (1) it further emphasizes how content she is with him and how much she trusts him; (2) it further emphasizes her own growth with relation to how she shows affection; (3) it says a lot about the kind of special treatment she gives xavier, too.

starting with point #2—the mc we see with xavier has always been bold, always the one to initiate things.... but never truly reciprocates.

like the xavier before, mc never really follows through with what she starts. she'll tease, then pull back; initiate, and then abruptly leave him hanging. she's not much better than xavier in terms of showing affection, because although she may seem like the bolder one, the truth is that she's always been scared.

it goes back to the level of trust she has in him.

because she doesn't know too much about him, it prevents her from truly acting on her feelings—she doesn't know what to expect, doesn't know how far she's allowed to take things.

teasing remains teasing.

not this time.

we also see the level of sureness she has in her actions with the way she initiates their more intimate moments later on; she might have started out as coy, but not once did she back away from it... if not for the fact that she encourages it, even.

"I tug at his sleeve, unable to figure out whether I'm meaning to be flirty or not."

she says this, but she still continues. because she knows what she wants, and she trusts him with it.

then you bring that all together with point #3—the allusions to her own personality.

"You're like a cupcake I tucked away, so I can have you all to myself."

to me it feels less about her reciprocating his more possessive nature, and more about her views on how she's been cherishing him.

tucked away.

she uses past tense.

she could have very well said "a cupcake i tuck away"; which would imply that she frequently wants to hold him close to her to save for when they're alone.

but this is a cupcake she tucked away.

and to me it feels like she's held on to him so long... without actually appreciating him for who he is.

it's like having a pretty dessert with you, one that's too pretty to eat, so you keep for yourself for a while. and you... don't eat it. even if you're supposed to.

it's like getting a precious jewel, but you're too concerned about it being stolen from you, because it's just that precious and beautiful—so you keep it. you don't wear it, whether outside or wherever. you don't. wear it. even if you're supposed to.

and that's not appreciating them for what they are.

to me, it feels like that's how the change in tense makes mc's words appear.

a cupcake she tucked away—hasn't eaten at all. like how, with xavier, for all that she's been fond of him, she's never onve bridged the gap between them on her own, either. she's kept him at arm's length, doubted him, and everything else that comes along with all the communication issues they've always had.

this time, she recognizes it—and i'd like to think that in a way, she's also apologizing for it. she admits, out loud, to herself and to him, that she's been pretty selfish. she hasn't been treasuring him and cherishing him the way she needs to be. she hasn't been reciprocating when he's affectionate. she's been only shying away when he initiates something. she knows she's been like that, and she's saying—i'm not going to be like that anymore.

and again, it goes back to trust.

she trusts him.

and because she can trust him, she can love him how he is, for who he is.

"so i can have you all to myself" feels a lot more like, "so i can finally love you."

and then we get to this scene.

for one thing, she doesn't deny their relationship at all; for another—their conversation on "love" feels very striking to me, too.

"but he can be a little mischievous sometimes."

"isn't that just love?"

and then...

"you're not wrong."

it's like a very direct jab at xavier and his way of being affectionate; the teasing that he does, and the way he's sometimes a little vague, sometimes a little awkward—but he's trying, and he's becoming more sure of himself, too.

and xavier's way of showing affection is truly reserved for her, because there's really none of that awkwardness with anyone else—he doesn't try so hard.

mc seems to be, here, descriving that nature of him as "mischievous".

it is, in a way.

but she also knows that it's love.

that it's his way of showing love.

she recognizes it. she accepts it.

she's learned things about him, too, and she's thinking... all of it can be compiled into this little word called love.

there is love between both of them.

and we can say that at this point, they're pretty far into their relationship.

they've gotten quite comfortable with each other—they're being touchy, the playful banter is light and easy... and they're definitely working to strengthen the bond that they have. their communication has improved SO much... i'm so proud of them 😭

it's definitely not a fully developed relationship; they're still a little shy around each other, there's still a lot of tension that's hard for them to navigate. it seems they've also yet to cross the " i love you" barrier, or at the very least, that it's difficult to say—plus, mc is exceedingly embarrassed to find xavier had overheard her conversation with the receptionist.

yet... when we move on to when they start to get intimate, it's also very interesting to me that it goes so smoothly—and it's definitely not their first time.

but it's a first something.

and it doesn't make the moment any less full of emotion.

this particular sequence honestly had me so INCREDIBLY confused at first, because why on earth would he be trapped right;

but then you look into who xavier is and how he's been with mc, and it goes back to that—he has so, so much love for her that he simply doesn't know how to deal with it.

he's pleading her.

he's saying that if she continues drawing him in like this, what with how much he always feels for her, he's not going to be able to hold back.

it's a trap, in a way.

xavier is still trying his best to discern what it means to show love to someone—because all these years, he hasn't been able to learn that properly. and yet now that mc has fully grasped her end of the stick, now that she's confident and sure of what she wants and how much she feels for him, it's bringing forth a bubble of emotions that he can't seem to describe.

it might not be their first time, but i don't think that xavier ever moves on from what it feels like to be wanted by her like this.

it's scary, because he doesn't know how to navigate things like this.

"It's almost as if tiny flames are flickering in the depths of his gaze. They're faint yet ready to ignite my soul at any moment."

xavier, who's been raised with the notion that he has to know things, to be able to potentially lead his people as the future king of philos...

this is something he doesn't know.

and like how mc was always afraid of how uncertain she was with him, right now, he's afraid because he has so much emotion ready to burst forth that he doesn't know what to do with it.

there's an aura of disbelief that makes it so hard for him to grasp.

it's always been "i will love you in every universe"—for the both of them.

and now, he's having the full realization, maybe for the 928482857th time since they've become official, that she's saying those words back to him. that if he can love her in every universe, as every version of himself... then she can do the same for him.

she wants to do the same for him.

she is doing the same for him.

"she loves me."

"she wants me."

he's pleading with her to take what she wants, because she has all of him.

and then we go back to mc's confidence—because she realizes he wants this to proceed in exactly the same way she wants it to, and she's willing to become his undoing.

and even if he technically switches and takes charge in the next second, it comes to fruition that her giving him consent in this way is what breaks him free of that bubble.

"don't hold back", is all that this is, really.

and he doesn't.

and it's just, not really just about the tension they've built up to get to this moment—the coy excuse of using the protocore's supposed effects—there's so much that goes into it, with the way they feel, with how their desires are so blatantly displayed just like that, with how their love fuels how much they need each other.

it's almost funny, in a way, because it's as if both of them are saying "take me, i'm yours." at the same time. and then it becomes less about possession... and more of a complete and utter surrender to each other.

and i think that's beautiful.

(which also. BONUS? but if this doesn't signify how focused xavier is on giving pleasure and at the same time how easy it is for him to lose himself in the moment and feel good because you're feeling good—i don't know what else will ✋)

(also like. the aftercare... the morning cuddles.... the hickey mc left on him 😭 i love them so much..........)

IN CONCLUSION . . . . THIS CARD MADE ME FEEL MANY THINGS.

THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK 😭✋