#the ONE 'detective'/nemesis who is convinced she had something to do with The Murders

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

demanding a series in the same vein (heh, vein) as Dexter/Hannibal wherein a prolific serial killer plays cat & mouse with the police--except the serial killer in question is a preteen schoolgirl. this would make for compelling television due to the fact that middle school frequently causes girls to become deranged, and more media should reflect this

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What are your thoughts on Near and Mello (Death Note)? You don’t seem to like them as characters

I was about to say that I don’t necessarily dislike them, but, honestly, I do. I really really do.

And hey, look at that, I get to offend an entirely new fandom. 

To be honest though I’m not even sure where to begin.

I suppose I’ll start with the concept of the orphan heirs to the title of L.

Wammy’s Dog Fighting Arena for Boys

Death Note is a fantastic and brilliant anime, however, every once in a while more general anime tropes sneak through and cause it to fall flat on its face. We have L, who for reasons is a sugar addicted man child (well, I actually have thoughts on L, who I quite like, but my theory is that he is the way he is because he’s a jackass who fully intends to be that off putting).

The Wammy orphan bit is the worst of this. We have an orphanage of... children competing for the title of L, an anonymous detective that Watari made up. These children are all super serial geniuses who are even weirder and less socially adjusted than L. Just, kill me.

Even the premise for why they exist is bad. The authors’ in the Death Note guide admit that, when they realized they were going to kill off L, they realized they had a major problem. They didn’t want a repeat arc with another L as a nemesis, SO THEY BROUGHT US TWO Ls, THAT’S COMPLETELY DIFFERENT!

Why I call it anime derp is that the whole ridiculous Wammy’s concept is never addressed. Wammy’s existence, the little we do know of L’s backstory, makes Watari the level of skeevy reserved for manipulative Dumbledore.

The man uses these children and pits them against each other in a high stakes intellectual environment where they stake their entire worth on their still developing intelligence.

In canon, we see what this has done to Mello, L, Matt, and Near. All of them are completely messed up human beings and they either die or never get better. L is an utter jackass who cares very little about justice. Mello becomes an actual gangster and uses the Death Note to make hits on rival gang members (not to mention Sayu, but we’ll get into that). Matt also becomes a gang member and kidnaps multiple women. Near cannot function, at all, in society and when we catch up to him ten years later in that hilariterrible one-shot he’s gotten even worse.

If we’re taking LABB as canon then you have Beyond Birthday who becomes a serial murderer and lights himself on fire in a desperate, insane, attempt to show up L. We have reference to A who killed himself under the pressure of trying to become L. 

We can presume there’s been other orphaned children, who had nowhere else to go and no one to protect them, that Wammy just destroyed so that he could have Batman.

Death Note, however, never touches this with a ten foot pole.

Instead these are our weird and quirky band of heroes who are so weird because... it’s anime and we like weird! Weird means you’re a super genius! Yay genius orphanage!

So, right at the very idea of Wammy’s existing, they already have to win me back. Mello and Near do not win me back.

Mello is a Thug

We’re supposed to feel very bad for Mello, he’s always been second to Near and this messes him up, and he leaves to try and find his own path. I’d say god bless him, you go Mello, except his own path turns out to become a gangster.

Mello’s not a remotely good guy.

Just because he’s pitted himself against Light, and tells us he’s sticking it to Kira and Near at the same time, does not make him remotely good. And that’s what irks me about him, Mello is a great skeezy character, but the story actively wants me to think he’s the hero.

It’s sort of like trying to convince me that Kylo-Ren is secretly a great guy. It’s really hard to sell me on that when we watch Mello in real time and, more, why are we even bothering? Let Mello be the scumbag he is.

First, Mello steals a weapon of mass destruction and immediately begins using it. It’s not about solving the Kira case for him, or at least, it’s certainly not about stopping Kira. It’s about showing up Near, L, and all those who never believed in him. 

That Mello, first, not only steals the notebook from the government, but then gets it into the hands of gangsters, AND THEN USES IT TO ASSASSINATE HIS RIVALS. Well, suffice to say, you do you Mello.

More, this is a guy who tortures, murders, and probably rapes multiple people to get this to happen. Mello’s attempts to retrieve the notebook start with the kidnapping of Japan’s head of the police force. He then kidnaps Light Yagami’s younger sister and... Something very bad happens to Sayu.

We never get confirmed what happen, we don’t see much of her in captivity or much after, however immediately after the events we see her in a wheelchair. At the end of the series, Sayu is catatonic and barely able to express emotion.

It’s highly implied she was raped.

With the kidnapping of Takada, regardless of what you think of her... Nothing good was going to come of that. Mello resorts to the tactics of terrorists just so he can prove he’s a big man.

Further, Mello’s brilliance is never really that brilliant. Yes, he gets the notebook (though notably does not hold it long and loses his name in the process). However, his big win at the end is supposed to be him having realized Mikami would mess up were he to kidnap Takada. He had no guarantee of this, frankly, I think he was just kidnapping Takada in an act of desperation. Because that’s what Mello does when he runs out of ideas: he kidnaps people close to Light Yagami and sees what happens.

This gets both him and Matt brutally killed.

Near’s a Moron

Near is so weird and so maladjusted, my god, and he’s such a pretentious ass. He’s just... knock off L in every way. Which, granted, is kind of what he’s supposed to be. Except that the story never capitalizes on this. 

We see hints of it, Near trying desperately to live up to L’s name and mantle, but it never really delves into it.

More, what we do see of Near’s plans...

I really want to go into the one-shot epilogue, because that said so much about Near, but I’ll resist.

Instead I’ll note that L was 13 days from proving Light’s guilt. It takes Near and Mello combined five years, and Mikami’s dumb ass, to get to the same place. And even then, they nearly all died if Matsuda had been a worse shot.

Near has no idea that he’s nowhere near as brilliant as L. Instead, he gives us the world’s most hamfisted, frustrating, lecture at the end of the series where he tells us that Light was so stupid and that together he and Mello triumphed over evil.

Good for you, Near, I’m so happy for you.

I Just Don’t See the Point of Them

The second half of Death Note, in general, is a slough. It’s not just me saying this, you ask the majority of the fanbase, and they’ll admit it all goes downhill with L’s death.

I think the authors desperately wanted to avoid writing the dystopian politics of what would happen if Light won unopposed. They wanted a detective thriller, the trouble was, that story ended with L’s death.

So they try to feed us the same, but worse, story twice, and it just doesn’t work.

Personally, what I’d rather have seen is Matsuda and company slowly but surely realizing Light is Kira and Matsuda, in the end, having no choice but to assassinate him as they just cannot get any proof. It’s a very different story, but it would have been such a good story of betrayal that, again we sort of got hints of, but never really confronted.

Alternatively, keep Naomi Misora alive, and have her be the spearhead of brilliance we need. As it was, I am eternally sad/amused that she was killed off because she was too damn smart for the series (the authors admit she figured everything out too fast and as a result had to be eliminated).

Just, please, not genius orphan children. 

[unfunny-quips]

Snippet from my (other) overly complicated Akeshu Time Loop fic where everyone except Akira (mostly) remembers the previous year:

Akechi Goro’s apartment was nothing like what Ann had expected it to be. Though admittedly her imagination had been a bit conflicted on what she should expect.

The shiny, polite Ace Detective facade he showed the world suggested she should expect a living space ripped straight out of a designer magazine. Attractive but stiff, nice to look at but difficult to actually live in let alone be comfortable in when visiting.

On the other hand, what she’d seen of his other side - the feral, blood thirsty and thoroughly nasty Black Mask - made her think of a dungeon like space. Chains on the walls, maybe one of those disturbing cluttered spaces shown on crime dramas when the heroes were hunting a serial killer. Pictures with blacked out eyes pinned to the walls, red string connecting disparate and terrifying thoughts and images, a collection of weapons on display.

What she got was…neither of those.

Shiho led her down the kind of pleasant residential area that put Ann in mind of the best kind of summers as a kid. A big park, open friendly faces, a community that seemed friendly and kind to each other. Shiho smiled and waved to a number of people on their way, the few they stopped to chat with for a bit telling her to give their hellos on to Akechi before letting them continue.

The apartment itself was the converted guest house in the back garden of what looked to be a cheerful family home. Ann counted no less than three fat cats lazing about and when they approached a delightfully plump old woman seated in a rocking chair on the front porch sat up from her reading to say hello and welcome Ann. Shiho called her Obaasan and rushed to give her a hug like she really was Shiho’s beloved grandmother before the old woman ushered them down the side path towards the back of the house.

“That’s Goro’s landlady, Shibata-San,” Shiho said as they walked the narrow path that led along the side of the house and through a truly beautiful garden. “She’s super sweet but has trouble with her arthritis sometimes. She gives Goro a deal on the rent since he helps her out so much around the house and with her gardening.”

Akechi Goro being nice to little old ladies. Ann wasn’t certain if that was exactly what she expected from the deranged killer pretending to be a charming teen detective or something so far out of the realm of expected as to be laughable. She chose to make a polite hmm noise of interest instead, not wanting to break the good mood Shiho was in by bringing up how very much Ann hated Akechi. She was rewarded by Shiho smiling warmly at her, which was really all the shorter girl would need to do to convince Ann to murder someone in Shiho’s name.

Shiho knocked at the door and Ann took a final calming breath to prepare her for the night that lay ahead of her. It was just a few hours, and she’d be there with Shiho and there would be plenty of other people to help buffer her from Akechi and Akira. Ann had helped shoot a god in the face once, she was ready for anything Akechi might throw at her over a few hours of talking about a book.

She wasn’t even close to ready, as it turned out.

The realization settled in the moment the door opened to reveal a yawning Akechi standing before her with messy hair and Featherman themed pajamas. Rumpled and clearly well worn Featherman pajamas.

Ann felt her eyes widen comically at the sight of the boy that had once been her and her team’s arch nemesis. A known and dangerous killer who had taken countless lives in the name of his twisted revenge scheme. 

He was wearing adorable unicorn slippers. Their horns were rainbow.

“Ah, Shiho!” Akechi said through his yawn, face stretching into a warm smile as he spotted the shorter girl on the other side of the threshold. “Just in time, I need help hauling Akira’s dead weight to the bedroom.” Ann watched him scratch lazily at his chin before blinking his attention over to her and offered another smile. It was a  brittle, plastic thing in comparison to the honest warmth he’d offered the shorter girl. All polish and teeth, no actual emotion. “And Takamaki-San, I’m so glad you could join us for the evening.”

He looked anything but, especially with the white knuckled grip he had on the door handle.

Ann offered a strained smile of her own. She’d made a promise to Shiho damnit and she’d see it through if it killed her. Or if Akechi killed her. Whatever. The point was that she was going to try damnit.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” She said as Akechi stepped back to allow them inside. Shiho gave a faint wince at the overly perky tone Ann had and shoot she’d overshot the enthusiasm a bit. Oh well. Better to be too excited than not enough. She followed Shiho’s lead in taking her shoes off and slipping on a pair of house slippers before turning her attention to the apartment itself.

It was…surprisingly cozy.

Ann was surprised too by the amount of clutter taking up the apartment. A laundry basket of half-folded, clean clothes sitting next to the couch, a knocked over bag tossed on a side table by the front door, more pillows and blankets than Ann would have expected making it seem like a nice place to curl up and read in. The apartment still managed to look tidy despite the half hearted attempt at organization.

Most of the space consisted of a living room with a tiny kitchenette tucked in a corner. There was a small nook beside the cooking area likely meant for dining. The small table placed there was taken over by a nice looking chess set, leaving no room for any actual dining. A small blackboard hung on the wall beside it, tallying victories of each player - tied, from what Ann could see, between Akechi and Kurusu. Other than that there were a couple doors leading to what she presumed to be a bedroom and a bathroom. 

It looked so remarkably normal.

Hardwood floors, plush rugs thrown everywhere, overstuffed bookshelves, pictures on the wall. There was a larger one hung over the couch showing off the entire book club smiling brightly at what looked like a cat cafe. Shiho, Akechi, Kurusu, Yoshizawa, even Togo Hifumi and Iwai’s son Kaoru. All of them squeezed together to fit, hands up in peace signs or giving each other bunny ears.

They looked normal. Just kids hanging out, enjoying each other’s company and reading books. It was hard to reconcile the photo with the mental image Ann had of several of the members as potential agents of Yaldabaoth.

Seeing how happy Shiho looked in the pictures didn’t help.

Ann pushed the thoughts away as best she could and followed other two to where a half asleep Akira was laid sprawled half under a large kotatsu. The delinquent had his head thrown back on the couch behind him, one of the many throw pillows Akechi apparently owned curled in his arms. She was surprised to see his usual oversized glasses he so often hid behind tossed haphazardly on the kotatsu. His eyes were closed, but he cracked one open when he heard them come over.

“M’fine here.” He muttered, curling up further around his pillow.

Akechi rolled his eyes. 

“There is a bed literally right there.” he pointed at one of the two closed doors for emphasis, mere steps away. Akira was already turning away and wiggling further beneath the kotatsu blanket. “Just go to bed Akira, no one else is even going to be here for another hour at least.”

Ann blinked. “What?” She turned from the drowsy Akira to Shiho, the shorter girl giving an unapologetic, challenging smile.

“Goro said we could come over early so you could get settled in!” Shiho said, chipper and all too aware of the fact that Ann had been banking on keeping her attention on other people in order to ignore Akechi. She really shouldn’t have been surprised. Shiho really did know her too well.

Akechi offered another brittle smile before turning his attention back to Akira, his expression softening again. Ann watched as the detective attempted to scoop the dark haired boy up, only for Akira to slip out of his grasp by going boneless, earning an undignified swear from the detective. 

Ann watched as the detective attempted to drag the delinquent away by an arm, amused as Shiho strolled over casually and hauled Akira up over her shoulder - pillow and all - in a fireman’s hold. She did it with such ease that Ann was a left little breathless at the show of strength. Akira wasn’t heavy by any measure but he was tall and she’d seen him working out at the gym the one time she went with Ryuji. The boy had muscle and that couldn’t be light. It didn’t matter to the short girl and her exceptional strength and well… Ann was weak to Shiho in so very many ways.

A few minutes later Akira had been safely stowed in a proper bed, the faint sound of soft snores heard from the dark haired delinquent before Shiho had even made it through the door. Which just left the three of them standing awkwardly in the living room.

Joy.

“I’m not nearly as good as Akira or Boss,” Akechi began, “But I can make a passable cup of coffee with what I’ve got here. Would you like one?”

There was a very real chance he might poison it. Ann nodded anyway to appease Shiho, resigned to the fact that she really was willing to do anything to see the shorter girl smile. 

Akechi shuffled towards the kitchenette in his ridiculous fluffy unicorn slippers and began fussing with the various coffee supplies that took up almost all of his very limited counter space. He was even nice enough to pull out a container of some cookies - a favorite brand of Ann’s on top of it - that hadn’t even been opened yet from a cupboard. She felt secure in the knowledge that those at least hadn’t been tampered with as she began happily devouring them.

“He’s still refusing to move in?” Shiho asked Akechi softly as she settled on the plush loveseat adjacent to the couch, tugging Ann down beside her. The dark haired girl pulled her feet up and under her, Shiho’s expression turning concerned as she watched Akechi work.

Akechi gave a soft sigh as he began boiling some water for the coffee. “He’s just so damn stubborn.” The detective said, shoulder’s drooping as he measured the freshly ground coffee out. “That place is killing him, but every time I bring it up he digs his heels in.”

Shiho gave a soft sigh before turning her attention to Ann to explain. “Akira is…” She paused, frowning, “His living situation is…bad.” Ann flicked her attention to Akechi as she heard him mutter a faint fucking understatement of the year under his breath. “Goro has offered to let him stay here but Akira’s worried that his record would hurt Goro’s reputation.”

“Oh,” Ann said, turning her attention on the delicate chocolate dipped cookie she held. Akira’s criminal record, that had been made public and well known by Mishima at Komashida’s request. Because Akira had stepped in and kept the teacher from getting to Shiho. Something Ann should have done. “Isn’t there something he can do? He’s staying with a guardian right? Couldn’t he just request to be moved under someone else?”

Akechi snorted bitterly. “Great idea, so that scam artist can report him as being “dangerous” and get him sent back to Juvie?” Red eyes turned to Ann, pinning her in place as Akechi’s mouth twisted into a sour frown. “You know about shitty adults. You know there really aren’t options like that for people in Akira’s position.”

Ann was struck again by the strange clash between what she expected from Akechi from the last run of the game and what he was showing her in this one. 

A facade of niceties for the camera, a howling soul of insanity for anyone who got in his way. Where, exactly, between those two extremes lay concern for a friend in a difficult position? Where did friends lay in that mess at all? Where did the cozy apartment, helping out an arthritic old lady, the weekly book club, the Featherman pajamas? Was there a graph somewhere that might map it all out? Or was she just supposed to guess at what was a real glimpse at the boy that had once murdered her friend’s father and what was an act to get what he wanted?

“Here,” Akechi said, and for a moment she half expected him to hand her the answers she wanted. He didn’t, of course, instead handing her a cup of coffee resting on a matching saucer. Both cup and saucer had cute chubby cats on them. “Cream? Sugar?”

She blinked and nodded, watching as he turned on his heel to get her what she asked for. Shiho beside her shifted where she sat, butting their shoulders together gently. Her face, when Ann met her gaze, was thoughtful. Considering Ann as if she was the puzzle and not the serial killer juggling a carton of cream and an oversized container of sugar across the room. Trying to stow her apprehension away for the night, Ann offered her friend the best honest expression she could while knowing how many lies she’d given the shorter girl over the past months. 

Shiho’s expression shifted slowly, the look in her dark eyes difficult to read. Ann watched as the other girl turned to sip at her coffee. Shiho didn’t even wait for it to cool. She always liked her drinks hot enough to scald.

“You know, maybe it’s the way you’re asking.” Shiho said, the complicated emotions Ann glimpsed the moment before shuffled away as the dark haired girl turned a devious smile on Akechi.

The detective looked weary and wary all at once. “Shiho…” His tone had something like a weak warning to it, though the bite Ann was used to hearing from him was absent.

“I’m just saying,” Shigo said, looking delighted, “You’re asking him to move in with you as a friend.”

“Don’t.” Akechi said, it might have been sharp and snapping if it wasn’t for the color rising high on the boy’s cheeks. Ann blinked in bewilderment. Was Akechi Goro blushing?

“Just ask him to be your boyfriend already!” Shiho said, all cheer and delight with an undercurrent of something challenging directed at the now definitely blushing Akechi. “We all saw you two kiss at the ice rink! It’s not like the thing between you it’s a secret!”

Ann choked on the cookie she’d just popped into her mouth. Akechi - so red that Ann was fairly certain he was going to turn purple soon - made a high pitched squeak and buried his face in his hands.

Well that put a new light on things.

“You kissed Kurusu?!” Cookies crumbs went flying as she spoke but Ann didn’t care. The news was just too big to be taken in calmly. Makoto had suspected that Kurusu, a known criminal, was a pawn in Akechi’s devious plan and the rest of the group had been thinking the same. Morgana suggested that the dark haired boy might even be the new player they’d been warned about.

At no point at any of them considered Akechi could be so human as to simply just like Kurusu.

“It’s not that - you’re taking things out of context!” Akechi almost wailed, not a psychopath ready to kill at a drop of a hat but an embarrassed teenage boy being teased about his crush.

Shiho laughed, “You two held hands!” 

“I didn’t know how to skate! Kurusu was helping me balance!”

“You stayed on the ice during the couple’s song!”

“We just didn’t want to get off the ice!”

“You stopped, in the middle of the rink, looked deep into each other’s eyes while holding hands and kissed.”

As if to drive her point home, Shiho lifted her phone to show a picture - a bit blurry at the edges but clear enough to make out - of Akechi and Kurusu definitely having a sweet, romantic kiss on the ice. Clearly completely oblivious of the world around them as they did so. It was possibly the cutest thing Ann had ever seen.

Any idea Ann ever had of Akechi Goro being intimidating was thrown right out the window.

[elindae-writes]

More miscellaneous Seeker headcanons

Seekers recharge in their alt-modes. Some even taxi around in their asleep. Back when the Decepticon’s Seeker fleet was still whole they would all sleep together in a big room in the Nemesis while in their alt-modes. This was reminiscent of the way they’d all recharge back in Vos. In their towers they’d have several large sleeping rooms and the specific way they were organized varied from tower to tower. When Seekers recharge they breathe out air so if you go into a room with a dozen sleeping ones it’s like going into a wind tunnel. When one Seeker begins to taxi in their sleep the others subconsciously follow suit, so Seekers are used to waking up in unfamiliar locations and just being a-ok with that. The confused grounders who tried to recharge in the nearby quarters occasionally snuck a peak into the Seeker recharge quarters just to see what the weird nose was and then walked in on ten Seekers slowly driving around in circles in their sleep.

When Starscream became the last living Seeker of the fleet aboard the Nemesis he got his own smaller quarters and left behind the communal sleeping room because it was just too empty.

When Seekers recharge in their root mode they always sleep on their stomach because they want their wings to face up into the air so that they can detect their surroundings better via the airflow.

Seekers instinctively grab onto things in their sleep because Seekerlings tend to wander around and leave the sides of their caretakers, so the caretakers evolved to instinctively just reach out and grab whatever is moving near them in their sleep. Starscream loathes recharging next to other mechs because this programming of his results in him instinctively grabbing onto and clinging to the closest living thing next to him. When Starscream was in the medbay he once reached over and grabbed onto Knock Out in his sleep and now KO repeatedly mentions it non-stop.

“Do you remember when you woke up while clinging onto me and my totally sweet finish?”

“Do you want my talons to cling onto your spark chamber?”

Seekers can sense magnetic poles the same way birds can and are therefore very good at navigation. It’s a common joke amongst non-Seekers that Seekers are utterly obsessed with nerding out over maps. Starscream gets annoyed whenever he hears this stereotype being talked about, but then always remembers how he can still remember all of the hundreds of main flightpaths through Vos and then gets silent.

They prefer to fly at night because Seekers are very good at using the stars to orientate themselves the same way little bugs can. They’re attracted to bright lights and Seekers who are not very attentive while flying will sometimes find themselves in strange bright places. Back on Vos you’d look up and see like five young and confused Seekers perched on top of a blinking billboard and none of them would really be aware of how they got there. That was Starscream’s main method of making friends.

Starscream has this bad habit himself and has found himself perched onto quite a few human billboards. This has resulted in all sorts of weird cryptid pictures of him and his glowing red optics next to a billboard surfacing on the internet. There are blurry and dark pictures of him confusedly standing beside those weird giant billboards in the middle of nowhere in the desert that advertise “the THING” so now everybody is convinced that he’s the thing. Arcee growls at those billboards whenever she sees them and says something along the lines of, “Oh yeah, Starscream sure is something.”

Everybody on the internet also thinks he’s a mothman.

They’re not that far off from the truth.

He has like a dozen different cryptid internet alter-egos that he isn’t even of aware of due to being a tad careless about humans seeing him.

Seekers built their towers in Vos higher and higher and higher and so on, but this had the unfortunate side effect of making the lower portions of the towers get even darker and darker, and starless darkness is something Seekers utterly loathe. They artificially lit these lower layers with fake stars and giant HUD screens that projected fake skies. These were actually pretty realistic, but still fake and everybody was obsessed with that sweet authentic sky, so this was where the poorer Seekers and criminals were. Any Seeker at all who was going through bad times or was in any kind of bad living condition was said to be “living under a fake sky.”

When Megatron began to get all riled up he tried to recruit the Seekers, especially the bitter ones he knew to be living in the depths of Vos, so he had Sounders hack into their fake skies so he could project his ugly mug onto them and make grandiose speeches. Starscream saw quite a few of them back then when he was on the run from the Enforcers for “murdering” Skyfire. He’d groan dramatically everytime Megatron appeared. I headcanon Megatron as being as tech savvy as a really old person, so whenever he’d make these speeches he’d hold the camera under his chin in the most unflattering way possible.

Soundwave would then move one of his cables into view to readjust the camera, but then Megatron would just get angry and yell at him off-screen. He’d forget to mute himself so several thousand Seekers would just stare out their windows in confusion while listening to Megatron rant about some archivist named Orion Pax. Megatron insists that the Seekers didn’t join him because they were “fools.” Soundwave knows they did not join partly because Megan would begin frothing on-camera while projecting his faceplate onto the Seekerling nurseries.

“Soundwave, how do I fullscreen the video feed?”

“YOUR FACEPLATE IS BEING PROJECTED ONTO A ONE HUNDRED STORY APARTMENT COMPLEX”

“Soundwave, you ignorant slut! It is not fullscreened and I need to demonstrate my fullscreen power--”

Seekers reacted to Megatron’s sudden and intrusive fake sky speech sessions the same way us humans react when political ads come on and freaking RUIN Jeopardy I just want to enjoy the Video Daily Double without ominous pictures of people in suits covering the entire screen I just want to see Trebek slaggit

You seemed to enjoy the last post and I have like a hundred more of these random headcanons stored in my head so I’ll just keep posting them if that’s what people want. Unburied chapter 22 is almost done!!

[remuslupinfest]

Remus Lupin Fest 2020 Master List (Anon)

We're pleased to release this years Master List of fics, sorted by ship and alphabetically! There's 38 incredible works! Author and artist reveals are next week.

GEN

TITLE: First Year SUMMARY: I hope whoever prompted this in the first place is happy with the result. I know it's super messy but I was experimenting a bit with my style!

TITLE: On Talking SUMMARY: Five conversations Remus Lupin and Minerva McGonagall have during Prisoner of Azkaban and one they do not.

TITLE: One of Many Happy Moments SUMMARY: Remus has only come back home from one of particularly typical days of teaching in Hogwarts, but he couldn’t refuse Teddy to read the book together

TITLE: Remus Lupin Sleeping Peacefully SUMMARY: Prompt: Remus sleeping peacefully.

TITLE: Tousled SUMMARY: Prompt: Remus wrapped in a sheet/duvet going to the bathroom or kitchen after having had sex with someone. Maybe someone knocks on the door and he can’t find his trousers. He’s flushed, tousled and possibly has a hickey or two.

REMUS/MISC

TITLE: A Heart Grows Warm SUMMARY: After the war, Remus is a single father and desperate for a job. Snape hires him to work in his potions shop, but Remus can't ignore the building sexual tension between them.

TITLE: Bad Moon Rising SUMMARY: James, Lily and Voldemort all died on Halloween night. Years later, Remus is working in the Auror Department on a confusing case of a transformed werewolf stalking a family outside of a full moon and is assigned a brilliant new Auror, Nymphadora Tonks, to work with him.

TITLE: Briseé SUMMARY: Death eater!Remus struggles to face his past after the death of his lover and the end of his freedom.

TITLE: Care to Share? SUMMARY: Remus had every intention of enjoying solidarity over the holidays. That may change now that he's not the only Slytherin staying behind.

TITLE: His Luck SUMMARY: Modern setting, model/photographer AU for Remus Lupin and Narcissa Black. Written for the Remus Lupin fest 2020.

TITLE: Hold Me While You Wait SUMMARY: Remus Lupin just needs someone to hug him.

TITLE: One Night In Barcelona SUMMARY: The chemistry was too much to resist.

TITLE: Readjusting SUMMARY: When Voldemort murders Frank and Alice Longbottom, their baby survives. Meanwhile, Lily moves into a flat in Muggle London. Alone. With baby Harry and the cat. Remus helps.

TITLE: The Paths We Take SUMMARY: Lily Evans Lupin is a detective, though her husband Remus' name is on all the paperwork. He writes incredible tales while she solves mysteries. All seems normal as the Second World War ends, and Lily is hoping for peace and eventual renown for her talents legally attributed to Remus. Her and Remus' entire world comes crashing down once more as Sirius O. Black, Remus' first love, enters their agency, with one request: to find his missing brother Regulus, who joined the Nazis and hasn't come home. Can Lily find the missing Regulus? Can Remus face his heartbreak?

TITLE: You keep messing with my brain SUMMARY: The awful truth was that when he had noticed Regulus Black he couldn’t exactly look away anymore.

WOLFSTAR

TITLE: AMOR VINCIT OMNIA (love conquers all) SUMMARY: Remus, a servant boy to the cruel Emperor Voldemort, meets Sirius, a charming nobleman. Together they fight for freedom and love in Ancient Rome.

TITLE: An Endearing Portrait SUMMARY: At the beginning of their seventh year at Hogwarts, Sirius fears that Remus’s mother and perhaps Remus himself, too, prefers someone else.

TITLE: Falling Into Place SUMMARY: There's always been something special about Remus Lupin, even if it's taken Sirius Black until his seventh year to realize it. Too bad he spends so much time agonizing over his changing feelings that he loses his chance. In which Remus acts like an idiot, Marlene is the snarky voice of reason, James is a mother hen, Peter is confused, and Sirius is seriously jealous.

TITLE: Fate and Other Ambiguous Notions SUMMARY: Truth be told, Sirius has never really paid much attention to Remus before... (Slytherin!Remus, Gryffindor!Sirius)

TITLE: Hold Me While You Wait SUMMARY: Remus Lupin just needs someone to hug him.

TITLE: If You’ll Be Waiting SUMMARY: Remus gets the Information that Sirius is probably still alive. He goes on a road trip to Germany with Harry to find him.

TITLE: In the Throws of You SUMMARY: Prompt 178: Sirius has a track record for picking bad BDSM doms, but luckily Remus is always there to provide the proper aftercare he needs.

TITLE: Ivory and Gold SUMMARY: Sirius Black is all Remus has been looking for and more. A muse, an inspiration, a theme he never wishes to let go. He’s magnetic. And Remus lets himself be pulled in.

TITLE: Let the Awful Song Be Heard, Bluebird SUMMARY: Prompt: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is really just a squeal of pain. – Vita Sackville West In some ways, they are still Padfoot and Moony.

TITLE: making a fool out of myself (for you) SUMMARY: Sirius and Remus have been friends for years. However, unbeknownst to the other, both of them have a secret life working as a clown. Over the years, Remus and Sirius have competed against each other in the clown/birthday party circuit, becoming actual clown enemies of each other without knowing their true identities... until now, that is.

TITLE: Meet the Moonies SUMMARY: Remus introduces Sirius to his parents for the first time.

TITLE: Renewal SUMMARY: Remus and Sirius return to Remus's cabin together after the events of Harry's third school year come to a close. Remus decides that Sirius would be much better off with a haircut and some TLC.

TITLE: Sanctify My Body (With Pain) SUMMARY: When Remus leaves for what is essentially a suicide mission, Sirius finds himself grappling with the realities of a life where he doesn't know if the love of his life is dead or alive.

Perhaps the most confusing question in these situations is: which is worse?

TITLE: Siren songs SUMMARY: Sirius had heard of mermaids before, of course. They were all over the songs bards performed at his parents' table and the tall tales sailors traded in every port. He had never given much thought to whether or not the stories were true, though. Imagine his surprise when he and his best mates found themselves shipwrecked on an unfamiliar shore, with a breathtaking and mysterious merman for their only ally.

TITLE: Sweet Nuthin’ SUMMARY: When the summer between third and fourth year begins, Sirius expects it to be nothing but lazy days, harmless pranks with James, and the occasional meet-up with the rest of his friends from Hogwarts. Those plans go out the window rather quickly when he gets a sudden glimpse of Remus Lupin, a mysterious boy who changes everything about Sirius Black's life and shows him that love will always win in the end.

TITLE: Teddy’s Wedding SUMMARY: Teddy's wedding brings about memories of the past and hopes for the future.

TITLE: That Iron Taste SUMMARY: In the middle of a particularly bitter winter, a new attendee starts showing up in Father Black’s congregation. He is entirely unfamiliar and wholly arresting. In his wake there will be confusion, horror, heat, bliss, blood, and perhaps the end of reality itself.

TITLE: The Great Gay Pornstar Twitter Feud of 2020 SUMMARY: “So what I’m hearing is that you’ve got a date with your hot, clever, fellow porn-star twitter nemesis, of whom you once said ‘I’d rather die than let that pretentious knobcloud touch my dick’... is that about right?”

“... Yes.”

Or; Remus Lupin forgets to turn the fucking camera on.

TITLE: The King I Could Become SUMMARY: Prince Sirius of Nox has one thing he cannot stand. Or rather it should be said, one person. Prince Remus of Lupos. They had never gotten along well, though their kingdoms are close allies, but a disturbance in the lands has brought them together on a quest. They'll be able to take down this threat...if they can survive each other's presence first.

TITLE: The New Sailing Master SUMMARY: Sirius is a pirate, Remus is a fugitive, Remus manages to get a lift aboard the Blithering Idiot and it's love at first sight…

TITLE: Things We Can’t Say SUMMARY: Prompt 18: Angst during the first war, based on being on opposite sides. Trying to convince them to join the light side maybe, or accidentally injuring each other or close friends of each other.

TITLE: Thoroughly Debauched SUMMARY: Prompt: Remus riding Sirius in a chair

TITLE: To Admit What Is Not More Illegal SUMMARY: On Valentine’s Day in their seventh year at Hogwarts, Sirius tries to offer what Remus needs, and starts figuring out if he's ashamed of something, and if he is, what it is.

TITLE: You Would Be Calling Me Moony SUMMARY: A month after Sirius falls through the Veil, Remus starts seeing Sirius in his dreams. But they're only dreams...right?

[elfnerdherder]

Opus Dei: Chapter 1

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A special thanks to my patrons: @evertonem @sylarana @starlit-catastrophe @frostylicker, Mendacious Bean, Superlurk, Duhaunt6, and Laura G.! <3

Well guys, here’s to another Fannibal fic. :) I’m not sure if there’s a lot of call for a sequel/revenge fic, but I’m going to do my best to not make a muck of it. As always, I hope you enjoy! Happy Friday.

Summary: "Behold, I will make you fishers of men," Abigail said with a laugh.

And so Will did. Bait for Hannibal the Cannibal is tricky, though, especially when the hunter knows they're hunted. Four years in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane gave him time, and in the end time was all he'd really needed, isn't it?

Will Graham had never meant for so much death. After being released for crimes he hadn't committed, he knows the right thing to do is move on with his life and begin a new chapter as an innocent man. Go to college. Meet the girl. Fall in love. Put his past behind him.

There's just one small problem: Hannibal Lecter isn't quite ready for him to move on, and truth be told, Hannibal is a itch that Will just can't help but scratch. When The Great Red Dragon begins to stalk the halls of George Washington University, Hannibal's ready to see just how far Will is willing to go to see his reckoning through.

In the end, the fire could take them all.

Thriller, cat-and-mouse, romance, angst, murder, mayhem, gaslighting, slow(ish) burn, old(er) Hannibal, whole-heartedly grumpy college-aged Will Graham.

Act I: A Part in Which the Hero Meets His Arch-Nemesis

Chapter 1: Enter Stage Right

The Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane specialized in two things; first, they provided a safe space for the criminally insane to receive aid, and second, they took perfectly sane individuals and found delicately devious ways to make them certifiably mad. Within the dreary brick and concrete blended walls of only a lower-income-modest budget, there were certain rooms that aspired for civility with their floral wallpaper and gauche leather sofas, but even the hired help could barely boast the environment in which they toiled away at. The mental instability was an airborne virus, one that preyed on the strong of mind and completely obliterated the weak.

Will Graham was neither of these things –the criminally insane, nor the perfectly sane. Rather, he was a curious mix of both, and currently to date he would actually call it more of a curse.

He currently sat in the only room not bugged by the warden’s microphones, staring at the hands of a gristly, aged FBI agent. There was no polite ceremony to his visit. They knew each other well enough that pleasantries died when Jack Crawford first accused him of a murder that Will most certainly had not committed –several, in fact.

“Are you listening?”

“Vaguely,” said Will. A lie, but he’d become pretty good at those.

“Vaguely,” Jack repeated, awed. Before Will could tack something on, he tossed the file down for Will to see. “Read for yourself, then.”

Will glanced down nonchalantly. “I see what it says. I guess I’m just processing what it means for me exactly, is all.”

“What it means?”

“I mean, it says here the Chesapeake Ripper’s been at large for the last four years. Says here he’s actually been killing for awhile before that.” Will pushed the file folder back to Jack and crossed his arms.

"Yeah."

"Says there's evidence showing there was no copycat to Garrett Jacob Hobbs, just the Chesapeake Ripper."

Jack gestured and nodded. “So?”

“So?”

“I’m saying you’re innocent, Will.”

Will smiled. “Shit, Jack, but I already knew that."

“We made a mistake,” Jack replied, and it was obvious in the lines of his face that he’d been forced to eat crow. A whole lot of it. “One that the FBI does not take lightly. We contacted your lawyer, and a negotiation of wrongful imprisonment reimbursement was reached.” He slid a crisp, bland check over to him, scritching along the file folder. Will scratched the whiskers on his cheek thoughtfully.

His lawyer had called the night before, so he'd had time to mull it over. He lets it sit in a puddle of discontent on the table. “Two hundred thousand is pretty high dollar,” he finally said thoughtfully.

“Considering the specifics of the situation—"

“—My sickness the perfect excuse to not participate in any real detective work—"

“—it wasn’t difficult to convince us to offer the maximum amount,” Jack finished.

Will looked to his eyes, then to his mouth. “Is it that difficult for you to realize you should have listened to me?” he asked.

“Is it still that difficult for you to look people in the eye?” Jack retorted.

Will forced himself to look into his eyes. “I already know what I’ll see when I look into your eyes, Jack,” he said, “I'm sick of looking in eyes like that.”

“The evidence—"

“Was gift wrapped with a neat bow on top for you to keep as a souvenir,” Will cut him off. “So easy that you didn’t think to question whether or not it was really that simple to catch someone supposedly so smart you’d recruited an eighteen-year-old to tag along to horrific crime scenes. Easy as pie.” He folded his arms and dragged his thumb over his bottom lip, thinking. Temper, temper. Try again. Finally, “I’ll take your money. Four years in this place will ensure that I take anything I can from you.”

Jack’s lips puckered, but the papers were produced. Will took the stack and signed each specified place, gaze occasionally cutting to the check that rested at his elbow. Two-hundred thousand was indeed the highest he’d ever heard of, the closest being Inmate 2361-B who’d been imprisoned for allegedly killing his brothers. Three years got him one-hundred thousand dollars, but it also got him a bullet to the head a week after his release when he couldn’t adjust to civilian life and decided that eating a gun was better.

Paperwork done, Jack placed everything in a neat stack and seemed to hesitate. Will studied the clock overhead. 2:13 P.M.

“This killer that framed you—"

“Not interested.”

“He’s killed at least fifteen people, and we could really use your insight.”

“I don’t care,” Will snapped. “You know who I said did this to me.”

“Not that tired old drum about Hannibal-”

“Where you’re not inclined to hear me out, I’m not inclined to give a singular shit about your inability to catch a serial killer.”

“We did investigate him, Will! We found nothing!”

“Only because he’s smarter than you.”

They glared at one another from across the table, and Jack nodded reluctantly. “This killer is, yes. I need you to at least look.”

“I don’t care about your problems.” A beat. “And I don’t want to look.”

“No, but the Will Graham I know wouldn’t want to see so many people get hurt, even if it meant that you got to see me flounder in the process,” Jack said.

Will rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, and he sighed. “The Will Graham you claimed to know was, in your eyes, a psychotic killer,” he said conversationally.

“At the very least, help me because you could become a target if he wants to go after you again,” Jack prodded, not rising to the bait.

“My struggles are old and overused to him. I’ve become a boring study as of late, so it furthers him nothing to continue to try and ruin my life,” said Will with a non-committed shrug. “That’s the only thing you’ll get from me. Free advice, too: you’re no match for him, Jack. Let someone else take the case while I get back to my life.”

“Your life’s not—"

“FOUR years, Jack,” Will snarled, and something in his tone startled Jack enough that he didn’t interrupt. “Don’t you dare try to soften that.” He paused, waited long enough to get control of his voice. Temper, temper. “I don’t…I don’t want to help you.”

“It’s not about me, it’s about the innocent people,” Jack argued.

“At this point, I don’t care about them, either,” Will lied. It was a good lie, though, the kind that slid smooth off of the tongue like oil. “When can I leave?”

“Today,” Jack said, and he looked to the small window in the corner, just big enough to be legal. “They’re already processing your things for release. I took it on a hunch you'd say yes.”

Will heard the lock in the door turning, and he stood, studying Jack out of the corner of his eye. It was something he’d had to learn to do, and he’d become as good at that as he has at lying. “If you’re trying to imagine four years here, Jack, I’d not recommend it.”

“Oh?” Jack turned, likely ready for another fight.

Will stepped out when the door opened for him, and he smiled grimly. “You’re an FBI agent. They’d have slit your throat a week in.”

When Will returned to his cell, he found his things –what little he had in his cell that could be claimed as his –put neatly into a small vinyl duffle bag, the hospital’s logo emblazoned on the side. Clearly this was something that’d been in the works long before he’d ever been consulted.

He wasn’t handcuffed, and he walked down the endless grey walls without the metal biting his wrists for the first time in his entire life. The guard that walked beside him wasn’t friendly, but he made no move to stop Will when his pace quickened. He swore he heard whispers, hisses, other inmates calling out, and it nipped at his heels, threatening to trip him until at last the thick, barred doors shut with a definitive THUD.

A familiar face met him at the small space between worlds, where the check-in blocked both the entry to the institute and the exit to the real world. He’d been allowed to change out of the jumpsuit, a simple pair of sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt his only other clothing, and he was relieved when she threw her arms around him that they’d been recently laundered. He dropped his duffle bag to hug her back, only a beat too late. It’d been a long time since he’d been embraced like that.

“Look at you,” Alana breathed, letting go of him. Four years hadn’t changed her, although it could be said that was because Will had witnessed those four years. Her raven hair was still swept back in loose waves, and her blue eyes still froze whatever they set their gaze on. She smiled, and he felt his own lips twitch in response, a tingling sensation rippling over his skin.

“Look at you,” he replied. He tugged loosely on his shirt, and he grinned. “They said that I could keep one item as a souvenir.”

“A good choice, Mr. Graham,” Alana stated, studying it. “I’d have done the same.”

“Are you off so soon, Mr. Graham? I’d have thought you wanted an exit interview.”

Will couldn’t help the small, tense knot of unease. “I don’t,” he said, curt.

Frederick Chilton laughed as he reached them, although it wasn’t quite humorous enough to be real. “I found the timing of your release interesting,” he said, gesturing to Alana. “I must admit, I was a little upset that I only found out ten minutes before you did that it would be occurring.”

“I think you know me well enough to know that nothing that happens is coincidence,” Will replied. Frederick opened his mouth to reply, but at the expression on Will’s face, it snapped shut.

“Congratulations on your promotion, Frederick,” Alana said from around Will. She moved around him to shake Chilton’s hand, and her offer was returned after a beat.

“It was a surprise to me, truly,” Chilton said with faux-modesty.

“The last Head Administrator was lobotomized,” Will informed Alana. “No one wanted the job after that. He was the only one with credentials that applied.”

“Yes, well, I met all of the criteria, and they were more than happy to offer the position to me. If you’re looking, Bloom, I can set you up with a wonderful residency here,” Chilton offered coyly.

“I have a good residency, but thank you,” Alana said with an amiable laugh. “Will, should we go?”

“Oh, yes, you should,” Chilton stated, laughing at a joke only he knew. “Whoever the killer is that framed you, you must find yourself inherently indebted to him for deciding to let you go free.”

“Goodbye, Frederick,” Alana said curtly, and she led Will towards the exit before he could reply with something nasty.

It was spring in the real world, sunlight rippling through maple leaves, and when Will’s shoes touched the concrete outside, he stopped at the steps and stared, eyes hungrily consuming everything in sight. Baltimore, Maryland wasn’t exactly home, but the trees were green, the flowers bloomed, and the air positively reeked with growth and birth and all those happy, renewing things. He inhaled deeply, savoring it.

“What do you think?” Alana asked.

"I'm hungry," he said, taking a step. No guard burst through the doors to detain him. No orderly found just the right spot to sink a needle and send him into a dizzying sleep. He hurried down the steps, pace quickening.

“What are you feeling?”

“Burgers,” he replied. Then, dryly, "glad to see the car hasn't changed."

"Hey, student loans before cars," she laughed, and they climbed in.

His bank assured him that four years had grown his account by exactly a penny and a half. Not surprising. Will drummed his fingers on his leg and was quick to leave after the check cleared, mingling by the mildly spindly maples struggling to grow in the indirect sunlight. Sunlight by the trees felt nice.

“Whoa,” Alana laughed, following him out, “no need to rush. They aren’t going to take it back, Will, I promise.”

“Right,” he said, and it took him a second to really register what she was saying. He laughed, a curt sort of noise that startled a woman walking by. “…Right.”

He waited outside of the burger place, loitering beside a table with an umbrella, and when Alana walked out he sat himself down with his back to the building, watching everyone on the street. His gaze flicked from teen to child to angry, middle-aged man, fingers plucking at his steak fries. He was hungry, but there was a different sort of hunger that took precedent, the kind that made him note hand gestures and tone, smiles that were quick and lingered. The only people he’d been able to observe for the past while had been guards, orderlies, and inmates, and those were the worst sort of people to see in a miserable, dreary, everyday setting. Miss Avery would have cautioned him that those were not the people one wanted to imitate and reflect.

“How are you processing everything?” Alana asked as she added ketchup to the burger. Will grabbed a fry and stuffed the entire thing into his mouth, sitting up to get his burger unwrapped.

“It’s very real,” he said, hands grazing over a bun that didn’t feel like it’d been baked at twelve thousand degrees before being dropped on something cold and left. “But it very well could be a dream. I could still wake up on that cot tomorrow.”

“It’s not a dream,” Alana assured him. “I was there when Agent Crawford met with the lawyer, and we discussed a few things before it was approved and he went to meet with you.”

"Jack didn't know I already knew." Will grinned. He'd enjoyed watching Jack dish out what he already knew was coming.

"I told him no matter what he did he was to get you out as soon as possible," said Alana.

“That’s a relief,” Will said. “I don’t think I’d manage another round.” And that was a lie, but it was the kind she’d allow him to have. If there was one thing Will had learned about himself, it was that no matter what seemed to happen to him, he woke up the next day –not necessarily stronger, but angrier. More resilient.

He took a bite of the burger, and yes; just what he thought. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. He chewed slowly and swallowed, savoring every moment.

“Do you have plans?” she asked.

“Get my phone turned on, call my dad, get my things, get a car, get a place, get a job.” Will ticked off the items on his fingers, grabbing another fry.

“Does…Hannibal fall into your plans?”

Will made a face. “Why would he?”

“Jack tells me you’re still convinced he framed you for everything,” she said tentatively.

“Yeah, but I don’t know what Jack’s playing at either, telling you that. He says a lot,” Will replied with a shrug.

“You think Jack is...playing with you?”

“This whole thing could be Jack’s idea. He could try and use you to convince me to help him suss out his killer.” Will shrugged, taking another large bite, uncaring of the use of too much mustard and not enough tomato. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d even had a tomato, let alone a meal that hadn’t come pre-packaged.

On second thought, he could remember, and he didn’t want to.

“You think so?”

Will finally braved a glance to her face, and the tone matched the facial expression. Her displeasure and disbelief were matched only by her reluctance to intentionally hurt him.

“No. I think Hannibal finally got bored with me, and sooner or later he was going to have to take credit for his work.” A beat as Will mulled something over. “Is that what they call him since they refuse to use his real name? Chesapeake Ripper?” He glanced over to a mild argument a couple was having at the farthest table, partially to note how she flipped her hair when she was indignant, and partially to avoid Alana’s disapproving expression.

“Leave it to you to still accuse the only man that stood by your side during the trial and believed your innocence,” she replied dryly.

“I don’t think any of you understand just how much he enjoys toying around with people,” Will said with pseudo-pleasantness. He took another bite, looking away from the couple to study Alana’s hands. They’d forgone handling her food in order to maintain business.

“He was trying to help you, Will.”

“He wanted his thesis to be new, bold, and innovative, and if he got to crawl into the head of some messed up kid that was too stupid to realize he was being manipulated, then so much the better,” Will snapped. “Which, by the way, I read his thesis; Dr. Chilton ensured I had access to see just how much Hannibal profited off of everything that happened to me.”

“Then you’ll have also read that he urges others to look for the necessary signs in order to prevent what happened to you to happen to anyone else,” she retorted.

“Yes, if the great Hannibal Lecter can’t cure the encephalitis, no one else should try,” Will said sarcastically. “I got to read a lot about psychology in the hospital, since everyone at first was convinced that I was an intelligent psychopath. He uses forms of coercion and persuasion to get what he wants, all the while his hands stay clean.”

“You’re not an intelligent psychopath,” Alana said pointedly. “Your presence here should show you that none of us think that.”

“The evidence shows me the Chesapeake Ripper finally decided that he wasn’t having fun anymore, so he needed to change things up a bit. Now he gets to take credit for his work, and judging by the desperation in Jack Crawford’s tone, I can assume he can continue toying with Jack a bit more. If he’s going to Hannibal to ask for help next, the Chesapeake Ripper won’t have to go far to get his kicks –the FBI will take the fun right to him.”

“He still asks about you, Will. Even after everything you’ve said, he still worries about-”

“My well-being, and do I eat, sleep, bathe, shave, read, and just generally take care of myself because sometimes at night he wakes up with such paternal thoughts in his head he can’t help by drop by the next day to make sure everything’s alright,” Will interrupted.

“Then why-”

“Because I know him better than any of you, and I see exactly what lies behind that artfully constructed veneer of calm, collected concern,” he replied. “And let me be honest, Alana, behind that careful construction is an intelligent psychopath that took away some of the few people in my life that I care about, and when I was able to piece it all together, he framed me for it.”

“He hasn’t taken me,” Alana observed, tilting her head. In that moment, he saw her as more of his therapist than his friend. “In your skewed perception of him, why is that?”

“You’re useful,” he said, swallowing with difficulty. “And you’re better off blind to him than dead.”

She pursed her lips, and maybe it was the way that she bowed to the meal for a moment that gave it away. Halfway through her burger, she set it down. “I’m dating Hannibal, Will,” she admitted at last.

He blinked, stunned. Another bite, then a douse of soda to wash down the bitter taste of disappointment masking fear. “…I see.” He nodded, feigned contemplation. He couldn't quite look past her chin. “And when should I expect the announcement in the mail?”

“Stop,” Alana warned.

Will laughed bitterly, plucking at the bun. “No, no, congratulations,” he praised, waving a hand dismissively. “I mean, really, I’m just…happy for you.”

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” he agreed, and he drummed his fingers on the table, needing to expel the anger that threatened to burst from him. He focused on the feel of the plastic table against the pads of his fingers, ruminating in the silence.

“You have every right to feel upset, given what you think about him,” she offered lightly.

“You’ve put yourself in a very dangerous position,” he finally replied, when he felt that he could control the timbre of his voice, “and it’s frustrating when I’ve warned you for years, and you still somehow thought that the best place to be was right beside a man like that.”

“Hannibal is a good person, Will,” she said, exasperated.

“You know, if you say it with a little more passion, you may just convince me,” he urged. He needed his hands busy; he fiddled with more ketchup for the fries.

The couple at the farther table was beginning to lose their cool, too. The man’s voice rose and lowered in cadence, rough and stiff with something like the hard consonants of an insult. The woman’s arms were crossed, her posture stiff.

“What are your plans, Will?”

“You already asked me that,” he sighed.

“Are you going to hurt Hannibal?” she pressed, and he looked back to her as he realized what she meant.

“Oh…oh, do I have plans for him?” he asked, incredulously. “Are you serious? I want to stay as far away from that man as I possibly can!”

“It’s not an unfair question.”

“It is when you’re being protective of a man capable of cutting the lungs out of someone while they’re still using them,” he replied sweetly. The more he felt the anger bubbling from the other table, the more he felt an insistent need not to replicate it.

Alana treaded carefully. Maybe she sensed it, too. “I know that in traumatic events, especially when undeserved actions are done against you, it makes sense for people to find ways to blame mentors friends for what happened,” Alana said gently. “You went through something horrifying, and you weren’t really allowed to properly grieve for your losses because everyone turned against you when it happened. It makes sense to me that you, in a time that was plagued not only by severe and horrifying losses but also a sickness that literally set your brain on fire, would take that burden and sub-consciously place it on Hannibal since he’d been trying to help you for months and was unsuccessful.”

By choice.

The man was gesturing with his phone, jabbing for emphasis. The woman was furiously ignoring him, her own soprano cutting into his tirade every so often with something biting but indistinct.

“Is that an apology? You completely believed I killed those people--”

“I never believed you as Will Graham consciously did anything to hurt anyone,” she countered. “I have always believed in you. Did I think that it was entirely probable, given the evidence, that the person that manifested as a result of a high-stress situation coupled with a deadly disease had a capacity for violence? Yes.”

“Those two people are the same person. One just had better control over our time.”

She startled him when she reached forward to grasp his hand just as the man shouted something particuarly foul. “I’m sorry for any time that I made you feel like a criminal.”

Will swallowed with difficulty, and he looked at their hands. Unlike Jack’s, dry and calloused with a life of hard work, Alana’s were smooth and unblemished, nails filed professionally and scented with something floral--Fresias? In stark contrast, his looked much closer to Jack’s, and he saw the precise place that one of Charlie’s hooks had caught on the back and broke skin. He let go of her hand to snag another fry, nodding curtly.

“If you want to talk about Hannibal-”

“I don’t want to talk about Hannibal anymore,” Will said curtly. “When I say that I want to remove him completely from every aspect of my life, I mean that. We can talk about what you want to talk about.”

“What I want to talk about is what you don’t want to talk about,” Alana said with a small smile.

“We can talk about whatever it is that I do or don’t want to talk about, how’s that,” Will offered. He glanced at her eyes, then over her head where a man in a greasy t-shirt carried a to-go order in one meaty fist.

“I don’t want you to worry about me, Will. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long, long time.”

“People that I care about tend to die. Worry comes with the territory.”

“You still have me, your father, and despite what you think, Jack Crawford is very much invested in your well-being.”

A rum deal, no matter how you looked at it. The only one he felt especially grateful for was the one sitting just across from him, and she was currently dating the only person in the world he’d gladly murder.

“Just promise me that you’ll be careful,” he said, looking to his food. The burger had about two bites left, and he wanted to savor them. “I know…I know you believe Hannibal is great, but he’s a snake. His venom is slow acting, and…I just want you to be safe. When the time comes-” He sighed, scrambling to find the words-- “when the time comes that you…have the choice to be blind or brave, Alana, please just be blind. I think maybe he’d let you live if you just chose to be blind.”

“You weren’t blind.”

“Oh, I really was, until I wasn’t. By the time I saw, though, I wasn’t in any position to do anything about it. I think that’s one of his favorite parts.”

“I’m as safe with Hannibal as I am with you,” Alana assured, and Will peeked up at the umbrella again, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

He could say with utmost confidence he’d never had the inclination to eat someone, but maybe his definition of safety and Alana’s were completely different.

[truthbeetoldmedia]

Brooklyn Nine-Nine 6x08 “He Said, She Said” Review

The detectives of Brooklyn’s 99th precinct have solved plenty of gory murders, drug rings, B&Es, and cases of identity theft, but one area the show has steered clear of — until now — was the subject of sexual assault. And with good reason: how does a comedy find the humour in a situation that is all too distressingly real for the majority of women?

In the wake of the #MeToo movement (it’s worth mentioning that Terry Crews, who plays Terry Jeffords, has been one of the most vocal supporters of the movement since the beginning, sharing his own story of sexual assault), it seemed it would only be a matter of time before Brooklyn Nine-Nine turned its attention to the sensitive subject; and, in the same vein as episodes such as “Moo Moo” and “Game Night”, manages to make its point authentically and succinctly, while still providing laughs.

During the morning briefing, Captain Holt tells the squad about their newest case: Seth Haggerty, who has had his penis broken by a golf club. Jake’s game of guessing how such an injury could possibly occur is ruined when Holt somberly informs them that Seth was attacked by a female coworker who claims he had sexually assaulted her.

Jake is assigned to the case and Amy, who is somehow three weeks ahead in her paperwork, offers to jump on with him. As we learn later, Amy has ulterior motives for wanting to work the case, outside of getting back in the field: it hits close to home for her, as she, like many, has also suffered through workplace harassment.

First, Jake and Amy interrogate Seth, who is wearing a comedic diaper cast. Predictably, he claims that he did nothing wrong. Next, they bring in Keri, who tells her side of the story: Seth had been drinking, he got her alone and tried to take her clothes off, so she took his golf club and hit him in the “cookie monster” with it.

Right away, this episode did something I was impressed by: it would have been easy for Jake or someone else to want to take Seth at his word, to question Keri’s version of events, or to suggest that her response was the wrong one; but no one does. (In fact, the show sends Hitchcock, perhaps the one most likely to make any such comments, home for the week in the cold open, perhaps realizing that such a storyline is one Hitchcock can’t live in genuinely.)

It’s one thing to say the woman needs to be believed; it’s another to show it, and show it without saying that that’s what you’re doing.

After discussing it, Jake and Amy decide that Keri should file charges against Seth for sexual assault. But she refuses, because her company has already offered her a $2.5 million hush money payment and a promotion in exchange for her silence.

It seems like an easy decision to make: $2.5 million to pretend nothing ever happened; or open an investigation which has little chance of finding any damning evidence, relive the assault, and open yourself up to being disbelieved, ostracized, and punished for telling the truth.

Except.

Assaulters don’t deserve to walk free.

This is the crux of Me Too: it takes an inordinate amount of courage to make oneself so vulnerable in order to stop the same thing from happening again, to someone else, when there seems to be so little possibility of success.

After some encouragement from Amy, Keri decides to press charges and an investigation is officially opened, but it doesn’t get off to the most auspicious start: Jake and Amy arrive at Keri’s workplace to conduct interviews with her coworkers, hoping someone else will corroborate her story, but everyone seems intent on toeing the company line and insist that Seth is a “great guy” and the company is a “very professional place.” (This, while some employees are openly drunk.)

Not only do Jake and Amy not get the evidence they need, they find out that Keri has been fired and her settlement retracted because acts of violence won’t be tolerated. Distressed, Amy throws herself into the case, desperate to find evidence so that Keri doesn’t lose her job because of Amy’s advice.

Later, Amy comes clean to Jake about why exactly this case hits so close to home for her: at her first precinct, she was approached by her commanding officer after being promoted to detective, because he seemed to think she owed him something in return for her career. Amy never told anyone about the incident, in which her boss tried to kiss her, because she felt that maybe her promotion hadn’t been earned in the first place and that any future promotions wouldn’t be offered to her. (This particular backstory seems to be lifted right from the Harvey Weinstein scandal that started the whole Me Too movement in the first place.)

Another thing this episode did very well — as it did in the aforementioned “Game Night” episode, also — was let Jake sit back and be a comforting presence and ally rather than an active participant. As “Game Night” was Rosa’s episode, “He Said, She Said” is Amy’s. (Jake himself brings attention to the role of men in this topic while Rosa and Amy are having a back-and-forth about the merits of pursuing a sexual assault charge: should he leave the room, or should he be a part of the conversation? In the end, he decides to be an active listener and stop interjecting, which is exactly the right call.)

Because this is Brooklyn Nine-Nine and, above all, it’s a show that’s meant to make you feel good, Amy and Jake do end up with the evidence they need: one of the employees at the firm comes forward with a text chain in which Seth tells the same story Keri did. However, even with the conviction, Keri still quits her job because she knows she’s being isolated from her other coworkers and that will have ramifications of her career.

Two step forward and one step back. As the show is sure to iterate, doing the right thing isn’t always easy.

It’s not all bittersweet, though; the episode ends with Rosa revealing that another female employee from the same firm has come forward to share her story, which leads to my favourite line of the episode: “Two steps forward and one step back is still one step forward.”

If this plotline does all the heavy lifting of the episode, the B-plot works hard to add in some levity: Captain Holt learns that one of his greatest-ever collars, the Disco Strangler, has died when his transport van flipped and caught on fire. (This is a reference that goes waaaaaay back: the Disco Strangler was mentioned in the show’s pilot episode, when Terry uses the story of his capture to convince Jake that their new captain is the Real Deal.)

Although all evidence — including a charred body and the word of a badly injured van driver — points to his old nemesis actually being dead, Captain Holt refuses to believe it, thinking instead that this is the Disco Strangler’s great escape.

Is this a case of Captain Holt’s detective senses being right despite having no evidence to go on, or is he making up a case because accepting that the Disco Strangler is dead would also mean accepting that his best years are behind him?

Terry and Charles seem to think it’s the latter, and as Holt investigates and the evidence mounts against him, it seems they’re right: Holt’s main clue, a piece of string that he believes belonged to a yo-yo, turns out to be part of the sign the Strangler had to wear that declared him a fall risk, and seeing the van driver badly injured in the hospital makes it seem ridiculous to think that she could be in cahoots with the criminal.

Just as Holt is ready to admit that he’s wrong and he is no longer the young cop he used to be, he receives aerial footage from a helicopter of the Disco Strangler walking along a highway. Holt orders a team be dispatched to pick him up. The thirty-odd intervening years since Holt last caught the Disco Strangler make themselves known though, as Holt’s triumphant moment is somewhat ruined by the fact that the old Strangler is too deaf to hear what he’s saying.

Working off a reduced cast for this episode (as previously mentioned, Hitchcock is sent home in the cold open, Scully only has a minor role to play, and Stephanie Beatriz, who directed the episode, only appears as Rosa a couple of times) works in the show’s favour: the two main plots balance each other nicely, and each is given room to breathe, with especial attention given to Amy’s story in a way that doesn’t feel rushed or overbearing. As usual, the show handles delicate subject matter with deftness and finesse, and I’m grateful for it.

Brooklyn Nine-Nine airs Thursdays on NBC at 9/8c.

Sam’s episode rating: 🐝🐝🐝🐝.5

[marjaystuff]

Elise Cooper Interviews Tess Gerritsen

Choose Me by Tess Gerritsen and Gary Braver delve into the world of adultery.  The story conjures up feelings of betrayal, deception, guilt, and personal responsibility.

The novel opens with the death of college student Taryn Moore, who supposedly plunged to her death from the balcony of her apartment.  But Boston Detective Frankie Loomis wonders if the death really was a suicide, or could it be possibly a murder.  For her, the clues do not add up, knowing how college age girls act (considering she has raised twin daughters). After discovering additional and sordid secrets, the detective is even more convinced that Taryn’s death is not what it seems.

The narrative works backwards from the discovery of Taryn's body and is delivered in alternating chapters by Taryn, Jack, and Frankie. The suspects include Professor Jack Dorian, his wife, Dr. Maggie, Taryn’s seminar nemesis, mean girls Jessica and Caitlin, Cody Atwood, the shy seminar student who has a crush on Taryn, and Liam the ex-boyfriend who Taryn is stalking.

As the book progresses, readers will also realize that Taryn is not the innocent victim. She has a dangerous streak where she can be ruthless and selfish.  This shows in her two relationships, one with Liam, a childhood sweetheart who outgrew her, and the other with Jack, her college professor. With both, Taryn becomes a stalker, unwilling to accept the relationship is over.  

Taryn sees herself as a victim and becomes obsessed with that feeling.  After taking a college seminar, “Star Crossed Lovers,” she realizes the similarities between herself and women in Medieval and Greek mythology. All have been betrayed and abandoned by men in relationships. Whether it was Abelard and Heloise, Tristan and Isolde, Romeo and Juliet, or Jason and Medea, the men said the words “I love you,” but not for a lifetime.  

The many twists and turns make for an exciting read.  The authors turned the characters on their heads making the supposed victim unlikeable and the adulterer, the one people root for.

Elise Cooper: How did you get the idea for the story?

Tess Gerritsen: It occurred to me these kinds of events that are a “he said, she said,” always have two points of view.  The man sees it differently than the woman.  I thought how interesting it would be to base a story on an illicit affair.  I talked about it with Gary, and he agreed to write the male point of view, while I wrote the female view.

Gary Braver:  I wrote Jack and Tess did Detective Frankie Loomis and Taryn.  We wrote by going back and forth with email.  

EC:  As the book progressed, I did not see Taryn as a victim and even disliked her.

TG:  People are not supposed to like her just because she is a victim.  There are shades of gray.  We wanted to show how a victim can also be a villain. What readers want and what they desire are two different things.  They think they want a likeable character but really want a fascinating character.  I point to Scarlett O’ Hara.  She is not a likeable character, but we cannot walk away because she is so interesting.  

EC:  I actually thought of Jack as the victim.

TG: Jack was the one person in the book who needed to be liked because he is our hero.

GB:  I liked Jack and identified with him.  I think he became a sympathetic character because of his sense of guilt and regret.  He knew what he did was wrong when he violated his martial vows and professorial obligations.  Title IX says professors should not date their students.  Jack had an adulterous affair and was tormented with what he did.

EC:  How would you describe Taryn?

TG:  Brilliant, charming, and beautiful.  She was like a train wreck because of her obsessiveness and how damaged and hurt she was.  In the beginning she was vulnerable, betrayed, hurt, and damaged, but as the story went on, she became selfish. Her personality is like peeling an onion.  As readers get deeper and deeper into knowing her, they realize she is not who she seems to be at the beginning.  

EC:  How would you describe Jack?

GB:  Sensitive, needy, and longs for romanticism. At times he wants to believe that circumstances at home pushed him into Taryn’s arms because his wife is on a treadmill with her practice.  We did not want to vilify either character or exonerate them.

EC:  What role does Jack’s wife Maggie play?

TG:  Is she an innocent victim or possible suspect?  She is the anchor to Jack.  We wrote her to show the consequences of a mistake and how lives are destroyed.  Jack sees it as possibly losing the love of his life, Maggie.

GB:  She is smart, dedicated, and a professional. She would never have an affair.  Both she and Jack are devoted to and love each other.  

EC:  How would you describe Detective Frankie Loomis?

TG:  She is a middle-aged mother of two teenage daughters with the wisdom of motherhood.  She can sniff out trouble.  I see Frankie as Jane Rizzoli in twenty years.

EC:  What about the relationship between Taryn and Jack?

TG:  Jack fulfills a romantic need as well as a parental lead for Taryn.  Her father abandoned her, so she sees Jack as a romantic hero, the man to protect her.  

EC:  Medieval literature and Greek Mythology?

GB:  In his seminar, “Star Struck Lovers,” Jack uses classical stories where men used and abandoned women.  It is the unity that holds the book together.  These ancient classics are still being debated by feminists today regarding what is an accurate and inaccurate way to interpret them.  It is a history of men who do wrong and fall on their swords.

TG:  Taryn feels closest to Medea who gets revenge.  I would have taken this seminar if I were in college.  The stories we found are ones where Taryn would see herself of being abandoned or losing a lover.  They were role models for her on how she would behave.  She put herself into their lives to help her live her life.

EC:  Can you explain this quote from Taryn.  “But if you believe entirely in fate, then you believe we have no control over our futures.  That some higher power decides everything for us, good and bad.  That means there are no coincidences in life, no accidents, no laws of nature, and no free will… People are ultimately responsible for their own actions.”

GB:  It was referring to Romeo and Juliet and based on the notion ���I am fated to be your lover.  We are to be with each other for the rest of our lives.’

TG:  Gary wrote that part of fate versus self-control.  I agree that a lot of people feel they are not responsible anymore.  Fate made someone do it or some politician.  We need to take responsibility for our own actions.  We also need to face the consequences for our actions without blaming anyone else.

EC:  What do you want readers to get out of the book?

TG:  It is not just a murder mystery, but also an exploration of how flawed people are.  A mistake can destroy someone’s life and that we are responsible for the things we do.  

EC:  What about your next books?

TG:  I just finished Rizzoli & Isles book thirteen.  It is titled, Listen To Me and will be out in June 2022.  It features Jane’s mom, Angela, who has an ex-cop boyfriend.  She is frustrated because she feels no one listens to her concerns.  People do not necessarily believe her instincts that something is really wrong in her neighborhood.

I am working on a spy novel.  The protagonist works for the CIA and I got the idea from many retired CIA agents that live in my neighborhood.  

[sweetwriting]

Tim Drake Week 2017 - Day 4: Enemies / Family

Category : Gen

Genre : Angst / Fluff / Family

Fandoms : DC Comics, Batman (1940), Detective Comics, Young Justice (1998), Robin v4 (1993), Superman - Batman (2003), Teen Titans (2003)

Continuity : Post-Crisis/Pre-Flashpoint

Summary : Tim always wanted a family but things aren't that simple. Or are they ?

Author’s notes : This one's a little longer than I expected (I try to do less than 1000 word each) I hope you'll enjoy it.

Word Count : 2251

To read it on AO3

There were many Rogues in Gotham, but each of its vigilantes had their own nemeses among them. Well Tim only had one. One whom, strangely, none of the other members  of the Batfam had ever gone against (and while they were all competent he was a special breed which would be hard to overcome for anyone other than him, Bruce or Barbara, well even for him it was hard), two if you added Ra's Al Ghul on the list after Ulysses but Tim wasn't sure whether to call him a nemesis or a creepily obsessed stalker (he had sent him a woman to bear his heir and if this wasn't a creepily obsessive behavior then what was). Well and King Snake but it was a whole can he'd rather avoid opening.

But Tim had held his own against them all. And especially against the Joker.

Sure the Joker wasn't the worst of them all really (honestly in Tim's mind Scarecrow, Ulysses, and the Riddler were on top of the list), but he was the one who had murdered Robin and seeing Robin back, well…He might have developed a bit of an obsession too even if, weirdly he never seemed that tempted to act on it aside from their first encounter.

His first meeting with Scarecrow (who was Dick's own Gotham nemesis) had been quite something too since it was thanks to that encounter that Batman had allowed him to become Robin. Though now that he was older and more -or less depending on how you see it- emotionally stable he was trying to remember if the hallucinations he had seen were due to a bit of the gas reaching him or not (he had thought Conner was another hallucination back in Paris after all).

And of Course Two-Face, the first time he met Bruce and Alfred…How had they never realized Tim wasn't alright is beyond him now that he's started introspecting on his life as Robin since the very beginning.

Finally, the Riddler. He may not have faced him much but Tim would be lying if he didn't admit that, despite the lives hanging in the balance, he couldn't help but enjoy trying to solve those riddles (to this day his favorites were the ones on baseball and that time he had to team up with Wally).

Of course he had face them all but, some like Penguin were a real pain but they weren't that important to him. Others like Selina or Ivy were different because Selina had, at least partially settled down (and was usually pretty nice to him even if she loved mocking him) and he couldn't help but feel for Ivy's crusade.

The biggest one though had been Jason Todd (and Damian Wayne). Because Bruce was still so attached to him and Tim had tried, he had freed Jason because he chose to let his own issues go and give Jason a chance. What a bad idea that was. Apparently the pit Madness was still present. Even if it had lessened.

Now. Now however Jason seemed to have slightly settled. And Tim still felt the guilt for letting him go too soon but he had still let go of most of his resentment toward him. So sure Jason wouldn't be his family (maybe one day but at most Tim believes they'll be cordial to each other), but at least he and Bruce were making progress and really that's what matters even if… Tim had always wanted a family. It was easier to admit now that he had finally mourned his father, but he never really gave him one. First he and his mother kept leaving him behind, then Jack was forced to stay and still had the reflex to leave him behind when he wanted to -even if for lesser lengths of time- and got angry when Tim had to cancel at the last minute. Tim now realized the depth of the hypocrisy his father had shown back then. The anger he always directed at Tim for simple mistakes. Tim realized it now, because he followed some courses on parenting to be of at least some use to his Neon Knights Program (also Conner had convinced him to see a therapist who treated the few heroes who admitted they needed the help and seeked resolution. Bruce had, of course, verified all their references before Tim could even think about it, after all if they had been helping Kon they were probably good -and Conner seemed to feel so much better). He realized now that his parents had been neglectful and that his father managed to be both neglectful and verbally abusive (and physically violent even if it was never directed at Tim's body, it was still only directed at Tim's stuff).

So he wanted a family and when he was 9 he started projecting on Dick, because Dick had hugged him when he was still pretty much a baby and he had been so happy and Dick was Robin, and he had been taken in by Bruce Wayne, by Batman and he seemed so happy. And not long after this Jason joined and, well Tim didn't know him so he mostly focused on him as Robin.

And then he really met them and, of course they weren't a family. It was a job and Tim still wanted his parents to be the ones taking care of him. Still he and Bruce got closer, especially after his father became comatose and his mother died. Because there was no way to know when he'd wake up and Bruce and Alfred took care of him and, sure it was more like going to your grandparents with your uncle than anything else but it was the closest Tim had had to a real family since he had been 4 or 5. And Dick. It took about a year but Dick became Tim's big brother, and oh how he loved him. Dick was easily one of the most important people in Tim's life, the one person (with Conner and Bart) he thought would never hurt him. Of course he ended up being wrong but he still loved him so much and Tim shouldn't feel so betrayed for one little mistake but he couldn't help himself (according to his therapist though he should have a talk with Dick because apparently it wasn't just one simple mistake but, Tim didn't want to ruin the fragile status quo they had reached. Of course he knew his therapist was right but he just couldn't do it).

Now Dick was obviously the biggest influence on him, but one shouldn't forget Alfred Pennyworth, who was the one person everybody loved and no one could refuse him anything. Alfred loved everyone so much and they all know it. If there's one thing that they knew it was that.

One of the thing that surprises Tim the most is the number of sisterly figures he gained : Barbara who was like a mom sometimes, whom he shared a passion for computers with, one of the rare people who was more intelligent than him. Helena who was one of the first people he teamed up with and who had become a sort of on and off sisterly figure to him (who allowed him to raid her fridge), he only partially trusted her on the field, but if you put aside her murdering streak she was genuinely one of the most compassionate people he met (as long as you weren't a criminal). Finally Cassandra Cain who had just come back to Gotham had really intimidated him at first, not especially because of her skills and efficiency (though there was that) but because of her kind heart and strong will which made him ashamed of his own. But he got past it and things weren't always good but he loves her so much, she's one of his favorite people in the world. And he's so glad he accepted to see a therapist because she convinced him to *force* a little reconnection with them and they're all amazingly supportive.

He misses Harold, who was great company when he was around despite his lack of speech. He misses Ace, the Bat Hound who was the only pet he was ever allowed to have (he could hep but be jealous of Damian's zoo as he was never even allowed to keep a cat for a night and he had never dared ask his parents for one before, at least not since he was a kid and decided they wouldn't be able to take care of a pet and that they didn't want to take one and have to take it back if Tim grew bored…He couldn't help make a parallel now and it's one of those times he wishes he had never gone to that therapist). He misses Steph even if he now realized how unhealthy they were being. It might have been better if they had been friends (if he hadn't tried to run from the drama with Ariana), according to his dear therapist one of their biggest issues was the imbalance in power due to Tim mentoring Steph at the beginning, maybe now they could work on that and start being friends. Not to forget Dana, his sweet step-mother. She was still in a mental institute but Metropolis was a lot better for her health than Blüdhaven was (not that it was a surprise) and he had -finally- introduced her to some of his fellow Titans. She of course fell in love with Bart and Kon who were "sweet and thoughtful". One day she even took them aside and they discussed something that none of them ever revealed to him, but whichever it was, it obviously made them all happy (and really as long as they were happy he didn't care that much what had happened). He and Damian still didn't get along but they did have a sort of truce now (mostly because Damian's pets liked it when Tim petted them and it probably did more for Tim's cause than anything else ever could. On his side Tim had admitted to himself all the progress Damian had done and it was easier to not see him as a threat).

Then there were his friends. Young Justice had felt like a holiday camp sometimes, it was mostly fun and Tim couldn't help but wish he had been able to be himself completely and not just the Robin part of him. Back then it felt like they were all a bunch of (un)disciplined siblings and cousins. Then Donna died and…Well things got hard. Cassie who already had anger issues became worse and… he still can't believe they dated when they never really saw each other as anything but siblings (it says a lot about what Conner's death did to them and…Well he only started on this part with his therapist but at some point, they had had a weird knowing smile that felt slightly out of place). He loved Cassie but not in a romantic way and he felt honestly disturbed every time that week-end wass brought up. Bart was like a little brother whom he had mentored for a while, he was a true and tried genius when it came to engineering and computer programming. Tim would be jealous if he wasn't so proud of everything Bart had accomplished (or simply happy that Bart was alive), some of the Titans usually joked that Bart was the Baby friend to Tim's Dad Friend Trope and to Conner's Mom Friend one (they didn't know that Tim and Conner had done it long ago and he never realized how right he was).

And of course Conner. His best friend still loved to mock him (and it went both ways, Tim never missed his shot), but they were even closer than before. When he died Conner had been away for a couple of weeks and refused his calls because he felt guilty for breaking his arm (and other things which...honestly were too big to start thinking about). But before that he had been one of the rare people able to convince Tim that he wasn't a bother and that he should talk to him/them when something weighted him down (of course he still needed a push but he accepted it gladly). And Tim knew that, likewise, he was one of the rare people Conner felt comfortable talking about his harshest fears and issues with. Despite this, or maybe because of it, Conner was probably the healthiest relationship Tim has ever had with anyone (even Bart and Cass) because they didn't hesitate to talk about things that were wrong between them (not that there were many to begin with) and they actually dealt with them and that before even going to a therapist, they had even gone to a session together once, they had joked that it was couple counselling and the therapist told them that a lot more friends should do it because whether it's romantic or platonic every relationships need work. But, apparently theirs didn't because they naturally (or not, apparently it's mostly thanks to an advice Conner got from the then supergirl that they started having healthier reflexes) dealt with their issues. So yeah lots of love and support there. It was nice to have at least one person he could entirely trust and rely on.

And Tim couldn't help it but, it gave him hope for the future.

Author’s Note 2 : Hope you enjoyed it. As most of my works it was unbeta-ed.

For the physically violence toward Tim's stuff, I don't remember the number of the issue but there was at least once when Jack broke Tim's TV because Tim was distracted by it. (if I remember correctly it was after Jack grounded Tim because he refused to listen to Tim's explanation after Ariana's uncle called him and Tim was stuck in his room so he was watching the news which are, admittedly slightly more important than his father coming to explain to Tim how it was his fault that Jack ended up reacting this way...A++ Father Jack)

[wordcreatr]

Okay, ladies and gents, after being idle for several months, I’m back in the saddle. (At least for today!)

In general, I’ve been pretty lucky to have the Houseguest as a roommate after she moved in for a “temporary” stay 3-years ago. She’s thoughtful, kind (usually), has a pleasant personality (unless ranting and raving), trustworthy, and generous. She’s a good cook who occasionally shares something tasty with me. She is a bit of a slob, but people in glass houses can’t throw stones, right? 

The Human Bloodhound

Now, in spite of all her good qualities, the Houseguest does have one drawback as a roommate. She has an overdeveloped sense of smell. Seriously, she’s some kind of genetic freak possessing a hyper-sensitive nose. Apparently, she’s half Parsi, half Caucasian, and a hundred percent bloodhound. How sensitive is her sniffer? Well, if there was an escaped fugitive in the neighborhood, the cops could press her into service to track him down. Seriously, I’m convinced she could moonlight at the airport sniffing for drugs. Don’t even think about stealth farting around her.

I became aware of her… I hesitate to call it a superpower because it’s more like a super pain in my ass. So let’s refer to it as an enhanced ability (smellability?). Anyway, I discovered her sensitivity to bad and strong smells over time. She would complain about the odiferousness of the garbage, even if it was only half full and insist I take it out. She was also perturbed when I went through a phase where I was trying to perfect my skills at pan-searing steaks in a cast-iron skillet on the stove. This invariably resulted in billowing smoke filling the house and setting off the fire alarms. The house smelled like steak for a while day — three if you were the Houseguest. (Though, is a house that smells of steak a bad thing? Hint: it is if you’re the Houseguest).

Anyway, so, the garbage was the main bone of contention — until I started heating up pot pies. That is when I uncovered her true sensitivity to odors and revealed her amazing detection range.

The Great Pot Pie Conflict

The problem started after I began buying pot pies. I love pot pies (I mean, who doesn’t? Even the Houseguest likes a pot pie, just not the brands I buy), but I hadn’t had one in years because of the insane fat content. (Seriously, check out the nutritional content on the back of a Marie Callender pot pie box — you might as well skip the middleman and guzzle melted lard.) But then I found a couple of microwaveable brands with a lower fat content and tastes decent, and so I started eating pot pies like they were going out of style. There were two brands, Boomerang pot pies, an Aussie pie that has an actual upper and lower crust (this is rare among pies) — and Blake’s, which only has an upper-crust.

The problem is, while I think Boomerang and Blake’s pot pies smell fine, the Houseguest finds both brands to be odiferous and highly objectionable as if I’m heating up the contents from a cesspit. The first time I microwaved one, the Houseguest materialized in the kitchen, frowning, her nose wrinkled, asking with obvious distaste as to what I was cooking. Every time I’d heat one up, she’d let me know she was not a fan.

Maximum smelliness

Unfortunately, Blake’s pot pies seem designed to maximize the odors wafting throughout the kitchen. When reading the back of the box, I noticed the directions mentioned that during cooking the “gravy may bubble over.” What they really mean to say is that “gravy will absolutely bubble all over the place like a lava flow.” The top crust is a simple disc of frozen dough that does not appear to be firmly attached to the rest of the pie. Every single time I cook one, it bubbles over, intensifying the smell, and aggravating the Houseguest.

The summoning ritual

Putting a pot pie into the microwave is like performing an arcane ritual guaranteed to summon an angry banshee. Within seconds of the microwave whirring to life, the Houseguest is either popping up from nowhere asking in a strangely accusatory yet anxious voice “Is that a pot pie you’re heating?!” or shouting at the top of her lungs from another room “Did you shut my door!?!?!” followed by the sound of her hurrying down the hallway. If I hear her bedroom door slamming, I know I’ve fucked up and an ass-chewing is about to commence.

Protective measures

When it comes to heating a pot pie, to avoid the Houseguest’s wrath, there is a specific procedure I have to follow to avoid her transforming into a vengeful Fury. First, I have to announce that I will be cooking a pot pie so she can close her bedroom door or I have to go close it. She’s informed me her bedroom door must be closed prior to the heating of the pot pie. Turning the microwave on and then strolling to the back of the house to close her door is insufficient and doing so will produce a withering glare and browbeating. You’d think I’d started up a nuclear reactor while innocent technicians were still inside working on it. I’ve argued that it doesn’t matter because the pot pie must obey the laws of physics. The smell does not travel at the speed of light. However, my argument continues to fall on deaf ears.

I have also pointed out that her door is a poor barrier to pot pie molecules. Even if there wasn’t a gap under it, they will still infiltrate her room by traveling up through the air conditioning vent in the kitchen. The Houseguest does not care — she seems to think there is some mystic, impermeable shield that engages once her bedroom door clicks shut. I have to follow this procedure even if she’s not home. But Sean, how would she know, you ask? She does, trust me. And the fact that I consumed the pot pie hours ago has no bearing. She’ll step into the house, she set her stuff down, stop in mid-greeting, and sniff the air.

“Did you close my door?” she’ll ask sharply.

Uh oh.

God help me if I fuck up and forget — which I have. You would think I had tossed a sackful of kittens into a river or eloped with her work nemesis and moved her into the house will the Houseguest was away. It’s not pretty. So I always close the door — if I remember. But I’m a guy. Every once in a while, one slips past the goalie.

The late-night offender

One habit her supersensitivity has broken me of, for the most part, is cooking late at night. When I got laid off last year, I reverted to my natural night owl tendencies. That meant eating dinner late — I’m talking anytime from ten p.m. to midnight. One time I baked asparagus at 10:30 p.m., thinking it was harmless, but no. Pungent is the word she used (and one of the politer ones) while she tore me a new one. Point taken.

The Houseguest’s previous job had an irregular schedule and, occasionally, she wouldn’t get home until ten or later. One time she walked, in, sighing and looking beaten down as she set her purse on the table with a sigh. Then she stiffened and her eyes locked onto the box in my hand.

“What IS that?” she asked accusatorily. We both knew that she knew what I had.

“I was just going to eat.”

She laughed but it was the kind of strained laughter preceding a manic breakdown, of someone who is one more indignity away from becoming an ax murderer.

“No! You’re not eating a pot pie tonight!” Then realizing she had no real power to compel me, she switched pleaded with my humanity. “Please, I can’t get to sleep if you heat up that stinky thing.”

So, I didn’t heat it up and went out and ate a burger. Hey, I’m not a complete asshole. Now, in my younger days, I might have gambled and waited until I thought she was asleep and then tried to stealth heat my pot pie, hoping the whirring of the microwave (she also has exceptional hearing) or the pot pie molecules didn’t wake her. But not now. Too many things can go wrong. It’s just not worth the aggravation — plus, if she couldn’t get back to sleep, I’d feel bad. So, I no longer heat things up once she starts settling down for the night.

It’s in her DNA

The Houseguest claims her ancestors left Iran over a thousand years ago to preserve their ancient religion after the Arab Invasion. I’m suspecting the real reason is their countrymen kicked them out because they kept annoying everyone else with their complaints about how overpowering their cooking smelled. Those genes have been passed down until the present.

Anyway, so that’s the downside to having a houseguest who is a human bloodhound, but it’s a small inconvenience for having such a good roommate.

Photo by Alera Ruben from Pexels

                        Tormented by the Human Bloodhound Okay, ladies and gents, after being idle for several months, I'm back in the saddle. (At least for today!)