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presidenthades · 4 days

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Thoughts on HOtD s2 ep 1 🎤?

Oh boy do I! Thanks for asking, I love having an opportunity to shout into the void on the internet.

I might do a rewatch later this week to try to pick up on additional details, but I’ll start with my initial reactions from last night.

Spoilers for S2E1, obviously.

Love the new intro. The bloodline intro was important in S1 which was setting up the different claims/factions, but there won’t be much more of that in S2. The tapestry is very medieval, and I’m here for it. I suspect they’ll change the intro every episode to reflect events as they occur. Makes me wonder if the E2 intro will have Blood and Cheese. 😬

The scenes at Winterfell/the Wall not only introduce Cregan, but also offer some fan-service for OG Stark fans. It also reminds us of the prophecy aspect that the show is taking. Cregan and Jace had a great dynamic, but I wonder if they’ll have any opportunity to get together again. In F&B, Jace never returns North again, and Cregan doesn’t come south until the fighting is over. But the show might have Cregan participate in battles earlier so they don’t waste his actor.

Speaking of Jace: I’m really impressed with Harry so far! His scene with Rhaenyra made me want to cry, because you can sense how hard Jace was trying to hold it together. 😢 On a more lighthearted note, I like that Harry listened to the feedback about his bad posture in S1. 😅 He was holding himself really tall and regally this episode.

Omigod, Rhaenyra. Emma only had four words of dialogue this episode and they KILLED all their scenes. The scene where Rhaenyra finds the wing and cloak made me want to cry too. And that look she gave Jace when he returned to Dragonstone, like she wanted to comfort him while she’s trying not to break down… 😭

The Daemon and Rhaenys argument foreshadows how Daemon chafes against 100% listening to Rhaenyra as his queen. Spoilers, leaks, and trailers indicate that he and Rhaenyra are going to have a lot of friction, and soon. As a fic writer, I appreciate this scene for validating my headcanon that Rhaenys is the older cousin who does not let Daemon brattily boss her around.

Corlys and Alyn. I’m not entirely sure what the show is doing with the Hull boys. Their interaction was ambiguous: is Corlys their father or not? Or is Alyn just a random sailor who saved Corlys? He’s definitely too old to pass for Laenor’s supposed son.

I was very touched by how deeply Corlys cared for Luke. It contrasts with Rhaenys, who didn’t treat the boys as her grandkids; Corlys seems to have actually adopted them in his heart. I wonder if Corlys will turn his attention toward Joffrey, or if his affection was for Luke specifically. In the book, Corlys passes over Joffrey as heir in favor of the Hull boys, but show!Corlys is very different from book!Corlys.

Speaking of Joffrey, I miss S1 Joffrey’s adorable curls. But S2 Joffrey is also very cute, and he might actually get speaking lines this season. But the moment when he threw the toy (which might have been Luke’s) into the pyre… 😭

Alicole is…interesting. There was setup in S1 implying they had underlying feelings, and I don’t think it’s crazy they eventually acted on those feelings. But I question the writing/directing decision to insert the Alicole scenes for what seems to be comedic effect. The second scene, during B&C, is the more egregious one. The first scene felt very sudden.

I’m also side-eyeing the director’s commentary in the “House that Dragons Built” documentary where he described Alicent’s marriage as “loving but not romantic or physical for a long time.”

LOVING? 🤨 Really not the best word. Sure, there was some kind of affection between Alicent and Viserys, and she took her caretaking duties seriously. But “loving”? Nah.

Aegon got a huge character/writing upgrade from S1. “Good dad Aegon” girlies win (so far). I loved TGC’s BTS commentary about how Aegon enables his kids and competes with them to cause mischief. Again, the fic writer in me feels validated. I just wish we actually got to see Tyland give Jaehaerys a pony ride. 🤭

The brief glimpse of Aegon and Helaena’s marriage is interesting. He cares about her (tries to reassure her about the dragons) but there’s no romantic spark at all. And like everyone else, Aegon doesn’t really know what to do about Helaena’s prophecies, which sound like insane mutterings to people in-universe. We the audience are shouting for him to listen to her, but TBH most of us wouldn’t listen to an IRL Helaena either.

Aegon on the throne was a surprisingly comedic scene with more character development. He’s not very good at politicking (I would’ve told him to give the blacksmiths partial payment upfront, not the whole thing), but he’s trying, and he is willing to stand up to Otto. Again, I feel validated with my depiction of Lavender!Aegon.

Also…HUGH? 👀👀👀 Sympathetic Hugh Hammer will be interesting.

Oh boy, Larys is going to be fun this season. He’s already starting to try digging his claws into Aegon, but based on cast interviews, he might not be as successful as he hopes. And even though people are joking about it, I don’t think he’s going the feet route with Aegon.

Mysaria is getting much less culpability in B&C than in the book, but I’m fine with it. It’s consistent with her S1 character. She’s fed up with the royals (mostly Daemon, now Otto too) and just wants to do her own thing with social justice while making some money.

Alright, now for the B&C analysis.

They don’t have Daemon explicitly say it, but it’s strongly implied he wants B&C to kill “a son” even if they can’t get Aemond. It’s a departure from the book where B&C explicitly target Helaena’s kids and have a more methodical plan where they watch her routine for several days so they can set a trap. In the show, I think B&C repeat the phrase “a son for a son,” so that was probably part of Daemon’s orders. But the only sons that are possible targets are Aemond, Aegon, and Jaehaerys. Aemond is explicitly the primary target. B&C walk past Aegon without even discussing or trying anything, though to be fair he has friends and guards. So by process of elimination, it seems B&C’s backup plan/directive was always to kill Jaehaerys if they can’t kill Aemond.

(Speaking of Aemond, he didn’t leave a huge impression on me this episode. 🙁 He just didn’t get that much screentime, I guess. But I did like that Aegon advocated for Aemond having a seat at Small Council. #Targbros)

B&C have a comedic bit going on while they sneak through the castle, which seems not entirely appropriate. I also think they could’ve cut down a lot of their sneaking sequence in favor of more Helaena & kids screentime, which would’ve made the scene more impactful.

The bit with the dog was totally unnecessary. Someone who kicks a dog is automatically evil, but we would’ve gotten that message anyway when B&C kill Jaehaerys. Again, the dog seems to have been inserted for a sort of comedic effect, which doesn’t really belong here.

I read an article where Ryan Condal said they cut Maelor (for now?) because all the little kids have to be younger in this timeline. TBH they could’ve made it work with an infant Maelor who was offscreen in S1 because, you know, he’s a baby busy napping and stuff. They could’ve adapted B&C much closer to the book with a baby Maelor.

The choice Helaena makes in the show just doesn’t feel high stakes like in the book. I think Phia did a great job acting with what she was given—my quibble is what she was given. I think she was given direction to make Helaena dissociate and suppress her reaction, which contributes to the scene not feeling as impactful as it could have been. Helaena has been characterized as “spacey” and “not there” so far, so I think they were continuing that route. But having her suddenly erupt with emotion in B&C, to contrast with her previous seeming lack of emotion, would have elevated the scene to another level.

The ending Alicole scene really deflates a lot of the emotional heft that did build up during B&C. Again, it feels like it was inserted for comedy. It reminded me of when Jaime’s hand was cut off in GOT, and it immediately cut to the end credits with a heavy metal song that felt inappropriate next to the scene that just happened.

Helaena’s final line, “They killed the boy,” was odd wording. It feels very distant and passive. Even if they insisted on having Helaena dissociate during B&C, this moment when she escaped with Jaehaera and was “safe” could’ve been an opportunity for her to break down and show what she’s really feeling inside.

Overall, 90% of the episode was great. B&C, gruesome as it was, was kind of disappointing. But the teasers and leaks tell us Aegon will at least have a very strong reaction next episode, which should be wondrous to watch.

#ask me anything #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd s2 #hotd season 2 #hotd spoilers #house of the dragon season 2

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

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oh right! okay, here we go! so we get Eddie's pov of Steve's wake-up (obviously, it's in his pov entirely and he was right there), but of course we don't know how Steve experienced it--and there's a pretty big stretch of time between that and the next morning, when Eddie next sees him. I guess this one is kind of a two in one ask? because we also don't know how much Steve was acting better than he felt, or how much effort it was taking, especially that first morning after they ran who-knows-how-many tests on who-knows-what.

ooo! okay yeah Eddie’s POV means he misses quite a bit here.

So Steve deliberately sends Eddie away & while that’s partly motivated by him kinda compartmentalising & thinking ‘wow what a traumatic situation… for Eddie’ rather than processing all that he’s gone through (also just Steve being observant in general,seeing that Eddie’s reached his emotional limit & needs to see Wayne), there’s also, like, a proudness to Steve in that he doesn’t want anyone to see him at his lowest, which Eddie sort of picks up on when he sees him later:

Steve is sitting up as straight as he can, like he’s proving a point. It makes Eddie suspect that, as soon as he’d left, Steve had tried to speedrun recovery while no-one was looking.

plus even though at this point Steve is trying really hard to Not Think About It All, when he’s facing the doctors alone, he gets angry, both for himself and everyone he loves that’s been affected by The Upside Down. there’s a tiny display of Steve not backing down when he later says he told them not to disturb Eddie while he was sleeping: “I kinda demanded that they didn’t wake you up. Thought it was the least they could do.”

also with the speed of the first stage of Steve’s physical recovery, it doesn’t exactly help Steve stop repressing everything because he now has a reminder that ‘well, you’ve been checked out, it’s “ordinary injuries” now technically so you should be fine’. He does still try to advocate for himself—he insists on being treated for his speech & breathing first, because above all he wants to be able to talk to his friends, but well, he’s just a nineteen year old boy & he’s faced with people who’re relieved they don’t have to deal with frantic parents at his bedside, who just want the easy route of getting this over and done with & brush him aside. (Which Joyce & Hopper are later furious about.) Eddie again picks up on this slightly:

And Eddie knows that this version of events is no doubt highly sanitised—yet even with Steve’s nonchalant delivery, he gets the impression that whatever the doctors greeted him with had been less reassuring and more, you’re out the fucking twilight zone, kid, just be grateful and don’t ask too many questions.

& yeah in my head there’s doctors & whatnot who know of The Upside Down observing Hawkins (I’m imagining that not just Sam Owens survived s2, but from Eddie’s POV that knowledge is unknown), who only leap into action when it really can’t be ignored anymore with the “earthquake.”

as for how much effort Steve was putting in to appear fine—oh, a lot. The tests that are run are basically to check that there’s no traces of The Upside Down in him after the injuries Henry’s caused—They don’t want a Will Byers 1984 situation again—and the leftover pain in his chest etc is causing flashbacks to when he was dying & couldn’t breathe. He doesn’t sleep for the whole night after sending Eddie away, stays awake for the rest of the following day until Robin and Dustin leave.

fic director’s commentary ask game

#love all your questions they’re making me think a lot ❤️#loveinhawkins fic commentary

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zmediaoutlet · 1 year

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hello liz!! happy wincest wednesday!! can you do a director's commentary on the constant vow? like what inspired it, how the story changed along the way, what you had to leave out, stuff like that?

helloooooo happy wincest wednesday, and we shall all politely ignore how many wednesdays ago this was sent [ 😓 ]. To slightly fuck up my most-quoted line from the West Wing: let's forget about the fact that I'm late to the party, and embrace the fact that I showed up at all!

Tricky q, though! It's a lot of just like... sheer volume of fic to comment on, haha. But I'll use your questions as a starting-off guide, and given that it is wincest wednesday (wincest week, wincest life), I'll keep that in mind. So --

what inspired it?

What inspired it was how I was reading like every single genderswap/sex curse/etc etc fic that had been written in fandom at the time -- the time being roughly when s8/9 was airing, so... like ten years ago, lol -- and noticing a trend, and also getting kind of increasingly annoyed at that trend. To wit: isn't Dean Winchester just the most terrible womanizing horndog, and doesn't he just really need to be narratively punished for his Crimes? The answer to both is... uh, no. Not at all. So: a fic, haha.

Fandom takes Dean's whole womanizing naughty boy thing as received wisdom a lot of the time and I find it completely bewildering. It's subverted in episode 2 (if you didn't notice it was a total act in episode 1). Like... hello. Use your eyes and ears, friends. But what's more interesting to me on that level is that Sam takes it as received wisdom, and while it's also tempting to ask Sam to use his eyes and ears it's a lot more excusable for him to be confused about that whole... thing. Dean performs it very well in public -- and tbf, he does fuck! Not like he's not getting tail -- but womanizer is a very particular kind of pejorative and one I pretty roundly reject (for interesting and good reasons I'm right about that I've gone into elsewhere). But so many of those fics had both the flawed womanizer assumption at the heart and also a Sam who tended to buy it, even if justice was asserted by the end, and it was just driving me slightly nuts, lol. And because the only reason I ever write a fic is because I want to read the one I actually want, it went on the list. To be very eventually written, haha.

(more babbling below the cut)

how the story changed along the way

Things I always knew: I wanted the witch to be stupid/bad at magic, because I was also getting tired of Oh So Wise Arch Bitch Witches who somehow manage to laser-focus a punishment spell. (Can you guess that I found Rowena tiresome, lol.) I always knew I wanted it to be a reset every day for a month for the iterative game of 'there's no getting away from this, we have to keep having sex, and how will the relationship evolve as we do?' I always knew I wanted it to be a True Love game, a) because it's a classic of the genre but also b) because it'd be fun to see them circling that inevitable conclusion, especially given that c) I wanted Bobby to have to try. Just to be mean to Dean, basically. :)

That said: in the ten years of contemplation I really went back and forth on the setting being s2 or s7. I knew all along that I wanted it to be true first time, i.e. neither of them had any secretly pining wincest wants (beyond what's true of their codependency in canon), and for it to be a slow coming together over the course of the curse. s2 first time is one of my favorites because of the seismic effect John's loss has on their relationship; s7 is one of my favorites because of the weird sense of true freedom they've got, when Sam's mind is back in place and he's all whole and he's still standing right next to Dean, exactly where he wants to be. (Gah!) But what I realized is that s2 was just... too early. They're babies, still untested. If the story's about True Love then... I'm just not interested in their early-seasons True Love, frankly. It's nice, it's intense, but it lacks the tempering of real tests that'll come in s4/5/6. There's a reason I'm a mid-seasons girlie.

Of course, then I realized it was better to shift it back a little more to the second half of s6. You still get most of the revelatory pleasure of s7's unspoken We Choose To Stay vibes, but without the added complication of Lucifer talking to Sam throughout (did not want his color commentary on Dean's pussy of the day), or the Leviathan plot ramping up. Eve's just out there doing her thing in late s6; it provides a nice narrative breather. Not that they realize it, haha.

what i had to leave out

Very little, actually. Over 120k of decompressed sexy navel gazing you can cram in a lot of stuff, lol. But one thing that did keep coming up and I kept very deliberately cutting right up to the edge of it so you could see the shape but not the thing itself: gay/bi Dean.

Obviously it does come up, with Sam's very careful questioning that starts in the cabin -- Dean dropping hints himself; Sam having little fireworks going off in his brain. I think in those OKC conversations it's a little more bald, in a way that I think/hope was appropriate for that stage in the relationship -- once you've slept with someone like 28 times it's reasonable to ask more about their background, I guess.

Given, though, that a lot of the fic is circling around the concept of Dean-as-object, I really wanted to keep some opacity in him. Some little bit of mental privacy, especially with how he's being cracked open physically. I hope that in all that's not being said there's a lot of room for all kinds of history, stuff Sam might learn more about (or not!) as they continue. Obviously prostitution was part of it, but to what extent? Did he hook up with guys just because he wanted to? (Was Dean/John ever a thing?) All stuff that the fic needs to be aware of, e.g. in how it informs how he does not want to open that door with Cas, but that doesn't need to actually be on screen.

Oh, I also left out period sex and pregnancy kink. Both wildly tempting but would've dragged the fic to yet another place.

random this-fic trivia

I had no idea how the curse was going to get solved until the day I wrote that it was going to be solved in 'two parts' and went, oh fuck. Now I gotta come up with the two parts.

I initially hated Denise and then she became my bestie. She makes really good lasagna. :/

In a lot of ways the most important part of the whole 120k is the line Dean has about saying that even the cure is stupid -- because he loves Sam, and loves making him feel good, and so what's good for Sam is good for Dean, so how do you differentiate? Sam and Dean are both bibros, news at 11.

For me the sexiest part of the fic by far is one of the middle nights at the cabin where Sam wakes Dean up in the early morning to be fucked and then is just playing with his body after, wide-awake while Dean's sleepy, vaguely possessive and smug. It's just a good look on them both.

Not-on-screen headcanon from me: Dean was treating it like prostitution even through the first 'date' where Sam asked him not to, and it wasn't until Sam tried to kiss him at the beginning of ch5 that the careful mental shield of it being a 'job' cracked, and never repaired. No going back, at that point (even if he had another mini-crisis over the blowjob, later).

Future headcanon for the fic: Dean is way less shy about showing Sam his lingerie kink. In contrast, Sam develops an almost-crippling breeding kink. (Dean is delighted when he finally figures out why Sam's acting so weird.)

#happy wincest wednesday #answers #my writing #ish #more like--#writing meme #i mean a lot of this stuff you could probably have guessed lol #maybe for sam's birthday one year #(like the s11 year perhaps)#they figure out a way to *temporarily* genderswap #and just have a really crazy pussy-scented weekend #nice time to indulge in both their kinks #the constant vow

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ltcolonelcarter · 1 year

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OKAY

so the idea of using cold and white as wasting away in AQOT. Talk about this and how and why this is.

is sixty who he is because of his circumstances (being Connor’s ‘replacement’, having a final mission, a questionable relationship with Amanda, and of course timeloop)? Or is there personality that existed before all this? <- I guess it’s the whole nature vs nurture question

do you have any personal experiences/emotions projecting onto the poor boy? Why torture him so? He needs a hug.

Will he get a hug?

a question of time on ao3 / director's commentary ask meme

buckle UP sunshine✨

any self-respecting quasi-academic subsections their work, so

i. cold + white + wasting away

rewe'll brass tacks this, shall we? I loved the seasonal changes in the garden in-game. so much of canon is visually stunning and loaded with imagery but I'm not convinced it's used purposefully - or if it is, I'm not sold on it being used effectively. so, like any reasonable person, i looked at cage's work and said "hey that's mine now".

itinsofar as AQOT goes, I needed an in that a reader would interpret as negative (on a sliding scale of severity, depending on context) and Sixty would breeze past, as least while he's more machinelike. so: unrelenting snow.

this doubles beautifully bc cyberlife, true to Evil Company tropes, uses a terribly cold and clinical colour scheme, so I could tie together a BUNCH of elements: the snowstorm; sixty dying and resetting the loop; cyberlife, and by extent its control over sixty; the real world, with its thin layer of snow over the life and chaos.

next layer: sixty, in all his ridiculousness, sees a lot of dichotomies where they don't exist. success vs failure, 'good' machine vs deviant, him vs connor - and he's drawn parallels between a few of them. the one I wanted to draw was deliberately erroneous: deviancy as equivalent to "being human" and remaining a machine as its (preferable, Proper and Correct) opposite. i don't think this is universal in terms of fan perception of deviancy but I'm not fond of a literal interpretation of 'become human', which is why i said it's erroneous. sixty considers deviating tantamount to losing part of himself instead of gaining agency over it. you can (hopefully) see this fear and suspicion manifesting any time he's near Hank because, quite aside from him stepping into Connor's shoes, he views human Hank as fundamentally opposite to him in nature. his last dichotomy: human vs android. to restate: warm vs cold. chaos vs order.

SO as Sixty becomes more self-aware, and more aware of his surroundings, he starts noticing this. and worse, he starts feeling it. i wanted something any reader would understand pretty intuitively, and something that blended well with canon - winter was perfect. not only is it cold, dangerous, and already present within Amanda's garden, but it's an environmental hazard for androids - something visual and visceral that could consume and destroy SIxty.

whether he sees it or not, Sixty's choice will always be between growth and stagnation. does he move past his obsessions and fears or does he let them eat him from the inside out? who's to say!

oh, a side note: sixty's irritation with connor gives him a fun sort-of not-quite parallel with Hank, whose substance abuse leaves him wasting away a little - mentally, if not physically - trying to avoid the things that cause him stress. Sixty's denial is similar but he's not avoiding grief so much as cognitive dissonance; in canon connor has several different paths that can remind Hank of who he used to be - Sixty is at every opportunity denying himself this because he has set himself as Connor's opposite. he cannot and will not let himself see connor as anything but a barrier... to his detriment.

ii. does sixty have a personality that existed before his mission, or is he a product of his circumstances?

ohohohohoho maniacal laughter

so I can't answer this fully because sixty is [ ch 8 spoilers redacted]

BUT. as a basis, I started by deciding that I wanted to lean into canon Sixty, that loose-hipped grandstanding fool who appeared to think he was better than Connor by grace of his existence. I took this version of Sixty as being a machine because I'm consistently treating deviation as a decision- androids as people regardless, but deviation meaning to break free of programming, to gain agency and choice. Sixty doesn't necessarily see deviancy this way because he doesn't necessarily perceive choice... the thought doesn't occur to him for a while. in the first few loops I tried to demonstrate this as reluctance to follow orders with overarching, gentle inevitability - he doesn't see an alternative, so it's just dread before he gets it over with. eventually this changes to sixty choosing to do whatever the hell he thinks is best but he's still stuck with the mission... for the most part. I can't continue this line of thought without hitting the red wall of my programming, so I can't tell you about [redacted]

bc I like taking liberties, I've let a BUNCH of influences run a lil wild with sixty. I want him to have the same base programming as Connor (for internal conflict reasons, and bc it fits the logic of the fic and grumbles a lil canon as well) but I want him changed by the fact he isn't Connor: consider the two as a binary star system, each caught in the other's gravity. quite aside from any other goings-on fic-wise, Connor's presence would have an impact on him - they are identical. why would cyberlife need two? and if they activated two, what's to stop them activating twenty more? even for machine!sixty, that's treading a LITTLE close to thinking about mortality and the nature of android existence. can't think about that for too long or he might start feeling fear.

we compound this by using amanda. I love her subtle cues with Connor in-game: her soft reassurance when he expresses doubts, her use of positive and negative feedback to praise and dissuade and show sharp disapproval. she's one of my favourite characters in that respect. in-fic Amanda handles Sixty the way she handles Connor - using his connections, his perceptions, to apply the right pressure and motivate him towards his mission. spoilers for ch 7 for the rest of this section (including tldr) all the stuff with Amanda is a bit one dimensional until we hit chapter 7. sixty's repeating stuff and not paying attention to Amanda beyond acknowledging her authority as a threat to him; up until chapter 7, Sixty thinks if she discovers that he's repeating the night over and over she'll decommission him as broken. his relationship with deviancy, with his own emotionality and choice, is somewhat stifled bc over all these loops he's performing - he was anyway, bc he's a fucking diva, but part of him was performing for her, so she'd think her latest RK800 was being a good little obedient soldier and he'd be free to proceed as he needed to break the repeating cycle. then we get to sixty managing amanda's expectations every bit as much as she's managing him.

tl;dr for this section is: all of the above. sixty has a personality when he starts, that's established from his base personality programming and his Amanda-given sense of superiority over Connor (your predecessor failed; you're my only hope). he gains more sense of personhood because the loops give him exposure to the same stimuli over and over, repeat and compound emotion and trauma. it's an eternal recurrence problem with a being who doesn't think he can feel and doesn't learn in the same way as a person. if you fancy it, ask me this question after the finale is live. I've a feeling there might be, uh, more to think about after I've revealed [redacted] and [also redacted].

iii. "do you have any personal experiences/emotions projecting onto the poor boy? Why torture him so? He needs a hug."

direct quote bc i'm cackling; in reverse order;

first: he does need a hug, bless him. I'm really putting him through the wringer.

second: he's fun, he's interesting, and I didn't get anywhere near enough mileage out of playing the cyberlife tower scenes in the game. I kept wondering what I'd find if i poked his brain and wiring. he was so different to Connor and so similar at the same time. what makes him tick? I needed to KNOW. so I put him in the washing machine on medium-high and I'm sat watching like a kitten who's never seen laundry before. that's all

third: this is INTERESTING, and the answer is yeah, actually, but not in any real overt way. I've some reasonably mild experiences with dissociation that inform the way I write sixty's experience - it's difficult to represent how an android would experience something like mental distress so I've drawn analogies with the things I know, even if the origin point is different.

similarly, I like a lot of queer folks had a period of time where my identity was a giant sackful of question marks, and that probably shows through... though it's more general feeling compared to one-to-one literal transference. it was a pretty unpleasant experience for a few reasons to be honest but it was interrogative and honest and, eventually, liberating.

I love exploring identity in itself, finding out what makes a person but also how they know or learn themselves, how their perception of themselves changes and evolves. in a way it is a personal reflection bc I have spent a lot of time wondering how external (societal, familial) expectations and norms are applied to me and which ones just don't fit with who I am or how I want to be, and Sixty does do that but in a very avoidant sort of way.

this question is making me rethink myself actually so we're going to stop before we get to me laying on a sofa somewhere

iv. will sixty get a hug?

oh, sweetheart.

no, he won't get a hug... but I'll give him a chance. the rest is up to him.

#possible fic spoilers under the cut if that's not your jam!! you have been warned #time loop sixty #dbh fanfic #a question of time #asks #blurredout10 #fic stuff #THANK YOU FOR THIS i love vainglorious rambling

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deanwasalwaysbi · 3 years

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I've gotta say, I find the concept of Bedlund trying to Ben-Hur Jensen absolutely hysterical. I'm just imagining Jensen getting a script and being like "Ben?? What's this? Is this gay? This seems gay????" and Ben just soothing him like a frightened horse.

Hahaha - Look it wouldn't be the first time. What is this verb we're working with? Okay. Strap in everyone. The Multi-Oscar-winning 1959 movie 'Ben Hur' had a bunch of gay subtext. The writer, the director, and the second lead actor all knew that Charlton Heston's character, Ben Hur, was gay. However, one person didn't find out until the 1990s: Charlton Heston. The consensus on set was "Don’t tell Charlton, because he’ll freak out." and when Heston found out in the ninties, freak out was exactly what he did. (x) [the movie may have gotten a reference from Misha back in season 6 (x)]

Whether this happened with Jensen on SPN depends on two things.

Was the character of Dean intentionally written as Bi and, if so, at what point did that become true?

Did anyone tell Jensen? Did he figure it out? if so, when?

I personally DO believe at this point, I really do, that Bedlund - Ben Hur'd Jensen. I think it was part of the writers room but not all of it, until it was. (Which RN I believe finally happened under Dabb.) I think Jensen wasn't in on it, until he was. So for me? I think he really was in the dark at one point. But at what point that changed? Probably only he can answer that question. and RN? He ain't talking.

In the meantime we can only look at things Jensen has said on the subject - Like this unbearably ambiguous GIF set from @nikadd. Was this tongue in cheek? Legitimate ignorance? You're killing me, Jensen. That cheeky lil smile, Jensen. Nvm - I'm going to kill you instead. It's for my own survival. No hard feelings right? You understand.

UH OH HERE COMES A CUT TO HIDE A LONG DERANGED POST...

We can look at the text for number 1 - and I do that uh - a lot - see the blog name #Dean Was Always Bi

For number 2 we can look over some points when we got clues from what Jensen thought was going on [regardless of whether they make sense based on his jacting or directorial choices I guess] and get left wondering whether at any point he felt pressured to lie for his career, for self protection, or to protect the narrative from the network:

2010 - 'We're missing the gay angel' (x) (Season 5 gag reel) (x) “Sorry man, not what the show’s about.” Jared: One of the good and bads about playing the straight [non-comedic] character on the show… Jensen: What wait? I’ve been playing him so wrong

2012 / S8 - Trenchcoat - Jensen talking about how sometimes they change the lines because they're way too gay. Calls Cas a third brother

2012 - "What's Destiel?" Ben Edlund: That’s some weird shit. Jensen: Is this something that you created, Ben? Ben: You don’t want any part of that.

“Don’t ruin it for everyone now” “I still don’t know what the question was. I’m going to pretend I don’t know what the question was.”

2013 @ JIB, re Dean’s reaction to Aaron’s flirting in the season 8 episode Everybody Hates Hitler, (x)

“And the scene wasn’t written to be that kind of - I mean - It was written to be awkward. Ben Edlund wrote the - my favorite line in that scene was ‘carry on . citizen’ that was - I almost couldn’t say that with a straight face I was laughing so hard. But it was - you know - it was comedy. It was a comedic moment in the show and fortunately Dean gets a lot of the comedic moments in the show and it was just, you know, Ben was poking fun at the fact that - you know, how can we make this very kind of manly, heterosexual guy uncomfortable - uh -you know, or or have him back on his heels and throw him off his game a little bit.”

The thing is - Bedlund and Phil Sgriccia made very clear on the commentary track that THEY saw this scene as a 'romantic comedy kind of fluster' "This potential for love in all places."

Ben Edlund calling the writer’s room a boy’s club in 2013 (x)

Misha Collins telling Destiel fans they aren’t Crazy in 2013 after some executives said they were (x).

2014 Jensen says he was glad there wasn’t much Dean and Cas in season 9 - HA Hah HAH (x)

“I think the whole Cas and Dean thing has gotten out of hand” “I don’t think there’s anything secret to their relationship even though a lot of people wish there was” REMINDER - that season we got the nightstands acknowledgement and “play him like a jilted lover” and the “he dumped me James” cut and -

I certainly know that Misha and I don’t play that. SIGH. they Ben Hur'd Jensen.

2014 - the fan fiction joke - 10.05

“I didn’t have a positive reaction, The first time in I think 200 scripts I went and sat down in the showrunners office and said, ‘What in god’s name are you doing?! Why? I need to understand why this is happening.’” “[Carver] gave very eloquent answers and did a great job of explaining why we were doing what we were doing, I guess I had been aware of this ‘fan fiction’ for a while and I felt like maybe if I ignored it, it would eventually go away. When I read it in the script that is what I do for a living and is my work—I’m very protective of these characters and the story and I think we have a right to be—I wasn’t angry. I just wanted to understand why and what was the message we were ultimately sending with this script and story. By the end of it, I felt good and it gave me all the confidence I needed. It was better than I could have ever hoped.”

But then there's Jensen in 2015 talking about all of Dean’s bromances. (x) [gifs at the top] Could go either way - starting to figure it out? or No?

What had changed if anything? the entire Crowely season 10 story line? This was July 2015 - the same day as the SDCC 2015 panel where Misha talked about Destiel (x @ 13) Carver and Dabb were there -

By this time Jensen and Misha were nominated for a teen choice award for best chemistry against various tv couples (and one ensemble cast, but the award nomination did NOT include Jared) .... Misha and Jensen would go on to WIN this award one month after the panel.

At the Panel Rob and Rich ask the question: “You two have branded yourselves as TV’s greatest team since, ... idk who.... Ernie and Bert so.” [Misha says to Jensen & Jared, half not on the microphone: “I really didn’t expect them to throw us under the bus.”] “are we going to see that continue? Is the Castiel Dean relationship still aflutter and still growing as we move into season 11?” Jeremy Carver: “Ish.” [mocking from panel ensues] “Yes. Of course. I mean Yeah. Absolutely. Yeah. There’s no doubt.”

Jensen Directs 11x03 and the choreo mimics Goodbye stranger (x)

2016 - Jensen: Dean could have a huntress, but you’d kill her.

Jan 2017 Con the infamous - no hedge - harsh - “Destiel doesn’t exist.” (x)

I would hope that if he knew he wouldn’t have been so harsh with it. So by that point either he still didn’t know - OR - to him ‘Destiel’ was specifically about internet porn/sex and not like - the potential for feelings / a relationship. It makes me think about something Misha had actually said, around 2013, “It’s called ‘Destiel’ and it’s about the romantic interludes between Dean and Castiel.” (x)

2017 - jib8 Jensen called Dean a lover of the ladies

May 2017 - After filming the end of season 12:

2018 - Misha confirms he and Jensen have talked about Destiel (x) - also 2018: The Bisexual Dean essay "? No." (Oh god was this really this recent?! I can't deal with this.)

Well. SOMETHING happened in 2019. cuz here it comes

2019 - "Dean has no taste, clearly." 2019 - 'So, tell us just a little bit about what you're most excited to tackle with your character this final season.' "Cas. Just like a full football form tackle."

Look at this face he gave Dean when Cas told him he loved him and tell me he wasn't playing into it here. You can't. (x)

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itoldsunset · 3 years

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rewatching ipytm episode 2: thoughts

apologies in advance for this very messy, very long bullet scene-by-scene commentary!

summary: this was a very hard episode to watch and rewatch. the frustration with teh is real, the hurt for oh-aew is real. but the fear of change and abandonment, and the fear of admitting your own insecurities, is SO coming of age and i love that we get to see teh grappling with what happens when the idealistic vision you had for your life slowly starts to crumble.

also, this episode (and possibly the entirety of part 2) was 100% the writers' and p'meen's love letter to comm arts students/graduates, and even though i am a total outsider to that world, it really touched my heart to see the diversity of experiences and struggles reflected here.

i love that we see how much closer teh has become with jai and khim!! this doesn't translate in the subs, but i thought it was interesting how teh used respectful pronouns with them when he was a first-year and now for the most part uses rude (familiar) pronouns with them as a second-year, even though they're still technically his seniors. i think it goes to show how close they've become since he first joined the drama club.

goy was so fucking CUTE in that scene when she said "oh, lots of boys are peeking at me, i'm shy" i think i'm in love 😭 also the cinematography of that scene!!

this episode does such a great job at making you feel uncomfortable along with the characters. i hated how uncomfortable teh was at the birthday party, and i could feel how out of place he felt there.

when mangpong talks about how easy it is for celebrities to make money and teh is clearly offended by that and speaks up against it (which results in yet another awkward uncomfortable moment), i feel like he's speaking up on behalf of khim who we later realize is basically his idol and the person he identifies the most with. i feel like p'meen and the writing team are really trying to represent the lives of people who go into communication arts, especially those who go in with an interest in performing arts. and for me that scene with mangpong communicates two things: 1) the defensiveness that comes with having your chosen career path misunderstood or reduced into something that's easy money, and 2) how close-knit and protective the drama club is of each other, because teh speaking up in defense of actors to me feels like he's defending this identity they all share as people who are struggling to make it in the industry.

oh-aew is SO sweet. getting a tattoo that resembles your partner's name gives me so much anxiety, but i guess he's 19 and has always been sure of his feelings so it does make sense for him. at first glance teh's reaction really just makes it sound like he's against tattoos, drinking, all that, like he's super old-fashioned, but it's not REALLY about the tattoo and we learn that later when they have their big fight and he blows up with all the nitpicky little things he's noticed about all the ways oh-aew has changed. i thought it was so cute how au basically showed off his tattoo to open the conversation for oh-aew to show teh his tattoo though. we love a supportive friend group!!!

"this tattoo is pretty. thank you." this is teh being as genuine as he can, as someone who is seriously not in touch with his own feelings and can't understand why he's so upset at oh-aew getting a tattoo. because again it's not the tattoo itself that's the problem, but what it represents for teh, which is oh-aew's world slowly expanding to include people and things that are foreign to teh, and he worries that one day that world won't have a place for him anymore.

drunk oh-aew speaking mandarin, and teh taking care of him!!! the only fluff we got all episode and i will cherish it forever and ever, like the aquarium scene from episode one. the fact that teh brought over the stuffed animal, kissed oh-aew on the forehead, and then decided to sleep over on the floor next to him? making him kimchi jjigae? so soft!! our boy has got a lot of issues to work through but he loves oh-aew for sure.

the scene where oh-aew is receiving feedback on his performance from his professor is so... oof. the fact that his classmate got positive feedback for portraying a gay man in a way that isn't stereotypical (read: masculine? i wonder?) and the fact that oh-aew was critiqued for unsuccessfully portraying the tone and mannerisms of a man who doesn't understand gay people? it's a bit subtler than what we hear from the casting director but i swear it's the same shit. and it really doesn't surprise me at all to see oh-aew not believe in himself and his ability to perform because of it.

teh saying "both of us" and being so excited about their casting opportunity!! 😭 and also, khim being such a sweetheart and helping them get this opportunity in the first place!

the contrast with how happy oh-aew looked when the advertising professor told him he had the right answer, compared to how torn down he looked after being critiqued and told he got a C by his acting professor (in front of the whole class!!). which tbh for me is subtle commentary on how much influence professors have on students' self-confidence and whether they believe in their own ability to succeed in their field.

the commentary on sexism and homophobia in the thai entertainment industry!! khim being told she looked too old, not smart enough, not believable, honestly all coded ways of saying she didn't fit in with the beauty standard they were going for. and while khim is saying this we see oh-aew is already getting nervous, because he's already had his confidence shaken by his experiences in class. and then when we get to the scene where the casting director says he's too girly and asks him to act more manly, we see oh-aew's mood shift completely, and honestly it hurts to watch. pp did such an amazing job here because i felt it, like the way oh-aew's eyes change, and then he swallows right after, and how unsettled he sounds trying to deliver the line again after hearing that critique.

oh-aew listening to khim tell teh about how hard it's been for her to break into the industry is so impactful, because you can already tell what he's thinking. is this really worth it? do i want this enough to endure people telling me over and over again i'm not masculine enough for them? is that going to be me in the future, being rejected from hundreds of castings and still not making it?

when teh hugs khim and says "we will get through this together," it's so clear that he identifies with her struggle. teh is someone who has worked his ass off to get to where he is (remember his fight with his mom where she said he lost sleep and was getting sick from all the studying he did?), and he sees himself in khim and her passion and ambition. meanwhile, we see oh-aew really doubting whether this is the right path for him.

i love how teh immediately asked if oh-aew was okay after oh-aew told him about what the casting director said, and how teh reassured him that he liked oh-aew the way he is. it's like, he so clearly cares for oh-aew and loves him so much and sometimes knows how to show it well, and then other times just fucks it up. it's so real??

oh-aew deciding to change majors three months into it is a very oh-aew thing to do, and what i mean by that is, this is a character who is super in touch with himself and his feelings and trusts in himself to make the right decisions. he's not afraid to change his mind (remember when he was testing out his feelings for bas and teh and then turned down bas once he knew?), he's bold and goes for what he wants. and i envy that about his character so much. but it makes me sad to know that the thing that was making him nervous during this scene was the fact that he was worried about how teh would react. like he went through all that questioning and critique himself, to finally discover his answer, only to now have to worry about whether his partner will accept him.

teh, on the other hand, has had his whole life planned out since forever. he feels the need to know and control everything. he has so much fear and insecurity. and he is stubborn and doesn't believe in giving up, which he believes is what oh-aew is doing. and on top of that, he sees this as another way in which he is losing oh-aew. one more thing oh-aew has in common with his friend group that doesn't include him. one more way that he's becoming a smaller part of oh-aew's world. oh-aew looked so small in the bathtub scene and i just wanted to hold him 😔

the 8 month time skip is a little jarring because of all the things we don't get to see, but i guess it makes sense if teh has been bottling up his insecurities about their relationship that it would all blow up in everyone's face in the way that it did at the dinner scene.

it was interesting to me how teh hesitated when oh-aew texted that he would join them for dinner, like teh didn't want oh-aew to come along with his drama club. and then once oh-aew arrives at the restaurant, we see that teh isn't totally happy either. it's like as much as teh feels like an outsider in oh-aew's world, he seems to also see oh-aew as an outsider in his own world too. and when top says he wanted to get into comm arts at anantasart but he didn't get in, we see teh's expression and it's like, a reminder that he gave up that spot for oh-aew, that teh didn't pass the admissions exam either, and that oh-aew who did pass has now "given up" on it (in teh's eyes) to pursue another major. it's like teh also feels betrayed on behalf of all the performing arts kids who are struggling to make their passion into a career.

i feel like i sort of get why teh said all that shit about oh-aew at the dinner table now. i'm not excusing it at all, that was super shitty of him. but i wonder if it's like, this is a thing they deal with in the performing arts, people giving up because it's so hard to make it in the industry. and you watch your friends leave one by one, and it keeps causing more and more doubt in yourself about whether you can make it. and now that teh sees oh-aew as someone who's given up, he doesn't want that energy at the dinner table with his drama friends, like he wants to protect them from that and keep up with this "we can get through this together" mentality that he keeps saying. so it's easier for him to try to dismiss it as oh-aew's personality flaw, rather than a legitimate change in career path, because he's worried about how it might affect his own friends in the drama club. and we see how protective teh is of khim, when he says "what the fuck did you just say?" like he really shares an identity with his drama club and it's clear he thinks oh-aew doesn't understand it or belong there.

needless to say, i was extremely stressed that entire dinner scene which i think means the writers, p'meen, and the actors did an excellent job.

their fight scene was really amazingly done and i am just stunned by teh's response when oh-aew asks him "what if this is who i really am, would you not like me anymore?" and teh thinks about it for a bit, and says "maybe." that's him being genuine, he's not trying to hurt oh-aew in saying that, and we can see him internally asking himself that question. but he doesn't know the answer, because he can't even be honest with himself about why he's upset at oh-aew. so he says the first thing he thinks which is an honest "maybe," and then he immediately regrets his words, and at some point he's going to have to learn that he can't just say the first thing that comes to mind, when other people's feelings are at stake. also, the fucking piano that plays? the violin? goddamn.

khim's character is really here to teach teh, and all of us, some life lessons. she is so real. her struggles are so real. life is fucking hard, and it's not fair, and no matter how hard you work or try you can't have it all. "the conditions for our lives are not the same" holy shit yes. she wants to take care of her family and her dog, she can't just think of herself. i feel like teh, who comes from a relatively modest background but has always had hoon as a father figure to support his mom, probably doesn't feel that same burden.

teh being frustrated and going to the bridge was beautiful. the crying hug scene at the dorm was so beautiful.

i love that in the end, teh finally owns up to his own insecurities and apologizes and admits he was wrong. of course, this was after oh-aew reached out to him first. i think it's totally realistic that we see his growth happening kind of slowly, but before the series ends he's going to need to be the first one to reach out, because oh-aew can't hold all of that on his own.

the last score when they hug under the moonlight, i love it!!

#ipytm #i promised you the moon #ipytm spoilers #textpost #i hope someone sees this lmao i know it's 3am dfslkjghfgjlk

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veliseraptor · 3 years

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So this is in NO WAY PRESSURING, get to this whenever you're bored and have nothing better to do, but I (have still not watched The Untamed) would love to hear any disorganized rambles around your fic 'Punitive Measures', like your thoughts while writing it, how you view Xue Yang's fight/flight/freeze instinct, and/or where you would take the plot if you ever came back to it (again, not pressuring, I'm not asking for a sequel, I'm asking for director's commentary. Also I know the mysterious flute was implying Wei Wuxian, I know that much and not much more.) It's a really fun, quick fic that I enjoy reading through while I keep circling around your longer, more intimidating stories. I aspire to write like you.

oh boy, well, I don't know that I ever have nothing to do but here I am answering this ask anyway, because I like talking about my fic even if I get self-conscious about it.

this entire fic falls solidly into the genre of fic I write that is legitimately just “I’m gonna fuck up this character I love because it’ll be fun and I love to do that” and then just kinda...went for it. actually harder than I was initially planning! my vague sense of what I was going to do with this fic didn’t have Xue Yang down an eye at the end of it.

but when inspiration strikes, what’s a girl to do, etc.

I actually thought recently about writing a sequel to this fic (or, well, continuing into the AU it started, more like) because the concept of Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang being bloodthirsty vengeance brethren is a very good one for me, personally, and at the point their paths would be intersecting in this AU a more plausible one than it would be at pretty much any other time (I would argue, at least in CQLverse). And that’s where I think this would be going. Because Xue Yang would see Wei Wuxian, in his bloodiest frame of mind, powered up with a gorgeous flute of bad vibes and go “fuck yes” even if he wasn’t in a place where he really needed the help.

The question I had was whether Wei Wuxian would be interested in accepting company, and I feel like Xue Yang on that front could be convincing. And the way that the latter would both enable and egg on all the former’s darkest fantasies and impulses...I’m just saying, Wen Chao and everyone he has ever known is in for a very bad time, possibly even worse than they already were.

I invite you to picture in this AU the part where Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji find not just darker and edgier Wei Wuxian at the end of their scavenger hunt but darker and edgier Wei Wuxian with a friend. A familiar friend! Now down an eye and practically picking his teeth with Wen Chao’s finger bones. :D

since you asked for disorganized rambling I went back to reread and I’ll give you some director’s commentary on a few things

And he’d kind of hoped Wen Ruohan would be too busy figuring out how to deal with his brewing war to dedicate much attention to looking for one absent retainer. And even if he did, Xue Yang had sort of figured that finding him would fall to Wen Chao, who’d probably struggle to find his own ass with two hands.

kicking off this director’s commentary with Xue Yang’s brutal assessment of the competency of Wen Chao.

tbh one of my favorite things about CQL’s involving Xue Yang in the whole Sunshot storyline, despite the merry hell it plays with timeline stuff later, is how obviously little regard Xue Yang has for the Wens, even when they’re at the height of their power. He shows Wen Ruohan himself very little respect, and I can’t imagine anyone else getting more (except maybe Wen Qing, because Wen Qing is competent and if nothing else Xue Yang can respect competency).

and he just like. ditches them. walks out! promises to deliver very powerful magical artifact, and then gets what he wants and is like “smell ya later, peace” and they never catch him.

that’s just a kind of gutsiness and casual disregard for very powerful people that I really both love and respect about Xue Yang. and also that he has in common with Xiao Xingchen, tbh. and Song Lan (though him I think to a slightly lesser degree, partly because he has a little more tact and sense of societal norms as something relevant to be thinking about)! they can all vibe on that.

They took Jiangzai. Well. One of the Wen disciples took Jiangzai in the stomach and Xue Yang didn’t get it back.

this isn’t an important line or anything. I just like it a lot.

Wen Chao gestured again and he went down in a hail of fists and feet. Xue Yang tucked his chin down to protect his throat, curled his hands into his chest, and drew up his knees to guard his stomach.

He knew how this worked. Sure, it’d been a while since someone had beat him like this, but the lessons stuck. It was almost boring, really. If Wen Chao was going to play torture games then he could at least do Xue Yang the favor of trying to be creative.

He checked out the part of his brain that registered pain as anything other than a thing that was happening and focused instead on opportunities. Weaknesses in his assailants. Escape routes. Getting away would be the first thing. Nice if he could take a piece of Wen Chao with him on the way out - arm, or maybe even a head - but the priority was freedom and survival.

okay, this I feel like cuts into some of what you were talking about regarding Xue Yang’s fight/flight instinct, and also a lot of what if, I was feeling pretentious, I feel like this fic is digging into on a level under “what if I just tortured Xue Yang a whole bunch,” which is something about the relationship Xue Yang has to (a) pain and (b) his own body. Specifically, the relative indifference he has toward both. Or...not indifference, exactly, because it’s not like he’s enjoying himself, it still hurts. It’s just...expected.

unremarkable.

which is a lot of what I was trying to convey with Xue Yang’s narration during the whole torture sequence, with the commentary on methodology and how things are mundane or boring, because the suffering itself is mundane! as far as Xue Yang is concerned that’s exactly what suffering is! other peoples’, for sure, which is part of why it doesn’t matter, but also his own.

the world hurts and that’s just how it is and you learn how to cope with that. pain as...a thing that [is] happening.

I also, since you mentioned the fight/flight instinct, think a lot about how Xue Yang is, while he’s very proud and very stubborn, absolutely not someone to pick fights (in general) that he knows he can’t win. Xue Yang will almost always be on the side of “run and come back another day” over “stand and fight when all is lost.” survival, first and foremost.

which feeds into the weird paradox that I kind of hint toward at the end of this fic about Xue Yang as someone who has a definite death drive, who is profoundly obsessed with his own death in a lot of ways, and simultaneously is attached to staying alive above pretty much all else.

“Snap and snarl all you want,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere. And the only part of you I need intact is your tongue, so you can tell me where you hid the Yin Metal you promised. Everything else is optional.”

A prickle of fear rolled down Xue Yang’s spine and he flicked it away, baring his teeth.

I actually do think that, even before they get around to hand-specific trauma, permanent mutilation is one of those things that still scares Xue Yang. which is a short list! there isn’t much that actually either gets to or scares him, but I think the prospect of (further) mutilation does, because I think Xue Yang is very...acutely aware of the fact that his physical capability is a major factor in what has kept him alive and what, in all likelihood, is going to keep him alive moving forward. anything that threatens that capability, that limits him in terms of strength or mobility or otherwise has a disabling effect, is consequently going to be a short road to death, and Xue Yang would much rather die painfully fighting than die as a consequence of not being able to take care of himself.

for Xue Yang, the idea of a return to the kind of helplessness that is tied to his trauma is one of the worst possible prospects to contemplate. in my head this is exacerbated further by the fact that I figure Xue Yang didn’t get much if any medical care post hand incident, meaning that the recovery period was absolutely nightmarish and a whole stretch of time beyond the event itself where Xue Yang was struggling to survive because he’d been damaged.

in some ways I think that period of time probably did more to shape Xue Yang than the moment itself.

Wen Chao grabbed one of the branding irons from a disciple’s belt and pressed it to his stomach. That hurt. More. He clamped his back teeth together so he didn’t make any sound, absorbed the burn, owned it. His. You only hurt if you were alive. And anything you survived made you stronger.

Not that this was actually going to make him stronger. It was probably just going to make him dead. But then again, the worse this went the more resentment he’d have built up. He could use that. Would.

Dead didn’t have to mean finished.

obviously this is pulled almost direct from what Wei Wuxian himself says to Wen Chao. deliberate echoes based on character parallels! we love those.

and yeah, again here about Xue Yang and his relationship to pain, but in a less mundane way this time where it’s about pain as a tool, pain as something he can use. which is another thing about coping, I think - when pain and suffering are a regular part of your life, one way to deal with that can be to convert it into having some kind of purpose or benefit.

which in this case it definitely can. Xue Yang is definitely someone who, I think, has thought a lot about trying to arrange it so he becomes a ghost after he dies. or at least has thought a lot about what he’d do after dying to the person who killed him.

and when you’re a necromancer by trade death really isn’t the end of the line anymore, just the start of a something new. Xue Yang’s relationship to life itself: about as jacked up as his relationships in general.

He felt the snap of bone in his teeth. Pain shooting up the side of his hand, all the way to his wrist, and Xue Yang couldn’t keep himself still enough not to try to wrench himself away. He swallowed his scream and turned it into a laugh. It was funny, wasn’t it? Funny, that he was back here, again. It wasn’t as bad, though. He knew how to take pain, how to breathe it in, make it part of himself, later turn it outwards magnified tenfold. They were old friends. Practically lovers.

two things here:

1. the thread throughout this fic of Xue Yang making things funny so he can deal with them, here brought to you by reliving trauma! because it’s funny! right? laugh about it! just fucking hilarious.

I have a thing about characters basically deciding for themselves to make very unfunny situations funny because it makes them less awful.

2. and look, now he can deal with it better this time! he’s Learned. :) :) :)

Everything splintered. Splintered like bones under a wheel, and first thing he tried to struggle to get away but that just hurt worse and then old old old instincts kicked in and he went still, limp, dead.

“Did he faint?”

Someone nudged him with their foot. One part of him roared to grab that foot and rip it off along with the leg it was attached to. Immediately the same thing that’d made him play dead told him to wait.

at an end point where fighting is impossible and running is also impossible, the only thing left to do is play dead and wait it out. this is very much, in my head, a reversion to a tactic Xue Yang hasn’t used in a very long time and does not want to be using now, because it is absolutely the recourse of the extraordinarily helpless with no way out.

which he has been! and is now, but he really really really doesn’t want to be. Xue Yang has built his life around not being that, ever again.

but here it’s not a move he makes planning to turn it around the way he does, not at first. he gets there, but when he first does it I think it is literally just instinct that goes enough is enough and shuts down.

Wen Chao, Wen Chao, Xue Yang thought. My body’s going to give out before I do.

someone should remind me at some point maybe (or not) to write something coherent about my Xue Yang vs. his own body thoughts. specifically the way that, while Xue Yang is very physical and very grounded, I think he has a somewhat antagonistic relationship with his own body, actually. not completely! he definitely respects what it can do for him! but I think he also treats it a little as a slightly separate entity that’s capable of betraying him rather than as a fully integrated part of himself.

not always! but it’s a little bit there. this idea that sometimes his body, and its capacity to be hurt or damaged, is a weakness that he’d like to be able to forgo entirely, if only it wouldn’t mean losing all the good things about having a body. and that’s present here in this line, for me, where he thinks about himself and his body as slightly separate, and his body as something weaker than its Xue Yang core.

#hope that was enough rambling for you anon jesus christ #confessions of a frustrated writer #i don't even know what to tag this #anonymous #conversating

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mashkaroom · 3 years

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Lengthy analysis of Holes, as promised!. This will include spoilers, which will be marked. Just gonna go through the book and the philosophy/themes/connections I caught onto this time around. Stuff discussed, in order: connections to Camus, on the question of children’s books, systems, cycles, and why Stanley is gay and jewish 😏

Camus:

The first and perhaps most obvious set of texts/theories it makes sense to put Holes in conversation with is the works of Albert Camus. Holes starts out with a description of the sun and the heat, which readers of the Stranger will remember are major themes there. The heat continues to be a prominent part of the story, though thematically, it functions very differently in the two books. In The Stranger it primarily represents the indifference of the universe (or at least so claim a ton of sources and I’m inclined to agree) and the lack of control we exert over our own lives while in Holes it’s basically the opposite of that. The heat and drought is implied to be a semi-divine punishment for a past injustice and, moreover, the elite adults of the camp have air conditioning and access to shade: the sun does not affect everyone equally in Holes as it does in The Stranger (though even that is debatable: I don’t think this was Camus’s intent, but it’s notable that it’s only the white englishman who’s driven to murder by the sun. This could certainly be read as critique of colonizers who cannot/refuse to coexist with the land and environment and how the indigenous population always suffers for it, but I digress). The other Camusian parallel one is immediately inclined to draw is that, of course, of Sysiphus: there’s the repetitive and seemingly meaningless act of digging holes not to mention that carrying stuff up a mountain is both thematically and plot-wise a very important part of Holes. But, once again, it is eventually revealed that both acts do carry an inherent meaning. Holes does not present the image of an uncaring universe: on the contrary, destiny and semi-divine influence plays a major role. The story may start out with a series of seemingly random and inherently meaningless events, but as the story progresses, people, actions, items, and events become increasingly imbued with meaning. In the Holes universe, one must imagine Sisyphus redeemed, not through the act of rolling the stone but by rebelling against it. I have difficulty imagining that Sachar was not thinking of Camus while writing Holes, or, at the very least, that if he encountered Camus afterwards, he must have been struck by the similarities. I don’t know if there was a specific intent in creating a story so embroiled in Camusian absurdism, especially since the target readership is (allegedly) children who almost certainly are not recognizing specific allusions to Camus, so perhaps the similarities are purely aesthetic — after all, everything that is nominally similar does play quite different thematic roles. However, I would never pass up the opportunity to talk about the myth of sisyphus and I think placing Holes in dialogue with Camus can raise some interesting questions about the nature of meaning.

Is Holes a children’s book?

Speaking, though, of the target audience, the audience for this book is in fact children. What about it makes it a children’s book makes it difficult to say: the protagonists are children (and, I would argue, it is not a coming of age story, despite the claims of one piece of lit crit about Holes in which i disagreed with almost every claim made, but i digress once more) and the writing style is fairly simple: you can read it with a second-grader’s vocabulary. Also, of course, being a children’s book doesn’t (and crucially shouldn’t!) mean that it’s lacking in depth and complexity. However, I think most thematically rich children’s books tend to be quite allegorical. The Little Prince is a good example. Holes is just way too specific for its sole market to be children. It’s either intended to be read by multiple generations at once or for child readers to return to it as an adult. It addresses themes of racism (and not just generic racism, anti-black racism in the reconstruction south), homelessness, intergenerational trauma. and the modern carceral system. These are social critiques that will probably go over most kids’ heads (certainly over mine). However, the themes of the text are not inaccessible for children. You don’t have to understand the particular history of the US criminal justice system or even that Sachar is making a comparison to anything specific to get that the system that he’s portraying is unjust. Knowing the real-world context just adds another layer to the text. Holes also has one of the hallmarks of children’s books that I really like, which is a particular type of absurdism that the child characters come up against. This always rang true to me as a kid and well into my teens, when you start understanding that your life is controlled by some set of systems, but you haven’t quite gotten what those systems are or why and how they came about. Like nowadays, I can say “we did this in elementary school because of a state law, that because of a federal law, that because of the history of puritanism, and this because we got a grant for it”, but as a kid nobody tells you these things or really even cares to explain why the rules are as they are, and the systems that govern your world, often with no small degree of violence and almost always with an inherent disregard for your agency, are ineffable and slippery, and good children’s books capture this really well (Series of Unfortunate Events is probably my favorite example of this, where a secret organization that everything is implicated in and more more tragicomic details about it get revealed until the Baudelaire children find themselves to some degree members with mixed feelings is honestly an excellent coming-of-age allegory. oh, not to mention the constant conflict with bureacracy. god that series is so good, everyone read it). Back to Holes, Sachar weaves the more fantastical ineffable elements in with real-world issues so neatly. Stanley’s family is allegedly cursed, which is why Stanley keeps having bad luck, but he also lives in systemic poverty, which is also why he keeps having bad luck. Sachar eschews neither the allegorical elements common in children’s literature nor the more direct systemic critiques more often found in YA and adult lit, and it creates a really unique vibe. I think the story really benefited from having a children’s author, and I would love to see more authors in both children’s and adult lit do this!

Systems

Speaking of the systems, this book is surprisingly radical. Like it’s full-on an abolitionist text. The law is pretty much only ever presented as adversarial, both in the story of Stanley’s present time, and in Kate and Sam’s story. It’s implied if not stated repeatedly that Stanley and the other boys are pretty much victims of circumstance and have been imprisoned pretty much for the crime of being poor. The hole-digging is shown to be cruel and bad for the boys. It’s noted that in digging the holes Stanley’s heart hardened along with his muscles. This is of course very evocative of the system of retributive justice we have in America. Additionally, Camp Greenlake’s existence can ultimately be traced back to an act of racist violence, also in close parallel with our prison system. Hole’s stance on justice is very restorative. Punishments are never shown to work: only through righting the wrongs can true justice be achieved. Moreover, Holes even gives the opportunity for redemption to a minor antagonist when [minor spoiler] Derrick Dunne, the kid who was bullying Stanley in the beginning ultimately plays a small role in helping Stanley regain his freedom [spoiler over].

Cycles

Cycles are a major theme in holes, and Sachar creates a unique temporality to support this theme. There are 3 interwoven stories: that of Stanley’s in the present date, that of Stanley’s ancestors, and that of the land that Stanley is on (though, as I will delve into later, it’s at least a little implied that Stanley is descended from the characters in that story also). The stories from the past reach in and touch the present. You can’t untangle the past from the future. Looking at this again through a social justice lens, it could be seen as fairly progressive commentary on what to do with regards to America’s past wrongs. The past cannot and will not be left in the past: it must be dealt with on an ongoing basis. Even the warden, the greatest villain of Stanley’s story has a sympathetic moment at the end where it’s revealed that she, too, is stuck in a cycle of intergenerational trauma she can’t break free from.

Stanley is gay and jewish

Ok, I will now talk about how Stanley is a queer Jew, but this entire section will be riddled with spoilers, so read the book first and then come back!

A queer Jew?? i hear you ask. You’re just projecting. Yes, 100%. However, I think that interpreting Stanley as both these things adds to the thematic richness of the text. Let’s start with the Jewish bit: it’s not explicitly stated that Stanley is Jewish, but his great-great grandfather is a nerd-boy Latvian immigrant with the last name Yelnats, and his great-grandfather was a stockbrocker, so, like, ya know. Louis Sachar is also himself Jewish, as was the director of the movie, who cast Jews in the roles of Stanley and his family (dyk Shia LaBeouf is Jewish?? i did not), so I know I’m not the only one interpreting it this way. And honestly, does it not resemble the book of exodus quite a bit? They escape what is pretty much a form of slavery and wander in the desert. Sploosh resembles the well of Miriam, and then they ascend up a mountain to the “thumb of god”, perhaps in a parallel to Moses receiving the commandments. Is this a useful way to look at the text? Who knows. But what I think we do get from reading Stanley as Jewish is a more nuanced discussion of privilege and solidarity. If Stanley and his ancestors are Jewish (or at least Jew-ish), then what placed the curse upon his family (and, we see, Madame Zeroni’s family isn’t doing so great either) is the breaking of solidarity between oppressed people. But also, the fact that you are also marginalized does not wash you of the responsibility to other marginalized groups. I don’t think Sachar intended it this way, because I think he probably would have talked about it more if he had, but I would say this book can be read as a call to the American Jewish community to take an active role in forging solidarity with other marginalized groups and actively righting the wrong you, your ancestors, and your community wrought upon them.

Now, why do I think Stanley and Zero are gay? Before I go into how it augments the text thematically, I bring to your attention this passage.

Two nights later, Stanley lay awake staring up at the star-filled sky. He was too happy to fall asleep.

He knew he had no reason to be happy. He had heard or read somewhere that right before a person freezes to death, he suddenly feels nice and warm. He wondered if perhaps he was experiencing something like that.

It occurred to him that he couldn't remember the last time he felt happiness. It wasn't just being sent to Camp Green Lake that had made his life miserable. Before that he'd been unhappy at school, where he had no friends, and bullies like Derrick Dunne picked on him. No one liked him, and the truth was, he didn't especially like himself.

He liked himself now.

He wondered if he was delirious. He looked over at Zero sleeping near him. Zero's face was lit in the starlight, and there was a flower petal in front of his nose that moved back and forth as he breathed. It reminded Stanley of something out of a cartoon. Zero breathed in, and the petal was drawn up, almost touching his nose. Zero breathed out, and the petal moved toward his chin. It stayed on Zero's face for an amazingly long time before fluttering off to the side.

Stanley considered placing it back in front of Zero's nose, but it wouldn't be the same.

Girl, I’m sorry, that’s gay as shit! It’s such tremendous tenderness, not to mention the traditionally romantic imagery of moonlight and the flower petal. There’s also the non-romantic aspects. Stanley’s inexplicable happiness and suddenly liking himself evokes, for me, at least, the experience of coming out to yourself, of realizing who you are. Later in this chapter, Stanley contemplates running away with Zero despite the fact that it would make them lifelong outlaws. This book, remember, was written in 1998, and homosexuality was decriminalized in 2003, and the book takes place in Texas. It would have been, if anything, even more evocative of gayness when it was published. Now as to how this increases the thematic richness of the text: obviously, in carrying Hector up to the thumb, giving him water, and singing the lullaby, he redeems the wrong done by his ancestor, after which his family’s luck immediately changed. However, after Hector and Zero return to camp Greenlake, rain falls there for the first time. What was redeemed here? Remember that earlier on we learn that what caused the drought was the fact that Sam the onion man (who was black) was murdered for kissing Kate Barlow (who was white) — so what would a [post-factum wronging of that right look like? Zero, as we remember, is black while Stanley is white, so them being in a romantic relationship would be a successful interracial relationship to redeem the one Kate and Sam weren’t able to have. It’s also, as I said earlier, implied that Stanley is descended from Kate Barlow on his mother’s side: Stanley remembers seeing the other half of the lipstick tube with her initials on it in his mother’s bedroom. I’d also argue that Sam the Onion Man is implied to be descended from Madame Zeroni (chronology-wise, I think he’d be her grandson). First of all, there’s no follow-up with Madame Zeroni’s son who moved to America, and pretty much all other plot threads are followed up with in Holes. Secondly, Sam mentions water running uphill, just like Madame Zeroni does. Even without these speculations being true, Stanley and Hector being gay would redeem the land they’re on, but If they are, the parallel with the other ancestral redemption arc becomes to much to imagine it was unintentional.

So anyway, those are my thoughts on Holes, now everyone go read it!

#was trying to express my dad that shia labeouf is jewish but couldn't remember how to pronounce his name #so i was like. dyk sheeya labeeoof is jewish? indiana jone's son. shaya labyof. Pap. Indiana Jone's son. you know who he is. Pap come on #when he figured out who he was he asked if harrison ford was also jewish #as a joke #and turns out he fucking is! his maternal grandparents are jews from minsk!#quoth my father: 'they're everywhere. nothing is sacred'#lololol #anyway this fucking booooook you guys

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sunnymusingsao3 · 3 years

Note

director's commentary: haunt me, then? :3c

Behind the Scenes: Fanfic Edition

Edit Post-Writing: Buckle up, friends, this got LONG (so sorry slkdjf)

So you, Crow, were there when we discussed the idea to haunt me, then, so I'll try and keep this about stuff that you may not have seen! However, before I do that, a quick tl;dr for those who did not see us hollering about this idea lol:

It happened right after we got the Rise of the Titans teaser trailer, back when we still knew so little about the movie itself. In the teaser, we saw Bellroc and their cool fire titan, and that spawned a whole myriad of ideas-- some earnest speculation, others just forming from the metaphorical playground because they were fun. One such idea that, if I remember correctly, was somewhere in between "wouldn't this hurt?" and "oh god what if it actually did happen?" was born, in order to explain why Skrael wasn't present in the teaser. Crow suggested the truly heartbreaking (compliment) idea that someone had to be sacrificed in order to raise the volcanic titan, and oh boy did that one gain legs.

So, moving on, I got permission from Crow to write this fic because the idea was just so good, and also because I was really in the mood to write something in the vein of horror, with romantic themes undercutting it. I was very enticed by the idea of monstrous love, and the different forms it can take, as well as the idea of loving someone so much that when it comes time to sacrifice them, you do it, because you know that not doing it would feel too much like coddling them. You have a mission that you both would lay down your lives for; to not allow your lover the chance to do so, when it is necessary, would feel like dishonor-- it would be an insult.

So this was the thesis of the fic, as it were; the central idea behind all of the themes and imagery that I wanted to explore.

Now on to some things that, to my memory, were not told to anyone as I was writing!

I toyed a LOT with the idea of Skrael figuring them out before they actually sacrificed him; I ended up landing on "he's suspicious, but doesn't stop them"

The reasons he has for not stopping them are: 1. It's his job 2. He was always prepared for the possibility that only one of them would end up making it to the new world 3. He wants to see if they did their research; was this an impulse decision, or are they really sure about this?

By the time they stop him from grabbing his staff, he is sure that it's not an impulse decision; that was his last reservation-- because if he can get his staff, he can fight back. But if they ensured that he couldn't even fight back, then it meant that they'd prepared for even the least likely outcome. It's not that he doesn't believe they know what they're doing, but it reassures him to know that they are taking extra measures to stay safe, and to make sure their plans come to fruition

In the final act, where they lean him over the volcano's lip, it's a much calmer version of what I'd initially had in mind, but I liked it better because the slow inevitability was more compelling to me. It felt like a natural progression. And if I wanted drama, it could come after, when the grief actually hits Bellroc, so there was less harm in delaying some of that higher emotion for a little bit later in the fic

The more dramatic version, however, was Skrael beginning to fall, and him grabbing their arm on instinct. It was a good image, the idea of him dangling openly, held only by a hand that he knows now is going to let go, but it also felt too much like Skrael didn't know what was happening beforehand, which didn't feel like the right character choice for him. He admits to being unfamiliar with the ritual they're about to perform, but the pieces rather start to add up, and he's always been good at reading Bellroc.

Speaking of that ritual, I imagined that he is less familiar with this one because it's one born of fire magic, and he just simply does not possess the necessary understanding of that magic to make it-- in his mind-- worth his while to read the spellbook it's in. He's surely dabbled in reading about fire magic a little, because it's smart to at least have some level of understanding when you live with a fire mage, but it's more like he was reading the Fire Magic 101 textbooks, while Bellroc was about to submit their PhD dissertation.

However, though he is less familiar with the ritual in the fic, I also like to think that he has a similar one in his own practice. He hasn't needed to use it, but he knows it, however distantly. I think it would involve a much, much slower death for his sacrifice, leaving them exposed to the ice and the elements, to slowly wear the person away. This would be why, if the Order were given the choice between Bellroc's ritual and his, Skrael would always push to be the sacrifice in theirs, because he does not think he could be steadfast enough to last the length of their death. With his death in theirs, he knows it would be quick, and they'd have little chance of changing their mind, but with them in his, he'd have to wait hours to days, and he just doesn't think he could subject them to that.

It's linked in the fic itself, so this is known, but the song that inspired this was The Horror of Our Love by Ludo. However, the other songs I primarily listened to for this were Eternally Yours by Motionless in White, Brutus by The Buttress, and a slowed version of Teeth by 5 Seconds of Summer (blood warning). These helped set the mood, and then in between them, I wrote to darker classical music playlists on Youtube!

The quote at the end was almost the one from Black Panther, between W'Kabi and Okoye: "Would you kill me, my love?" "For Wakanda? Without question."

I went with the Wuthering Heights one, however, because it felt more appropriate to Bellroc's grief, and since that grief was focused on less in the fic than the sacrifice parts, I wanted to highlight it a little more

This was also an idea I talked about with Crow, but I wanted to share it here, too, since idk if it'll ever gain proper legs, but I really like the idea of, after this, Bellroc becoming the new North Wind, as well as the Keeper of the Flame, because I don't think you can truly get rid of the North Wind. But, perhaps the "powers that be" (whether that's something sentient or not) see that they've only really got two options left for who they could make the new North Wind, and, well, Bellroc's got his staff already, and they're right there when he dies, so maybe they just kinda... pop that magic right in there

It's a very AU idea though lol, so I'm not sure if there's enough grounded basis for it

However, if I ever did write it, I also really like the alternate idea of... the best way I can describe it is Greeling in FMA:B? Body sharing, basically, and Skrael being a whisper in the back of their head. When they want the North Wind to "take over" as it were, they don't change their form or anything, but suddenly, they grow very, very cold, and they can no longer perform fire magic, but ice magic, instead

I just think it would be neat to see the North Wind and the Keeper of the Flame as one person, whether it's only one soul in the body, or two!

This is one of like, three fics I've considered making a podfic for!

I think that's about everything I can think of off the top of my head, but if there's anything else you or someone else would like to ask about, please feel free to come into the inbox again! <3

#answered asks #dreamcrow

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motherjoel · 4 years

Text

Leading Lady (Spencer Reid x Reader)

chapter five- multitude of realizations

wc: 3.2k

summary: you realize your true feelings for Spencer

a/n: hope yall like! this is one of my fav chapters haha

chapter index: chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4

As you walked back into your dressing room, you couldn’t help the smile on your face. Sure, there was a murderer after you, but this crush you had on Spencer was honestly just as exhilarating. You had come to terms with the fact that you had a crush on him when you were watching Gilmore Girls earlier on Netflix and he was making commentary on the characters and the books Rory was reading. When he spoke, you were more interested in what he had to say than in the actual show. Although the two of you had only known each other for a couple days, spending all of your time with him had bonded the two of you in a way you hadn’t experienced in months. Once inside the dressing room, you made small talk with your fellow cast members.

“So, Y/N, when are you and Matt gonna hook up? I’m getting bored, I need a showmance,” said Caroline, the actress who played Fantine.

“Ah, I’m sorry but the Y/N ship has sailed! I’m actually seeing someone now,” you said with a smile, the words feeling genuine.

“Oh my gosh. Spill!” yelled Caroline.

“Well, his name's Spencer,” you shyly told her and the gathering crowd of your female castmates. “He’s staying with me for a little bit while he’s in town, he’s actually here tonight!” you told them as they squealed.

“We have to be introduced!” Caroline shouted, and you laughed.

“Okay, okay! I’ll point him out to you during mic check but that's all until after rehearsal,” you said with a grin before sitting down at your mirror and beginning the makeup and hair process.

After finishing getting ready, you headed out to the stage for mic check. You waited for a couple minutes with the girls, pointing out Spencer for them to gawk at and whisper to each other while he was mindlessly focused on a thick book. As if he felt the prying eyes of your cast, he looked up and shot you a smile and an awkward wave before focusing back on his book. A few minutes later, Matt walked on stage, slightly out of breath and not in his costume. You could overhear him talking to your director, apologizing for his lateness. Once he noticed you he greeted you with a tight smile and walked over to you, the girls whispering on the other side of the stage, still pointing at Spencer.

“So, a boyfriend, huh? Didn’t think our Y/N could pull it off,” Matt said in a teasing way.

“Wow, news gets around here pretty fast,” you replied, looking up again to Spencer at the back of the auditorium to see he was already looking at you. He seemed a little off… you didn't want to assume he was jealous but you were talking to your cute costar so maybe he was just getting a little too deep into his role of boyfriend. Your exchange with Matt was brief, your director wanted to get the show started as soon as possible. Once John called for places, you snuck back around through the lobby to sit with Spencer. You sat down next to him and he greeted you with a smile.

“Hey Spence, sorry that took a little longer than expected, our Marius was a little late,” you explained. You noticed he didn’t reply- he was just looking at you with a goofy smile. “What?” you asked.

“O-oh I’m sorry, it's nothing,” he said, a blush creeping on his face. “It’s just, not many people call me Spence,” he confessed.

“Oh! I’m sorry, did you not want me to call you that? It’s okay I can jus-” he cut you off.

“No! No, it's really fine. I… like it,” he said, looking down and twiddling his thumbs. As the pit orchestra began to play the opening number you settled into your seat with a smile on your face. The two of you watched the first couple songs, Spence occasionally whispering facts about the history of France in your ear and each time he did you smiled and nodded, occasionally asking questions but mostly just basking in the moment. You noticed that you had to go on soon so you excused yourself and ran into the lobby to head back to your dressing room.

Once you got inside you rushed to make sure you were ready to go on. As you frantically checked your makeup and looked for props, Caroline, who’s character had already died, started to talk to you.

“Girl, that boy is in love with you already,” she said, focused on the bag of chips in her lap. This made you stop everything you were doing.

“Im sorry. What?” you asked, not sure if you were hearing her right.

“I said what I said! Let me tell you, while I was trying to die on stage, I kept getting distracted by the two of you being all cute back there! The way he looks at you… i’ll just say, if someone looked at me like that, I wouldn’t let them go,” she said nonchalantly. Obviously she didn’t know that Spencer sharing your feelings was news to you. You couldn’t deny the chemistry, but you thought you were just imagining his lingering glances and soft smiles. It excited you as much as discouraged you, though. Falling for one of the FBI agents in charge of your case just wasn't right! And if he were to reciprocate those feelings, he could get in trouble at work and that was the last thing you wanted. You didn’t have much time to dwell on this, however, because you were about to go on stage.

As you acted and sang your heart out, you kept taking glances to see Spencer’s smiling face in the back of the auditorium. As your biggest song, On My Own was coming up, your nerves picked up a little bit- it was your moment alone on the stage and you couldn’t help it. As the opening notes began to play, you took a deep breath and sang.

And now I'm all alone again

Nowhere to go, no one to turn to

Without a home, without a friend

Without a face to say hello to

And now the night is near

and now I can make-believe he's here

You always resonated with these lyrics. You often felt very alone and it was difficult for you to open up to others. That was, until Spencer came along.

On my own, pretending he's beside me

All alone, I walk with him 'til morning

Without him, I feel his arms around me

And when I lose my way I close my eyes and he has found me

When you and Logan, your ex that you used to live with, broke up, you felt really hopeless. You tried not to let a man decide your happiness, but the two of you were long term and he had helped you through your father's passing. When he moved out, every waking moment was spent missing him.

And I know, it's only in my mind

That I'm talking to myself, and not to him

And although, I know that he is blind

Still I say there's a way for us

There was no way that someone like Spencer liked you. You didn’t feel worthy of it. You didn’t think you deserved to be loved, much less even liked, but even you couldn’t deny that there was chemistry

I love him, but when the night is over

He is gone, the river's just a river

Without him, the world around me changes

The trees are bare and everywhere the streets are full of strangers

That feeling of comfort that you had grown accustomed to around Logan returned when Spencer started to sleep on your couch. You didn’t believe in love at first sight, but this wasn’t that. It was an opportunity for a deep connection, something that you wanted to build on. Not some cringey story about mommy and daddy meeting eyes across the room and falling right then and there. Sure, Spencer was pretty much just your type looks-wise, but when you talked to him you just appreciated him as a person.

I love him, but every day I'm learning

All my life, I've only been pretending

Without me, his world will go on turning

The world is full of happiness that I have never known

You were over Logan. You didn’t realize until now that you had been sulking the past few months because of him, but there was a new light in your life. As you began to sing the last few lines, you made direct eye contact with Spencer, tears brimming in your eyes. These tears were real, caused by a multitude of realizations.

I love him

But only on my own

Shit. You really liked him.

After what felt like years, you had changed back into your clothes and took off your makeup, anxious to see Spencer and to hear his opinion on the show. You were trying to slyly sneak out of the dressing room before Caroline grabbed your shoulder and whipped you around. You sighed, knowing what was about to happen.

“You’re not getting off this easy! You said I could meet your new beau and I'm not leaving until I do!” she said with a smirk. You sighed, anxious at this being the first time you and Spencer really have to put on an act as “lovers”.

“Fine fine, just come on,” you sighed, leading her to the lobby where Spencer was waiting with his book in his hand, facing the opposite direction and talking to someone. Talking to… Matt. Oh jeez. You picked up your pace so you could greet Spencer, tapping him on the shoulder. He whipped around and when he saw you, his face broke into a joyful smile.

“Hey! You were amazing!” he exclaimed as he pulled you into a hug, genuinely excited. This surprised you but it didn’t take long to melt into it. Matt cleared his throat next to you and you let Spence go with a blush.

“Sorry. Spencer, this is Caroline. She plays Fantine,” you introduced the two. Spencer waved hello, not making a move to shake her hand. You wondered why, but you ignored it.

“You were really great too!” he told her.

“Thank you! So, this is the famous Spencer, huh? Y/N was telling us all of the hot goss about you two,” she said with a smirk.

“Hot goss?” Spencer said with an inquisitive look, you elbowed Caroline in the ribs.

“Uh, anyways we should get going,” you said, trying to usher Spencer out the door.

“Hey hey hey, not so fast!” said Matt, you cursed at him under your breath. “Our Y/N finally gets a boyfriend and we don’t even get to see them kiss?” he asks, a bit of a harsh edge to his voice. You didn’t think he was mad or jealous at first but this behavior was a little weird.

“Now why do we need to do that?” you asked with a harsh tone, Spencer tensing up beside you. You felt bad that he was in this position.

“I mean.... I kinda wanna see it too…” said Caroline, you elbowed her again. Spencer leaned down next to your ear.

“Y/N, it's okay. Kissing is actually safer than giving someone a handshake, the amount of pathogens that pass is staggering,” he whispered. This spouting of facts only made you want to kiss him more, but you really didn’t want to make him feel weird.

You sighed and turned to face Spencer, placing a hand on his cheek as he leaned down. You felt really guilty, you couldn’t believe that your first kiss with Spencer wasn’t even real or voluntary, but you didn’t want to seem suspicious. He closed the final inches between you two and you both shut your eyes, savoring the few moments your lips were together. He melted under your touch and it seemed like the world stopped spinning for a few seconds. You pulled away and looked him in the eyes, a soft smile on his lips as he straightened out. You had a goofy smile too before realizing your anger for the two dummies next to you.

“Happy?” you asked them harshly before grabbing his hand and leading him into the cool outdoors. No matter the temperature outside, your face was burning.

“I am soooo sorry, they're so annoying and i jus-,” you begin to profusely apologize before he cuts you off.

“Y/N, it's okay! R-really. I knew that pretending to be your boyfriend might lead to something like this,” he reassured you, slightly nervously. You sighed in relief and the two of you silently began your walk home, both trying to hide the smiles creeping on your faces.

You unlocked your door while laughing at a joke Spencer was telling about existentialists and lightbulbs. Honestly, it kinda went over your head but his pure joy after telling the punchline was enough to make you smile.

“Thanks,” he said, looking down. You were confused.

“For what?” you said, still smiling at his joke.

“For laughing at my joke. The last time I told it, all I got was silence and looks of confusion,” he said, embarrassed. “B-but, if it makes you laugh, I know it's good,” he said, more quietly. Your heart could burst.

“Well, no problem. And, hey, if this whole FBI thing doesn’t work out, at least you know you have a career in comedy!” you joked, and he laughed, accidentally knocking your script off the table. The two of you bent down to get it at the same time, hands brushing. You apologized to each other and laughed it off, before Spencer just grabbed it. You both stood up as he placed it on the table. You stood in silence for a minute, both contemplating that moment, but it didn’t last for long once you heard the familiar sound of Spencer’s phone ringing.

“What's going on Morgan?” he asked after picking up his phone. As he listened to Morgan talk, you could tell that he wasn’t saying ‘Great news Reid! We caught the crazy guy! Now go sweep Y/N off her feet!.’ In fact, as Spencer’s face fell, you could tell it was the exact opposite. He hung up the phone and began pacing around your small apartment.

“What is it, what's going on?” you asked, panic rising as you followed his pacing.

“There's been another victim. I need to get down to the station, it's pretty late so I can try to get someone to stay here with you, let me just ca-” you cut him off.

“I don’t mind coming with you to the station, I might be able to help,” you offered, already grabbing your purse.

“Are you sure? We might be there for a while,” he warned.

“As long as you guys have a coffee machine, i'll be golden,” you smiled, despite the situation. He nodded and grabbed his messenger bag filled with files and stormed out the door, you followed him down to the car. Wordlessly, he hopped into the driver's seat, you in the passengers and the two of you sped off to the station.

You entered the station and were greeted with the expected hustle and bustle. You were glad for some familiar faces, though. Morgan walked over to greet you two, looking surprised but glad to see that you had come along too.

“Hey guys. Good to see you, Y/N,” Morgan said, resting a hand on your shoulder. You felt Spence stiffen besides you, but you brushed it off. “Reid, Hotch needs you to look at some crime scene photos with him and Prentiss. Y/N, would it be okay if you talked with JJ and Garcia on video chat in the break room? She’s gonna do some background checks on anybody you came into contact with recently. We’ve looked at everything, we’re willing to do anything at this point,” he said, seemingly desperate.

“Of course, anything to help,” you smiled, waving goodbye to Spencer before heading to the break room where JJ was talking with Garcia already on video chat.

“Well there's our favorite thespian!” said Garcia through the screen, you could hear her smile.

“Hey Pen,” you laughed and sat down across from JJ.

“How was your rehearsal?” JJ asked. You couldn’t help but smile, thinking about your “exchange” with Spencer.

“It was… good. Really good,” you told them, honestly.

“Hmmm.., it seems like there's something you're not telling us,” hinted Penelope. It was incredible how these people could so easily read you already, and Pen wasn’t even a profiler. You had felt immediately connected to them, though, so you didn’t mind it.

“Ugh, okay. Don’t freak out, or at least let me explain before you freak out, but… Spence and I… kissed,” you confessed. JJ looked shocked, Garcia was already begging for details.

“Listen! It was because of the cover we have going, I told my castmates that he was my boyfriend and this one guy basically demanded that we kiss and I didn’t wanna seem suspicious, so…” you trailed off. JJ’s surprised face morphed into a big smile.

“Um, okay! First of all, kinda icky that that guy forced you to kiss, but besides that… how was it?!” Garcia asked, with even more energy if possible.

“I don’t know! It was… just for the cover. But, it was nice,” you blushed and the girls squealed. You continued, “I don’t know, Spencer’s just really great and I've only known him a couple days. I felt bad that he had to kiss me,” you confessed, still feeling a little guilty.

“I’m sure he didn’t mind the kiss from a pretty girl, especially if it was you,” said JJ.

“What do you mean, especially if it was me?” you asked, and JJ looked like she didn’t mean to say that.

“Ugh, okay I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I have a feeling Spence is crushing on you,” JJ told you, your mouth was agape.

“Y/N how could he not! You’re gorg, talented, and a damsel in distress! I mean you're a strong independent woman who doesn’t need a man, but guys go nuts for that savior stuff,” Garcia explained and you laughed.

“I guess that's good,” you said, your smile faltering slightly. “It’s not like we can really do anything about it, though. I mean, wouldn’t he get in trouble or something?” you asked.

“Maybe, but we’re always rooting for his happiness, and you might be it. We wouldn’t want to get in the way of that,” JJ said, sweetly. You had to take a minute to process this. Once you had, you decided to move on to the background checks, forgoing the gossip for now.

The background checks had taken a couple hours, especially because of the occasional gossip break, but everyone you mentioned seemed to be clean. Exhausted, you found an empty desk and curled up onto the chair, resting your head in your arms on the desk. You were drifting off to sleep, almost unconscious when you felt the warmth of a sweater on your back and a kiss on your head.

taglist: @mcntsee, @diesinspanishbcimhispanic, @chickens-are-life, @rexorangecouny, @ceeellewrites

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid angst #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds reid #criminal minds spencer reid #derek morgan #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #hotch #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau

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l8rhader · 3 years

Note

DIRECTOR'S COMMENTARY ON: Your favorite pop culture reference in any of your works you don't think anyone got?

Ooooh I love this question! I have a couple, though.

Instead, Richie found himself staring at the TV until Saturday Night Live came on. Knowing that the pretty blonde girl from ...Married With Children was hosting, he’d left it on, hoping for anything to take his mind off of everything else. As he drifted off, to the soft jazz sounds of the goodnights, he had a very strange but pleasant dream of himself and Eddie packing it all in and moving through the country in a van. Weird.

Sometimes, I put pop culture references in to use as a specific timestamp for my fics. So, this one, specifically, dates this moment in the fic as May 8, 1993. It's helpful because it does give you a good benchmark for the passage of time. [You Can Change Right Next To Me, Chapter 8]

ALSO, because I do write a lot of aus, especially movie/music inspired crossovers, sometimes, I'll have them mention going to a movie or whatever and use it as a plot device because it's like, you know what, my mental health cannot have me coming up with a whole ass My Girl AU because "He can't see without his glasses on! Put his glasses on!" but you know what I can do? Work it in as an innocent first date for them and have them come out of the movie theatre like what the fuck that's not a funny movie!!

“He was allergic to bees,” the dad answered. And chocolate. And cashews. And cats. And ragweed. And soy. And Penicillin. The mental list in Richie’s mind started to roll and he shook it away. It was just a movie. Just a movie. The little boy wasn't Eddie, despite the slight similarities and his own panic.

The little girl’s brow furrowed. “He’s okay, isn’t he?”

Eddie pressed his face into Richie’s chest. He couldn’t watch. “There were just too many of them.” Eddie was nearly killed. In the back of his mind, Richie was sucked back to the summer of 1989, the rotten, crumbling floorboards of that fucking house on Neibolt street beneath him, trying his best to get Eddie out. If he couldn’t get him out, he was going down fighting because if Eddie wasn’t leaving that house alive, neither was Richie. He’d begged for Eddie to look at him because he couldn’t imagine the last thing Eddie saw being Pennywise. He wouldn’t let that happen. Fighting with Bill on the street that day felt like the one thing that had to happen. It had to. He was so scared and he couldn’t take it out on the clown. Bill was the next best thing. Bill had dragged them down there. They were all there for him. He couldn’t imagine what he would have done if Eddie had died that day. He didn’t want to think about it. Instead, he dug his fingertips into Eddie’s shirt, pulling him as tightly to him as he could manage.

They were both too wrapped up in the movie now to go back to ignoring it. Eddie’s tears left wet marks on Richie’s shirt where his cheek was pressed to his chest. Richie had kicked up the armrest on Eddie’s other side so they could lay like they were on one of their couches. As the little boy’s funeral came around, Richie shifted, looking for the little girl. When she slowly started to make her way down the stairs to the parlor, Eddie whimpered.

“Wanna go tree climbing, Thomas J?” she asked, nearly climbing into the coffin with her best friend. “His face hurts! And where are his glasses? Put his glasses on!” She dissolved into sobs, leaving both of the young men in hysterics. Richie laced his hands into the back of Eddie’s shirt and tried not to insert himself into the movie. “He can’t see without his glasses.” Eddie, on the other hand, was succinctly wrecked. He hadn’t quite had the immediate fear of Richie’s death put into his head, but he still knew just how close they’d come to this being one of them, what felt like a lifetime ago.

And things like that are some of my favorite ways to work in a pop culture reference because it's a good way of using something familiar to hammer home an emotion without having them have a really heavyhanded conversation. A conversation about those fears that have been there so long would have probably come out like an afternoon special if they'd had that conversation. Plus, at 15/16ish, neither of them would have been having that conversation unprompted, but when, later, they're talking about why they were crying so hard, you have that "He was allergic to bees" to call back to and realize that Richie knows all of Eddie's allergies by heart and the near-death experience of your childhood best friend and if you know My Girl, you have that second layer of emotion to guide where the pain is coming from. [Feeling Like I've Missed You All This Time, Chapter 4]

But, sometimes, it's just something offhand that I sit there and smile like an idiot when I write because it's just so perfect. like the comment about Richie being disappointed that he couldn't make jokes about Lance Bass's Ass being out of this world.

Eddie was quiet for a moment. He thought it over, knowing that Richie meant it. “But wasn’t one of them going to be an astronaut? He had to be-”

Nodding evenly, Richie answered, “Yeah. I was disappointed I wasn’t going to get to mention that his ass was out of this world. Not that I had anyone to talk to about it.” It was a quiet, lonely thought. But Richie didn’t much care. It didn’t matter anymore.

“Rich-”

Especially in that context, it's a little more like an in-joke with myself because I WAS the boyband girl when I was younger, but like... This one clicked so well when I was writing it, I felt like I just had to stop and pat myself on the back for the setting. Like, even Repression Era Richie had some Real Richie in him and like, I think that specific joke is something that is just... It's so telling that that's like 100% something he'd have said to Eddie at 15 for sitting on a rocket popsicle, or at 40 because Newly Out Eddie is getting adventurous and got a pair of underwear that has all of the planets on and Richie would not have been Richie if his boyfriend was going to /space/ and he didn't make at least one joke like that, but he didn't have anyone to make that joke to. That wasn't his world. And that's why it would never have worked, no matter how self-conscious Eddie gets about it because like... Richie may have loved Lance (or something) but Eddie is Eddie. I think, sometimes, it's fun to have a useful way to highlight that contrast, especially with a character like Richie. [Show Our Dedication]

To be honest, one of the reasons I think I love writing for It more than any other fandom I've been in is because I get to flex those nostalgia muscles that are all things that have been living in my head since I was way too young to be watching TRL and E!, you know? Like, I'm a little younger than the Losers, but my siblings are all right around the same age so, if any of you have older siblings, you know about the trickle-down pop culture knowledge, the ambient stuff that you know you're too young to remember but you DO and then you think about it and it's like oh... yeah. That's because my brother used to watch that, so even though I wasn't "watching" it was on in the background. Or, yeah, I'm a little young for this to be my specific memory of this videogame, but we were broke so my sister's old genesis was the one console i had until i got a used ps2 years and years after it was relevant. Like, I'm the baby in my generation of the family, plus, my parents are on the older side, so I have a lot of weird knowledge and memories that it's like "well why did you see the first scream movie in theatres. ditto to titanic." "because my sister that lived with us the longest was born in 1980, so my mom took her and i was just kind of... there."

Plus, I'm just generally fascinated by pop culture and it's effect on people and the times, so i tend to try to diffuse that into my writing because i want people to have that kind of visceral response to my writing, where it all feels very rounded and homey.

#reddie #stephen king's it #it 2017 #it 2019 #you can change right next to me #feeling like i've missed you all this time #notalone91 #show our dedication

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buckstaposition · 4 years

Text

I cling to your lips like gloss (2)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie (in case u wanna come say hello on main but no pressure)

rating/warnings: swearing, mentions of character death, some mentions of sexual situations but nothing explicit, spoilers for season 2 (should probably have tagged ch1 for this too oops)

words: 6607, no regrets

summary: it’s not a date if it’s for work

Author’s note: There is so much research that went into this I would just like to say thank you internet for letting me look up stuff from the comfort of my own home at unholy hours even though I did get very distracted while looking up late 80s wedding dress fashion. Also bless the s2 dvd extra which was a director’s commentary on s2 ep10 and very informative.

—

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries @fromthedeskoftheraven @shikin83

(message me if you want to be added to the list. or just message me in general)

and also I urge you to look at the beautiful moodboard that @huliabitch made for me! I love it so much!

Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1 - The Informant

Chapter 2 - A Wedding and Four Funerals

"All the best from Mr DEA." Diana said as she threw herself down in the seat across from her best friend. Gabriela looked effortlessly glamourous as usual, even though she was just in a blouse and jeans. She just had that air about her, like one of the vintage movie stars, something Diana had never quite been able to match. She was well aware she was downright frumpy in comparison, not one to catch eyes just by walking past. For the most part, that suited her. Gabi tried to seem nonchalant about the greeting.

"Oh?" She sipped gingerly from her drink and put her menu away. "You finally met, then? He's back?"

Diana nodded and stowed away her purse and cardigan. "Yeah, this afternoon and yesterday, in the morning. He seems... nice enough? I don't know. Not a talker, is he? He seems a bit on edge, to be honest. Though I suppose that's to be expected." But despite everything, he still has kindness in his eyes.

Gabi just grinned at her for a long moment, waiting to pounce.

"Yeah, he can be a bit of a grump. ...Handsome though, no?"

Diana sighed, swatting at the other woman with her own menu. "Did it ever occur to you that the newly divorced woman might have had her fill of men for the time being?"

"It has occcurred to me that five years of unchanging, uninspired missionary for half an hour exactly, twice a week, with that wet blanket you married might have left you with the need to really be filled by a man for once."

"Gabriela!" she gasped, choking on thin air and mortification, even though their conversations would often get way more explicit than this. Just never with her being the subject. Gabriela just smiles like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, hailing a waiter to give him their order.

"Speaking of newly divorced: has the dipshit finally signed the papers then?" Diana groaned, throwing her glasses down onto the table to massage her temples.

"No, he's dragging his feet. Which is ridiculous, it's not like I want anything from him. It's not like we're fighting tooth and nail over every other thing, like that American movie, the one we watched on your mom's old VHS player, you know? With Meryl Streep? In any case, now he decides to fight? If you can call that fighting."

"Kramer vs Kramer." Gabi remarked sagely. "Yeah... At least you don't have children together. That could really have gone ugly. I still don't know what you ever saw in that man."

"Oh shut it. I used to be fond of Juan Mateo; I don't know when that changed." Diana huffed, quickly snatching up her glasses when the waiter sailed over with their drinks and appetizer.

"Well that's the problem, you never loved him! And your parents set too good an example; what could ever live up to that?" She took a generous drag from her drink, then dug into the food with hungry abandon. "At least you're finally rid of his snoring. And his mother."

"God, she really hated me. Couldn't bear it that her precious boy brought some lowly scum from the comunas into her pristine middle class home. Marrying me might have just been the only demonstration of free will that man has ever managed." Diana allowed herself to seethe a bit at the memory, taking it out on her food as she stabbed at it roughly. "And I will definitely not miss the snoring."

"Mr DEA barely snores." Gabriela remarked lightly. "Just ...very softly. It's quite cute."

"Since when do you let clients stay to actually sleep?" Diana inquired around a mouthful, brows scrunched. Gabriela hummed thoughtfully, swiping some sauce off her plate with a piece of bread.

"Ah, but he was so tired, poor thing. It wouldn't have been safe to send him back out, he would have crashed his car and died in a ditch somewhere, which would have been a real shame. I just let him nap for an hour or so that one time. Besides, I wasn't in any state to do much myself after he blew my back out." She had a way of being so nonchalant about these things that Diana supposed came from a sort of professional equanimity. Diana possessed no such poise and gawked openly, the wheels turning in her head as she recalled previous conversations and connected dots.

"Oh." She breathed as realization hit. "Oh! No! That was him? You're kidding me. How am supposed to look him in the eye now?" Gabi was already cackling, barely able to hold her laughter as Diana sputtered, recalling the very detailed recounting she'd received after the night in question. "You said you felt that for days after!"

"I did, but it was worth it." Gabi was now subtly holding her sides, having pushed her empty plate away to be collected. "You see, you're my dearest and oldest friend and I only want the best for you."

"I'm sure Mr DEA would be delighted to know of your crude attempts to pimp him out." Diana snarked, pushing her own plate to the side just in time to be whisked away by the waiter. "You're incorrigible. This is serious. Besides, I think he really liked you, actually."

"He liked the illusion of intimacy, like most of my clients. Lonely but with committment issues to the moon and back. It's not like I'm telling you to marry him. I'm just trying to get you properly laid for once." Gabriela scoffed. She could be so detached sometimes. In fact, one could call it downright cynical. But Diana had known her since they were both in pigtails and could detect the care behind even the most jaded words.

"Oh whatever. I request a change of topic. How's your book coming along? Any progress on that chapter that's been giving you so much trouble?" Diana asked sweetly, making the other woman glare at her over the plates with their main courses as they were being set down. Because yes, Gabriela does indeed write more than letters, and she's good, too. Also, two can play this game of being just slightly mean.

--- --- ---

Javier hated team meetings. And now that he was the boss here he couldn't even get out of them. Worse, he had to lead them. He looked over the assembled agents, glad that he had most of their names down by now. Gladder still that this was a DEA-only event and he wouldn't have to deal with any of Stechner's CIA asswads for now.

"Duffy, where are we on the shipments?" He turned to the other man expectantly. Duffy was one of the few agents here that weren't younger than him; he actually had some experience under his belt, unlike all these fucking greenhorns the higher-ups had sent him. He forced himself to pay attention to Agent Duffy's answer, making notes of important dates as he listened. Operation Cornerstone had, at this point, not yet come to full fruition, but if they continued to put in their due dilligence it was almost certain to turn up something useful. When they'd gone through all the points on his agenda, and after clearing up a few uncertainties, he dismissed the roomful of agents.

"Duffy, got another moment?" Javier stopped the other agent as he turned to leave the conference room.

"Sir?" Duffy sat back down and pulled his writing pad back out.

"Have you come up with any ideas for my informant in Calí?" Javier had mentioned this before, seeing as Duffy was one of the agents permanently stationed at the Calí field office. Now that Escobar was gone it would look suspicious if the head of the DEA in the country trekked up to Medellín every other week, and they needed a better way for Miss Rivas to hand over her collected intel. Duffy cleared his throat and caught the eye of one of his colleagues and waved him over.

"Lopez here has had a few ideas, sir. Tony, tell the boss your ideas for drop-offs."

The other agent was younger, handsome in that pretty way that made girls sigh dreamily, going by his own, admittedly remote, memory of high school and college. Lopez hadn't said much during the meeting, but had that eager glint in his eyes that said he wanted to prove himself. Javier had had that same look when he first came down here; it hadn't survived the first year.

"Let's hear it."

"Okay, so I was thinking the public library might be worth a shot." Agent Lopez pulled a notepad from his own case, squinting down at the scrawled chickenscratch. Javier nodded along, encouraging more than praise. He'd have to run these ideas by Miss Rivas anyway, and if she had concerns they were back at square one. But that was a river he intended to cross when the time came and not a second earlier.

--- --- ---

The satphone was also a good instinct because after their preliminary meetings in April, it gets irritatingly difficult to arrange another one for over a month.

"The what now?"

"The 4th International Poetry Festival. It's on from June 2nd to 8th." she explained patiently. "Orietta Lozano, Gloria Gervitz, Blanca Varela!"

"I assume those are poets."

"Obviously."

"You want me to go to a poetry festival with you?"

"No, I'm taking the week off and I'm going to the festival, and I am also free to meet you. I'm just suggesting that maybe your work hours don't all have to be spent in dreariness and drudgery." Something sizzled on the other end of the line where she was making herself dinner while talking to him, and it made Javier's stomach grumble. "A bit of culture is good for the soul, Agent Peña. You'll burn yourself out with how much you work. When was the last time you ever did anything for fun? Read a book? Hell, listened to music?"

Whenever you call me. She always had music on at home. It drifted through the receiver, a soothing background hum that was too soft to truly make out most times. Add to that the fact that he was still sitting in his office at almost half past seven in the evening, and he didn't have a proper counter-argument.

"Alright, fine. 2nd to 8th, I'll see what I can do."

--- --- ---

She was wearing another belted shirt dress, this one pale yellow and sleeveless, the full skirt reaching to just below the knees. It reminded Javier of the style his mother used to wear when he was little. Saturday, June 4th, had him meet up with Miss Rivas at the Teatro Metropolitano in central Medellín. Her dress contrasted against the blocky red building in a way that tugged familiar, but Javier was trying to train himself to not see blood in every instance of red.

"This is quite a way from Envigado." He announced his approach as soon as he was close enough to not have to shout. She jumped a bit, clearly startled, but her lips pulled into a polite smile when she recognized him.

"Agent Peña." She greeted. "No, cultural grandeur doesn't usually make it out to the comunas." She sat back down on the bench and pulled a flyer from her (rather big) purse, thumbing it pensively. Javier sat beside her, not quite at arms' length. Trying to appear wordlessly inviting, if only to mask how at a loss for words she made him feel. He seemed to be no longer used to normal, civil human interaction.

"Right, there is one reading here at the Metropol that starts in about half an hour that I think you might like. It has a few of the international poets; a few of them will be reading in English. Then there's another one later at the Teatro Carlos Vieco that I'm keen on. It's about half an hour on foot between locations, but there's the open air exhibits that only require a small detour." She pointed it all out on the program as she spoke, Javier silently nodding along in acknowledgement. "I've planned it so there's more than enough time for a lunch break. I hate having to rush through things that are meant to be enjoyed. I brought arepas, but there are usually enough street vendors out and about to get something else, if you prefer." She really did talk a lot. That was surprisingly fine by Javier, since it meant he didn't have to. "Though of course if you'd rather just get your intel and go I understand, but I must insist on at least this first reading, Agent Peña. But otherwise I wouldn't want to impose. I'm sure you have other things to do."

His lips twitched involuntarily and he held his hand out for the program flyer, silently reading it over. None of the names rung any kind of bell. Not that he was much of a poetry aficionado. "Sounds good to me."

She blinked. "Which part?"

He handed her back the flyer, which she took automatically, still eyeing him with uncertainty.

"All of it." She blinked again, looking mildly shocked, the flyer still dangling uselessly from her fingers. "Miss Rivas, I came all the way here and you went through all this trouble planning. It would be a waste to part ways after so short a time."

Truth be told it sounded ...nice. The thought of spending a day just exploring, letting work be work for even just a day (or at least part of it). Despite being an only child, he'd never liked being on his own even when he was young, cherishing every day spent with school friends or any of his numerous cousins. And it wasn't like he'd had to do far less pleasant things for information.

Her expression morphed from uncertain gaping into a wide, pleased smile that he couldn't help but mirror. Maybe she was quite a nice lady after all.

---

"...I have to ask though: What's a ...smit- ...smee-dereen?"

"Smithereens." Javier corrected gently as they exited the venue after the reading. "It means... it's all the small pieces that are left over when something is destroyed. Like with a bomb."

"Hmm," she hummed, pensive as they strolled along with the leisurely flow of the crowd, "I'll have to think a bit more about this." She fished around in her purse, producing bottled water and offering him one. He took it gratefully, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. "How did you like it, Agent Peña? Already regretting agreeing to this?"

"No." Javier found himself replying perhaps a smidgeon too quickly. "No, it's very uh... enriching." And not what he'd expected at all. Though the festival was now in its fourth year running, he'd never had the chance or the wish, really, to attend it before. He'd barely taken note of its existence, too preoccupied with chasing down leads.

"Hm, you don't have to mollify me, Agent Peña. You'll still get your intel, don't worry." Her expression slipped, from an almost serene smile back into that underlying heaviness that he could identify only now that it had been lifted for a short while.

"Miss Rivas," he said earnestly, "I wouldn't lie to you. I'm just not that good with words. That's why I'm a government agent and not a poet."

That at least made her chuckle a bit. And it was true, too. He felt lighter, in a way, like his mind had been craving a break from the frustrating work of trying to find an in to take down the cartel. Even his shoulders felt less tense here. And it was a beautiful day, too. Warm but not too hot, sunny with a mild breeze. People were out and about around them, festival goers and other citizens alike, mingling freely with a carelessness that would have been unthinkable only a year prior.

"Juan Mateo never wanted to come with me to this." She gestured vaguely at the city and its people around them. "My husband. Ex-husband. Technically still husband because he won't sign the divorce papers." Her features turned tense as she explained, a slight frown appearing between her brows. "Not that it matters now, of course. But goodness, that man had no sense for these things. He thought top shelf coffee was the height of culture. He'd act like going out to a bar one evening every few weeks was a chore beyond compare. Such a martyr!" She huffed and Javier laughed softly, offering to take her bag for a while as she adjusted it on her shoulder for the third time now.

"No, that's alright. It's not heavy. This way." Her hand naturally slipped into the crook of his elbow to steer him down the side of the road and Javier faltered for a moment, cursing himself for wearing a short-sleeved shirt even though it was comfortably warm. He just didn't want to get separated in the bustle of activity, he reasoned. This was a perfectly tame and non-offensive gesture and it would be rude to flinch away, he reasoned. She initiated it, after all. No harm no foul. This was still a professional alliance.

"You think very loudly, Agent Peña." She remarked, lightly squeezing his elbow. "It better not be about work."

"Technically I am at work right now." He countered, covering her hand on his arm with his much larger one and giving it an awkward pat.

"Lucky you." She teased, lightly nudging his side with her elbow.

"Beats paperwork, that's for sure."

They ambled along, weaving through the crowds where they gathered in front of street performers and makeshift stages. Javier couldn't deny that it felt good to feel the sun on his skin, un-recycled air in his lungs; most of all being far away from Stechner and his legion of CIA goons was almost rejuvenating. They fell into a languid rhythm, walking leisurely and stopping every so often to linger a bit where music was being played or more poetry recited, in front of the stalls of local artisans or to look at the sculptures that had been put up as an open air exhibit throughout the city. Every so often, Miss Rivas would tell him some little anecdote, be it about any of the previous festivals or just the city itself. He barely felt the time pass.

By the time they'd made it across the river and to the park wherein the open-air theatre was situated, it was time for a late lunch and Javier felt his stomach start to protest, all that walking serving to work up an appetite.

"...and after school Gabi and I would trek across town to the library and hide by the shelves in the back, the ones with the old classics, and we'd read all the scandalous 19th-century novels about adulteresses and other fallen women. You know, Anna Karenina, Thérèse Raquin, Madame Bovary, Tess of the d'Urbervilles..." Miss Rivas set her bag down and produced a fairly big plastic container from within, setting it on the bench between them. "Perhaps not the most appropriate fare for a couple of fifteen-year-old girls, but it wasn't like we had a whole lot of supervision, you know? It definitely wasn't appropriate to read to a five-year-old, so I guess it's good that Maritza never really paid attention much- Stop my prattling any time, Agent Peña. I know I talk too much; Juan Mateo always used to say so."

Javier paused, an abundantly filled arepa inches from his mouth. "He what now?"

She flushed, looking down and picking at the wrapping paper she'd bundled the food up in. "It's fine, it's not a big deal, really."

"It's not fine." Javier insisted. Told her to shut up, told his own wife that she talked to much! What an ass. He started tearing into the arepa with a glower. They sat in silence for a while, chewing tensely in this little corner of the park at the foot of Cerro Nutibara, in a spot that was fairly hidden among the greenery while still affording a decent view of the city streets below. Javier didn't even know why it irked him so much. There were worse things out there than insensitive husbands. Ex-husbands at that. Still, he seethed quietly in his righteous wrath.

"Wanna see something funny?" She was already digging through her purse, so he didn't see much sense in replying. She pulled a photo from some deep compartment in her wallet, looking down at it thoughtfully for a moment before passing it to him. In his defence, Javier hadn't meant to laugh. It just came out, snorty and half-aborted.

"Hey, at least I managed to evade the poofy sleeves, okay? My mother was dead set on them. She wanted me to look like the English lady… uh, Princess Diana. I think she might have taken the name as a sign."

"That's a.. that's a lot of satin." And tulle. Javier pressed out, still suppressing his laughter and barely succeeding. He could have pointed out that the mass of ruffles negated any absence of actual puff sleeves, but thought it better to refrain. And it wasn't like she hadn't looked beautiful as a bride, it was more that in that ruffled satin-and-tulle concoction she looked like an unwilling dress-up doll, despite the tasteful off-the-shoulder cut and flattering waistline. It was just... there were a lot of ruffles. There was a lot of dress, period. Paired with an expression that was better suited to a funeral, the effect was almost morbidly comedic.

"Wait till I show you the cake; we were basically identical." It was the dryness of her tone that set him off. There was no suppressing it now, Javier was bellowing, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. It didn't help that the dress fashion hadn't really strayed very far from the 'bigger and more style' in the years since. All things considered, this was a comparatively simple gown, lacking the mass of sparkly appliqués and abundance of bows and flowers that had been popular in the latter years of the previous decade. It just wasn't a style that suited her personality in any way, at all. Her slender figure was absolutely drowned in the sheer volume of the skirt alone. Hell, it completely overshadowed the already forgettable man standing by her side in the photo. Though 'by her side' was a generous descriptor. There was definitely enough space for the Holy Spirit and then some between the couple.

"My mother spent ages on that damn dress. Her hands looked like pincushions by the time she was done; that's why she wore gloves to the wedding."

"She's a seamstress, right? Your mother?" She'd mentioned it in an offhand comment during one of their previous phone calls.

"She was." Diana confirmed, tucking the picture away again. "Didn't think you'd remember that."

"Of course. I listen to everything you tell me."

Diana chuckled, flushing lightly. "It's not even relevant to the case!"

"I listen to everything you tell me." Javier insisted and started gathering up wrapping paper and such to throw away. A quick look at his watch told him they'd have to get moving soon if they wanted to make it to the theatre on time to get decent seats.

"Right." Diana collected her things to stuff them back into her bag. "So it's a no for ruffles, but what would you have me wear, Agent Peña? What do you think suits me?"

Javier couldn't have told even the most skilled interrogation expert what exactly compelled him to answer, and so readily at that, why he had an opinion at the ready in the first place, or at least that's what he preferred to tell himself.

"I think... something soft and flowy, not a whole lot of embellishments, if any. Clear lines and a light fabric, something you can dance in and be comfortable. Definitely no more satin."

She laughed now, as well, eyes twinkling with what he thought was approval. "You are full of surprises. Should I ever get married again, I'll most certainly engage your services as designer, Agent Peña."

"I'll keep a spot open for you. First consultation is free."

---

How her hand can feel so natural there in the crook of his elbow after hardly a day, he cannot tell. All he knows is that by the time the reading at the open air theatre is done the sun has started to dip in the sky and if this was what his work was like more often he'd perhaps be happier in his workaholic ways. Though they haven't broached the topic of work in hours now, instead ambling half-aimlessly northward towards Conquistadores where he's parked his rental car at the hotel he's staying at. Because it is a long way to Envigado and he insisted on driving her home. Because even though now that Escobar is gone Medellín is much safer, but he's never been one to easily trust a good thing.

It's only when they've crossed the big main street Avenida 33 that Miss Rivas gets quieter. She's obviously tired following their prolonged outing, but he instantly misses the pleasant hum of her voice, her clever little observations- At the same time, it's a comfortable silence, not one weighed down by expectation. She'd even let down her hair from where it had been up in a ponytail for most of the day, most likely to keep the thick curtain of it away from her neck in the heat and sun.

They're just crossing a smaller square, the edge of it lined with shops, the hole-in-the-wall kind mostly, when she suddenly pulls away with a soft instruction to wait there for just a moment, and he's left to look after her flapping skirt with what is probably not the most dignified expression. Defeated, he sat down on the broad edge of a flowerbed nearby and watched her cross to a food vendor, order, and fish around for her wallet to pay, before turning around again with a plastic cup in each hand. Fresas con crema, he can make out upon her approach, and one corner of his mouth ticks up involuntarily.

"Hungry again?" He teased when she got within earshot, handing him one cup and setting the other down beside him along with her purse.

"There's always space for this in my stomach." She retorted primly. "If you don't want any, all the better."

"Thank you for the generous offer, but no. Thanks for this." He makes a show of cupping the treat protectively, fully knowing he'll have to set it down to unwrap the plastic spoon that came with it. It makes her laugh nonetheless, which imbues him with a strange, fluttery sense of accomplishment.

She's still standing, head thrown back and grinning wide, when her gaze catches on something at the far end of the plaza, and her expression morphs from glee to astonishment to rage so quickly it gives Javier whiplash.

"Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me!" Ripping off her glasses and thrusting them into his hands, she began stalking off.

Two things are fortuitous: one, she had to pass Javier to get to whatever she saw and two, his reflexes are still sharp enough for him to jump up and into her path, even having managed to safely deposit the cup of strawberries and cream.

"Whoa, what the hell is it?"

"I- ...she-" Her voice is strained, her whole body taut like a livewire as she attempts to round him and resume her warpath. On instinct, Javier took a few steps backwards, keeping himself between her and her target. It's only his hands on her shoulders that stall her enough for him to be able to whip his head around and follow her eyeline. That side of the square is empty save for an older lady shuffling along, huffing and puffing and blissfully unaware of the wrathful freight train about to rush her. To say Javier was puzzled would be an understatement.

"What, her? The old woman?"

"That's Hermilda Escobar!" She's shaking so much he has trouble keeping a grip on her. "Look at her! The nerve of that woman to show her face here-" She winds out from under his hands, rounding him with a quick sidestep, and he can only match her speed because his legs are longer.

"Hey!" Javier whisper-shouts to be met with flashing eyes, then repeats it more softly. "Hey. What exactly are you planning to do here, huh?"

"I'm gonna give that self-righteous bitch a piece of my mind is what I'm gonna do!" She retorted, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It's cowing, the single-minded purpose rolling off of her. She's strumming with it, her seething damn near tangible. In her rage, she is ruthless. Javier had no doubt, in that moment, that once let go she might well maul the woman with more than words.

It's instinctive, the way his arm wraps around her. Like the few times he's had to restrain Steve and yet not like that at all. For one Javier doesn't have to go for a near chokehold, though energy-wise her wrath is at least as fierce. So, he wraps one long arm around her waist, hauling her much slighter body against his with a half-turn, her forearms colliding sharply with his chest.

"Easy." He rumbles, his other arm coming up to fold across her shoulders. "Easy. Calm down. Calm down!"

Palms smack against his pectorals and it stings. "Hey!" He tightens his hold around her trembling body, her angry, anguished squirming. Softens his voice. "Hey. Calm down, okay? What're you gonna do, beat up that old woman in the street? Come on, breathe."

The sound that comes out of her is something very closely related to a snarl, and he feels the bite of her nails even through his shirt, but holds fast, continuing to ramble empty phrases with the intent to soothe, or at least distract.

"If you tell me to calm down one more time I will get violent." She promised, hands pushing into his chest in an effort to break his hold. The old woman has almost passed by completely by now, seeming blissfully unaware of the savaging she's escaping. Javier held fast, as tight as he dared, the hand still pinching the pair of glasses between two fingers awkwardly patting at her shoulder while he sways them both, rocking from foot to foot.

By the time Diana has calmed down enough that he feels comfortable loosening his hold, the old woman is long gone from view. He feels her slump in his grip, reflexively tightening his arms again to hold her up.

"Hey," he gentles, lightly nudging the side of her head and thinking, distantly, that all but burying his nose into her soft hair is far too intimate a position for any of this. "Hey, it's alright, I've got you, okay? I've got you."

They're still swaying on the spot, a gentle see-saw motion, and then he felt the hands that had been clenching and unclenching on his chest lose all tension and drop down to the side. She's still shaking, her whole ribcage jumping with the hiccup of suppressed sobs. Somehow, he maneuvers them both around and back the few steps from where their snack and her purse still wait beside the flowerbed.

"Why'd you hand me these, anyway?" It's but a cheap distraction tactic, Javier handed her the glasses back as soon as she sat nevertheless.

"I'm not blind without them." Diana responded tersely, snatching the glasses and cleaning the lenses with the hem of her dress. When she doesn't deign to elaborate, he sighs and stretches from where he'd sat back on his haunches in front of her, resuming his earlier seat and finally unwrapping the spoon. It's a tense silence for a long moment, her aggravation like a pulse around them. Certainly it gives Javier a good bit to think on.

"You wanna tell me what that was all about?"

"Don't condescend to me. You may have been closer to the action, but I've lived here all my life." She ripped open her own packet with a vengeance, digging the spoon into her own portion with such force that the sliced strawberries bleed into the white cream. Javier sighed. Took a moment to order his words before they leave his tongue.

"I just need to know if this," he gestured between her and the edge of the square, "is going to be something that has to be taken into account. I need to know that you're not just in this for revenge. I need to know where you're at mentally. I need to be sure, both for your own safety and the integrity of this operation, that you're not just going to snap one day and try to claw Miguel Rodríguez' eyes out, okay?"

She chews angrily a moment, eyes flashing at him before she stares straight ahead again. The wrath is still rolling off of her in waves, perhaps dipping a bit in its intensity, but far from dulling just yet.

"You want to know my motivations, is that it? Well, let me lay it out for you, Agent Peña: of my entire class, a third never even made it to graduation, for one reason or another. I spent my youth plotting routes around gunfights in the street, with just enough success to still be alive, somehow. My mother was caught in the crossfire of a raid and was afraid to leave the house for years afterwards. My father was on that Avianca flight. My baby cousin Maritza is dead and her baby will grow up without her mother. And throughout it all, I took the coward's way out, moved cities, for university, for work, for marriage, for myself even, and everywhere I went they were, too. The narcos have spun their spider's web across the whole damn country and beyond and sooner or later everyone gets stuck in it. I got stuck in it despite my best efforts, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of having to flee and turning up in dead ends. Somehow I have landed in this unique position, and I refuse to join them. Is that enough motivation for you, Agent Peña?"

She held his gaze, a challenge in fire, and he wondered how much longer that adrenaline surge would sustain her before she crashed. Wordlessly, he nodded his affirmation.

It's more tense silence after that, thick like stew or the humidity out in the jungle. She doesn't reach for him again as they resume the walk up to his hotel, doesn't casually link their arms like before, choosing instead to fidget with the handles of her bag. He hates it, misses the lightness the day had before. These narcos, they really do poison even the most mundane of things with their long, bloodied shadows. When they get to the hotel's underground garage, she's gone even more quiet, almost deflated. There are no more words exchanged, save for the clipped directions to her aunt's house. At one point, Javier was almost certain she'd dozed off.

---

"Do you ever think you should have been there? When they finally got him?" He'd just parked the car opposite of the house. It's almost completely dark outside by now.

"...Yes." Of course he did. He'd wanted, even needed to. The temporary suspension had not been near as effective a punishment as denying him that. The fruits of his labor, of years spent chasing after shadows and getting himself mired deeper and deeper, until he barely recognized himself when he looked in the mirror. He'd wanted it, sure, but perhaps he hadn't deserved it.

"Why did they send you home?" It's not that Javier is in a particularly obstinate mood, it's just that after the incident earlier, he's reluctant to bring up his own involvement with the cartels of Calí and Medellín, much less Los Pepes, so he gives a non-committal grunt in response. He should have known that wouldn't deter her. "When I first called, Agent Murphy said you had been recalled to the States. I only found out later that that was before they finally got Escobar. Why would a top agent on a case of this magnitude be pulled off and sent back before that?"

"You mean what did I do?" She nodded. There was no getting out of it now. He didn't want to lie to her either. Javier sighed, scratching his thumbnail across his brow. "You're going to look at me differently."

"Perhaps, yes." She took a deep breath, rummaging through her purse and producing a folded up paper. "These are the names of some American banks that I'm very certain help funnel and launder Calí's money. Sorry it's nothing more specific." She placed the paper in his hand, gently closing his fingers over it. "Whatever you tell me, we're in this together, right? We both want to bring them down. I trust you, alright?"

Javier gulped, his fingers tingling under her touch. He pockets the paper to buy time, if only to swallow through his suddenly-too-dry throat. And then he tells her. The dead ends and the crippling bureaucracy, Don Berna, the Castaño brothers and Judy Moncada and Pacho Herrera. His desperate grasping at straws to find a way, any way to throw a wrench in the escalating violence and catch Escobar, how that backfired so spectacurlarly. How he tried to get out, despite knowing that these people do not allow outs. How he'd been played by the fucking CIA because he'd been an idiot falsely believing that the two agencies were operating under even remotely the same objectives. How he'd gone down, almost taking his partner with him, definitely tanking his boss' career. He hasn't spoken to anybody about this in such depth, not even his father. By the end of it, he's exhausted.

"So you're the one Carlos Castaño wanted to feed to the crocodiles."

"What?" He'd expected judgement, even disgust. Certainly not this.

"I overheard Gilberto mentioning it on the phone. I think he must have just learned that you'd be the DEA's man in charge. 'Maybe I should have let you feed that damn DEA agent to the crocodiles after all, Carlos.' The door wasn't all the way closed, that's how I heard it. I think that was the moment I realized I couldn't wind my way out of this. That either they were going down, or they were going to find out that I was already talking to Agent Murphy and have me... vanished."

"I won't let that happen." Javier promised instinctively, hands tightening on the steering wheel. "Crocodiles though? Really?" Not how he thought he'd end, that was for certain.

"Yeah, they're very uh... charming, huh?"

Javier grimaced. "If I never see any of them again, it'll be too soon."

"Knock on wood." Diana replied and unbuckled herself, pushing open the door.

"I'll walk you. It's dark."

"It's only across the street." She protested, and was that the ghost of a smile on her lips? Javier's hands stilled on his own seatbelt.

"You sure?"

"If my aunt catches me coming home with a man I'll never hear the end of it." Diana slipped out of the car, then bent to grab her purse. "Good night, Agent Peña. Until next time."

"Good night, Miss Rivas."

He waited until she was inside, the door securely locked behind her, before starting the drive back.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 3

-------------------------

Author’s note cont’d: if you wanna know what I had in mind, approximately, for the wedding gown see here

The International Poetry Festival of Medellín is a real thing, too. They have a youtube channel

#narcos (tv)#javier pena x ofc #series #I cling to your lips like gloss (series)#multipart #javier peña #narcos #narcos fanfic #javier peña fanfic #my writing #part 2 #like gloss tag

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winterscaptain · 4 years

Note

directors commentary on mistletoe please!!!!

as promised - here it is! all the text of mistletoe is there, with my commentary in bold italics :)

“Merry Everything, Dave!” You accept a glass of champagne and a kiss from Rossi as you step into the house, and cross over to Emily by the dining room table to pick up a little snack. Aaron’s in the dining room with JJ, setting the table with the boys (who have been here since the early afternoon). He brought your food with his earlier in the day, and all of it is in the fridge waiting to go on the table.

Tonight is the big Christmas Eve dinner, and the rest of the festivities happen the day after Christmas, when the team and the kids get together to open their presents from each other.

Crossing to the doorway with Emily, you linger at the edge of the kitchen.

“Oh hell yeah!” Emily crows, looking up in response to JJ’s pointed look and grin - the mistletoe smiles down at you with its red bow, hanging from the doorway. She takes your face in one of her strong, gentle hands and plants a very real, very chaste kiss on your lips. You laugh and clink your champagne glass with hers. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Em.”

This scene popped fully formed into my head the second I thought of a holiday fic. I was like “oh absolutely Emily is going to have a field day with this.”

I originally had about seven different mini-scenes with different team members getting caught under the mistletoe, but I thought it best to stay focused in this really critical part of the story. I’ll include them in future fics, for sure!

+++

Jack runs up to you and you catch him when he jumps, swinging him in a circle. He’s almost too tall (and if anyone asks, he’s six, so he’s a big boy now), but you figure you should savor whatever you get while it lasts. He latches on to you and you let him hang off your hip as you walk back into the living room.

There’s nothing I love more than Jack just glomming onto Reader or any other team member. It’s like an instant hit of serotonin.

You perch with him on the edge of the sofa next to Derek, who’s entertaining Henry with a couple of excellent fire trucks.

This little picture here was straight out of a hallmark movie. I wanted to go into more detail, but I felt like it got bogged down. Basically, Derek’s sitting on the end of the sofa, leaning against the arm, while Henry’s basically sitting on his feet playing with the trucks. He’s minding Henry, leaning down every once in a while. Reader comes and sits on the arm, leaning against Derek, Jack-in-lap.

All in all, very cute.

When you catch JJ’s eye, she grins and looks up. Lo and behold, a sprig of mistletoe is tracked to the ceiling over your head. Jack follows your gaze and looks at you with a little question in his eyes.

In hushed tones, you explain. “So, Jack, there’s a tradition where if you land under mistletoe with someone,” you point at the little plants, scattered all over the arches, light fixtures, and random parts of the ceiling, “you give each other a kiss.”

He looks at you, wide eyed.

“Because it’s you and me, you don’t have to kiss on the lips like the grown ups do. We can give each other a hug or kiss each other on the cheek or anything you want.”

He sits back in your arms, thinking. Finally deciding, “I want to do what the grown ups do.”

Of course.

You smile at him and wait for him to come to you, which he does. He pecks you on the lips and immediately dissolves into giggles. You tuck him under your chin with a hand on the back of his head, rocking back and forth a little in your own laughter.

Writing kids is one of my favorite things. There’s something so magical about how delighted they are by so much of the world around them.

You look at Aaron over Jack’s head, finding him with a soft smile and beer in his hand.

Don’t give yourself away. Your smile says.

His eyes flicker up in an almost-eye roll and he takes a sip of his drink. I’m allowed to look at my kid.

You give him that one, and it’s a good enough cover.

The way I pictured this little tableau was completely in the third person, maybe from Emily or Dave’s POV? Like someone on the other side of the room just sees them staring at each other, clearly having a sub-social conversation and completely oblivious to the people around them.

It’s almost like the image of a duel. Reader’s on one side of the room with Jack, and Aaron is on the other side, leaning against something (maybe another couch, maybe a fireplace, idk. I always kind of picture Dave’s mansion as my childhood friend Maddie’s house. idk.) and it’s so clear they only have eyes for each other.

It does, however, escape your notice that Dave and Emily have put their heads together, whispering.

“They look a proper family, don’t they?” Dave asks.

Emily nods. “I think they’ve been one for a while, they just don’t know it yet.”

“Give them a little credit. They might know something.”

Emily snorts, and Dave relents.

“Alright, maybe that’s too much credit.”

The ongoing motif of the team trying to sus out if they’ve admitted their feelings to THEMSELVES - not even each other - is one of my favorite parts of this series. Aaron and Mom have them so thoroughly fooled without even trying, just by being repressed idiots who habitually steamroll their own feelings.

+++

“Uh oh, Hotch.” JJ grins, her gaze flickering first to Will, then Emily.

You look up and find mistletoe over your heads, hanging from the pot rack above the island.

He looks at you, shrugs, and you kiss each other on the cheek like it’s nothing.

He’s such a shit.

This is the first moment of this fic that popped into my head. All I wanted was for them to play coy under the mistletoe and for Emily to tease them within an inch of their lives before they almost give themselves away.

“Oh come on Hotch, you can do better than that. I did!” Emily smirks at him. “A real kiss. C’mon.”

For the sake of the game, you look up at him, playing at shyness, and say, “You don’t have to, it’s okay.”

He rolls his eyes and takes your face in his hands, pressing a soft, surprisingly deep, close-mouthed kiss to your lips. Looking up at Emily, he quirks an eyebrow. “Happy?”

There’s this little moment where they totally get lost in each other. I didn’t explicitly write it in, but it’s kind of in-between the lines. They have to remind themselves of the eyes watching them, because kissing each other has become so part of their life :’)

They were so deprived for so long that every time is like the first time.

Her cheeks are pink and she feels like she’s just stepped over some kind of line, but doesn’t know what or where it is. She recovers. “Much better.” Hopping off the counter, she retreats to the living room, leaving you alone with Aaron in the kitchen.

“I think you nearly killed her with that,” you say, picking up your glass of water from the counter.

He shrugs. “We’ve done worse, don’t you think?”

Your mind wanders to the night before, and heat shoots through you. “But they don’t know about that.”

Heated brown eyes look down at you, and you shift a little in your chair. “Yeah, but I do.”

That was another line of dialogue that I was itching to include. I’d had it in the outtakes for ages, and was so excited to finally find a home for it.

Before you can respond, Jack runs up to you and tugs on your shirt, calling your name until you kneel in front of him.

“What’s up, bud?”

“I have a secret question for you,” he says, very matter-of-fact.

Your eyebrows raise and you lift him up onto the counter so you can meet his eye. “A secret question?”

He nods, cupping his hands around his mouth and whispering into your ear. “Are you and me and dad having another sleepover tonight?”

You look at Aaron for a second before placing your hands around your mouth to reply. “Maybe. We have to see how tired we are after the party. Can you ask your dad a little later?”

He nods, but your hands stay put - there’s more to say. His little hands reach for you, resting lightly around your wrists as he leans into you.

“Hey, I’m really proud of you for asking me in a secret way. I know you and your dad talked about how our sleepovers are something we keep special just for the three of us, and I really appreciate your mindfulness tonight.” You lean back and kiss his forehead. “Super proud of you, bug.”

Establishing the kinship between Reader and Jack is super important to me. Parental, yet with different boundaries than Jack has with Aaron. This was one of the more parent-child moments, where Aaron can really see that Reader is becoming someone Jack trusts, someone who fills a similar role to himself in Jack’s life.

He grins at you and jumps off the counter, running back to the train he’s building with Henry - the annual ridiculous purchase from Uncle Rossi to keep the kids entertained while the adults actually enjoy Christmas Eve.

“What was that about?”

“Your son is just like you, you know that?”

He takes a sip of his beer. “How so?”

“He’s good at keeping secrets.”

There was more to this, but I honestly can’t remember what I cut here. It might have been another kiss, but I figured it was too risky and careless, even for them, at this stage of the game.

+++

You’re all called to dinner about an hour later, with Dave giving the first toast. Penelope, ever the saint, sits with Jack and Henry at the kids table behind you with her cup of spiked apple juice.

Aaron sits across from you, with the excuse of keeping an eye on Jack, and you’ve already engaged in one ridiculous game of footsie under the table.

“My friends, my family. Another year comes to a close and it only feels right to acknowledge how wonderful it is to have everyone back where they belong.” Dave looks at Emily, whose face warms, and Aaron, who offers a small smile. “Tonight, let us drink to our family, to forgiveness, and the year ahead.” He raises his glass. “Salut.”

“Hiding in Plain Sight” is one of my favorite tropes, and I engineered this dinner scene to capitalize on that as much as I could.

This scene originally wasn’t in here at all, but I felt that the fic was too short, so I played around with a couple of things before I added this one. I love that canon gives us so much to play with by way of big family dinners, and I was excited to embrace an opportunity to put my own spin on it.

There will be more of these in the future!

“Salut!” The rest of the table starts clinking glasses, and you smile widely at Aaron as the neck of his beer bottle taps against your champagne flute. He winks at you as you both drink.

It really is a family affair - everyone reaches over one another and shouts to pass dishes and refills nearby glasses without being asked. Spencer, beside you, surprises you by resting his head on your shoulder between dinner and dessert. You wrap an arm around him and kiss the top of his head, happy to accept his rare show of affection.

Emily stands, and you direct your attention to her as he makes another toast, talking about how much she loves all of you, how thankful she is to be home, and how she never once takes you for granted.

Spencer doesn’t move from under your arm, but Derek extends his arm over the back of Spencer’s chair, and his thumb brushes against the back of your arm. You smile at him over Spencer’s head.

I love a touchy-feely moment, you know?

When you look across the table at Aaron, he looks well and truly happy.

+++

A sleeping Jack slumps against your chest and over your shoulder as you say your goodbyes. Aaron has both his and his son’s sport coats over his arm and some leftovers balanced in his palm.

When kids absolutely crash on people they love, my heart melts. I just imagine a little wilted Jack completely draped over Reader - boneless and totally out cold. I almost added a scene of how he got there (he fell asleep on his dad on the couch, but dad had to help clean up because he’s Aaron, so Jack got shuffled over to Reader), but I couldn’t quite get the flow of the evening in all the right places, so it was cut.

Derek kisses your cheek and wishes you a Merry Christmas and sweet dreams. Penelope kisses Jack’s forehead and presses a palm to your shoulder. You’re covered in love and kisses and wrapped in hugs on your way out the door.

I call this The Greek Goodbye - but of course other cultures have this same phenomenon, where all the grown-ups put their coats and shoes on and still they stand around for thirty minutes saying goodbye and giving hugs and kisses and then everyone pours out on to the porch and they all stand around and talk some more and then someone finally gets in the car but they roll their window down etc. etc. etc. and suddenly its an hour and a half later and you haven’t actually left.

When you finally make it out onto the porch, Aaron’s hand hovers over your back as you step down the stairs to his SUV in the driveway. You, of course, drove separately, and will have to pour Jack into his carseat before you can go on your way.

You’re going to the same place, but the team doesn’t need to know that.

Jack barely stirs as you pull the seat belt around him. You pull the coats from Aaron’s arm and tuck them under his head, gingerly shutting the door after making sure he’s all propped up.

You turn toward Aaron, facing the house as you embrace. There are three heads looking at you (with about as much subtlety as a brick to the face) out the living room window. They think they’re slick, but they can’t see Aaron’s hand creep up the back of your shirt or his mouth as he whispers. “I’ll see you at home.”

I didn’t really realize how heavily this implied that they moved in together? What I tried to emphasize was the idea that home is wherever Aaron and Jack are, not necessarily the apartment itself.

The commentary that got excited about the fact that they’re moving in together did inspire me to get them to move in together, so then there’s that. Just another way yall inspire me and change this story around little by little with every installment :)

+++

Jack wakes you both early the next morning and you’re dragged by the hand into the living room while Aaron trails behind you both.

Little kids opening presents is truly a nightmare for any parent (or parent’s significant other) trying to get some of that good good before starting the day.

They were SOL this morning, but don’t worry - they get what they’re after eventually. They always do.

“Alright, Jack. What did you ask for?”

His lips press together, and he takes in the reasonable stack of presents under the tree. “I asked for a few things, but I wanted to ask for something else.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” You sit next to him, your legs folded under you, and put your arm around his waist while he loops his arms around your shoulders. Aaron’s taken up residence on the couch behind you, a trash bag in his hand.

So efficient.

Jack whispers into your ear, and his words bring a little smile to your face.

Nobody ask me what Jack actually asked for verbatim, because I have no idea. It was probably like “I want us all to be a family” or “i want you to live with us all the time” or something like that, but that’s only fast and loose with the idea of it.

I let the implications do all the talking, here.

“I think that’s something you need to ask your dad for, bud.”

His brow wrinkles. You nod encouragingly, turning him around and sending him to a very confused Aaron. Jack climbs up on the couch, and Aaron’s arms automatically wrap around him as he leans into his father’s side. He whispers, presumably, the same thing he said to you, judging from the little smile that pulls at the corner of Aaron’s mouth.

“Yeah, Jack. I think I can make that happen. Let’s talk about it some more tomorrow, yeah?”

Jack grins and jumps back down to you, looking over at his dad. “Can I open presents, now?”

Aaron nods, giving Jack permission to immediately tear into the bigger boxes under the tree. You rise and cross back to Aaron. He offers you his arm as you sit and you loop yours through his, holding onto the sleeve of his shirt - long-sleeved, on account of the weather.

Another Hallmark moment. This pose is always so cinematic to me, with one partner leaning on the other, arms looped, holding hands or holding onto the base partner’s clothes. Ugh. So cute.

I sit like this with my mom all the time, so it’s kind of the default posture when I write two people who love each other sitting close together.

“Did Jack tell you what else he wanted?”

Aaron tips his head to your shoulder, pressing a kiss to it before resting his temple against you. That’s enough of an answer for you. More cheating by not answering the question, Tali!! Nice!! Your cheek presses into his hair and you watch Jack unearth LEGO sets and a new bike helmet from his dad, and a new soccer ball with a practice net from you. He gets a couple more LEGO sets and a Wii game from his Aunt Jess.

He’s thrilled with his haul, and he forces you both down to the floor to open your presents.

From Jack, you get a framed photo. Jess took it while Aaron was in Pakistan and it’s one of your favorites. You’re both curled up in his bed wearing pajamas, reading a book together. His head rests under your chin, his arm around your waist as he falls asleep against you.

“Auntie Jess said you’d like that one and I picked the frame all by myself.”

You smile up at him, opening your arms. He tucks into you and informs you it’s Dad’s turn.

With your help, he put together a little scrapbook that covered the five months Aaron was away, as well as fun little photos of the two of them over the years. Aaron’s visibly affected, his right hand resting lightly over his mouth as he flips through the pages.

The fact that we never actually got to see the home-life aftermath of Pakistan deSTROYED ME. So, I fixed it.

His eyes are a little shiny when he looks at you first, then Jack. “Thanks, bud. I love it.”

Jack smiles widely at him. “Look in the back!”

In the back, indeed, is a new tie - royal blue, with tiny paisley detailing in white. You’re sure he has another one just like it in red, but narrow variety is the spice of life, right?

I got my dad ties for Christmas and his birthday for like...10 years straight. It’s wild that he pretended to like every single one. That’s love.

Aaron opens his arms, and Jack scrambles off your lap and into his. They sit together for a minute, and you take the time to consolidate the rest of the presents. Four remain - two for you and two for Aaron.

Jack shoves one of your gifts from Aaron at you, and you grin as you take it in your hands. It’s a little heavy, but fits neatly in your hands. You open it, and laugh out loud at what you find.

A new ankle holster...you’re kidding.

Shoutout to Kira for this gift idea!! @good-heavens-chris-evans

“Aaron, thank you!”

He huffs a laugh. “It’ll fit your Baretta - I know your old one was a little loose since you changed over from the Glock.”

You nod. “Very thoughtful. I love it.”

At Aaron’s prompting, Jack passes you the second box. This one is small, oblong, and thin. You carefully tear the paper, and find a smooth wooden box, beautiful on its own, inside. Squinting skeptically at Aaron, you open the lid. Its contents take your breath. A simple, stunning bracelet with little green stones twinkles at you, nestled in wrapping paper inside the box.

The bracelet was a total fluke idea, and I just ran with it. I’m now ridiculously attached to it and it will become some kind of symbolic device as we move forward, I think.

“I found it at a market in Pakistan - it’s from Turkey, originally, and thought you’d like it,” I’m Greek, so it hurt me a lil to make the bracelet from Turkey. However, thousands of years of tense relations don’t undermine the quality of Turkish silver - that shit is unmatched. I’ll never own any myself, but I can admire it from afar. he says. He reaches for the box and you hand it over, stunned into silence. Taking your wrist in his hand, he puts it on for you. The early-morning light through the window and the string lights from the tree reflect off of it. A little smile plays at his mouth. “To my knowledge, it’s handmade.”

You take a shaky breath, still looking at it. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

He ducks his head, almost shy, and you transfer your attention to his presents to save him the scrutiny. Jack, still the designated distributor, pulls the larger of Aaron’s presents toward him. It’s a decent-sized box, and Aaron leaves it on the floor to unwrap, neatly folding the paper as he goes.

It’s a new go bag, with about a million pockets, wheels on one side, and kevlar lining. It won’t ever tear or break or otherwise fail him. You found it after seeing the state of his bag upon his return from Pakistan - the poor thing was basically in shreds, and he’d been making do with a backpack and a dumb little duffle ever since.

I spare a thought for Aaron’s go bag every time I watch It Takes a Village because my God does that thing see some use.

So, just like the rest of it, I’ve fixed that, too.

The second of the two gifts is much smaller, and almost embarrassingly sentimental. He opens it, slipping the ribbons off and neatly tearing at the tape lines.

You see his sharp inhale before you hear it. He pats Jack’s shoulder, and the boy returns to your lap. His hands trace over the cover, opening it and reading the notes inside. The first, in blue pen, is his own handwriting.

Miss Haley Brooks,

Happy 25th Birthday, my darling. I figured it was high time you had a copy of my favorite novel. A selfish gift, sure, but at least I mailed it on time this year.

Love you. Miss you. A. Hotch, 1995

In the original, these are all written in different fonts! Aaron’s was Architect’s Daughter, Haley’s was Dancing Script, and Reader’s wasn’t any different from the body text.

Then, below it, in an elegant black scrawl:

Happy Birthday, Newbie!

Hotch told me you were looking for new reading material for the plane, so I figured I’d give you both a book and a key to Hotch’s good side, all in one.

Enjoy 25! I sure did.

Good luck! Haley, 2007

Finally, a new note, dated December 25th, 2011.

Aaron -

Thought it was time for this to come home. Merry Christmas.

I love you.

It’s the paperback copy of Catch-22 he gave Haley for her 25th birthday, when he was working for the US Attorney’s office in Washington D.C. and she was still in her Master’s program. You’d kept it all these years, simultaneously unable to part with it and waiting for the right opportunity to return it to Aaron.

I think Catch-22 is such an Aaron book. It’s nothing I can really eloquently articulate, but the energy is very much Hotch to a T for me.

This gift was EJ’s idea!! Thanks EJ!! @forgottenword

It was an ancient copy, and you suspected Aaron owned it long before he passed it on to Haley.

Aaron’s still quiet. Jack’s still tucked into your lap.

“I didn’t know she gave it to you. I asked, and she told me she’d given it to a friend. Never thought to ask who.” His voice is quiet, almost reverent. He looks up at you, and you can definitely see the mist in his eyes now. “Thank you for this.” The book rises in his hand and he waves it a little before dropping it back in his lap.

I also wanted to establish a little of Haley and Reader’s friendship here, however short-lived. I wanted the grief when we lost her to extend past Aaron and into their little family unit. I wanted to give Aaron someone who would understand the dynamics of Haley’s loss in a different way.

You run your hands through Jack’s hair, your bracelet catching the light.

+++

The rest of Christmas is fairly uneventful - you and Aaron handle breakfast with Jack, and Jessica stops by in the afternoon. You stop back at your house to make a couple of phone calls after dinner - touching base with the people you love where you can.

When you return to the Hotchner apartment later that evening, Jack is already in bed.

Aaron greets you with a kiss at the door and you spend a moment in his arms, your fingers resting lightly on his shoulders. The silence is peaceful, easy.

He presses a series of kisses up your cheek and over your temple. You laugh, tucking into him to avoid the onslaught.

Leaning back, you meet his eyes. “Good day?”

“Good day.” He smiles at you - one of those close-mouthed, squinty-eyed ones you love. “Ready for bed?”

This was one of those little moments for me. You know when people who love each other sometimes use really good, simple words to convey really big things? Yeah. That.

There’s something on his mind, and you’re sure he’ll tell you once you get settled. You nod, letting him take you by the hand to the back bedroom.

He shuts the door behind you and backs you into it, caging you in with his body. You kiss him, sucking lightly on his lower lip. His hands are everywhere, removing your clothes with a soft kind of reverence.

There’s a sweetness when you fall into bed together, taking notes from the snow-laden night outside. It seems to be holding its breath - hushed and muted under a quiet sky.

+++

He tosses you a pair of your pajama pants from the top drawer of his dresser after you shower and clean up (whether you re-dirtied yourselves in the shower is beside the point), and you settle into your learned rhythm. He gets into his pajamas while you brush your teeth, and then you switch. You inevitably land back in bed before he does, waiting for him as usual.

More establishing the normalcy of their relationship!!! This was a super important addition to me - also added much later. It used to end at the section right before this, but I really wanted to show the way they operate together when nobody’s watching them and they’re safe at home.

When he’s done in the bathroom, he throws himself on the bed beside you with a heavy sigh.

“I can hear you thinking, Hotchner.” You roll toward him, tucking the covers up around your shoulders.

He turns his head to look at you, lacing his fingers behind his head. There’s more going on behind his eyes than you originally thought, and you’d be nervous if you didn’t know better. “Did Jack tell you what else he wanted today?”

You nod, waiting on him.

“What do you think?”

Scooting over, you curl up against him with your head on his chest. Even though he’s on top of the covers, he drops his arms, wrapping them around you. “I think he’s got the right idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

He rolls over, and his lips are on yours before you can blink. With a surprised little noise, you smile against him and wind your fingers into his hair. It stays fairly slow, but that doesn’t stop the heat curling through your chest and belly.

Haven’t you had enough?

Never. Never. Never.

You can’t help but enjoy him. He’s good at just about everything. “Aaron,” you whisper. Immediately, he pulls back, watching you with a knit brow. “What time is it?”

With a little laugh, he turns around to look at his bedside clock. “Just after one. Why?”

“Do you think we can remember the date?”

After I figured out they started dating on the 26th, I had to figure out how to fill the time between the evening of the 25th and the 26th. Initially, I was going to let them have this conversation over breakfast, but I also know these two never shut up when they’re in bed together, so it seemed as good a time as any.

Also, I added some implied good-good grown-up time to fill the space between like...10pm and midnight. Sue me.

You can tell he’s not exactly following, but he’s willing to hang in and figure it out. “December 26th? Yeah. Why?”

It’s ridiculous, but you feel suddenly shy. “I just think it’s an alright anniversary date, don’t you?”

Realization dawns on his face, and he attacks your lips again, unable to keep the smile out of his kisses. You laugh, throwing the covers off and climbing over him. You don’t really have an agenda, but the lack of contact after your romp was driving you nuts. He looks up at you, taking your face in his hands. “You wanna do this?”

You nod. “Yeah. I do.”

“And you’re in it for the long haul with us, right?” You can see the nerves pulling at his brows, the latent insecurity creeping into his face. “Me and Jack?”

Say it with me, kids! Aaron is insecure about being an older, single dad and Reader must always reassure him at this point in their story. There’s more to come on that front, too.

Soothing it as best you can, you reply. “Yeah. I’m in if you are, Aaron. For real. For you and Jack.”

He takes a huge breath. With a start, you realize he’s not really able to speak. His lips press into a thin line, and for the third time that day, tears threaten at the corners of his eyes.

Nothing shocks Aaron more than the idea that someone wants him, loves him, and wants to stay with him. Haley like...fucked him up. He’s also got some of that insecurity and doubt built into his character, so I like to thing even with Haley he didn’t feel good enough, or deserving. The way the divorce went down probably left him feeling like he was right all along.

You drop down, laying yourself flush against him. “I love you, you big idiot.”

Your ridiculous comment has the intended effect - he laughs a little. It’s watery, but he wraps his arms around you again and kisses the top of your head. “I love you so much.”

“I’m so sorry it took me this long to make up my damn mind.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you did.”

“I mean,” you continue, “I already kind of had my mind made up, but I was really scared it would become real real.” You tip your head up, propping your hands under your chin. “I forgive you for everything. I do. That’s really all I needed to figure out.”

It’s also important to me to establish the way they fight and forgive each other - the push and pull of it. There’s a lot of that in life, and I wanted to demonstrate that as much as I could.

One of the things I wanted to emphasize by keeping them in this kind of liminal state for a couple of months was the importance of trust. Reader didn’t completely trust Hotch when he got back from Pakistan, and that thought alone was super unnerving. So even the concept of a lack of trust deepened the problem itself, if that makes sense. (It’s one of those “if you have to ask” moments - like the very premise of the problem is actually the thing you have a problem with.)

I have no idea if I’m making any sense at all lmao.

He hauls you both up, and you find yourself straddling his lap with his hands laced together at your lower back. “Thank you.”

You frame his face with your hands, your fingers tracing over his cheekbones. Corrupting the silence of the moment seems wrong, and you’re afraid you’ll say something stupid if you open your mouth again.

He leans forward, and you catch him, pressing your forehead against his. There are two words floating through his head, but they’re too much, too soon, too big. So, he settles for three. “I love you.”

We picked up on what those two words were, right? It’s a big question, and it’ll happen eventually, but I wanted to lay the groundwork for how early on Hotch knew that he was done. It’s one of those Jim and Pam “I bought [the engagement ring] a week after we started dating.”

He just knows. And that’s super cool. He won’t actually do it for another two years, but its super cool.

+++

This scene was also a last minute addition because even with dinner, it still felt too short.

The next afternoon, you pack up the car with Jack’s other present he gets to open with the family, as well as your present for Henry and another for Penelope.

It’s tradition that you all draw names out of a hat for each other - there are far too many of you to get gifts for each other willy-nilly, so Aaron put a system in place after Penelope suggested it. That way, everyone gets one gift, and the kids get presents from all the grown ups.

The kids are delighted, and the adults aren’t completely broke by the end of it.

This is how we do Christmas presents in my family! There are so many cousins that we have to draw names or otherwise it gets ridiculous and people get offended lmao.

Stepping back into Dave’s house for the second time in as many days, you were immediately bombarded by Henry, itching to get his hands on your present.

“Alright, kiddo, you’ve got one here from me and one here from your Uncle Hotch, okay?”

He nods, taking both unwieldy boxes into his arms. On little legs, he trots over and places them under the tree. Aaron takes Jack’s and Penelope’s presents out of your hands and you snag Jack’s sleeve as he passes you, crouching beside him.

“Remember what we talked about, right? We don’t want Henry to feel left out okay, so as far as he’s concerned, this is the first and only present you got from me this year, right?”

He nods, grinning.

“Good boy.” You pat his shoulder, and he presses a lighting-quick kiss to your cheek before jetting off to the living room.

It’s always fun to watch Jack and Henry open presents. They’re thrilled, and more than once Jack runs up to you to show off whatever he’s got.

You’re on the arm of the couch beside Aaron, with Penelope on the floor at your feet and Derek in the chair next to you. Eventually, it’s time for the grown-ups to open their presents.

Derek goes first, with a present from Spencer. Inside the beautifully-wrapped box (you suspect JJ’s handiwork) is a new pair of headphones.

Penelope opens your present - a new feather-topped pen and a whimsical mug from a case in San Francisco a few months ago, as well as a new security key for her numerous external hard-drives.

Emily gets a gorgeous maroon scarf from Penelope and gifts a new pistol grip and toolbox to Will, while JJ receives a bottle of her favorite expensive wine and a new set of frames for the photos on her desk from Aaron.

JJ gets Aaron a new coffee maker for the apartment - he’s thrilled - and Spencer opens his first-edition copy of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy from Dave with much fanfare.

You open your box from Derek, and it’s a new set of fleece pajamas and a blanket for the plane. He leans into you, and you kiss the top of his head by way of thanks.

Figuring out what to get everyone was a NIGHTMARE, but I am proud to say I did it all on my own!!!

The afternoon is full of leftovers and laughter. After much begging, the kids wiggle another Christmas movie out of their parents, and you settle in for the duration.

Aaron covers you in a blanket as the sun sets, and you take the opportunity to gather Derek closer to you for the excuse to lean into Aaron. Under the blanket, you take his hand. His fingers pass back and forth over your knuckles.

If anyone asks, your distraction is the result of the snow falling outside.

+++

“No way!” Jack launches himself out of his chair and throws himself into his dad’s arms. “Really?”

“Really.” Aaron finds himself laughing as he looks over at you. “Is it okay if we all spend a little more time together, the three of us?”

Jack whips his head around to look at you, and you move into the chair he previously occupied, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay having me around with your dad, bud?”

A grin breaks out across his face. “Yeah! It’s just what I asked for!”

Aaron does a great job re-emphasizing the importance of keeping this just special for the three of you. Jack is completely on board - he completely understands that all the grown-ups are in each other’s business all the time, and sometimes it's nice to keep things to yourself for a little bit of peace.

Discretion is no new concept to the Hotchner household, and for that, you’re grateful.

That concludes our director’s commentary! Up next, I have a request to do some commentary on Metanoia, so that one will be up sometime this weekend.

#anon reply #tali answers stuff #a joyful future #tali provides commentary #that'll be the tag for this stuff i think #since we're chillin in the third person #may as well go full-tilt u know

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leverage-ot3 · 4 years

Text

notable moments from The Tap Out Job

leverage 2.02

Jack: Somebody drugged his water. It's an old boxing trick. He couldn't defend himself, and... He's still in the hospital.

that’s fucked

- - - - -

Eliot: It's not a cockfight. All right? Let me show you something, Hardison. Come here. Can I borrow you? (puts a gentle hand on Parker’s hip, guiding her to the open space behind the couch) All right. Square up. Remember what I showed you?

(Hardison and Parker square up)

Hardison: Are you...

Eliot: There's three phases to an MMA--to an MMA fight, okay? One, striking. (Parker punches Hardison in the face) Nice. Next is grappling, the takedown. (Parker grabs Hardison and throws him on the floor) Exactly. All right. The third one is jujitsu. Okay, try to isolate a joint. (Parker gets Hardison in a hold) That's good. That's a textbook armbar, Parker. Put some pressure on there.

Parker: Like this?

Eliot: There you go. Or you can go for a choke hold.

Hardison: She got to be choking me. (tries to get away)

Eliot: Remember that thing that I showed you?

Parker: Oh, yeah. The choke.

Eliot: Lock that in. All right. You don't have to hold the arm. See, that's a triangle choke. That's nasty. Puts pressure on his carotid artery, and the guy will submit by tap out.

Hardison (tapping the ground): Eliot, I'm tapping! I'm tapping!

Eliot: These fights are won by inches, I'm telling you.

Hardison: I can't breathe!

Eliot: All about leverage.

Sophie: Yeah, it looks really painful.

Hardison: It is painful!

Nate: No TV deal, you said, huh? Hardison, what are this guy's other interests, this Rucker guy?

Hardison: Seriously, you ask me a question right now...

Sophie: I'll take that. Yeah, rotary club, golf membership.

Nate: Golf, huh?

Hardison: Help me!

Sophie: Yeah. I mean, this guy's like a 1950s sitcom character. He plays a weekly game with the local businessmen. In fact, last year, he won the club championship.

Nate: Did he? Hmm.

Hardison: Let me go!

Nate: I guess it's...

Hardison: She's killing me!

Nate: …it's time to hit the links.

Hardison: I'm cool. Just let me go real quick.

eliot canonically teaches parker how to fight in his spare time and I LOVE THAT

fucking CHAOTIC OT3 + parker is having a great time while hardison is dying

ALSO can we just for a minute appreciate how when she puts him in a chokehold she was wrapping her legs around his neck, which basically had his head in her crotch area and !!! it wasn’t sexualized at al !!! literally A N Y other show would have sexualized it even just a little bit but not leverage. never leverage.

- - - - -

I love it when they fuck with peoples gear (like with the baseballs or hockey pucks or in this instance the golf balls)

- - - - -

parker playing with the golf club covers

- - - - -

literally EVERY con has nate being an asshole (this one was one of the more annoying ones tho)

- - - - -

hi I am but a simple bi and eliot in that grey hoodie was VERY attractive

- - - - -

Room Service: Room service. Can I help you?

Sophie: Yeah, no, I can't eat this. I'm sorry?

Everything on my plate is yellow.

Room Service: It's chicken-fried steak.

Sophie: It's what? Chicken-fried steak?

Room Service: Yes.

Sophie: No, let me just tell you, all right. Meat should never be used as an adjective.

~ a little while late ~

Sophie: I'm starving.

Parker: I found these in the minibar. (throws her a bag)

Sophie: "Pork Rinds"? How do you peel a pig? (throws it back)

- - - - -

Hardison: Got it. See, Online video websites, they track viewer hits by IP Address, so the trick is to just spoof a bunch of IPs, then write a script that lets you browse the video page via the proxy list and...

- - - - -

Sophie: Well, this guy, he just--he give me the creeps.

Eliot: We've gone up against rougher dudes than this before.

Sophie: I know. But it's this whole treating people as commodities. This whole barbaric sport.

Eliot: Hey, don't lump these guys in with Rucker. All right, he's not what the sport's about.

Sophie: Eliot, this "sport" is about two guys beating the crap out of each other.

Eliot: MMA fighters act with more respect than any other athlete I've seen.

Sophie: Yeah, they're "Braveheart," I get it.

Eliot: No, you don't. These guys don't fight because they like hurting other people, all right. They fight to gain some sort of control over their opponents, over their environment, over their lives. Have you seen this town? Huh? The farms are drying up. The only stores are bail bondsmen and pawn shops, and there's nothing they can do about it. So, yeah, they get in the ring and try not to let it all suffocate them. (a beat, he smiles) And it's about two guys beating the crap out of each other. (she smiles back)

- - - - -

eliot is wearing a green flannel in this one and it looks very nice and comfy

- - - - -

Rucker: Well, bottom line is, you need good product. What event are you here to produce?

[Interior Van]

Hardison: On it. There's a tractor pull in grand island, a livestock show in council bluffs, white people doing other white things…

pls keep calling out white people pls we deserve it lmfao

- - - - -

Director (in car looking at his phone): Come on! Come on! Give me something! Come on! Is this gonna take long?

Nate (through window): No. Two shakes. Are you in a hurry?

Director: Even half a bar... what? Yes. Hurry. Does anyone in this backwater hellhole know what that means?

Nate: You're a director, right? What was your name again?

Director: What? It's Laurence. Todd Laurence.

Nate: Todd, well, listen, Mr. Laurence. See, I wrote a script...

Director: Huh?

Nate: Yeah. It's about a limo driver who solves mysteries till his wife leaves him for --

Director: For the love of god!

Nate: ...the best part: The feed store manager. Right? His wife…

Director: Yeah...?

Nate: Tramp...

Director: Hey, hee-haw, move the car! Okay

- - - - -

parker in leather pants, a bright yellow ‘I heart Nebraska’ tshirt and weird hat, eating a corn dog? ,,,a look I guess

- - - - -

Hardison (showing passes): So, I'm Todd Laurence? (girls flock to Hardison) Ladies, please, look. For the last time, I am not the tailback for the cornhuskers. Go! I don't even know what a cornhusker is.

- - - - -

Rucker: And all you need is a product?

Sophie: Well, that's what they are: Products. You get the girls with Trianna, you get the boys with MMA. And there's always another fresh-faced princess ready to go through the singing/dancing mill in Florida. Occasionally, we let one be a lesbian, keeps the press on their toes

- - - - -

Hardison: What? What? W-what was I supposed to do? It was cousin Jimmy.

Sophie: He's right. We couldn't have planned for that.

Hardison: Look, you know what I can do? I can re-task a satellite, I can get a level 3 NSA clearance, but I can't hack a hick

- - - - -

Eliot: All right, it doesn't matter. What do we do now?

Parker: We can move the Howorth.

Eliot: We're not moving the Howorths. All right? This is their home. That means something to people here.

Sophie: Yeah, we can't babysit them forever.

Nate: We've taken out bigger players than this. You know, there's got to be some way, something we can...

Eliot: No, no! I take the dive.

Sophie: You sure?

Hardison: Give me some time, okay? I've found some funny business in Rucker's accounts. I can move some things.

Eliot: Forget the fact that we just got beat by Barney Fife, all right? This is the right move. Tactically it's the right move. You all know that. (walks away)

none of them want to see eliot hurt more than he needs to or see him go down like that and I cry

alec ‘give me five minutes I will do literally anything for eliot’ hardison

- - - - -

Sophie: Hey. Listen, you-you don't have to do this, you know. Nate's gonna come up with something.

Eliot: I'm losing a fight, Sophie. I'm not diving on a grenade. I'll be all right.

Sophie: Yeah, I know. I'm not talking physically.

Eliot: I think my ego can handle it.

Sophie: Look, you told me that it's about control, about knowing that you're never gonna be the victim. And that's what keeps you going, right?

Eliot: You think I'm upset 'cause I got to let this guy kick my ass? I learned a long time ago, you can't control the violence. I can take the punishment. That's what I do. What I need to control is not out there. (touches his chest) It's here. Always.

(Sophie smiles and walks away)

- - - - -

hardison holds eliots face before he fights I never noticed that before

+ eliot’s hair is curly when it’s wet/when he’s sweaty. this means he blowdries his hair on a regular basis. eliot, as a part of taking control of himself and his life after moreau took interest in self care and taking care of his hair in this essay I will-

- - - - -

one thing I love about this is that eliot doesn’t have a six pack (see this commentary I made with a few lovely additions by my mutuals)

- - - - -

Jack: Where's Rucker?

Hardison: Oh, the Iowa State Police just got a tip that a fugitive is headed into their jurisdiction. And I'm pretty sure crossing state lines with a bag full of cash won't look too good.

Parker: Especially when they find the little surprise in his trunk.

[Flashback, Pawn Shop]

Parker: I need guns. (dumping money on counter) $6,000 worth. And one of those.

LMFAO THERE WAS A TUBA TOO

- - - - -

Doctor (examining Eliot): You took a hell of a pounding. We should get you a CT scan. You could have internal bleeding.

Jack: You let yourself get hammered like that on purpose? That's a hell of a lot of punishment to take.

Sophie: That's what he does.

- - - - -

eliot held the rope up for parker to step under when they were getting out of the ring

- - - - -

Sophie (to Parker): Pork rind? They're actually pretty good. (parker shakes her head and rubs her stomach) You sure?

sophie nO

#leverage #leverage 2.02 #leverage 2x02 #the tap out job #the tap-out job #leverage season 2 #season 2 #notable moments #mine

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