#then contradicting it with the hospital scene where he looks terrifying

[stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland]

💭- ɟ

Heellooo babies and dear Anons 👋🏼🤗 I’m so sorry for the delay, but I’ve been pretty busy. I haven’t forgotten about you. I’m alive, and as I said I would, even if late I will always answer you. And trust me, I feel so bad for the delay, but I’ve prepared a bonus at the end of the post that I hope will make it up to you 🙏🏼

Now. Without making you wait any longer, let’s move on to the questions Mari sent to me.

I can sure try, dear Anon 🙃 1) Yes, I firmly believe in the theory that Lauren went to Camila right after the concert. 2) Camila ended up in the hospital for the same reasons she’s been there other times too: stress, lack of sleep, dehydration, weariness, and, you know, general weakness because they were overworked. 3) No, she was already gone at that time. That episode was released on November 1, 2014, but was filmed on August 21st in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania during the ‘Austin Mahone: Live on Tour’. Camren were already official in April 🥳

 I really don’t think she was watching porn, dear Anon. I have two theories on this, but neither of them includes porn. Theory number 1, Camila and Lauren arranged to pull a prank on the girls, not giving a damn about the cameraman. They faked those moans to prank DNA. Theory number 2, it was all true (at that age especially, are more the times when hormones control you and not the other way around 🤣) and they didn’t give a damn about the cameraman and anyone else also for an act of rebellion.

The takeover begins with Ally. While Ally talks to ‘us’, Lauren is shown for literally two seconds while she’s on a video call with someone. At 0:04, you can hear her say something like “Hey, it’s okay, baby”, followed by “I wanna do it” at 0:08. Lauren is no longer seen for the rest of the takeover.

The first “Ahh” said by (in my opinion) Camila, happens at 0:50. The way DNA crack up, and Ally’s cheeks that get so red with embarrassment, I find hilariously funny in itself. As well as the teasing made by DNA towards Camila. But Normani… NORMANI KORDEI HAMILTON, guuurl! And do we want to talk about Ally? The “You too with your water” said in THAT way after Camila’s “Have fun with the movie”? Whatcha mean, girl, whatcha mean? 😝🤣

At 2:05, while Camila is eating, Lauren says something like “Gimmie” to her before Mila reaches out her arm to really give her whatever she’s eating. At 3:00, people hear “Keep going”, while I hear “Don’t stop” with a moan, immediately followed then by the other “Ahh”. Lauren, in my opinion. “Ahh” that Mani then repeats at 3:08 to make fun of them. And no, don’t tell me things like ‘but she hit her head’ because if you see the scene in slow motion, at 0.5 speed, you’ll notice that she doesn’t hit it at all and that she said it to imitate them and make Ally laugh. And then, there’s the difference in the “oww” she says at 3:14 when she hurts herself for real, and you can see how different the two verses are.

Whether it was true, or whether it was a prank, for me this is still a big proof. And this big proof, Camila and Lauren didn’t give it to me per se. Ally, Mani, and Dinah did. Why? Well, because all of this does nothing but show how used to hear that kind of thing they were. So used to it, that not only were they comfortable enough (except for having a camera pointed at their face during this time) but that they even teased them.

I don’t know if they didn’t really notice or if they did it on purpose to get more views and likes. I just know that AwesomenessTV no longer has it in their videos, but the Fifth Harmony page does. Same page that was/is managed by whom? By the same people who still want Camren dead but who exploit them when it suits them best. As in this case because views and likes produce money that ends up in their pockets.

Yes, dear anon, I truly believe that.

The funny thing for me is that Lauren called Paul Martinez her first love when she was much younger. But that only after their breakup. At the time, she even believed that they would’ve gotten married. She explained that they’d been best friends before they got together and that he then broke up with her and that she didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, and that she was able to move on only when she wrote her first song about how she felt about it on September 17, 2011.

The reality of the situation, however, is different. Lauren really fell in love for the first time with Camila. She realized the real difference later. Lauren and Paul were together for not even two months. They were together for literally only 50 days. That one, I mostly define it as a strong infatuation. First experience of a relationship, even if brief, with someone. First time she has experienced the real pain of a breakup and having a broken heart. And at that age, everything seems more and more intensified and even worse than it is. For Lauren who’s an empath, even more so.

So, yeah. I truly believe that both were the first true and intense love of the other. And no, dear. No one has topped that yet. Neither for one, nor for the other 😉

 If you don’t mind, dear Anon, I would prefer to answer your questions in reverse and start from the second question first because it connects to the first one. That way, it’s simply easier for me to explain to you what I mean 😄

I don’t think so?! I mean, I’ve never experienced love at first sight. I’m a rational person and who follows logic a lot, therefore, if I were to think to want to shout a serious ‘I LOVE YOU!’ on the face of a person I’ve just met and of whom I know absolutely nothing, I’d feel crazy. How could I think I’m already in love with them? It’s something I would think to be absurd because honestly, what the fuck? I’d think of being definitely delirious.

I know what it’s like to look into a person’s eyes and think ‘wow’. I know what it’s like to look into those same eyes and lose myself in them, and feel myself melt, and getting soft, and feel light, and literally feel a passage of energy through my body that turns into goosebumps.

I know that kind of instinct. An instinct that pushes you towards this person, that pushes you not to let them go. You can’t let them go and you don’t want to. You want to know this person. Right from the start. You want to know their interests, what they like, what music they listen to, and everything in between. It’s something you can’t control. You can try, but it’s impossible and it gets you out of your mind. It’s difficult, weird, and exciting at the same time. And it’s different from the normal attraction. The normal attraction is only physical. This is mental. It comes from your mind but is also guided by something else. Something that after, only after, you understand to be your heart. And what does THAT mean? That you’re starting to fall. And after having really got to know the person better, also feeling esteem for them, after that complicity was created, that passion, that intimate and mental connection, that’s where true love is born.

When you see someone for the first time, and you like that someone, you obviously feel attraction. Love, true love, happens over time. And that’s what I think happened to Camila. I think she felt an immediate attraction as soon as she saw her (2012), which turned into a huge crush (2013), and it started with the fall which in turn blossomed into love (2014). Maybe she didn’t understand this metamorphosis right away. Maybe she has understood this over time and maturing. And the moment that she understood it (ex: Terrified, Must Be Love), was also the moment in which she was able to explain it to us and deliver it to us in different songs. Another striking example that comes to mind now is “Seventeen when I started to fall” 🎵.

It was different for Lauren, but the process was similar. She herself said she found her cute initially. I think that the attraction was born when she started to know her better (2012), and that this was already an alarm bell for her because she didn’t want to. And not because she didn’t want to be attracted to Camila, but because she didn’t want to be attracted to a girl again. One with whom she should’ve spent a lot of time together, by the way. So she tried to keep this attraction at bay. But the more she tried, the more it grew. The more she denied herself the desire, the more she got to knew Camila, and the more attracted she was to her. Then she succumbed to the attraction and simultaneously started to develop a crush, and this threw her for a panic loop even more because she COULD NOT have feelings for a girl. She simply couldn’t. And that’s how the 2013’s back and forth started, the ‘Like Friends Do’ situation that led her to start falling hard and the eventual definite falling in love in 2014.

 Good question, dear Anon, a really good question. You see, EL has always puzzled me. In the sense that for quite some time, I didn’t know whether to believe if they were really a friend of theirs, or if it was just a person in the industry who had only worked with them for a certain period of time, or if they were just a fan with a huge luck in guessing certain things.

I think this because many times they’ve contradicted themselves and said very general things that anyone with a good knowledge of the girls and how the industry works could have predicted. I’ll give you some examples. I remember that at first, they said they had a relative in the industry, then they changed and said something like Lauren was one of the most important people in their life. Then they changed again and said they knew a lot about the Camren’s relationship because they were close to them, but that they wouldn’t delve into their private lives out of respect, yet, at the same time, they said about their first kiss and their first time. Um.. like, what?? How does this make any sense? Stick to one version, can’t ya? That alone, already made me doubt their credibility very much.

Another example I can give you is that they said the purpose for the Bad Things music video was to show how straight Camila was and to kill the rumors about her sexuality. But then, they said the video would have hints of her true sexuality and Camren’s too. Um… Again. What?? Not only did they contradict themselves, but they also said something rather generic and predictable. Think about it. If the video was to kill those rumors and straighten her image in the first place, why then would they have agreed to put hints on her sexuality and on something related to Camren? What would have been the point of trying to straighten her image then?? Not to mention that it’s pretty easy to say that we’d find things related to Camren when there are CS who would be able to find something even when there isn’t. Because we know that there were and still are those who find things that are actually completely absurd and non-existent just for the sake of having proofs. So, do you see my point here?

As for who they were, you can rule out most of the industry people who worked with them, and DNA and all people related to them (DNA) for one simple reason: ExposingLaucy was fluent in both English and Spanish. You can rule out Camren because they would never, ever risk being hacked and discovered. And that leaves us to the friends of the Camren’s clique and the fans. Wanna know what makes me think this person was actually a fan? The fact that EL also knew a lot about 1D and that Camila and Lauren’s true friends never got involved in Camren’s world publicly. You’ve never seen Marielle and Sandra or Brittany, Keana, Alexa, and Erica say anything about Camren publicly. They certainly wouldn’t have created an account to expose Laucy when exposing Laucy would’ve meant not helping their friends. And then, come on, they had their own lives to think about.

Now I want you to think about something else too, and I’m gonna take precisely me as an example. In my very first post, ‘There is a light at the end of the tunnel’, I created a little skit during which Shaky misgendered Sam Smith. As we all know, it actually happened in real life just over a month after my post. In my ‘PR stunt relationships’ post, I said I was convinced that Shabby had grown his hair out to look like his obsession for years: Matthew McConaughey. Five days after my post, Chauffeur admitted exactly that and of copying his style in general in the Late Late Show interview.

What does this mean? That I knew all this was going to happen? Hell, no. That I’m a white version of Raven Baxter? Maybe 😎🤣 No, but kidding aside, I just said what I thought of him both times. I only expressed my opinions, and the first time I did it through that skit because my gut had always told me that he’d be the kind of guy to be an insensitive asshole like that. And by the way, I was shocked, surprised, and even a little proud both times because I was actually right. But what’s the point? My point is that I could’ve taken advantage of this from the start. I could’ve pretended to be an insider from my first post and prove to you that I was one for real with these two things that I would’ve told you were ‘proofs’. It would’ve been pretty easy. But I didn’t. I would never have been stupid enough to start something so risky with the risk of being discovered as has happened with many other fans. And I never would have done it especially because that’s not who I am. I don’t need to pretend to be something that I’m not, thank you very much 😁 I’m more genuine than that.

Unfortunately, though, there are a lot of people who don’t think like me who have and continue to create accounts pretending to be insiders. All of those accounts are nothing more than fans who crave attention. Fans who pretend to be insiders who have information, without ever proving them though, and who say generic things and who sometimes are lucky enough to guess. That’s all. But EL, had something these other fans didn’t have. My best guess? EL was just a Harmonizer lucky enough to have someone from the industry in their (5H) circle, maybe really a relative as they initially said, who sometimes passed information to them.

 Because Camila was constantly out there working, dear Anon. You know, interviews, performances, tours, you name it 🙃

 I’ve already answered this question, dear Anon. Go check out my ‘🗯️ - ɟ’ post 😄

Yes, dear Anon, they’ve both hurt each other many times, and you can imagine how a parent might feel about seeing their child suffer. I’m not a mom, so I can’t speak from experience in that department, but I can give you another type of example to make you understand and maybe even make you better relate to what I want to tell you.

Imagine having two friends, okay? These two friends, are both your best friends. You care about them in the same equal way. These two friends of yours are together, and every time they fight, they come to you to vent. You unintentionally find yourself in the center of this situation, but not because you get in the way or because you take the side of one of them, but simply because you’re literally the person they go to for venting and to ask for advice. Every time you hear that one of the two has fucked up, you automatically ‘hate them’, in many quotes, for making the other one suffer. Maybe you also try to justify their actions because you know them and love them and you want the two of them to make up, but it’s still automatic for you to feel momentary anger towards them for making your other friend suffer.

Now that you know what I mean, double, triple, even quadruple, that momentary anger because that’s what I think a parent feels. It must not be easy to see your child suffer in general, but to see them suffer for someone you know, who is the cause, must be even harder. Especially in their case that they saw Lauren grow up with their daughter.

Camila’s number one best friend is Sinu. Camila has always told her everything. And Sinu has also always been very present, especially since the beginning of September 2016 when she’s become a permanent presence. Sinu must have seen the developments over the years with her own eyes. And I also think that Sinu and Ale have that kind of relationship where they talk about everything. I don’t know, but I think the Cabellos would have preferred to see her single rather than in that kind of pain in those times of severe toxicity between them. Because those are the periods that Camila refers to in both songs if you notice (I don’t consider First Man in this case).

Don’t get me wrong. I still to this day think Camila and Lauren are considered as daughters by both families. The problem at the time, wasn’t Lauren specifically because I think they would’ve thought it no matter who their daughter was with. And same thing in reverse for Camila for the Jaureguis. Besides, I don’t think the Cabellos consider Lauren a bad person at all, in fact, quite the opposite. The Cabellos love Lauren and the Jaureguis love Camila. It’s always been like this, despite they’ve tried to make us believe otherwise. I think that in those two songs Camila has only blown it out of proportion for the sake of the songs themselves and that’s why it looks more serious than it really is.

 I think the answer is in the question itself, dear Anon 😆 Their problems have always been caused by the lack of communication. So they fixed that. They’ve learned to speak for real. To communicate for real and without keeping anything inside. They’ve learned to listen and not bite each other’s heads off. They’ve learned to put pride aside. And they both have set boundaries. They healed each other the same way they broke each other: together. I don’t think they’re 100% there yet, also because no relationship is perfect, but I think they’ve improved a lot compared to before. Or at least, I hope so since mine are just assumptions.

 No, dear Anon. I never believed that rumor, and unless a picture of them kissing or something like that gets leaked, I don’t think I ever will. I’m sorry, but that sounds way too ridiculous for me to even think about it 🤷🏻‍♀‍

As for your last question, I believe Ari has already answered it herself in 2019. You remember Monopoly, right? Well, that “I like women and men” made me jump from my chair so high, I don’t know how I didn’t break something when I landed on my feet. I don’t even know how I landed on my feet and not tripped or directly fell to the floor honestly 🤣 “I’ve been on a roll, where you been?” dead, Ari. I died after what you said, okay? I knew about Victoria because she’d already come out, but you hadn’t done it yet so don’t ask me where I’ve been because I’ll tell you where I’m now, and I. Am. Deeeaad! Dead.

Ahh… How I wish our Mila would come out in that same so chill way, you know? Without making too much of a big deal out of it 🤩 But anyway. Ari didn’t want to put a label on herself because she never felt the need to, and I respect that 🙏🏼

BONUS

I call it ‘The truth in the lies’.

I was re-reading some old Camila’s interviews when I came across a particular one that made me literally burst out laughing, shake my head, and say what with them has now become my phrase: “The math… The math”. I’m referring to the interview with BBS News titled: Camila Cabello: ‘An absolute force of nature’, published on December 5, 2019.

I copied and pasted the part that interests us: As soon as the Grammys wrapped up, however, Cabello stepped away from the limelight to concentrate on her second album. “She said, 'I’m not going to come out of the studio until I’ve beaten my last album,’” recalls her manager, Roger Gold. In total, it took eight months, covering a period where “other artists were putting out back-to-back albums, only a few months apart,” he says. “So it was hard for us, and for her, to ignore the noise and go into the studio and take the time she needed.”

I’d like to underline the ‘As soon as the Grammys wrapped up’ part (big ass liar 🙄), and the more important one ‘In total, it took eight months’ (to complete the album). I repeat, 8 MONTHS. And that’s the truth. Okay, are you ready to do the math and for the explanation? Good 😏

The Grammys they were referring to were the Grammy Awards which took place on January 12, 2019. Romance was released on December 6, 2019. From January 12, 2019, to December 6, 2019, it’s 10 months. We already know regardless that this would’ve turned out to be bullshit because Camila started recording the album in September 2018, and not January 2019. But just to prove to you even more how much bullshit they said for this album, I wanted to include it anyway.

Would you like to see another proof with the same date? Okay. Now let’s try from January 12, 2019, to July 12, 2019, which is the PR day in San Francisco. It’s 6 months. You can also move the dates by a few days because it’s logical that Camila wouldn’t have recorded the same night as the Grammys and, according to their stupid narrative, Used to This was recorded right after San Francisco and was the last song recorded for the album. Wanna try, I don’t know, from January 15, 2019, to July 16, 2019? It’s still SIX MONTHS and NOT EIGHT 🤣 Let’s go on.

Let’s try to calculate with the actual recording start date now and not their narrative dates.

We know First Man was the first song recorded for Romance, and we know it was recorded in Nashville. Camila was on tour for Taylor Swift’s Reputation Stadium Tour at the time. Two dates that interest us on that tour are the one of September 8th in Kansas City, and the one of September 15th in Indianapolis. Why? Because for those five days in between, from the 9th to the 14th, Camila stayed in Nashville. For the first few days, she worked first with Amy Wadge on First Man, and then in the following ones, with Ed Sheeran on South of the Border, which they finished on September 14th. All you have to do to have a confirmation of this is to check out the video C posted on July 12, 2019, where she’s rehearsing her verse with Ed, and the picture she posted on September 14, 2018, and you’ll notice that she’s wearing the same shirt.

Since First Man was finished either one day or two prior, let’s take the South of the Border date as a reference for good measure. Also because as I showed you before, moving the date by just a few days to do the calculation still leads to the same result.

So let’s try, from September 14, 2018 (South of the Border) to December 6, 2019 (Romance album release) it’s 1 year and almost 3 months. Soooo, nope. Next.

From September 14, 2018, to July 12, 2019 (PR in San Francisco) it’s 10 months. 🤣🤣🤣 NEXT.

Come on, Faby, when are you gonna tell us the real date that corresponds to the 8 months? Now, babies, now. And I actually can offer you two.

We know that Camila finished Romance in May, and we had even more confirmation when she posted an Insta-story on June 3rd of a Dropbox folder called CC2 with the album already mastered and more than ready. Wanna try with both a May date and this June date? Okay.

From September 14, 2018, to May 21, 2019, that is, the rehearsals for the Señorita’s music video, it’s 8 months and 7 days exactly.

From September 14, 2018, to June 3, 2019, that is, the IG-story of the Dropbox folder, it’s 8 months and 20 days exactly.

We have our winners, guys 🥳🥳🥳

Let’s recap just because:

From January 12, 2019 (Grammy Awards 2019) to December 6, 2019 (Romance album release) it’s 10 months.

From January 12, 2019 (Grammy Awards 2019) to July 12, 2019 (PR in San Francisco) it’s 6 months.

From September 14, 2018 (South of the Border) to December 6, 2019 (Romance album release) it’s 1 year and almost 3 months.

From September 14, 2018 (South of the Border) to July 12, 2019 (PR in San Francisco) it’s 10 months.

From September 14, 2018 (South of the Border) to May 21, 2019 (Rehearsals for the Señorita’s music video) it’s 8 months and 7 days exactly.

From September 14, 2018 (South of the Border) to June 3, 2019 (Dropbox folder) it’s 8 months and 20 days exactly.

Now do you understand why ‘The truth in the lies’? 😏

Aaaaand I’m done 👩🏻‍💻 I hope I made it up to you with this bonus 🤞🏼 Thank you, Mari, and thanks to all of you for your questions, I swear I’m loving them more and more, so please, continue to feel free to send me as many as you want 🤗💪🏼

Remember to be kind, to others and to yourself. Remember to be a good example. Remember to be patient. Stay safe and take care of yourself. I send you lots of love and virtual hugs 🤗🤗🤗 Oh and, of course, keep shipping our submarine 🤣 I love you, babies. Always with love, F ❤️

___

Ten answers for ten anons, that’s a lot of writing to do. Great work, F

[hotchley]

aaron

summary: “some of us grow up to catch them.”

ssa hotchner. former prosecutor. unit chief of the behavioural analysis unit. best shot in the whole of the quantico building. dad to jack and his entire team.

aaron hotchner. just a boy, trying to make it through the day.

(alternatively known as the backstory, the moments between, and the hotch episode we never got)

read chapter one here!

chapter two: the moments in between

trigger warnings for this chapter :  minor character deaths, death of a parent, implied/referenced child abuse, court cases involving a not guilty verdict to a charge of abuse, arson, references to cancer, references to the death of a child, vomit/sickness, references to self-harm and suicide, stabbing, canon-typical violence, blood, implied/reference drug addiction, references to domestic violence (this is between hotch's parents)

Aaron Hotchner was a lawyer full of contradictions.

He had graduated at the top of his class, but he never once referenced his own father’s abilities when he started practicing. And instead of becoming a defence lawyer- a role that would have led to him holding a position of power within weeks- he became a criminal prosecutor.

He claimed it was what called to him.

In reality, it was because he refused to let anything else be tainted by the memory of his father. He remembered the nights where his father would come home and talk about the horrible things his clients had done. He remembered how he had laughed and said he would be able to make all of those things go away with a few words. He remembered how his stomach had tightened at the injustice of it all.

But he wasn’t a scared little boy anymore. He was an adult. He was as close to happy as he could be when he spent his days looking at photos of people who had lives, and hopes, and dreams that were cut short. When an ordinary day at work meant putting some bad people behind bars whilst he was forced to let others go free.

When he was in court, he was amazing. He was cold and emotionless. People genuinely believed he had no emotions, that there was nothing that could faze him. Killers and abusers would hurl insults at him, defence lawyers would pull random laws from nowhere and he would take it. He would think on his feet and come up with something. But then there were sudden moments where he would look so vulnerable. Like when he spoke to a child, a young woman, the family that thought they hadn’t done anything to save their loved one.

The only time he would smile was when the blonde woman in his life would appear. Sometimes it was with lunch, dressed semi-casually, hair slightly messy and pen on her face from whatever it was she was doing. Other times it would be in a pretty dress. Those would be the days where he would look mildly terrified for a moment, before grinning and leading her out the office. On the bad days where they would be forced to come in on a weekend, she would come in with her own work and keep him company.

Haley had gone into teaching. High school history, although she always helped with the various productions held. She was a natural with the kids, always doing her best to be understanding and helpful, instead of confrontational and harsh. Despite this, there were still nights where she would come home, not saying anything. Those nights, Aaron would wrap his arms around her and let her cry about the injustice of the system.

Those were the nights he remembered just how lucky he was that she had taken a chance on him, unlike everyone else, who had left him to suffer. He didn’t want to think about where he would’ve been without her. Or if he would’ve even been anywhere on this earth.

So their lives weren’t perfect, and he woke up screaming some nights, but they were good. They both had stable jobs in the same area, which meant they could eat dinner together and fall asleep in each other’s arms every night. Haley liked linking their hands together so she could look at their wedding rings.

The wedding had been small, more for her parents than anyone else. He still didn’t believe he was worth loving. She had always dreamt of a wedding, but with Aaron none of that seemed to matter. What mattered was him being around. Her parents however, weren’t having any of it and even offered to pay for the wedding if that was the problem.

Haley had very kindly told them to keep their money. If her and Aaron were to get married, they would do it the way they wanted to, with their savings and their budget.

In the end, the wedding had been a compromise. Haley’s entire family, all of her high school friends and sorority sisters were invited, and everyone but Meredith attended. Aaron’s mother and brother came, as well as some of his friends from law school, but the list of people he actually wanted there was even shorter than Haley’s. She refused a seating plan for that exact reason.

After they cut the cake, they managed to sneak away for a few minutes. The wedding had been outdoors. They could see the stars. And when Aaron looked at her, he fell in love all over again. He could hear the music faintly, and so he had offered his hand and they had danced, feeling like they were seventeen all over again. That night, there had been no darkness inside him. Only joy.

And as one of his favourite authors, Joseph Campbell, had written: find a place inside where there’s joy, and the joy will burn out the pain.

But when you saw the things he did, it was difficult to find a place where joy could survive. And even when it was there, it was temporary. Because no matter what he, and everyone else in the district attorney’s office did, the evil never stopped. There was always somebody else getting hurt. Another victim not being believed. A lawyer quitting because they couldn’t keep looking at the worst of humanity and surviving.

Aaron’s own last case haunted him years after he joined the FBI.

He had been on edge for a while. Christmas had come and gone. With it, the never-ending questions from various colleagues and family members about when he was next coming home. When was Haley going to have a baby? Were they even trying for a child? Was Aaron having some difficulties? Or worst of all, when was he going to let go of his grand delusions and silly ideas and settle down as a defence lawyer?

Returning to his real home- the apartment him and Haley resided in, that had come to life with their little knick-knacks- had been a relief. She wasn’t fond of going home and seeing everyone that had failed Aaron, but she loved her family and friends. Aaron could never get away fast enough. She respected that. It was why they worked.

The new year came, and with it, new cases.

Aaron wasn’t trying to bring a killer to justice with only the evidence from the crime scenes and the testimony of families. He was trying to save an innocent child and make sure the only monsters in their life were the ones imaginary ones under the bed, instead of the father they said was abusing him and his mother.

It was like looking in a mirror. An innocent child finally snapping and telling the police the truth about their home life. But where Aaron had been mocked and told to stop being a liar, the police had listened. Gathered the evidence. They had done their job. Now it was time for Aaron to do his.

He poured over the files for hours. He found every piece of evidence he could. He would not fail this child. Not the same way he had been. He would find the truth behind every hospital visit, between every tear they had ever shed and he would make sure that the old bastard’s wife and son never had to be scared for their lives ever again.

Aaron was going to do what nobody ever did for him.

It was a week before the trial. New evidence had been located. It was all important, obviously, but there was something they were missing. Something Aaron knew would make all the difference to their case. He just needed to find out.

His phone lit up. Sean was calling him. He rolled his eyes. He couldn’t be dealing with his younger brother’s complaints in that moment. And he certainly couldn’t be lending him any more money. Him and Haley were saving for a mortgage. Then they would have a real home. Somewhere to call their own.

Somewhere to eventually raise their own children.

Sean tried to call him two more times. And Aaron declined two more times. It was a bit strange that he was phoning so consecutively, but it was probably nothing. No, not probably, definitely. It always was.

He turned back to the files, making sure his phone was on silent. When the clock ticked to six, he hurriedly locked majority of the files away in his cabinet and put the ones that had just come through into his briefcase. Haley had planned a nice evening for the two of them. But if- when- he woke up in the early hours of the morning, at least he could do something productive.

There were two more missed calls from Sean. Aaron made a mental note to phone him when he got home.

“Give me fifteen minutes to shower and then I’m yours, I promise,” he said as he entered their living room, shoes already neatly put away on the porch.

There were two packed bags on the couch. Haley was sat, wearing a black dress, hands in her lap, landline next to her. Her head was bent, but her body was shaking as tears slipped down her cheek, dampening the fabric.

Aaron felt bile rising in the back of his throat as he knelt in front of her. “Baby,” he whispered.

She shook her head.

“Baby, what happened? Just tell me, it’s okay.”

“Your mom’s gone,” she said.

“What?” Aaron whispered.

“I’m so sorry Aaron. I am so- that wasn’t the way I wanted to tell you. It’s just- Sean said she was admitted to the hospital earlier, and she passed away about an hour ago. They phoned here because you didn’t answer your cell phone. I tried to explain everything, really, but they wouldn’t let me speak and-”

“She’s really gone,” Aaron said.

Haley embraced him, awkwardly wrapping her arms around his neck as he sobbed, the knowledge still not sinking in, but the emptiness in his heart was threatening to overwhelm him entirely. They sat like that for what may have been hours or minutes as his body shook. Only when his tears turned to hiccups did Haley pull away, gently wiping away his tears with the sleeve of her dress.

“You should shower. There’s nothing else you can do now,” she said.

Aaron shook his head. Haley stood and led him to the bathtub.

“All you need to do is keep your head up for me, okay?”

The shower had no effect on him. Haley helped him dress. He felt like a small child, needing someone’s assistance to button his shirt up. But he couldn’t make his body cooperate with him. He couldn’t do anything, still in shock that she was gone.

Haley put the bags in the boot. Aaron got in the passenger side. He spent the journey staring out the window. When the buildings became more familiar, he closed his eyes, not opening them until they reached Haley’s old home. He turned to her in confusion.

“Sean is staying with a friend tonight. Going back to that house is not something you need to do today. My parents already said we could stay with them.”

Of course they did. Because everyone must’ve already known that his mother died. His mother had died and he hadn’t been there because he’d ignored his brother’s phone calls. What kind of person did that make him?

Haley no longer had the key. She rang the doorbell, one arm still wrapped around him as they awkwardly stood outside. Hotch remembered the first time he had gone to her house for dinner. It had been after his father passed away. He’d spent the entire meal feeling uncomfortable. Like the Brooks’ weren’t going to approve of him.

Her mother had hugged him, cradling the back of his head, whispering her condolences, both for what had been lost and for what the town had failed to do. Roy Brooks had shaken his hand, saying that anyone would be proud to call him their son. Jessica had dragged him to one side and said they’d all known about Haley sneaking him in during the night, but nobody knew what to say.

When he got home, he crawled into bed and sobbed. For the first time, somebody loved him unconditionally.

It was her mother that answered the door. When she saw who it was, she ushered them in. Aaron remembered at the last moment that he was supposed to take his shoes off. Haley led him to the living room.

Roy embraced him. “You’re freezing,” he whispered. “Darling, put some tea on. Aaron, how are you feeling?”

He shook his head. He did not deserve kindness. Not in this moment.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to talk. Just drink some tea and then got some sleep. Haley’s old bedroom has been set up for the two of you. And we’ll both be here if you need anything. The next few days are going to be draining for both of you, so please, don’t hesitate in asking for any kind of support.”

“Thank you Papa,” Haley said, rubbing her husband’s back.

Aaron tried to smile, but it was forced and uncomfortable.

Roy was the one who drove him to the funeral home. Haley had offered, but she had already driven them from their apartment, which had tired her out because she hated driving, so Aaron had declined, having every intention to bear the burden alone. But as he was slipping his shoes on, Roy had emerged, saying nobody should have go alone.

Sean was waiting outside for the two of them, eyes red, biting his nails. When Aaron looked at him, he couldn’t even imagine him as the eighteen-year-old about to go to college that he was. When Aaron looked at his little brother, he just saw the little boy who didn’t understand that their dad wasn’t coming home. Only this time, there were no comforting lies to give him. He understood everything. Including Aaron’s failure.

“How could you?” Sean whispered the moment he saw his brother.

Aaron looked down.

“She was in the hospital, constantly asking where you were. She didn’t care that I was there. She just wanted to know where her precious baby was, and I had to keep lying and say that you were coming when in reality, I had no fucking clue where you were. It was not supposed to be me holding her hand. It was supposed to be you. But you weren’t there, and so you have no right to turn up, now looking all sad and pathetic.”

Michael Hotchner had not been right about much. But he had been right about one thing. Aaron Hotchner was his mirror. Sean Hotchner was his son.

“Sean Hotchner. That is enough. You do not get to disrespect your brother or your mother like that. Go inside, and do not create another scene,” Roy snapped.

When Sean departed, he turned to Aaron, who was shaking.

“Son?”

“He’s right,” Aaron whispered. “I should have been there. He- Sean phoned me and I didn’t answer because I thought it was stupid and I had this case and- I failed her.”

“Look at me. It’s not your fault. It was her time to go, and you cannot spend the rest of your life blaming yourself. Sean is angry and grieving, and he doesn’t mean a single word of what he said. You’re a good man, doing a good job and you make my daughter happy. Don’t ever forget that. Okay?”

Aaron nodded, not truly believing him. He followed Sean into the funeral home, where they spent the next few hours in a tense, uncomfortable silence. Aaron wanted to comfort his brother, but he didn’t know how. Not when Sean stood as far away from him as possible.

The funeral was a day later. Once again, Haley held his hand until the priest called him up to say a few words. Aaron managed to make it through his eulogy with minimal tears, but the moment he was back beside his wife, he turned away from the grave, letting the tears fall.

The people were silently judging him for what he had failed to do. Roy glared at everyone that dared tried to voice these opinions. They were wrong. Aaron hadn’t failed anyone. He’d gotten there the moment he was supposed to, and if those people were even half as religious as they liked to claim they were, they would know that.

“You take as long as you need,” Haley whispered, when everyone else, even Sean had departed.

Aaron nodded, holding the flowers he’d grabbed from the car to his chest like a baby. He watched as Haley left, going to sit in the car to give him the space he needed. He’d told them all to drive home, that the walk would do him some good. He watched on unsteady legs as the car faded from view.

And then he fell to his knees, sobbing, one hand pressed to his mouth to stop too much noise from escaping, the other blindly feeling around for the flowers left by Sean. Their mother had hated roses- somehow, she always managed to prick her finger on the thorns. The only reason they had ever been in the house was because on the days where people would come round, his father would turn up with a bouquet of them, and she would dutifully smile and accept them.

Aaron moved the roses so they were hidden by all the other flowers they had left. And then he put his own small bouquet of carnations right where the headstone would go.

“Mama, I am so sorry,” he whispered.

And then he walked away, unable to stand the sight of the grave anymore.

The defence ripped him and his witnesses to shreds.

The verdict was not guilty.

The child was sent home.

“You promised me,” they sobbed as their father stood with an easy smirk on his face.

He was sick the moment he got home. Haley didn’t say a word. She just showed him an advert for the FBI that had been posted through the letterbox. When he stared at her, she smiled. Said that she had married Aaron Hotchner the man, not Mr Hotchner the prosecutor.

Two weeks later, he was enrolling in the FBI Academy.

Six months later and he was Agent Hotchner. He liked that. It was his own, and nobody would ever associate the title with his father. He could be his own person.

Then David Rossi gave him the nickname of Hotch and he couldn’t be happier. It would’ve made his mother smile. And his father turn in his grave at the utter shame of his good name being reduced down to something so mundane.

But being a profiler was tough. Every case meant dealing with the very worst of humanity. And even among the worst, there was a hierarchy. Some cases were just more disgusting, more scary and more scarring than others. A few cases reminded him that profilers were all just a step away from becoming unsubs themselves. That the line could and would blur before any of them even realised.

Vincent Perrotta left him vulnerable. Physically and emotionally. Jason had told him to loosen his tie and undo his top button, but Aaron needed the reassuring pressure of both things at his neck in order to maintain some kind of illusion of control in spite of the damage done by the wire.

He didn’t open up to unsubs. One of the most important parts of conducting an interrogation was to make them think you understood them without giving away anything about yourself. And most of the time, he was good at doing that. He pretended to understand the hatred of children, pretended to agree with them when they claimed that all women were just manipulative bitches and he pretended to find it amusing when they thought that the person doing the act was right.

The key word was pretend.

He wasn’t pretending when he looked Perrotta in the eye and told him the one thing that only Haley and Dave were aware of. Had it been any other time, it would’ve been funny. His own team didn’t know what his father had done to him, but this serial killer did, and it was all because he’d slipped up and said us instead of them.

Hotch had never been so thankful there was a bathroom on the same floor as his office that nobody ever used. The moment Perrotta turned away, the realisation that his crimes had never been inevitable causing more distress than the murder of the woman had, Hotch had bolted.

He hadn’t eaten since the incident in the night. It hurt to swallow. Which meant despite the minutes he spent retching over the toilet seat, hands trembling because how many times had he looked in the mirror and seen the exact same look that he’d witnessed on Perrotta, nothing came out.

Morgan was stood by the door.

“I know we have a no profiling rule.”

“Then follow it.”

“Reid’s doing your paperwork. He’s surprisingly good at forging your handwriting and I’m not sure I want to know why. That means all you need to do is sign it. Go home.”

“You’re not my superior Morgan,” Hotch snapped.

Morgan didn’t even blink. “I know. But you won’t write me up for insubordination. There’s no reason for you to be here, but there is every reason for you to be at home.”

Their relationship was a strange one. They trusted each other as agents- it was the only way they were able to go out in the field- but not as individuals. But then every once in a while, Derek would do something like this and Hotch would wonder if it was his way of saying that he did indeed care.

He was right though. There was every reason for him to be at home.

The living room light was off, so he immediately headed upstairs. Jack was asleep in his crib. Hotch felt uneasy in the nursery. Both he and Haley knew this was their forever home, which was why they had a nursery- it could be Jack’s bedroom until he moved out- but after Karl Arnold, he wasn’t sure how he felt about not being able to see him in the night.

“He won’t wake up if you hold him,” Haley said from the doorway.

“You should be asleep,” he replied, feeling guilty that he must have woken her.

“No, I shouldn’t. What happened?”

“How do you know something happened?”

She shrugged. “I know you.”

He sighed. “I don’t want to burden you. You already put up with enough from me.”

She crept closer, wrapping her arms around his waist, and he was transported back to the bathroom, only now the scars on his back had healed but not faded and more, both visible and hidden, covered his body because profiling always damaged people.

“You’re not burdening me. I’m asking.”

“Serial killer. His dad abused him and his mom. I accidentally told him that some of us grow up to catch them. But Hales, the look on his face. It was like he finally realised that everything he did had been because of him, not because of his father and I just, I sympathised. What kind of person does that make me?”

“A good one.”

“I saw myself in him. The person I might have become if you hadn’t saved me,” he confessed, still watching his son.

Haley’s grip loosened. He realised what he had said.

“Aaron that wasn’t me. You saved yourself. You got out and you decided you were going to break the cycle. That was you. I just helped you along the way. Hey, look at me.”

He turned, tears in his eyes. Haley smiled, still as bright and good as the day they met. She took his hands and lifted them to her lips, placing a soft kiss to them before leaning past him and lifting Jack up. The baby stirred slightly, but did not wake, even when Haley handed him to Aaron.

“You won’t hurt him. Or me. You will never be like the people that you hunt down. I will die before that ever happens,” she said. There was such raw passion in her voice that the tears finally fell.

Haley would die before he hurt someone. And he had made a vow to her father the day they married that he would keep her safe, and a second the day he joined the FBI that if Haley were to die, it would not be because of his job.

“Thank you,” he whispered, putting Jack down so he could press a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you,” she said, like it was the easiest thing in the world for her to do. Because to her it was. She just wished he could understand that.

He didn’t know how to say the words. Not in the way that she needed. So instead he smiled, took one last look at his baby and walked away. He pretended to be fine because Haley shouldn’t have to worry about her. In reality, the moment she fell asleep, he went and checked the locks. Again.

The darkness shouldn’t have been able to creep in, but it did. It always did.

“I hope Morgan wasn’t too rough with you,” Gideon said, taking the seat opposite him.

Hotch looked at him. Gideon gave him that smile that never seemed to be aimed at him anymore. He sighed, fiddling with the pen he’d placed on the paperwork he hadn’t touched since boarding the jet. Talking to Abby’s son had been more painful than he’d expected, but somebody needed to do it. It was the least they could do for him.

“I’ve handled worse,” he replied.

Gideon hmmed at that. “That doesn’t mean you have to. I made you some tea. Herbal. Apparently it’s calming. You should drink it.”

Hotch stared at the mug like it was going to poison him. Then he carried on staring out the window. It was dark, and there wasn’t really much to see, but he couldn’t keep looking at the sympathy on Jason’s face. It made him feel sick. He wasn’t the one that had lost a father that day. He had just gotten too close, again, despite constantly telling everyone that wasn’t something they could do.

It was impossible to get the image of him burning to death out of his mind. Whilst he wanted to believe Abby’s death had been swift and painless, much like his own father’s heart attack, he knew that was impossible. He’d seen enough burn victims to know it took time for that happen. He wondered if, in those final moments, Abby regretted his decision.

“Hotch there was nothing we could have done to save him,” Gideon said gently. He wished Dave was still there. He would know what to say, what to do. Gideon had never had that relationship with Aaron. He liked to think he had that relationship with Spencer, but Aaron was different. He didn’t understand him.

“I should have stopped him. He should have had more time. If only so he could look at his son and tell him what was going on.”

Gideon tilted his head to the side. “Spencer mentioned that you had gone to see the family. Why didn’t you send JJ? She is our media liaison, that’s her job description, not yours.”

“JJ wouldn’t have understood. I had to go. It had to be me.” Hotch didn’t really know why he was telling Gideon any of this.

“It was your penance, wasn’t it? You think it’s your fault that he died, so you decided to make the fallout your responsibility. Hotch, you’re the Unit Chief now. The team look to you. You can’t tell them to do one thing and then do the exact opposite.”

He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to be SSA Hotchner, or even Hotch. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be Aaron, because even though Haley and Dave- the only people that used his first name- had always treated it like something precious, the ghost of his father made him think the only way it could be said was with disdain.

Even with his eyes closed, he knew Jason was watching him. He opened his eyes and turned slightly, watching the other members of the team. JJ and Emily were laughing at something that Morgan was saying. Reid was smiling. Hotch felt relieved. It had been far too long since Reid had smiled, and he knew he was the one to blame.

Jason followed his gaze. “They’ve all come so far, haven’t they? One day, they won’t even need us.”

That startled Hotch. His eyes met Gideon’s and he realised his mistake immediately.

“I see. It wasn’t just Abby you saw yourself in. It was his son. That’s why you went. You were compensating.”

“Please don’t profile me,” he whispered, knowing it was useless.

“I’m not. Now I know I’m no David Rossi or Haley Brooks, but I am here. However much you may not agree, I am.”

It was useless to say that he didn’t think that. Because he did, and it was written in the hesitance of his decisions. Of his constant watching. Of the pile of paperwork in his office that was meant to be Jason’s.

“I wanted- needed- to know who it was that my father had been having an affair because everyone, including my own mother, had known. But then he was diagnosed with cancer and all of that became irrelevant. I never got my answers, and it still hurts, even now.”

Nobody, not even Haley, knew about that. She obviously had her suspicions, and she knew about his lack of closure, but he had never properly told her.

Jason wasn’t saying anything. Hotch looked at him and saw that the other man was looking past him, not at him. He followed his gaze, and realised he was looking at Spencer. He swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled as Derek ruffled his hair.

He turned back, and saw that Jason was watching Spencer with the soft smile he had never managed to evoke. He blinked back tears. He missed Dave. He wanted Dave because Dave would know what to say to stop him feeling like such crap. Jason didn’t. Because Jason loved Spencer more than he loved Aaron, and Aaron couldn’t even fathom resenting either of them for that because it wasn’t either of their faults.

It was just a fact of life. But that didn’t mean it still didn’t sting when instead of replying, Gideon stood and went over to the other members of the team, intently listening to whatever it was Spencer was saying.

Haley would tell him to phone Dave. But he couldn’t disrupt his book tour like that. Instead, he kept staring out the window, trying to forget how beautiful the flames had looked against the darkness of the night or how deep down, he almost wished it had been him in there.

It was too close to the line between profiler and unsub.

He bottled up his emotions and hoped that Jason would stay. If not for him, then for Spencer. Because he couldn’t be that person. He was barely that person for Jack.

Jason did not stay. Neither did Haley. They both reached their breaking points and then Hotch pushed them too far.

Deep down, he knew the moment where they both decided they couldn’t take it anymore, the moment where they finally admitted to themselves that they deserved better and they took the steps to get there.

He just never expected they would happen on the same day. He supposed he’d bought that upon himself though. It was him that had said Jason was okay to return to work, for the purely selfish reason that he couldn’t do it alone even though he knew Gideon needed more time. It was him that had left on the case because Morgan had asked him to, even though Haley had asked him not to.

What kind of marriage was that? He didn’t know who had phoned. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know but there was no guarantee that Haley was having an affair. To suggest that she was would be cruel. It would only be because he didn’t want to have to take accountability for his part in the breakdown of their marriage.

It did take two to tango.

But where Jason took a piece of Spencer’s heart, Haley took the reason Hotch had never been able to stop hunting down monsters.

Morgan told him they would survive without Gideon. Hotch knew they would, but he wasn’t sure he could. Gideon’s departure, as much as he didn’t want to seem narcissistic, would reflect on him. He hadn’t saved him. He hadn’t been able to save his marriage- because Haley had done all she had and it had been his turn- and now the unsub’s last words were haunting his memory.

He had always taken pride in the fact that he was a difficult man to profile. A face schooled into a cautious look of neutrality, suits that hid the fact that he never seemed to have an appetite anymore. The only thing that ever gave away his nerves was the small hand thing he had never been able to stop doing.

For his own profession to be used against him in such a way, so soon after he had failed to save so many people- the six agents in Boston, Elle, Jason, Haley- was disarming. He wasn’t sure what he was meant to do. Normally, he would’ve gone to the home where Haley would have left a light on for him. He would’ve watched his son sleep and just stared at him in awe. He would’ve pressed a kiss to Haley’s forehead before climbing into their bed and seeking her warmth. Maybe, if it had been too late to go home, he would’ve taken Jason to the piano night down at the bar.

But Haley had taken her warmth and the thing that made their house a home with her. All the rooms would be dark when he got back. Jack’s room would be empty. Their bed would be cold.

He hadn’t slept alone since college. It hurt, to wake up in the morning and not see Haley’s hair, messy and knotted.

He just didn’t want to be alone, but who was he supposed to tell?

“Reid. I’ll drop you home. It’s been a long few days,” he said.

Everyone else had left. Reid looked up with wide eyes. He looked so painfully young, and Hotch felt a slight pain in his stomach. What was this job doing to him? Spencer deserved better than sleepless nights and painful memories that would never be forgotten. Hotch guessed that one day, Spencer would be added to the list of people he had failed to save.

In some ways, he already was.

“I can go myself,” Spencer mumbled.

“Reid. Let me do this. Please,” Hotch said.

Spencer nodded. “Okay.”

They left, the car far too silent for either of them to be comfortable. Hotch wanted to debate something intellectual, if only to soothe Spencer’s nerves, but the words classic narcissist still left a bitter taste in his mouth. And his mind had gone completely blank regarding anything else.

“We’ve driven past the turning. The route that you’re now going down would mean that getting to my apartment would take an hour extra.”

Hotch kept his eyes on the road, subtly checking that the car doors were locked. “You’re coming home with me. I don’t think you should go home alone.”

Reid turned to face him properly. “I don’t need you to treat me like a child. I get enough of that from everyone else. Gideon left me with a letter, just like my dad. He’s not going to come back and rationally, I have to accept that, because refusal to do so won’t change anything.”

“Maybe. But you should know better than anyone that we can’t control our brains.”

He realised the moment the words left his mouth that it wasn’t the right thing to say, and he immediately regretted them. What Reid thought he was trying to imply was definitely not what he was, but the words had come out wrong and now Reid was going to hate him too.

“I do. Know that. Don’t need you reminding me.”

He sounded just like Jack. Hotch swallowed. “I know. I’m sorry, that came out badly. What I meant was that you’re allowed to feel like you’re being irrational. Missing Gideon is a valid emotion, regardless of the way he left us. You. I meant you.”

They were stuck at a red light.

“Hotch, why haven’t you transferred?” Reid asked suddenly.

He shifted slightly. “My reason for doing it is no longer a thing.”

Reid frowned, and Hotch hit the gas.

“Oh,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. Is it our fault?”

Hotch shook his head. “Haley and I made our decisions. It was never anyone else’s problem, and it is most certainly not your fault.”

Reid wasn’t convinced.

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” he blurted out. “That’s why I’m taking you to the house. Because I can’t be alone and I need to feel like I’m doing something to help someone otherwise, what is the point in all of this?”

“This is about what the unsub said, isn’t it?”

They hadn’t had a conversation like this in so long. Not since before Hankel, his brain supplied.

“It’s true though, isn’t it? I failed to help Elle. I failed to help you, and Jason and Haley and god knows who else,” he said.

Spencer looked at him, chin tilted “You said: Haley and I made our decisions. It was never anyone else’s problem, and it is most certainly not your fault. How is this any different?”

Hotch sighed. “I had a responsibility to the other members of my team because I am meant to be their leader. You, on the other hand, are still just a kid, who has no connection whatsoever to my marriage.”

“I may be young, but I am in no way a child. And no, I didn’t have any connection to your marriage but I still don’t get your point. Elle and Gideon made their decisions of their own free will and there is nothing anyone could’ve done to stop them because when somebody is that determined to do something, they will always find a way.”

They’d pulled into the driveway. Hotch still hadn’t adjusted to the curtains still being open, for everyone to see and it took a moment to adjust to the darkness. The porch light hadn’t been on for a while, yet it was still a shock to the system. Haley’s light was just another thing he had taken for granted.

“When did you get so smart?” Hotch whispered. In some ways, he felt like he had watched as Spencer had grown from the new agent, doubting his worth and his abilities, to the slightly more confident that he had a family man that was now sat next to him. He hoped Spencer never lost his softness, or the things that made him the person he was, for there was nothing sadder.

“Hotch, I’ve always been smart. When Gideon returned after Boston, you introduced me as your expert on everything and then I told the man we were interviewing that I have an IQ of 187.”

“Never change Spencer.”

“I wouldn’t know how.”

There was a short silence.

“Would you stay the night?” Hotch asked.

“I thought that was what you wanted.”

“It is. But I want this to be your decision. If you’d rather be alone, then I will take you to your apartment and we’ll never speak about it again.”

They sat for a few minutes, and Hotch resisted the urge to tell Spencer to hurry up.

“I think I’ll stay the night,” he finally decided, voice small.

Hotch breathed a sigh of relief, not even caring that the house was still littered with small traces of Haley and the life they had spent together.

The two of them ate in relative silence, and then Hotch set them both up in the living room. He wanted- needed- to keep an eye on Spencer, but he told him that when Haley and him bought their first apartment and started living together, they would camp out in the living room because there was nobody to tell them not to.

He left out the part where it was also because Aaron had never really been allowed to sit wherever he wanted and do whatever he felt like.

There was some old documentary about the Russian Revolution in the background. Spencer had fallen asleep, his head in Hotch’s lap. Without even realising, Hotch had started stroking his hair, much like he used to do for Jack.

The light in the living room was on, and not once did Spencer wake. Hotch made them both breakfast- pancakes, because the look of joy when he said he probably had all the ingredients was not one he wanted to destroy- and Spencer gave him a genuine smile.

Neither of them spoke of it again, but Hotch felt a little lighter. A little bit more like the Aaron Haley had fallen in love with again. Maybe he couldn’t save everyone, but he saved Spencer, and even if it was only a little, and well after he should’ve, at least he had done it.

That would be enough to keep the darkness out, if only for a little bit.

Megan Kane died and Aaron- not Hotch, because Hotch would say that you can’t take cases personally, no matter how much you wanted to, held her hand. He held her hand as she said thank you for staying and not leaving. He didn’t have the words to tell her that he didn’t walk away for selfish reasons. Because he couldn’t have her considering him to be the same as the other men she’d killed.

Not after everything she’d done. The chip was safely tucked away in his pocket, just waiting to be passed on.

Even when her chest stopped rising, he refused to let go, only doing so when the police kicked the already open door to her room in, guns raised. When they stepped onto the balcony, he dropped her hand, watching as it fell limply. He didn’t know how long he had been sat there, but it was long enough for the body to go cold.

“Agent Hotchner. We need you to provide a statement. You were the only person present when she died,” the lead detective said.

Aaron stood, suddenly so angry at everything and everyone. “She took the pills and gave me the card. And then she asked me to stay so I did. Then she died. What more do you need than that?”

He didn’t want to tell them what she’d said. It was stupid, but it felt private.

He stormed out the room before they could respond and stepped into the elevator with a heavy heart.

Both Dave and Emily tried to make him feel better the whole way home. It was all to no avail. Their attempts to comfort him went over like a lead balloon. The only indication he’d even heard them was the slight clench of his jaw and his adamant stare out the window, his report on the table, only the first sentence written. When Dave tried to crack a joke, Hotch glared and he backed off.

Emily sat by him. Whilst her general presence usually never failed to make him feel a little better, it was just irritating him. He didn’t want to talk to any of them. He didn’t want them walking on eggshells. He wanted them to just leave him.

But then he felt bad. Because the one person he wanted had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want anything to do with his job, and the rest were just trying to be there for him and that should’ve been enough for him.

When they got to the office, he did something he’d only done a few times before. He put the files on his desk and then he exited it. He needed to see his son. He needed to go to his real home- because now Haley was living in the house, it felt like a home again.

Haley had responded to his message about coming by with a simple: Ok. He still felt wrong profiling her, so he didn’t.

She had changed the locks. He didn’t have the key. And so he was stood there, awkwardly waiting for her to open the door whilst he rubbed circles with his thumb over the spot where his wedding ring had previously been. The tan line had all but faded. He felt pathetic for still reaching for it sometimes.

She opened the door. “There’s a birthday party that he’s been excited about for- you’re wearing a case suit.”

“I’m- what?”

She frowned. “Why are you wearing a case suit?”

“A case suit?”

“Yes. There are suits that you would only ever wear when you were on a case because they could be washed a lot more easily, and if you got blood on them, well you weren’t attached to them. How were you not aware of this?”

“I guess it was a subconscious thing. Look, we just landed but I-” he saw Jack peeking his head around the door.

On reflex, he crouched down. He remembered how he had felt when he was younger and his father would come storming in, towering over him, terrifying and threatening. He never wanted Jack to feel like that. And so he knelt down, burying his head in Jack’s neck for a moment before letting go.

“Hi buddy. How are you feeling?”

Jack stopped smiling. “I accidentally made mommy annoyed because I drew on the wall. But then she said that sometimes people feel bad emotions and that’s okay, you just need to be good about it. And then once we cleaned it up, she said that I’m not a bad kid, I just did a wrong thing.”

Hotch felt tears prick the back of his eyes. Haley was so good. Too good.

“She’s right. One act doesn’t determine who you are,” he said, voice cracking.

“Jack, mommy and daddy need to go and talk in the kitchen, so just stay in the living room, okay?”

Jack nodded.

Hotch followed Haley, noticing the last photo that was taken of the three of them before the divorce- although at the time nobody knew- was still stuck to the fridge.

“Tell me what happened,” she whispered.

Aaron turned away. “That’s not your job anymore.”

“Baby,” she said.

He closed his eyes. When was the last time somebody had called him that?

“I know what I said then. Trust me, there’s no way I could ever forget. But I was wrong. This is who you are. And I never should’ve asked you to change. I think the divorce was the best thing for both of us, because it was needed. But I still love you. And I know you won’t tell the team. So tell me.”

And he did. He told her everything. “The worst part is, she was right. I should be here every week, but Jack’s lucky if I’m here every fortnight. Haley, I always said I didn’t want to become a father because of how he hurt me. What kind of father am I if Jack is going to say the same thing?”

For a while Haley did not speak. They were just stood, a good six feet between them. And then she threw her arms around him. The force of her touch threw him off balance. When was the last time anyone had actually touched him? If he was struggling to remember, then it must’ve been far too long.

The smell of her shampoo felt like coming home and before he knew what was happening, he could taste the salt of his tears.

She stroked his hair and he relaxed into the touch, despite all the knots. He had always hated brushing his hair but loved when Haley would run her hands through it. She messed it up as he sobbed into her shoulder, and not for the first time, she wondered how many more times he could stare into the depths of depravity and come back whole.

Although, she thought to herself bitterly, he’d never been given the chance to be whole in the first place.

At some point, they’d started sitting on the kitchen floor. She was still playing with his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.”

“You don’t need to be. And I will spend the rest of my life convincing you of that.”

Aaron looked at her with such love in his eyes that she could not resist the urge to press a soft kiss to his forehead before tugging him closer.

“Sleep here. I’ll take Jack to the party, and you can rest. Do that paperwork that’s in your office. And maybe tomorrow, we can all go for ice cream.”

His eyes widened. They were so soft and warm that Haley had never understood how he managed to glare at anyone. Apart from the people that had offered their sympathies at his father’s funeral, despite fully well knowing the truth.

“Really?”

“Yeah Aaron. Really. Now go upstairs and rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She was, and it was like she had burst into his life in an explosion of light all over again.

Then George Foyet took that light and snuffed it out.

Haley once said she would die before Aaron hurt another person the way his father had hurt him. She said it because her death was so unlikely. It was an event that they knew would one day occur, but they never really thought about it. Though it was morbid, Aaron’s death was the one they had to prepare for. He was the one charging after dangerous criminals on a weekly basis. Haley was teaching.

Nothing bad was ever supposed to happen to her because he had promised, with everything he was, that he would keep her safe and that the horrors of his job would never touch her.

But he hadn’t been quick enough.

And now she was dead.

George Foyet had surrendered. He had surrendered willingly and without coercion, but Hotch hadn’t listened. He had carried on, even though his duty was to stop. To carry out a lawful arrest. But he hadn’t. He had carried on hitting a man that would not have been able to defend himself. Deep down he knew that was unfair to say. Foyet was taunting him by saying he was giving up.

Still, his knuckles ached. Morgan had pulled him off the body and he hadn’t been able to look. He couldn’t do it. So many things had already been destroyed by him. There was already so much blood on his hands, if he looked at Foyet he would never recover.

He was worse than his father. At least his father was a human. At least his father had never touched Sean. His father had never- to his knowledge- even attempted to beat his mother to death. But he had. He had beaten a man to death, and the worst part was, he would do it all again.

He would do it again because at least Jack was alive. Scared and confused, but alive. Hotch knew that if Jack had been the one to die, then he wouldn’t be here. He would’ve let Foyet kill him and vanish, as selfish as it was, because a life without his son was not one he wanted to live. After he found Haley, he knew he needed to consider the worst scenario: that Jack had not understood.

When Foyet told him that he would find Jack and show him his dead parents, something in him found the strength to survive. If Foyet was saying he would find Jack, then that would mean that he hadn’t already done so. Which meant Jack must’ve understood and was just waiting for his dad to come find him.

It was when Jack told him about how he had worked the case that the knowledge that Haley was dead hit him like a tonne of bricks. The first time he had found him, Jack had ran out and told his Mom what him and Daddy were doing together. Haley had smiled fondly before coming into the room, staring out the window instead of the desk.

Hotch had told her it was just a budget report. She looked down and did indeed see the budget sheet. But under that was the profile for a man who had recently lost his wife and was going after blonde mothers that resembled her.

There was blood all over his shirt and hands. Jack didn’t need to see that. The part of his brain not occupied with Haley knew that JJ was the best person for him to be with. She was good with children and had dealt with enough children of victims to know what to say and what to avoid.

Victims. Because that was what Haley had become. A victim of a serial killer and it was all his fault.

If he had just been quicker. If he had taken the deal. If he had transferred when Haley asked him to. They probably would have still ended up divorcing, but she would be alive. Jack would have a real parent. One that could look at him without turning away. Haley’s blood was on his hands, and every time he looked at Jack, he saw her. Because Jack had his mother’s light hair and kind eyes.

The day Aaron died- and god that couldn’t come fast enough- would be the day that the last piece of his father finally left the earth.

Haley’s hair was dark. That was the first thing he noticed when he saw her, lying on the ground. He’d heard people say that when someone died, you could kid yourself into thinking that they were just sleeping because they would look so peaceful.

Haley’s mouth was a thin line. She smiled when she was sleeping. Her clothes were not the ones she would have picked herself. Her eyes were still open. Aaron hated that she died alone and afraid. That should’ve been him. And her hair was dark. He cursed himself for being surprised. Of course it was dark. She’d gone into WitSec.

It just felt like a visual representation of everything he’d taken from her. Her light and innocence had been destroyed and it was all his fault. He hadn’t even told her Sam Kassmeyer was dead, which was such a stupid thing to fixate on, but anything to take away from the fact that she was gone.

When he pulled her limp, unmoving body towards him, needing to feel her against him one more time, she was still a little warm and he almost vomited right there. How close had they been that she wasn’t cold? He didn’t let go till Emily gently touched her shoulder, leading him away from the body.

The team were shielding him from the various people that had responded to the scene and if he had more energy, he would say thank you. But he was tired. And his hands hurt so much. They were still trembling.

Jack leant into his touch like it was nothing and Hotch marvelled at the fact that he seemed to adjust like it was nothing. He knew it was because he didn’t understand, but after everything that had been lost that day- two lives, a piece of Aaron, a place that was once home, the brightest light he’d ever met, Jack’s chance for a normal life- it felt like a win.

Before he knew it, the funeral was being held. He’d planned his eulogy, writing it whilst watching Jack because he couldn’t sleep without seeing the steady rise and fall of his son’s chest. There were a hundred different copies in the bin. How was he supposed to get up in front of everyone that looked to him and expected him to lead, and talk about Haley had made him feel safe?

Attending Haley’s funeral hurt more than either of his parents had. He wasn’t sure if that made him a terrible person. But when his father had died, he’d been relieved. Not happy, but maybe a little grateful. And when his mother had died, Haley had been stood next to him, her grip on his hand grounding him.

This time, she was the one in the ground. And the only person grounding him was a little boy, so much like Sean- not quite understanding, but aware enough to know the person they loved wasn’t coming home.

He held it together through his speech. Jessica gave him a soft smile before she took his place, reciting her own eulogy. Haley’s mother wasn’t able to attend because she was too unwell so her father recited both their speeches, voice cracking and tears streaming down his face.

It showed just how broken he was. No self-respecting Southern man would ever be able to shed tears that freely.

“Thank you for saying something,” Jessica said to him when they were all sat down. The team were far away enough to not hear, and he suspected that was why she had finally spoken to him.

“Jessie, this is all my fault. It was the least I could do. And I promise, I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you. To all of you.”

She let out a watery laugh. “Jessie. It’s been so long since you’ve called me that. Aar, I don’t blame you. I can’t. Because you did everything you could. I know that. And I heard you up there. You loved her. But you didn’t kill her. In fact, she’d kill me if I suggested such a thing. So forgive yourself. The rest of us have.”

“Jessica, why would you say something like that?” Roy shouted.

Jess flinched, unaware that her father had overheard everything.

Aaron shrunk down in his seat, unable to meet Roy’s eyes.

“You got my daughter killed. I trusted you. Even when nobody else did, when everybody said only bad things happened where Aaron Hotchner got involved, I trusted you. And when those people blamed you for what happened to your mother, I defended you. Because I knew you were a good man that would keep my daughter safe.”

“Dad, now is not the time,” Jessica said quietly.

“Yes it is! Yes. It is. My baby is dead, and it is all your fault. You promised me this would never happen. You swore. When your marriage died, I thought to myself: these things happen. They were young when they fell in love, perhaps they just grew up. But this- everything that has happened today? That’s on you. This is your fault. I wish it was you in the ground!”

Hotch flinched. “Roy, I-”

“It’s Mr Brooks to you now Hotchner. I treated you like a son. I- Haley did everything for you. Why weren’t you fast enough?”

And wasn’t that the million dollar question? Why had he not been fast enough?

“Dad, I know you are angry, but Aaron is not the person to be taking it out on! Just because he’s here and it is convenient does not make it right. Haley loved him until the very last moment. Shouldn’t that be enough to be good to him?”

Aaron just wanted everyone to stop shouting.

“She didn’t love him at the very last moment! How could she, after everything he put her through?”

“It is Hotchner going on the gravestone, not Brooks,” Jessica snapped.

Both Roy and Aaron stared at her. Neither of them had known about that, and she immediately paled, as though she’d revealed something she wasn’t meant to.

“What?” Roy spat.

“Haley called mom in the middle of the night in a panic. Said that if, somehow, this Foyet managed to find them, or if something happened, she wanted Hotchner to be on her gravestone because she loved Aaron.”

Roy’s hands were clenched at his sides and Aaron swallowed, subconsciously bracing himself for the blow that never came.

“I won’t do that to you. Ever. You may not be my son anymore, but I still would not harm you.”

Hotch exhaled, but Roy walked away before he could say anything. And the team got called away on a case.

“Did she really say that?” he asked Jessica, when it was just the two of them and their mugs of coffee. Jack had gone to sleep.

Jessica tore her gaze away from the carpet. Derek had done an incredible job of making it seem like nothing happened, but she now knew better and the thought of what had gone down made her sick. She wished she could convince Aaron to move, but she knew it would never work.

“Jess?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. She did. I was going to say something to you earlier but it completely slipped my mind. I hope that’s okay with you.”

He nodded. Of course it would be okay with him. Whatever Haley had wanted from him, he would give her. It would be too little too late, but it would still be something. Maybe it would lead to Roy’s forgiveness.

It was that line of reasoning that led to him almost accepting retirement, because what else was he meant to do? But then Jessica had offered to take Jack, saying it was the least she could do and that it wouldn’t be any trouble and he had been confused.

The gravestone hadn’t been placed yet, but he still knew where she was buried. That surprised him, because now that he thought about it, he couldn’t really remember the actual funeral. He just remembered Roy’s words. Aaron found himself talking to the air in a way he never had before, and by the time Dave found him, he’d made his decision.

Jack needed a father that could teach him how to move on and be happy. Aaron needed the team to be happy. Jessica had given her blessing, and maybe it was psychological, but everything felt a little warmer after he told his best friend that Haley already knew.

It didn’t mean he was confident that he was making the right choice. It was ridiculous, but he was terrified of how the team would respond. What if they thought he was making the wrong choice?

But on his first day in the office, they all treated him normally. Like nothing had changed. And for that, he was grateful. Emily was- as always- the only one aside from Dave with the self-destructive streak to make a comment.

Although it wasn’t the one he’d been expecting.

“I’m glad you came back,” she told him as he packed up his things to go.

There was a look in her eyes that told him she was being genuine. Her approval, deep down, meant more to him than everyone else’s, including Dave. For her to come in and say that she was happy he was there and leading the team meant more to him than he would ever be able to say. It also showed how far they had come. She had gone from insulting him every other sentence to wanting him around. He had gone from not trusting her to only being able to tell her the truth about what had really happened in his apartment.

“Thank you for letting me,” he said. If she had wanted it, she could have taken his job, no question. She wouldn’t- Derek was obviously the next Unit Chief- but she could have.

She smiled. “You keep us all safe, Aaron. How could I not?”

Emily’s hair was dark. As were her eyes. And there was a darkness that surrounded her in a similar way to him. He wasn’t sure where it came from. But she had learnt to live with hers. She had turned it into something beautiful that made people love her.

Perhaps he could do the same. Perhaps the darkness was something to welcome, not fear.

Emily Prentiss died, alone and cold, three times in one night. She died once when she told Derek Morgan to let her go because she genuinely believed Ian Doyle was still there, just waiting to hurt the people that had become her family. She flatlined in the ambulance, and Aaron had to watch as they frantically tried to revive her.

They succeeded in doing so, but at what cost?

She died a third time when Hotch had to make the decision as to whether or not she stayed. He wanted to scream at the bureau and say that it couldn’t be left to him because it was Emily’s life and if she wanted to stay and fight then she should.

But they would interpret his screaming and pleading as weakness. They would use it to deem him incapable of impartiality and then he would never know what happened. So instead of crying the way he wanted to, he kept his face neutral and argued all the reasons that Agent Prentiss- not Emily, not now- needed to be sent away and saved.

They went for it, and the prosecutor within him should have been proud. But it wasn’t. He was just tired.

Emily did not know that he had been in the ambulance and seen her die. She didn’t know that she had told him, whilst she was fading in and out of consciousness, about the darkness that she had seen and the chill that had come over her when she realised that she was dying or that he knew she wanted to believe in a better ending.

But Aaron did. It was why he found it so difficult to tell her what was happening. But he was already asking too much of JJ. JJ who was supposed to be a liaison for the state department and nothing more. But there was a haunted look in her eyes, and he so desperately wanted to comfort her, but there just wasn’t time.

He needed to save Emily before it was too late. Or maybe it already was too late. Maybe she would have survived if his own darkness hadn’t joined hers. Maybe if he’d been quicker in getting JJ or working out what had happened.

The moment he saw his own smiling face staring up at him, he should have known what was happening. But he hadn’t. And now yet another person’s blood was on his hands. When would it end? When would the people he loved stop being hurt by a darkness that should have only ever destroyed him?

His father once said the only thing he was good at was destroying beautiful things. Aaron had so desperately wanted to prove him wrong that he only succeeded in proving him right. Emily Prentiss had once been beautiful and good. One of the strongest and most resilient women he knew.

Hotch wasn’t stupid. He saw the way JJ looked at her. That was the other reason he had to be the one to tell her. Because he had seen Jason in the aftermath of the Boston bombing and Elle after she shot the rapist. He knew what Spencer’s anger and Derek’s fear looked like. He had seen the worst of each of his team members and never faltered because their darkness was nothing compared to his.

The Emily laying on that bed, broken and damaged beyond what any normal person should have been able to survive, was not the Emily they knew and Hotch was not going to let it be the Emily that JJ would remember. He would let JJ go with her to Paris because she would be stronger then.

That would be the Emily she would remember.

“Emily? Can you hear me?” he asked as quietly as he could.

She turned slightly, but even that small movement seemed to cause her pain. She opened her mouth to speak and winced.

“Don’t talk. You’re still too weak to do that. I just, I need to tell you what’s going to happen, okay? Because a lot of things are going to change and I want you to know exactly how this is going to play out.”

His hands were shoved in his pockets. One of them needed to be strong and pretend that everything was going to be okay, and it sure as hell couldn’t be her. But she saw and tried to motion to him. He shook his head. Soon she would be leaving him, and he did not want to remember her touch as being cold and almost lifeless. He wanted to remember her touch as being warm and comforting.

Without looking at her, he told her how they were sending her to Paris. His voice did not tremble and he did not break but he couldn’t face her when he was done talking. Instead, he stared at the floor and focused on the white tiles.

“I hate you,” she whispered. “How can you do this to me? I do not want to be sent to Paris whilst everyone else tries to deal with this.”

“Em. I’m trying to do the right thing,” he pleaded. He couldn’t have her hating him. Not after everything that had happened between them, and certainly not everything they had both done to gain the others trust.

“The right thing would have been to let me die,” she hissed.

He closed his eyes and it was only a few days earlier. He had told Clyde Easter that if anything happened to her, he would destroy him. The knowledge that he could do it without even flinching should have terrified him, but it didn’t. In some morbid way, it relaxed him.

When he turned his back, the knowledge that he had disarmed the other man bought him more joy than it should have, and again he was reminded of how thin the line between profiler and unsub really was.

“Mr Hotchner,” Clyde had called out.

Hotch had frozen, hands clenched at his side. How many years had it been since someone last called him that? And yet he still couldn’t hear the title without thinking of his father. He was an adult now, the man shouldn’t have held that influence over him but he was still terrified and he hated himself for it.

He’d turned, just enough so he could see Clyde’s face.

“I did my part. If she dies, that’s on you.”

And it was. It was all his fault. She had trusted him to keep them safe, but he had failed. Again. He had destroyed her, just like he had destroyed so many other good people. He didn’t deserve to be a coward anymore, so he looked up and met her eyes.

Weak and damaged as she was, she still managed to glare with a hatred he had only ever seen once. When she had been a college student, arguing with her mother. And he’d been both terrified and relieved to see that she could be so ruthless. Terrified because to him, she was just a girl and she shouldn’t have known how to hate like that, but relieved because he wasn’t the only one with such potential for darkness inside.

He left without another word. JJ had comforted Reid and Garcia because he had been too busy throwing up the single bite of sandwich he’d managed to choke down. And he knew something had happened to her whilst she was working for the Pentagon. He knew she wouldn’t be able to stay.

It was why he let her take Emily to Paris. He didn’t tell her what Emily had said to him. He just told her to ask if she could remember anything from the hospital. He spent the entire time waiting for her to respond. He was talking to Dave when there was a text from JJ. All it said was she doesn’t remember anything she said.

And it became slightly easier to breathe.

The funeral was difficult.

First thing in the morning, he had dropped Jack off with Jessica. Jack did not know it was a funeral that his father was attending, and so he was quite content to just sit in the living room and play with his toys whilst Aaron and Jessica stood in the hallway, talking in hushed whispers.

“Don’t you think he should go?” she had asked.

Hotch shook his head. “No. He already went to Haley’s. I can’t take him to Emily’s.”

“But he should be able to say goodbye to her.”

“Jessie, please. I can’t tell you why, but he can’t go to the funeral and I swear, as soon as I can, I will tell you everything but he just- I need him to not be there.”

She stared at him. “Aaron, you never need to beg for anything from me. I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, you’ll be fine. I promise.”

Jessica didn’t understand that him and JJ were the only one that knew the coffin was empty. It was the second coffin in a year that Aaron was forced to stand beside. When did it end? When would the members of his team stop losing the people they loved?

Ashley Seaver was a child and he never should have let her stay on the team after that first case. She was meant to be a training agent, who was supposed to believe that her job would make a difference and protect people from a life like the one she had been forced to live. And yet here she was, stood at the grave of a team member whilst the rest fell apart. Hotch wanted her to remain good and hopeful, but he just didn’t know how to do that.

In some ways, he resented JJ. She was able to go back to the Pentagon and get away from the looks of her coworkers. She didn’t have to look out of her office and see the empty table that had once been Emily’s, nor did she have to go through the drawers of her desk and decide what would be kept and what would be thrown.

Aaron ended up keeping everything in a box at his apartment because he didn’t have the heart to throw anything away. Not when Emily wasn’t really dead, even though her photo was still hung up outside.

He needed to talk to someone, but there was nobody. So, he ran off to Afghanistan for three months working on a project he didn’t fully understand or see the point in. The guilt at leaving his team and Jack only slightly overshadowed the relief he had that nobody looked at him and seeked comfort. They just needed him to do a job.

Everybody else had grieved losing Emily. JJ had her closure for making sure she was settled in Paris, and from what Hotch could understand, she had been pushing the boundary as much as she could regarding the no communication rule. The team had each other, but he had nobody.

Then Ian Doyle died, and Emily Prentiss came back to them, but he didn’t come back to the team. Not really. For Derek was able to forgive Emily for what she did because the relief he felt at her return was enough to overpower his anger at her. Dave had suspected the whole time. Spencer was just glad that he hadn’t lost someone else, and that JJ had also been returned to them.

They could forgive JJ because it had never been her decision to leave them. They could forgive Emily because of everything she had been through and because she had no say in what was done to her.

It was Hotch that had failed to stop the move from happening. It was him that had made the decision to fake Emily’s death and not tell the team. He had chosen to leave them, and his son, for the summer. Yes, it was unfair to blame him, and it was likely his hands had been tied, but they were angry. They needed someone to direct that anger towards.

Every time they snapped at JJ or Emily, it felt like kicking a puppy for they would just look so hurt and upset that they immediately wanted to apologise. But if they shouted at Aaron, he would just take it. He wouldn’t argue or defend himself. He just took it, the ghosts behind his eyes not ones they could acknowledge in the moment.

He maintained his façade and pretended everything was okay because if he wasn’t okay, the team would have no use for him and he would become dispensable and there would be nothing left for him. Except for Jack. But he wasn’t sure how much he wanted Jack to see him. Since Emily’s return, his nightmares had gotten worse and he woke up screaming more times than he cared to admit.

And then one night, when Jack was staying with his cousins and grandfather, the nightmares got so bad that he barely managed to make it to the bathroom before he was vomiting up the meagre dinner he’d eaten.

When there was nothing left, he leant against the bathtub and sobbed. His own team hated him and there was nothing he could do because they were right. He didn’t trust them and he had fucked up so badly there was no redemption for him.

Jessica hadn’t been able to sleep. She had let herself into the apartment to see how Aaron was because there was a pit in her stomach, like something was terribly wrong.

“Aaron?” she called out.

There was no response, which on the one hand could have been a good thing because it would mean he was sleeping, but it could also mean he was refusing to speak to anyone. She wasn’t an idiot. When Emily had come to see Jack after that hearing thing because she needed something good, Aaron told her the truth. And then lied by saying he was fine after carrying that burden around himself.

The bedroom was empty. She told herself it didn’t mean anything, that he could just be in the shower or getting a glass of water. She crept along to the bathroom. Inside, he was vomiting and she knew it would eventually turn into sobs.

Without considering what she was doing, she dialled Derek Morgan’s number. He’d given it to her at the funeral and asked her to keep him safe. She had done her job as his sister, and now it was time for his team to their job as his family.

“Jessica?”

“Aaron’s sick and I think it’s your fault,” she said without thinking.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh god, no, not like that. I just- he’s being sick and I know that it’s because he’s been bottling everything up since the funeral which wasn’t really a funeral but oh, you know what I mean. I just- nothing I do will make him feel better. He needs you. All of you.”

On the other side of the line, Derek scoffed. “Jessica, Hotch is strong. Are you sure he’s not just got food poisoning or something?”

“I don’t think he’s eaten enough for that to happen.”

“Look Jessica, I’ll get the team together but I don’t know what you want us to do. Hotch made his decisions, and we can’t forgive him at the drop of a hat. We all need time to process.”

“Derek! He lost his wife to this job, are you really going to stand by as he loses himself trying to save all of you? I have never asked for anything from any of you, but Aaron needs you now. He’s just too scared of rejection to admit it.”

“We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Morgan hung up and Jessica sighed.

“Jessie?” Aaron called out.

“Hey Aaron. What happened?” she asked, acting like nothing had happened.

“I don’t feel good,” he whispered.

She pressed a hand to his stomach. Damn him and his emotional constipation that meant all of his pain manifested physically.

“I know. I know. But it’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. I’ll get you cleaned up and then you’re going to eat something.”

He nodded and let her move him around as she pleased. The weight he had lost made her cringe. The last time he had looked so weak, he was seventeen and his father was dying of lung cancer.

The team all arrived at the same time, all in their pyjamas.

Aaron saw them and turned away. “Jessie, what are they doing here?”

“You need them Aaron. Whether you want to admit it or not, you need them.”

He shook his head as the medication Jessica had made him take after weeks of avoidance caused his filter to vanish and fuzziness as to what he was doing. “Don’t deserve them.”

“Yeah you do man. I’m sorry for how I was acting. I know you trust us and I never thought about how everything must have made you feel because I was angry,” Derek said.

Hotch shook his head, tears running down his cheeks.

“Can I hug you?” Derek asked.

Hotch didn’t respond, so Derek sat in front of him instead. “You’re forgiven Hotch. I promise.”

Hotch just stared but relaxed ever so slightly and didn’t protest when the other members of the team gave him small smiles or hugged him.

And the next day, they spoke to him, not as a boss, but as their friend. For the first time in a while, he felt like he was back where he belonged. Things weren’t perfect- they never were- but he no longer felt like the villain in his own story.

He felt like he was worthy of a small amount of love, which meant the darkness had not won. Not completely.

There were cases that were difficult. There were cases that made him want to quit, or curl into a ball and forget about how the outside world existed and was constantly hurt innocent people that didn’t deserve it. And there were cases that he knew would haunt him until the day he died.

Watching Jimmy lose his fight, the one thing that kept him going, just so he would be able to see his son one last time was something he would keep seeing every time he closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about how he was the first one to realise that was what he wanted.

The team had all been waiting in various places, and he knew it wasn’t really what he was supposed to be doing, but when he looked into the man’s eyes, he saw a desperate father. And he thought of Jack. If it were Jack, he would do whatever it took to see him one last time. He deserved to see his son. And his son deserved a father.

Because when he looked at Jimmy he did not see the unsub his team had been after. He saw a broken and damaged man that was doing what it took to survive. Under normal circumstances, he’d been frightened by that but so much had happened that he almost felt desensitised when it came to relating to unsubs. His hands still went cold at the sight of every crime scene he visited. The bureau therapist would say the fact that he clung to that feeling both at home and in the field was unhealthy, but the bureau therapist had also deemed Jason, Elle, Spencer, himself and Emily fit for work after their respective ordeals.

“This isn’t a trick is it? Because you’re a federal agent, this isn’t your job,” he said.

“I’m a father first. And your son is holding on so he can say goodbye to you. I’m not so heartless that I would deprive you of a goodbye.”

He pressed a hand to his mouth. “He’s really going to- I can’t even bring myself to say the word. Am I a horrible person for not being here sooner?”

Hotch still blamed himself for not being there when his mother died. “No. No you did your best and you cannot think like that. I promise, when it came to your son, you have done nothing wrong. I’ll give you some privacy.” He hated to add the second part but he had to. “And I don’t want to, but you must understand-”

“I broke the law and you need to arrest me. I know. That’s fine. Everything will be fine because you have let me say goodbye to my baby.”

Aaron watched them through the window, a single tear coursing down his cheek as that was all he would allow himself until he made it home.

Sometimes, it was not the cases that made him question the reason behind doing any of this, but these moments where there was nothing that anyone could have done. They spent so much time putting bad guys away, and for what? The universe to just throw other tragedies in people’s faces.

Ryan closed his eyes at the same time that Aaron looked away. The raw grief both parents were feeling was something personal. He already felt like an intruder. He saw the man comfort his wife, who’s sobs had died down to silent tears as she placed a final kiss to her boy’s forehead.

They comforted each other.

Aaron wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t saved Jack from George Foyet. If he would still be alive now, or if he would have just let Foyet kill him because a life without Jack was not one he was capable of surviving. He wondered if Haley had survived instead, would they have been able to comfort each other, or would she blame him for the loss of her son? If Jack hadn’t survived, Hotch did not want to think of what his response would have been because the darkness of it scared him.

No parent should ever have to bury their child, and no child should ever have to be that strong for their parent. He admired Ryan for holding on for as long as he did, but he shouldn’t have had to. He should have been playing games with the other children and worrying about his favourite cartoon characters, not how many breaths he had left.

He stood outside for longer than he should have and he was gentler with the handcuffs than he ever remembered being. The last words he whispered were an apology that Jimmy did not want. Before he returned to the hotel, he stopped to see his wife.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “And if I knew what to say, I would. But I don’t so please, just, find a reason to hold on. Anything.”

“Agent Hotchner, you gave my son the one thing he wanted. A chance to say goodbye to both his parents. That has to be enough for now.” She hugged him and was polite enough to not comment on how his own body shook with the tears he was unable to repress.

He gave her his card, and then he left her, alone, to process her losses.

On board the jet, he sat slightly apart from the rest of them, which they all took as their cue to leave him alone. Emily Prentiss had never liked listening to him, and so she took the seat opposite him. Hotch had to smile. That was the woman he knew. Not the one that was overcompensating for everything.

“I made you a cup of tea,” she said to him.

Hotch looked down at the mug and grimaced slightly.

“Jason did the same thing after the case with the serial arsonist. Do you remember? He was trying to get me to open up about how I related to the unsub.”

“Did you?”

Hotch shook his head, then hesitated. “Well, I suppose I did a little. He wasn’t really paying attention.”

Emily made a non-committal sound at that. “Look I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

He shook his head. “No. I can’t. Ryan just- he didn’t even look like Jack, but when I saw him, I just- they were a normal couple. They didn’t deserve to lose him like that.”

“Nobody deserves to lose someone they love that much like that. But they do. And we can’t stop that. What we can do is stop the bad guys who hurt other people and we do, whenever we can. Please don’t beat yourself up over this.”

He understood what she was saying, but he couldn’t accept it. Haley had been too good for him, and he deserved to have everything good taken from him because he hadn’t been able to save her when it had been his fault that she was forced into that situation.

She smirked. “And Rossi may have mentioned a woman making her way into your life. Beth is it?”

Hotch rolled his eyes. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. And it is just a bike ride.”

“You should go. Even if nothing happens, training is better with a partner. And you won’t be betraying Haley. Or Jack. If this thing works out, it will be because Beth understands that Jack doesn’t want or need another mom.”

Hotch looked at her with soft eyes. “Yeah. Maybe I should go.”

He did, and it was such a success that they ended up going on more than one date. She was excited to meet Jack, and they both loved each other. Even the team, who were always weary of potential partners, seemed to accept her as one of their own.

It momentarily convinced him that love could survive the horrors of their job.

The sound of the gun that Diane Turner shot herself and Maeve Donovan with sounded louder than even the three shots he had heard over the phone when George Foyet took Haley from him. His ear started ringing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alex close hers and lower her gun.

What had been thinking? Alex had already lost a son, and every case put the one she had just found at risk. Even now, she had the sense to look away. He was still holding his gun like there was something he could do.

Before he was aware of his actions, he had dropped it. Something that he always told people not to do, especially if the safety was off because you just couldn’t guarantee anything. The sound it made as it hit the ground was still nothing compared to Spencer’s sobbing.

Reid was on his knees, eyes closed as though that would stop him from seeing Maeve’s dead body, both her and Diane’s forming a pool around them. It would be another funeral for him to attend. It wasn’t fair. Reid was still just a kid compared to the rest of them, he didn’t deserve to see all the things he had been subjected to.

Hotch knelt beside him. “Reid?” he whispered, keeping his voice as soft as quiet as he could.

Reid shook his head. “It’s my fault. I should’ve done something. There were so many different endings to this series of events and at least half of them involved Maeve living and me dying, which is something everyone could have learnt to live with.”

“Spencer. That isn’t true,” he said, a lot more firmly.

Spencer’s sobs had calmed to hiccups. “It wasn’t supposed to be her.”

“I know,” he said, and he wrapped his arms around him. He felt Reid go limp against him as more sobs wracked his body. Reid was resting his head on Hotch’s shoulder and on instinct, he felt himself stroke the younger one’s hair, the same way he did to Jack when the little one couldn’t sleep.

He knew that grief caused people to go numb. When Reid pulled away, he kept one hand on his arm to stop him from being an idiot. Only Alex was still there, hovering by the side lines. The others had gone to stop the police from coming in too soon. They were giving Spencer the space to process.

Hotch wished they hadn’t. Jason and Emily were the ones that Reid turned to when he needed something. And if not them, then Derek and maybe JJ. But Jason and Emily were gone and Derek and JJ were dealing with other things.

And he was the only one who’s partner had ever been murdered by an unsub. He just didn’t know how to provide comfort. He didn’t know how he was supposed to tell Spencer that everything was going to be fun and he would recover because the truth was that he would never be the same. Aaron still wasn’t the same. It wasn’t possible, but sometimes his lower torso still ached the same way it had when Foyet first pushed the knife in. He wouldn’t lie to Spencer, but he couldn’t tell him the truth.

“I need- I never got to hold her. I need to hold her. Hotch let me go! I need to hold her, just once. Just once so I can remember her.”

The last time Hotch touched Haley, she was barely warm, but still lifeless. It overshadowed every single casual touch they’d shared since they were seventeen and it was all he could ever think of when he remembered her. He would give anything to forget the last time he held her.

Perhaps one day he would. But Spencer had an eidetic memory.

“I can’t let you do that,” he said.

Spencer shoved him. He wasn’t strong enough to knock him over, but Hotch hadn’t been expecting it and he lost his balance slightly. They both looked down at Reid’s hands. Reid looked at them like he couldn’t believe they were part of his body. Hotch looked down at how pure they were.

Reid had killed unsubs when it was the only way to save other people, but he was still innocent in so many other ways. He’d never hit the table to intimidate a suspect because that was Hotch’s job. He was the one that played bad cop, whilst they trusted Reid to successfully empathise.

Reid had never killed a man with their bare hands.

Hotch momentarily let go of Reid, and Reid tried to use that opportunity to grab Maeve’s hand. But Hotch was quicker, and before Spencer knew what was going on, Hotch had grabbed both his wrists and was holding them in front of his chest.

Both their eyes shone with tears.

“Let me go,” Spencer begged.

“No. Spencer listen to me. You don’t want your one and only memory of her touch to be when she couldn’t respond. You know better than me that she is going to be unresponsive. You won’t be able to kid yourself into thinking that she did indeed clasp your hand. Her perfume will be tinged with the stench of blood and she will be cold. Remember Maeve as the woman that made you smile. That was warm and bright. Not like this.”

Spencer relaxed against him, the tears falling. Hotch pulled him closer, holding him tight. At some point, Alex crept forward and gave the two of them a hug. She told them they needed to go. Reid shook his head. Between the two of them, they managed to get him down the stairs.

“I want to go to my apartment,” Reid stated after they took his statement. Hotch had sat with him the whole time. Reid’s monotony scared him and he wondered if the look on the officer’s face was the same as the one that been on Strauss’ after he spoke about Foyet.

“Spence,” JJ said, reaching for him.

“My apartment. Please. Hotch?”

Hotch knew why Reid had asked for it to be him. Because if he declined, Reid could come after him. Say that when Haley died, leaving behind a young son whose memories of his father were patchy and disrupted, Hotch had refused to stay with anyone. Instead, he had sat in the darkness of his apartment in case the monsters from Jack’s dreams came to life once more.

“If you need anything,” he said with a sigh, because he was the only one that understood.

Spencer nodded. But Hotch knew he wouldn’t.

They drove in silence. Hotch itched to say something but what? He understood what it was like to lose the one person that made your life better, but at the end of the day, he hadn’t been there. He had heard it over the phone. Spencer would see the images every time he closed his eyes.

“Would you like me to come up with you?” he asked.

Reid shook his head, exited the car but did not close the door.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t quick enough,” Hotch mumbled.

Reid’s pause meant he heard him. His lack of response meant he didn’t have any words of comfort that would not be lies. Perhaps that hurt more than Jessica’s sad smile when he got him and distractedly ruffled Jack’s hair, unable to focus on what he was saying properly.

He’d made the right decision in not letting Spencer touch the body. He knew he had. It didn’t stop him from wrapping Jack up in the coat Haley had picked and going to her grave. He knew Jack was missing his mom, so the trip served a dual purpose.

Jack liked to lay flowers at the graves that didn’t have any because- in his words- it would mean everyone would be as happy as his mommy was. As he did that, Hotch spoke.

“I didn’t let him touch her. I need to convince myself that was the right thing, but what if it wasn’t? I have years of touches to hold onto. He had never met her before then. What if one day, he wakes up and resents me because he can’t even imagine what she feels like?”

If Haley were alive, she would rub his shoulder and tell him he was a good man that needed to stop doubting every decision he made because he knew his team better than they knew themselves and that Reid would never hate him.

Be annoyed at him for specific things he did and lash out because he was in the wrong, yes. But hate him? Never.

Only Haley wasn’t alive. Hotch sighed, called Jack over and hesitated slightly when Jack held his hand out. Hours before, he had been holding a gun, ready to fire. He hadn’t been fast enough, and now another piece of Spencer had been lost to the abyss.

When Spencer didn’t return to work immediately, he was relieved. At least he was taking the time he needed to grieve and recover instead of rushing back and never dealing with the pain until it got so bad he could hardly breathe without holding back a sob.

He turned up on their case. Everyone else was excited to see him, because it meant he was alive. Hotch wasn’t so sure. Reid had never known anything other than the BAU, and that was partially his fault for not putting his foot down and telling Gideon the kid needed more experience before working as a profiler.

But there were people that needed saving, so he let it go.

And then he heard Spencer tell Dave how he wasn’t sleeping because he kept seeing Maeve asking him to dance but he had never been able to touch her. It was like a punch to the gut. Spencer had never touched Maeve because Hotch had told him not to, and now he was paying the price.

He didn’t hear Dave’s response. He used that moment to tell Alex he needed the bathroom. She seemed slightly taken aback but shifted out the way for him.

When Spencer came in after that, he seemed peaceful. He had danced with Maeve. Now, even though it wasn’t real, he had his closure because he’d been able to touch her, which was all he had wanted. Maybe it had something to do with being touch-starved.

Hotch thought of Haley. What would he give to see her one last time? Just to say he was sorry?

He was telling the team about a missing girl, but it was getting harder to breathe, and he couldn’t make out what the screen in front of him was displaying.

Before he knew what was happening, the world around him was going black and the frantic shouts of his team were not enough to bring him back.

When he opened his eyes, he saw her.

“Haley?” he whispered.

She looked beautiful. Her dress shone, and her hair was the same blonde it had been the day she’d gone into witness protection. She looked like the girl that had exploded into his life and taught him how to say I love you. That had taught him the meaning of light and who had changed his life forever.

“Hi baby,” she said with a grin.

He smiled. His light had come back to him.

[fan4196]

Hi 😊 I don‘t know if you take requests right now but it would be great to read a story line where Jo has Covid and Alex is really worried about her. Thank you so much 😊

First of all thank you so much for this request, it is my first one and it was really fun to write it. I'm so sorry that it took so long, but here it is finally. I changed it a little bit because I really have no experience with Covid, so it would have been hard to write it automatically. Hope you like it nevertheless.

Also thank you to @angry-slytherin for beta reading 💜

-

"You feeling better?" Alex askes his wife as they wait in line to get their temperature taken before work, like every time they have to do now, since the global pandemic hit Grey-Sloan too.

"Yes." She answers shortly, smiling under her mask, while she squeezes his hand that is intertwined with hers.

Before Alex can ask any further questions it's their turn. Alex goes first, getting his temperature checked and checked off, that he's clear to work. Jo's next and about to follow her husband when she gets called back by the nurse behind the table.

"Ahm doctor Karev? I'm sorry but I have to ask you to immediately go to the Covid tent and get yourself tested."

"What?" She asks confused; she's neither showing any symptoms nor feeling sick. Well except from this when she puked her guts out because they had crappy food last night, but other than that she felt fine to work.

But looks like she's not. Alex also immediately stops and turns back to his wife. Watching the scene before him, walking back closer, to hear the conversation between Jo and the nurse that resently took their temperature.

"Your temperature is 106 degrees. Above 100 degrees I have to send you to the Covid tent to get yourself tested before you can work. I'm very sorry but it's one of the new hospital laws." The nurse behind the table explains; her mask and face shield hiding her sorry smile.

"Well, alright. See you later then." Jo says, turning to Alex to kiss him through their masks. She's about to walk away when he, instead of taking the other way to the attendings room, follows her.

"What are you doing? Your temperature was fine. Go work." She complaines, as she makes her way to the Covid tent followed by Alex.

"You really think if you have it, I don't? We sleep in the freaking same bed and we definitely didn't stay six feet apart in the last time." He smirks, grabbing Jo's hand again as he holds the door open for her.

+

In the tent they got a number and had to wait until it's their turn. They got tested and are now waiting for their results.

"Alright, the Karevs." Doctor Bailey speaks as she walks towards them with their results. "Both of your tests have been negative. You can go to work." She declares as she hands them their test results.

"Negativ? Are you sure? Her temperature was 106." Alex askes, looking from Bailey to Jo, who also looks confused and paler by every minute.

"Are you question my testings here, Karev?" Bailey asks in her typical Bailey tone, propping her hands in her hips.

"No, but-"

"Then don't ask stupid questions and take your wife to the ER to get her blood tested." Without another word she's gone.

+

They do as Bailey told them. Alex takes Jo to the ER, insisting that she lays down on a gurney, while he draws her blood.

"Schmitt!" He shouts at the resident as soon as he walks by. "Are you going to the lab?" Alex asks pointing towards the bags and cups in the residents hands.

"Ahm yes." Schmitt answeres a little terrified by Alex tone.

"Take this and let them test it." He hands Schmitt the blood draw. "And tell them to do it fast. If they ask tell them it's for the chief."

With that the resident is out the door. Alex takes his seat beside Jo's gurney again. She's turned towards Alex, eyes closed. He hates seeing her like that. He knows that she's uncomfortable and feeling like shit.

"You're sure you're still ok?" He once again askes concerned, stroking her hair, as he pulls her slipped mask back over her nose with his other hand.

She answers with a head shake as she opens her eyes, looking up to him.

"I think I'm gonna puke in my mask any second." She answers, closing her eyes again to calm her nausea.

"We will never get take out from that place again." Alex mumbles, still stroking her hair as he leans back on his chair, waiting for Jo's test results in silence.

It's his fault. He should have got them the stupid pizza Jo had wanted, but no he had been way to tired last night after his shift and got them Chinese food from this crappy place in their street. Now he food poisoned his wife and has to watch her while she's feeling more and more crappy, in the middle of a pendemic. He really deserves the award for crappiest husband of the year.

"You should really work, instead of messing up my hair." Jo complains, not making a move, afraid to puke all over her husband if she just moves an inch to much.

"Shut up. I'm not going anywhere. You don't feel well and I doubt that you can get up from this gurney without anyone's help. Also just freaking tell me if I should stop stroking your hair." He answers, stopping his fingers in her hair.

"No don't stop. It helps with the headache." She contradicts.

"What? What headache? When did that start?" He askes immediately even more concerned than before. This is obviously not just food poisoning.

"Don't know, since the nausea subsided a little bit. I'm also a little dizzy."

"Parker!" Alex shouts from his chair towards the resident that is just cleaning up the bed next to them. "Get me an IV bag. Now!"

Two minutes later Parker's back and hooking Jo up to the IV bag. He just finishes as Schmitt rounds the corner with Jo's test results in his hand.

"Here doctor Karev." He hands the paper to Alex. "Ahm congratulations." With that he's gone, leaving Alex and Jo confused behind.

"What does he mean?" Jo asks, trying to sit up but immediately lying back down as a new wave of nausea washes over her. "What does it say?"

"-you're pregnant." Alex answers his wife's question, looking up from the paper with watery eyes.

"What?" She can't believe what she just heard.

"You are pregnant, Jo. 100% pregnant. Knocked up. Ten week pregnant with our baby."

They are both speechless. No one saying a word. They just stare at each other. Not completely getting that their life was just turned upside down within a second. They are going to be freaking parent in about seven months. They haven't really been trying for a baby. But it had been their new year's plan to start a family, they stopped using any kind of protection, but then the Corona virus hit the world and Grey-Sloan and they had other things to think about.

Well not anymore. Now they have a tiny human to think about.

Alex still can't wrap his head around the fact that he's gonna be a Dad soon. The tears in his eyes have found their way down his cheeks, mirroring the tears on his wife's cheeks.

They still just stare at each other until Jo reaches for his cheek and pulls Alex down in her arms. With his face buried in her hair he also wrapps his arms tight around his wife.

"Thank you." He mumbles in her neck, lifting his head to put his forehead on hers. "Thank you, for letting me knock you up." He repeats again. Pulling his mask down first, then pulling hers down to finally kiss her. Both of them are way to happy to care about the people around them, captured in their little bubble of joy. Until the determining voice of Bailey pops it.

"Karev! Karev! Masks back on! Now!"

They seperate with the biggest grins on their faces, putting their masks back over their mouths and noses.

"So if it's a boy I would say Covid and Corona if it's a girl?" He asks sitting back up on his chair, stroking his wife's hair again, looking at her like the smiliest idiot.

"Shut up!"

[missnight0wl]

Jam City fused Y6 and Y7 - the analysis

So, I mentioned a couple of times in the past that the Statue Curse starting already in Y6 just doesn’t really make sense. I’ve been also discussing recently how Y6 is a hot mess to put it lightly, and one of the conversations with @nightingaletrash​ – who inspired that analysis with some of her ideas - made me realise that it really does feel like the current year in the game has content from two separate years. Because if you start to dig through that pile of rubbish, you kind of get two routes which make a little more sense on their own than what we’re seeing now. So… let’s get deeper into it. Why am I doing this? I mean, they fucked up so badly by now that it doesn’t really matter. But I dunno, I guess I just feel like organising something.

Oh, and just to give you a better picture of my thought process. The way I imagine how Jam City works right now is that they have the original concept for the story, but it’s still just a concept. Like, it has the main events and perhaps some details, but when they have to figure out things on their own, they get lost – hence all inconsistencies etc.

Now, without further ado, let’s discuss how those years should’ve looked like based on what we know already.

YEAR 6

All right, so I’m basically certain that Y6 was supposed to be dedicated to ONLY Rakepick, Jacob, and R (possibly also the Cabal and all that good juice in general). The funny thing here is that if the Statue Curse indeed wasn’t planned for Y6, it’d actually explain why Jacob didn’t ask about it even once. It always bothers me about him, to be honest. Not only it contradicts past Jacob (who was always worried about victims of the curses), but it’s also… pretty stupid? Like, dude. You want to catch Rakepick, she’s after the final vault, so by finding the vault, you’ll find Rakepick. Dontcha think that getting interested in the curse could be useful? But let’s start from the beginning.

So, Y6 starts pretty much the same. New Ben, angry Merula, “problems” with Beatrice, yadda yadda yadda… Then, we have the first change: Beatrice doesn’t find the petrified victim. We just go to the Divination class and get the prophecy. Trying to decipher it with the Weasleys inspires us to go to the Centaurs for help, and so we go on our gifts hunt (y’know, the herbs, the astronomy chart, and Hagrid’s Rock Cakes). We go to the Centaurs Camp. Then, we can throw some Haywoods drama in between (though I’d remove it….), we see a missing skull in the Artefact Room, so we follow Ben to Knockturn Alley. There, we meet Fletcher who tells us that the Wizard in White from Y5 is back. We talk about it with Dumbledore who suggests that the Wizard in White is from Mahoutokoro. Later, we meet with Charlie who also brings us to Bill’s surprise visit. Bill offers us (and our friends) private DADA lessons… but oh no! The twins are missing! We search for them, the Weasleys are extra worried because there might be SOME new curse at Hogwarts (remember, there’s no Statue Curse here). We finally find the twins, and they tell us that they followed Jacob – allegedly. This sends us on another hunt, this time after Jacob. We hear a lot of suspicious things about him (his weird behaviour at the Library and at the Flourish & Blotts), and finally, we find him in Knockturn Alley. Jacob tells us that R sent the assassin after us and Merula. We duel, and Jacob runs away again. We go back to Hogwarts, we meet Cedric (or not, because we don’t really need it), and BUM! Sickleworth with the White Quill! And so we chase that little rascal! Now, here’s another little change: when MC loses track of Sickleworth, they decide to go to the Hospital Wing because Rakepick might be trying to investigate the victims. Interestingly, it’s the ONLY time anybody talks about the possibility of her being interested in this, even though she paid a lot of attention to the victims of the Sleepwalking Curse and the Portrait Curse (so it has to be important from the curse-breaking point of view). Therefore, I’d say that it was a one-time fluke that Jam City remembered to mention that after the changes to the original concept…

All right, but we’re after Sickleworth again. He leads us to Jacob’s room where we also find Jacob himself. We ask him wtf is he doing there and how he even got in (like, aren’t we using Tulip’s lock anymore? anyone can enter there?). AND HERE’S WHERE WE START THE PLOT WITH THE MINISTRY HEIST. And I know what you’re going to say, BUT… I still believe that it was planned by Rakepick. Because look, there are just too many convenient coincidences on our way to find out about her Dark artefacts (allegedly required for the final vault) for it to ACTUALLY be a coincidence. As a reminder, this is how it goes:

After we get the White Quill from Sickleworth, Jacob wants to follow the Niffler to find Rakepick. He doesn’t let us go with him, but he let us go find the white owl (which is suspicious as fuck because dude believes that the White Quill was sent by R, so technically he sends us ALONE to find someone from R who has a white owl). Our investigation eventually leads us to the Hog’s Head Inn where Aberforth tells us that the white owl belongs to Rakepick (a reminder: Aberfoth was seen talking to Jacob before his expulsion). Like, just think about it for a moment: Rakepick was in the middle of a day in a very public place in Hogsmeade, where even students go occasionally, with A FREAKING WHITE OWL. She had to want to be followed. And so, we follow her to Knockturn Alley. There, Fletcher told us that Rakepick was angry, and that she needs some Dark artefacts from Hogwarts. Fletcher told us that. A guy who’s terrified of Rakepick. I mean, if those artefacts were really that important, Rakepick would tell Fletcher to not tell anyone about it, especially MC! And he’s too scared of her to not listen! (Also, another reminder: during our Legilimency session in Y5 with the Headmaster, we saw a memory of Dumbledore talking with Fletcher. Interesting coincidence, hm?) So again, we go back to Hogwarts, and we eventually go to Snape who - instead of telling us to get lost - informs us kindly that the artefacts were protected with some unknown magic. He also let us know that he passed them to Dumbledore. And what Dumbledore does? He tells us that the artefacts are in the Ministry. And look, Albus might be a jackass, but he’s not stupid. He knew that MC would try to break into the Ministry. So why he told us about it? Because for some reason, it’s important to both him and Rakepick that MC would get to those damn artefacts. I actually had a thought recently that it was the first attempt to let MC know about things we learnt in Y5Ch35 (more on that meeting: here).

Anyway, we start planning our heist, with an Invisibility Cloak (borrowed from Badeea because fuck you, Alistair) and all. Unfortunately, freaking Moody interrupts us and tell us about the escapee who’s after us. We assume that it’s the same assassin Jacob talked about. The school freaks out because of that – and NOT because of Madam Pomfrey getting petrified. We also sneak out at the Lakeshore because while there’s still no curse, we do have the Trident, so we can as well start searching around the Black Lake (because in this scenario, MC actually can use their brain cells, at least sometimes). We get “attacked” by the Wizard in White, and we get detention (or not because it was totally meaningless). In the meantime, Talbott tells us that he saw the white owl dropping a letter. We decipher the message about more White Quills, we go at the Lake to find them, we learn about Dementors coming to Hogwarts. Moody sells us his bullshit that Jacob saved us from the assassin, so we want to find our brother in his room, but instead, we find with Ben another Black Quill. THAT Black Quill addressed to Jacob about their meeting in the Forest Grove. We decide to go to that meeting. Rowan dies (or “dies”).

The events after Rowan’s death are pretty much the same, including the formation of the Circle of Khanna. We still have Charlie, Barnaby, and Liz working on creatures in the Black Lake, even though the curse is not active yet, but we have enough clues to suspect that (the Trident + MC actually remembers the note found in the Weird Sisters TLSQ about the Sunken Vault). One change: we confront Moody more strongly about where the hell was he. Because he was allegedly responsible for the Dementors at Hogwarts, so why he even still has his job? We also learn more about whether or not there’s any investigation, about Rowan’s parents etc. Alanza arrives, and here things are also pretty much the same so far. Bill convinces us to go back to the crime scene where we actually find the necklace – which was the obvious connection to the Ministry heist - or anything else important. We meet Torvus who tells us that Firenze has the interpretation of our prophecy, which is foreshadowing for our future confrontation with vault!Jacob (more here). Hearing about another loss, we feel the need to meet our brother. We go to Duncan, to the Boathouse, and we finally meet Jacob. We confront him about where the fuck he was when Rowan died, what happened with the assassin when he allegedly chased him, and what the fuck was it about with that letter which R wrote to him. He sells us some bullshit: that Rakepick manipulated him after his expulsion and that he went after the Cursed Vaults because he felt worthless, yadda yadda yadda. We call him out on that or we talk with someone else about it: that Jacob always wanted to protect his loved ones and Hogwarts, and that’s why he got involved with the Vaults. Therefore, what he’s saying now doesn’t make any sense. Then, our meeting with Jacob is interrupted by Beatrice in the Lake. Although, I’d personally remove that part as well as her whole chapter - unless we could learn from that something important about Y5. In its current form, it didn’t really add anything. But either way, this is the point when we went to Hagrid and Kettleburn to ask about Grindylows (Y6Ch28), which eventually led to the Whomping Willow. You know, that “the most stupid transition in the history of writing”:

creatures in the Black Lake -> Giant Squid -> big dangerous creatures -> big dangerous things -> Whomping Willow

But here’s something interesting.  George in his friendship activities has this question:

I assume it has to be a left-over from the original concept. Because it doesn’t really make sense for George to help us with that in the future if we’ve already spent time researching the Whomping Willow. So, I believe that George (or both twins) were supposed to help us with that part instead of Ben and Merula. Here’s my proposition:

After we confront Jacob about Rowan’s death, whether or not we find Beatrice in the Lake, we later meet George/the twins who told us that Jacob disappeared mysteriously around the Whomping Willow. It can be also connected to the Marauder’s Map. Let’s say that they confess that they saw it on the Map, and perhaps even when they went missing earlier this year, they didn’t actually see Jacob, but they saw his name on the Map. I mean, I assume that the Map had to return at some point in some way. Either way, it reminds MC that Jacob had some notes on the Whomping Willow in his room, we search for it with George, we also find some of Rowan’s notes. We go to the Whomping Willow, with the twins or someone else, and we find the Black Quill containing the message about the meeting at the Borgin and Burkes. And here’s where the big role is played by our team dedicated to spying:

I know that technically a lot of them take part in the whole action (Tonks, Jae, Andre), but it’s just bizarre to me that they weren’t addressed as THE TEAM who was created for situations like this. Also, Tulip wasn’t even included in any of that. I’m pretty sure that Jam City ignored it because they switched their focus to the Black Lake plot a little earlier, and they got fucking lost.

The rest can go pretty much the same: we find out about the mole etc. Except, WE STICK TO THAT. We find out that Merula who is the mole, and that leads us to the end of the year, with the conclusions about Jacob, Rakepick, R, and the connections between all of that.

YEAR 7

Of course, a lot depends on how Y6 would actually end, but in general, we have to put in here everything which we removed from Y6. So, shortly after the start of the new school year, someone (might be still Beatrice) finds the first victim of the Statue Curse. We put more focus on the “creatures team” (Charlie, Barnaby, Liz) who were slowly doing their research all that time, step by step. Badeea and Talbott also had more time to work on their map. Eventually, Madam Pomfrey gets petrified, so we have to speed up. We enter the Black Lake, we meet the Merwoman, and we move to the whole plot with music and the Weird Sisters. And the best in all of that is that the Maestro’s Music Shop in Hogsmeade is indeed a location unlocked in Y7:

So, it all fits perfectly.

I dunno, I feel that even if MC was still dumb and all, such separation of themes in Y6 makes things a little clearer, and simply makes more sense. Also, maybe it’s just me, but I feel like the inconsistencies happen more often in the subplots related to the final vault. For example, when Moody told us about the escapee, MC used their brain cells to figure out that it might be the same assassin Jacob talked about earlier. Kind of similar situation was when we found the necklace in the Forest before Rowan’s death: MC actually remembered that Rakepick’s Dark artefacts are supposed to be at the Ministry. But when it comes to the final vault, a lot of things are being repeated over and over again, MC didn’t remember that Pince and Binns already research the Merpeople, Alanza didn’t remember that we met the Weird Sisters a couple of chapters earlier etc. It’s as if the writers didn’t keep track of what they already moved from Y7...

I have no idea why they decided to mix everything up, though. They clearly don’t have a good grasp of the story, so no wonder we’re getting a hot mess. Again, why? Perhaps they’re buying some time before the grand reveal about Jacob/Rakepick/Rowan? It’s the only thing that comes to my mind, to be honest, though it’s still stupid. If you want to build up suspense among the players, we need some clues to what could really be happening etc. But no. They had in their notes to make Alanza mention that Rakepick smells like cinnamon, but it was too hard to figure out that maybe it’d be a good idea to use it in the context of her Polyjuice Potion etc. Sigh…

Anyway, we’re doomed – but it could’ve been not bad! Like, I didn’t really change much, just organised it a bit. And the weird thing is that mixing plots won’t create more content for them. It’d be the same in the length, just more confusing for everyone. I mean, they won’t manage to finish both plots (with R AND the final vault) by the end of Y6. One of them or both will have to be moved to Y7. So, it should’ve stayed separate, to begin with, if you ask me.

[onestarromcoms]

December 1: “Christmas with a Prince”

Dec 1: “Christmas with a Prince” (Netflix)

FYI: This is not a good movie. “Christmas with a Prince” stars Kaitlyn Leeb and Nick Hunslouw as our romantic leads. Kaitlyn Leeb is in a handful of these Hallmark-style movies and is my favorite female lead for two reasons: she’s beautiful enough to probably star in better movies, and she’s a decent actor. Actors in these movies are usually absolutely so terrible that her modicum of skill is noticeable. 

In “Christmas with a Prince”  Leeb’s character, Tasha Mason, is a doctor. This strays from the holiday rom-com archetype of the leading-lady lawyer or journalist, which lends tension to the story - she’s WAY too busy for romance!! Alternatively, leading ladies are bakers or event-planners, demonstrating drive and ambition in a way that’s palatable to people who expect traditional gender roles. Dr. Tasha inches out of this archetype the teeniest bit in that she’s a celebrated physician - but stays tethered to the expectations by specifically being a pediatrician, so she can demonstrate her maternal instinct while still being intelligent and successful. 

Nick Hunslouw, our male lead, plays Prince Alex, who is in line for a throne in a Western European developed nation with a monarchy that isn’t England (can you name one? I can’t). I disliked Prince Alex’s character immensely - first, because Nick Hunsluw is a horrible actor, and lacks any amount of chemistry with Kaitlyn Leeb; second, because Prince Alex triggered the uncanny valley for me in no small amount. He is handsome, technically, but he has the look of a robot who was deliberately constructed to be our idea of a handsome man. I found it terrifying and I shuddered a little bit every time he looked at Kaitlyn Leeb. I wanted to tell her to run away because he doesn’t look like a real person. If there’s ever another movie about Ted Bundy he should probably star in it as long as he takes some acting classes first.

The premise of this movie is that Prince Alex, an irresponsible playboy, breaks his leg in a skiing accident while on holiday in the States and ends up at Dr. Tasha’s hospital. Also, he has to stay in the Pediatrics wing because - get this - it’s the most secure wing in the hospital according to his security team. Weirdly, the writers of this film decided that this wasn’t enough of a meet-cute - that actually, Dr. Tasha and Prince Alex had to have met before (why?) and the place that makes the most sense would be high school (why?) where Tasha and her brother attended when they were teenagers and somehow rich enough to attend an overseas boarding school with European princes (again, why?). Also, it’s worth noting that while Prince Robot - er, Alex - is in the hospital, there’s not a Secret Service agent to be found. Are American officials just trusting their hospital personnel with housing foreign royalty? Also, why is Prince Robot’s hospital stay arranged by a nurse in Tasha’s ward (who happens to be Tasha’s brother)?

So Prince Robot’s and Tasha’s first interaction is FAR in the past and establishes a very important rom-com trope: she Doesn’t Like Him At First. This is rampant in holiday rom-coms because it heightens the will-they-won’t-they vibe and lends to romantic (not sexual) tension. Notably, this trope almost never includes the “he doesn’t like her at first” vibe because that would usurp the male lead as the pursuer, and we wouldn’t want to upset those gender roles. Anyway, Alex and Tasha get off to a rocky start because of some teenage mistake and she’s still holding a grudge, which is another common trope from these movies - that people in their mid-30s still care about stuff that happened when they were 16 (do you? I don’t). Tasha’s career as a pediatrician comes in handy, though, because it puts Prince Robot in the position of demonstrating to her that He’s Good With Kids. Nothing like a guy proving he’d be a good dad to get your ovaries flowing.

Through some comedic banter and misunderstandings, Tasha and Prince Robot hang out with sick kids together enough to “fall in love” over the compressed rom-com timeline of roughly three days. The movie culminates in a scene where Prince Robot, in a walking cast, invites Dr. Tasha to a ball to meet his father, the King of somewhere. Here, Tasha meets Princess Miranda, an Eastern-European royal with a Russian accent (which country in the Eastern bloc reverted to a monarchy?) who tries to convince Tasha that she’s trash and will never belong in Prince Robot’s social circles. It’s a predictable foil, but contradicted by the fact that Tasha and Robot went to the same boarding school. Would they not be in the same social circles? Or are international boarding schools just handing out scholarships to random Americans? Who knows. Anyway, Tasha’s self-esteem is rescued not by her feelings for Prince Robot but by King Robot himself, who likes Tasha and claims that she’s changed his son somehow - a weird claim considering they’ve known each other for five minutes, but again, this is rom-com time. Prince Robot concurs with his father’s assessment and proposes to Tasha.

SPOILERS: By the end of the movie, the two kiss, declare their love, and are engaged to be married.

This movie was terrible. The story was terrible. The plot holes were so big they were deadly. Prince Robot is going to haunt my nightmares. Don’t watch this.

[mutantsrisingrpg]

Congratulations GRACIE! You’ve been accepted as ENCELADUS with a FC change to GEMMA CHAN.

Welcome back, Gracie! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: your app for Dana does such a good job at portraying the balance between human and mutant in Dana and how her mutation impacted her mutant life so strongly. I always feel for her when reading your writing because she feels like such a real person and truly she doesn’t deserve all she’s been through. I especially love the hints of a direction you plan to take her in now that the scene has changed! It’s refreshing to see someone mourn our dear Benjamin Granger, and I wonder what the changes in Kings Collective have in store for Dana.

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

Out of Character Information:

NAME/ALIAS: Gracie

PRONOUNS: She/Her

AGE: 25

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: EST & on a number scale, probably a 4-5, so about 5 replies throughout the week, if not more. I do work full-time but with ‘rona, I am WFH until further notice.

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Dana Ramone

GENDER/PRONOUNS: cis female & she/her with FC change to Gemma Chan if possible, thank you!

DETAILS & ANALYSIS:

Dana is a contradiction in and of herself. She is constantly walking a tightrope between control and the lack-thereof, between who she was, who she could’ve been and who she is. She has always been soft but her embrace is no longer warm and inviting – it’s timid and terrified. She’s got an underlying current of fear running through her, a fear that one day she’ll not be able to catch all the broken pieces of the life she once dreamed of and that they’ll shatter once they slip through her fingers. She can no longer draw someone close without pause or hesitation– she has to think through every action now and try to predict her own reactions. She used to be so certain, so self-assured –– not proud by any means, but she used to be confident in her ability to heal. Now, even as she sutures up a wound, she’s wondering if the next moment she’ll be unintentionally opening it up again with a flare up. That’s what she calls them. Flare ups. When her hands begin to tremble and she feels power welling up inside of her like a wave before it crashes and she can’t keep it in.

She misses who she was before. When sunshine meant good days and rain meant bad ones. Now she can’t even trust the weather. She can’t even trust herself. She does her job because she’s always done her job but, even three years later, Dana still wants to do her old job at the hospital. She wants her old identifiers: MD. Surgeon. Wife. Human. Now she must live with: Level Five. Divorced. Mutant. It’s a ringing in her ear that won’t go away – a constant reminder of everything she’s not anymore. And everything she is even if she wants things to be different.

Dana adapted, slowly but surely. She cares about her fellow members. She cares about doing a good job. She’s got a big heart, always has, and that hasn’t changed just because she’s considered dangerous now. It’s one thing she can’t let change. Because if that changes then she’ll have let this new ability change everything about her. She’s still clinging to who she was. Who she knows herself to be. And she’s channelling it into the work she’s doing now. People don’t expect her to get the job done, they see her soft nature, they see her struggling for control, they see everything she’s fallen short of but when there’s a body on the table, when one of their own is suffering, they see a new side of her. She takes a breath and begins to work. Calm and collected and if she ever feels the trembling start then she talks through what needs to happen.

She may not know who she is anymore, she’s still trying to figure that out, but Dana knows she’s a healer and she holds onto that like a lifeline, drawing her in from the stormy sea that’s her life now.

BIO:

Life is a series of before and after.

Dana’s first before was the year she was born.

It was the year her father and his new wife were trying to have a child. It was the one thing her father knew he wanted more than anything. To have a child with his new wife. Her father had never really known what he wanted in his life – it was one of the reasons why he and his first wife divorced. Despite having a young daughter, Angela, there were too many differences to settle, too many that even their mutual love of their daughter wouldn’t let them overlook.

So they separated and, eventually, her father married Stephanie – a young, ambitious resident who wanted a child early on in their relationship so she could continue her career. Stephanie hadn’t been planned, and her parents always reminded her of the fact, and so she was determined to plan their lives to a tee –– have a child, go back to work in a year, live the life she knew her own parents never could. It was what she wanted most and so that’s what Dana’s father wanted most.

They tried for nearly two years before Stephanie was willing to consider adoption. And though hesitant at first, when they adopted Dana – a small, bright-eyed baby with laughter on her lips and a curious gaze following wherever she looked –– it was impossible not to love her.

Dana’s first after were the years following her adoption. The years in which she grew up a kind, curious child who loved books and pillow forts and nature and picking wildflowers. She saw her sister occasionally, but she knew they were different, even from an early age. It wasn’t the fact that they didn’t look alike, nor the fact that Dana spent her weeknights in dance class and her Saturdays at swim – she knew they were different because of how people looked at Angela. Because of the words she heard floating around: mutant. Dangerous. Different.

Her parents let her see Angela, of course, her father especially liked his daughters to spend time together but the more time she spent with her, the more Dana wondered if she’d ever get an ability like her sister. And the more time she spent with her sister, the more she realized that Angela wasn’t too fond of her.

It was another before for Dana. Before she realized that her sister wouldn’t be her best friend and they were destined to leave separate lives. Eventually, circumstances created a wedge between them and they started seeing less and less of each other.

Her next after was one of growing up and following in her mother’s footsteps. Dana had always been an intelligent young mind, curious about the world around her and the inner workers of practically everything. As a child she would ask her mother endless questions about the human body and as she grew older, those questions turned into requests for books, an interest in science and, eventually carving a path to medicine herself. She’d always been curious but she also always wanted to help people, like she saw her mom do on a daily basis. And when she was seventeen, having graduated high school a year earlier than most, she pursued her higher education at the University of Chicago. She remained there until she was twenty-five, graduating with a medical degree and a residency at Northwestern Memorial Hospital where she hoped to become a neurosurgeon.

She’d worked so hard for so long and had rarely had time for a personal life, something her parents had warned her about when she expressed a desire to go down this path. That changed when she met Alistair McGovern. He was a few years ahead of her in his residency, but of the same mind that she had –– that all of this work was so they could be equipped to help those who needed it most. So many of their fellow doctors were there to make a name for themselves, to get a big job to pay off some big loans but not Alistair. Not Dana. He was easy to love and they fell for each other within a few months of meeting.

But despite her love for him, she was always uneasy with his family. The McGoverns were a prominent family in Chicago politics, supporting anti-mutant legislation and “protective” measures for the city’s human inhabitants. They weren’t too crazy about her either, having learned about her sister but as long as Angela wasn’t brought up at family dinners, both parties could live in harmony.

They got married when she was twenty-nine and their lives just fit together. They had matching schedules, they worked in the same place, they had the same dreams and goals and plans. They didn’t want to have kids just yet, they wanted to enjoy their lives together. And they did for several years.

If only Dana had known that their time together leading up to her thirty-third birthday would become before.

They went out with friends for her birthday, celebrating, dancing and drinking – nothing out of the ordinary but that night she began to fill a bit off. It was small at first. A bit of vertigo (surely just a result of one drink too many), a headache (the music was loud) and cold sweats (she hadn’t eaten much that day and had had several long shifts leading up to it). Every strange feeling was easily identified by Dana and any worry dispelled by logic. By science. By medicine.

But the feeling persisted. She wasn’t sick. They thought that maybe she was expected. It hadn’t been in the plan but stranger things had happened. They’d deal with it together, Alistair assured her but the five tests she’d purchased two days later turned out negative and still, the disquieted feeling in the pit of her stomach persisted. It was like a ringing in her ear – she could forget about them occasionally but once she noticed them, it was nearly impossible to ignore.

Still, she took some time off, just a few days she’d had saved for years of not taking any time off, and after four days the symptoms subsided. She went to work the very next day, feeling lighter and better than she had in nearly a week. There was surgery scheduled and she’d never have gone in had she been feeling off. After all, operating on the brain took an almost robotic like precision that Dana excelled at in the OR. It was what she was known for – remaining calm and staying on track, even when the unexpected happened.  At least, that’s what she’d always thought.

After, she’d look for the signs – for any sign of how she would’ve known what was to come. What might’ve happened. How she could’ve prevented it.

But before….she couldn’t have known. There was no way to predict that in the middle of surgery her hands would begin to shake, no way to know that those tremors would spread to the rest of her body and that she’d have to call for an emergency stop as she dropped her tools to the ground and began to shake uncontrollably. There was no way to know she should’ve warned her colleagues when she collapsed, no way to tell them to get away from her, that this wasn’t a seizure or a stroke. That the moment they huddled around her, trying to help, they’d be blasted back with a tremendous wave of energy emanating from Dana.

She couldn’t have known the events that would follow –– that the after would be hospital security rushing in as her colleagues were knocked unconscious by the blast, as alarms began going off while their patient began to code on the operating table. Later, she would learn that the only reason she wasn’t immediately detained and imprisoned was because of Alistair, and his family.

Her employment was terminated at the hospital, her files shared with the government and her credentials stripped. Even with all of this, her husband stayed by her side. Or he tried to. He really tried. He knew she hadn’t known what she was and he fought tooth and nail against his family to make sure they knew that.

She was his wife. He loved her. She was a healer, who’d killed a patient and two colleagues, landing several others in the ICU. She was a doctor, who’d had all her certifications and titles stripped. She was a good person. She was a good person. She was a good person. It’s what they both clung to in the midst of everything. But being a good person wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to ignore how her hands would shake for days. It wasn’t enough to stop watching her warily, for fear of a random burst of energy coming his way. It wasn’t enough to keep them in the same bed, both tossing and turning with different fears. Love wasn’t enough to deal with all of this. He divorced her six months after her powers manifested.

Another before. And this one hurt like hell. Another after. She was lost. A ship at sea, unmoored and drifting in the dark abyss her life had become. While Alistair tried to keep things quiet, tried not to make her life any harder, word got around. Eventually, Dana found herself without recourse, without a path and with the knowledge that all the years she’d poured into being a healer had amounted to nothing, all by her own hand.

But where one journey ends, another begins. Despite Northwestern’s attempt to cover it up, news had spread throughout Chicago that one of their best surgeons had been a mutant and, eight months after that first incident, she was approached by Kings Collective. They wanted her to be their doctor.

She was wary at first, the thought of joining a criminal organization a bitter taste in her mouth. But nothing was more bitter than the fact that she could barely help herself, much less others. Still, that calling she’d had from a young age –– the one she couldn’t ignore, compelled her to help others. She knew that this was the only way she could continue doing so, and hoped that maybe being a doctor again would heal the sting of the past months. She accepted their offer and has been their doctor for nearly three years now.

Things were going well or, as well as could be with the unrest in the city but when Benjamin, a man she’d worked closely with and who’d been one of her saving graces after everything happened, was killed –– she knew trouble was coming. Without much time to mourn the loss of someone who’d helped her more than she could say, and without the time to make any real plans, she and the rest of Kings Collective set off for Miami.

They haven’t been in the city long and she can already tell peace is just an illusion. The “peace” she thought she’d had, sticking to medicine, sticking to helping others, was gone. As Kings Collective attempts to stake their claim on the city and to make a mark for themselves, she knows that it won’t be long before she’s asked to help make that happen. Levels had never meant much to Dana before. Hers only served as a reminder of the pain she could cause and the lack of control she had to keep that from happening.

But she knows that being what she is…doing what she does…it’s worth something, especially when breaking new ground. If they want to claim a piece of the city for themselves, Dana knows it’s going to be all hands on deck and she’s struggling now, with whether she can balance having hands that heal against hands covered in blood. She hasn’t had to indulge the latter yet, but images it’s only a matter of time.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

Angela – I would love to explore their dynamic and how they grew up/viewed each other more in depth. Also, how they view each other now, Dana with her new understanding of what it is to be a mutant/what Angela’s dealt with her entire life and Angela with what Dana is dealing with, also them being on opposing sides.

Cain – I think the difference between them is interesting, especially since Cain is so hardened by life and Dana is determined not to have the same thing happen to her. The fact that they are both doctors but only one of them wants to truly heal is so dynamic, especially since they are in opposite organizations. I think it could be fun to explore that dichotomy and whether or not it gives Dana a new perspective on her position.

EXTRA:

Hands shake after using her powers

Emotions heighten it

Meditates

ASMR is the shit

Listens to classical music when she operates on anyone

Jogs around lake michigan every morning / helps her feel centered

Kept her wedding ring but has it buried away somewhere

Doesn’t like to hear about plans if they involve Alistair’s family –– she finds it hard to be objective and has made it known that no one should tell her anything if that’s the case.

Has kept brief contact with Alistair –– he’s engaged now. She doesn’t resent him for any of it.

Has had limited contact with Angela since her sister joined the Jem family. Has thought of reaching out but doesn’t think it’s a good idea.

Has thought of tracking down her birth parents but doesnt think it’d do any good now –– too much time has gone and they could be dead or in prison with other mutants. It won’t change what’s happened and could only hurt her more.

Mother and father were supportive once everything happened but she can tell her mom’s still nervous around her and hates it. She’s secretly glad for the move, thinking that maybe it’ll help keep her parents safe, without her around.

[sundropscribbles]

Not Her | Ten x Reader | 5.4k

A brand new story for everyone, but mostly for @starflight4842!

You’re an absolute angel for being so patient with me, of course. Apologies are a common occurrence with me, obviously, but I hope this little drabble lives up to your expectations! Thank you. ✦

Things don’t go to plan.  

Not that it’s all that much of a surprise; things hardly ever went to plan when it came to your adventures with The Doctor. It was the opposite way around on most occasions, in fact, and on a normal day, you didn’t count that as a problem. You had quickly become accustomed to the idea that there would be an inevitable threat looming around every corner — you had been traveling with The Doctor for a couple of months, now, but that particular detail hadn’t taken you more than a couple of days onboard the TARDIS to figure out.  Today’s outing had gone especially awry, though, even by comparison to the thrills and chills that had become your every day life. 

The creatures that you had had the, er… pleasure of encountering today had been less than hospitable, putting it lightly.  The Doctor had been raving all morning long about this little planet he’d been planning a visit to, going off on tangents about the sights that you would see and the wonders you would behold there — all the usual. Apparently those wonders included a waterfall three-times the size of anything you’d have seen on Earth, at the heart of something that he had referred to as the Valle de la Luna. 

“Valley of the Moon,” he had translated for you, even though you had been fairly certain that you knew what the name meant. “Absolutely beautiful. Bit vague, though — there are 3,860 moons at this end of the universe alone. Should really’ve thought of that when they picked the name, since it’s only meant to be named for one of those moons. Xelraeria 34, to be exact.”

You, of course, had tuned out when he had started waffling on about the particular moon that the valley was named after. You didn’t think you could be blamed, not really — The Doctor was hard to keep up with, both physically and mentally, on the best of days, and you would be seeing everything that he had talked about shortly anyhow. Surely you weren’t missing much. And if you were, well — The Doctor would certainly be the first to let you know. 

You had traipsed on out of the TARDIS and into the open atmosphere of this planet (called Aarmis, apparently) expecting to be met with one of the many sights that The Doctor had talked about. To your surprise, it had been fairly barren to start — well. Not barren. It was greener than green, just the way The Doctor had described it, and the expanse of thick, green grass was speckled with what looked to be some breed of wildflower, similar to something that you might have found back on Earth. This scenery had been what stretched on for miles, and while it was utterly breathtaking, it was definitely lacking the gargantuan waterfalls and the Lagoons and the rocky cliffs that The Doctor had implied would be present. When you had voiced your confusion, however, he had informed you that the Valle de la Luna was quite a distance from where the TARDIS had initially landed.  You had supposed that that had made sense; there had been trails, after all, paths here and there and everywhere that appeared to spiderweb off in a number of different directions, and there had looked to be mountains — or something similar to mountains, at the very least — in the distance. 

There had been a stretch of walking from that point onward which had consumed roughly an hour, maybe and hour and a half’s time, and had consisted mostly of you asking questions about the planet’s history to distract yourself from the ache in your calves and the cramps in the soles of your feet. The Doctor had been answering those questions in as much detail as he could; in fact, he had just begun to explain the structure of the cliffs, the geology of the massive things and how they had come to be what they were, when your impromptu nature walk had been interrupted by a decently-sized group of the planet’s natives — or so you had thought. 

The Doctor had contradicted your first impressions near immediately, muttering to himself about how he had thought that Aarmis was still uninhabited; not because it was uninhabitable, but because it was what most beings in the universe referred to as a leisure planet. Like the national parks and day spas of the universe, he had told you once before, on one of your earliest adventures. 

Nonetheless, he had brushed off his surprise and proceeded to introduce himself to the group, just like he always did. And apparently, that had been his first mistake. 

The creatures had reacted to The Doctor’s friendly grin and forward greeting not by introducing themselves in return, but by scuttling backwards defensively and promptly drawing weapons that had looked a bit like blasters. You had recoiled on instinct, but The Doctor had been persistent in gaining the creatures’ trust.

“Oi, c’mon now, boys. No need for any of that,” he had said, and had then proceeded to  reach into his suit pocket (for his psychic paper, more than likely) — his second mistake.  These beings were especially tetchy, evidently, because they had jumped to the conclusion that The Doctor was reaching for a weapon of his own, and hadn’t hesitated a second before jumping on the offensive and subduing the two of you. 

  You had yelped and squirmed as two or three of the aliens had restrained you, twisting one of your arms and then the other behind your back and rendering you incapable of using them at all. They had been humanoid, definitely, but they looked to be made of rock, which — obviously — meant that being gentle wasn’t exactly in their nature. They had struck the backs of your knees, too, which had effectively forced you into a kneeling position in the dirt. 

“Doctor?” you had squeaked, confused and afraid as the scene had unfolded. He had looked to be in a predicament similar to your own, but his gaze had been as reassuring as ever as he had looked over the shoulders of his own crowd of hostile aliens to meet your eyes, so you had tried not to be too concerned. The creatures were intent on making certain that he wouldn’t pose any threat to them, right?  Maybe they would cool off once they realized that you were only here for a vacation, just like everyone else. 

The scuffle had gone on, and to your dismay, had seemed to get worse the more that The Doctor attempted to explain your side of things. One of the creatures had cut him off mid-explanation to say — or to roar, more like — that Aarmis was the property of the Klojfio, and that there were no tourists here; only the Klojfio and the quarry. It was certainly out of line with everything that he had told you about this world, and to make matters worse, the Klojfio didn’t seem to be a race whom he was familiar with in the least. Even in your very limited experience, it was never a good sign when The Doctor wasn’t immediately familiar with his surroundings.

Your mind had begun to reel from that point onward, wrapping question over question and weaving a nauseating panic into the mix as you had knelt there, with gravel cutting into your knees and a blaster just a few inches from the back of your head. In your defense, you were still fairly new to all of this. You knew a fair bit about ducking and running from one alien species or another, and a bit more about smiling and laughing and playing along with the charades that The Doctor so often used to talk the two of you out of harm’s way, because they usually went over a bit better than this. Much better than this. 

This was the first and only time that you could recall that things had spiraled out of control so quickly, and it had terrified you. It wasn’t too often that The Doctor wasn’t able to sway things in his favor near immediately, and you’d had trouble seeing a way out of the frightening situation. 

It’d all worked out in the end, of course.  As it happened, The Doctor was much more familiar with this kind of situation than you were, which, really — you definitely should have expected. He had been able to formulate an escape plan within moments of your capture, and had made a noise under his breath to draw your attention not two minutes after the creatures had drug you to your feet, growling something about bringing you back to their base for “a proper feast” (which you suspected didn’t have anything to do with feeding you). 

The Klojfio hadn’t bound his arms behind his back the way they had yours, and unfortunately for them, he had been able to tuck a discreet hand into his pocket to retrieve his sonic screwdriver.  As soon as he had your attention he waggled the device in between his fingers and nodded to his left, toward one of the blasters being used to subdue the two of you.  You hadn’t understood immediately, not until he had mouthed a single word to you: “disable”. 

It had hit you, then, what he was going to do, and you had nodded your head frantically, immediately onboard.  These aliens were large and angry-looking, sure, but that was about all they had going for them as intimidation went.  They were made of rock and considerably strong, yeah, but they didn’t seem to have fangs or claws or anything else that could pose a threat to you once you were an arm’s length away. The assumption was that they wouldn’t be overly threatening without the use of their weapons, and all you had been able to do in the moment was hope that that assumption was correct. 

It had been, to an extent. You had heard the quiet buzz of the sonic screwdriver, first, and then a chorus of hollow clicks from the Klojfio’s blasters.  They had all been momentarily startled and distracted by the sound, and you and The Doctor had seized the opportunity to duck out of the creatures’ slackened grip and take off running back the way you had come. 

“Terribly sorry to ruin dinner, fellas, but I’m not much feeling up to being boiled and fed to the masses,” he had shouted as you had run, and you had smiled, because there it was. The clever, cunning snark. The quick wits. “Frankly, I’m not sure I’ve ever felt up to that!” 

The initial rush of adrenaline and your amusement had kept you running, keeping pace with The Doctor nicely, but the relief that you had felt upon escaping hadn’t lasted long.  You had gotten away, yeah, but you were still miles from the TARDIS with little to nothing in the way of places to take cover.  It was a matter of time before the Klojfio caught up to you, wasn’t it?  You had said as much to The Doctor, but he had reassured you that there was no need to worry; the TARDIS had a homing device, apparently, and when given the signal she could find him no matter where he was in the universe. 

He had gotten on with giving that signal as he had explained it to you, pointing his sonic into midair and hitting the button a few times in quick succession. 

“She’ll find us,” he had said as he had tucked the screwdriver back into the pocket of his coat and kept on, never for a second looking unsure of himself. What had followed had been a few more minutes of running with the Klojfio hot on your heels (for creatures made of stone they were quick, damn it), and desperately hoping that the TARDIS would meet you in the middle soon. 

You had just begun to feel like you might make it out of Aarmis alive when things had taken another nasty turn; a nasty turn in the form of a rogue patch of grass, dead in the middle of the path you’d been following. The Doctor had managed to dodge it, but you hadn’t seen it in time, and it had caught the toe of your shoe and sent you tumbling through the dirt. 

The fall itself had been enough to shake your focus, but your misfortune hadn’t stopped there. To top it off, one of the Klojfio had gotten its blaster working again, and the next thing you had felt was a horrible shock of pain, radiating from your right shoulder outward.  A part of you knew that you had been hit, hard, and that putting additional stress on your body by running probably wasn’t the best thing to do in the moment, but you didn’t let it stop you.

It would have been worse, after all, if you had allowed yourself to be captured by the hostile creatures determined to make a meal of you, and so you had scrambled to your feet and taken off running once more.  Trouble was, your fall had disoriented you enough that you had bolted down the wrong path — not that it was any more dangerous than the original. It may not have been much different from the trail you had followed into Aarmis, but it had definitely taken you in a completely different direction than The Doctor. 

You had heard him call out your name as you had run, but by that time you were well off the beaten path, and the fear and adrenaline burning beneath your skin wouldn’t have allowed you to turn back if you’d wanted to. You were vaguely aware of the heavy footsteps chasing after you — the Klojfio — so you had kept on, running and running until you were sure your lungs would burst and your legs would buckle from beneath you, until — a tree. 

A patch of trees, actually, just off the trail.  

Your first instinct had been to veer toward them, and you had followed it, tearing through the tall green grass with one palm pressed to your wounded shoulder.  Could the Klojfio climb trees? Would they simply shoot you down from your perch if you climbed up into one of the trees?  You couldn’t say for sure.  There was nothing certain about this mess you were in, and you hadn’t climbed a tree since primary school, but you had gathered every ounce of your strength and leapt up to grasp at a low branch, anyways. 

The tree you had chosen hadn’t offered much for climbing, in the end. You had been able to scale the trunk one, maybe two branches higher from the ground before there had been nothing else that you could reach, and you were effectively trapped.  Your assumption that the creatures wouldn’t hesitate to shoot you out of the tree had been correct, too, because it wasn’t another moment before they were firing freely, aiming their blasters and shooting into the leaves that only barely concealed you.  Round after round grazed you, close enough that you felt them whiz by, but you had managed to avoid them (thank god for that— the wound you were harboring from the first one was beginning to sting like nobody’s business, and you couldn’t say you were keen on the idea of having any more of them to tend to).  

Another few shots from the Klojfio’s blasters had caused you to shuffle where you’d stood, and you had nearly lost your balance more than a few times.  The next blast had done it — one of the creatures had damn good aim, apparently, because it had landed a shot right at your feet, and your attempt to protect yourself from the fire had sent you sliding and flailing as your feet went out from under you.  You had hit the ground fairly hard and twisted one of your ankles in the process, which had been evident the moment that you had tried to pick yourself up and take off running again. 

With your feet having gone uselessly out from beneath you a second time and the angry, stone creatures advancing on you, you had made a half-hearted attempt to shield your face — as though that would somehow protect you against the aliens’ hungry rage — and braced yourself.  You had just begun coming to terms with the fact that you were well and truly doomed when the familiar, rumbling grind of the TARDIS’s engine had come thundering onto the scene, effectively startling the Klojfio long enough that there was a window of opportunity for you to make an escape. Or, well — for The Doctor to come hurrying out of the TARDIS and scoop you up into his arms. 

“Yeh, sorry, you’re not getting her either. Not today,” he had grumbled, more to himself than anyone else as he had hurried back toward the TARDIS once more, giving a quick snap of his fingers to close the doors hard and fast behind the pair of you as soon as you were inside. 

You had barely had time to process what had just happened — let alone the fact that he was holding you, carrying you through the console room — before he was scolding you. Well, no, not exactly scolding you so much as expressing his concern… passionately. 

“Blimey, Y/N, you had me scared stiff!” he’d admonished you, but had given you a little squeeze, just a ghost of a thing, before he had laid you down lengthwise across the bench beside the console — where you were now.  “Don’t run off — that’s rule number one, you know that!” 

The Klojfio were persistent, still, pounding and clawing at the doors of the TARDIS, so The Doctor had taken pause in caring for you and run to the console, rushing about hitting this button and that to get you away from Aarmis.  You weren’t sure where you would wind up, exactly, and if you were being quite honest, you didn’t think that he knew either. It didn’t matter, though; what mattered was that you were both out of the way of immediate danger.  Even if you wound up smack in the middle of space somewhere, not a planet or moon or an asteroid in sight, it would be better than where you had just come from. 

He returned to your side, eventually, once the clawing and the pounding had ceased and the TARDIS’s engines had settled, and crouched down beside you to have a look, first thing, at the damage to your ankle.

“You know, in my defense, I was being — ouch — chased,” you argue, hissing mid-sentence as he prodded at your injured ankle with long, cool fingers, rotating it from one side to the other.  He scoffs at that, clearly doing his best for a good few moments to remain annoyed with you. It doesn’t hold very long, though, and his smile betrays him, eventually, as he spares you a quick glance before returning his attention to your ankle. 

“Alright, so it wasn’t entirely your fault,” he admits begrudgingly, leaning back a bit and shrugging out of his long coat in favor of balling it up and lodging it beneath your ankle as a makeshift pillow. You smile at that, making your best effort to ignore the flutter in your chest as he turns his focus on your wounded shoulder. 

You hadn’t really taken the time to look at it in the heat of things, but you can’t very well help stealing a look as The Doctor very gently moves the sleeve of your top aside, taking care to remove any of the burnt bits from the worst of the wound.  It did, in fact, look more like a burn than anything else, which was both a blessing and a curse. It didn’t seem that there were any bullets for you to worry about removing, but it was painful - extremely painful, as burns tended to be. 

You bit back a whimper as he went about exposing the wound to the open air, and he winced along with you as he ran one careful fingertip along the angry red edge of it.  

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, shaking his head a bit. “So sorry.  Your ankle is definitely just sprained, but this is a nasty burn.  Bloody pulse phasers.  Don’t worry, though, we’ll get you patched up.” 

Before you have the chance to respond he disappears from beside you, hurrying into another room to collect some first aide supplies (or so you hoped, anyways).  You take the moment of alone time to allow yourself a full-fledged reaction to your condition, which comes in the form of a loud groan, muffled against the crook of one elbow.  Your frustration is directed not only at the pain of your injuries, but at the embarrassment, too.  You had really, really thought that you were getting better at all of this, but here you were, battered and bruised and unable to care for yourself.  How were you ever going to prove that you were worthy of traveling with The Doctor if you couldn’t keep yourself out of these kinds of situations? 

“Oh, come now, it’s not that bad, is it?” you hear him tease, and you fluster, cheeks reddening as you look up just in time to catch him sauntering back into the room with an armful of supplies — some of which you were familiar with, some not so much. 

“It is,” you mumble, still quite irritated with yourself. You can’t help but smile as he laughs, though — that bright, lively laughter has never failed to make you smile since the day you’d met him, and today is no exception.  He proceeds to kneel by your side once again, dumping his gathered supplies on the floor beside him and sweeping his unruly hair out of his face as he reaches and positions your arm so that he can tend to your shoulder properly. 

He’s as gentle as ever as he goes about cleaning up the bits of your skin that’d been burned by the blaster (or phaser, as he’d referred to it), but it still hurts like mad — not even his murmured apologies put a stop to the pain, so you busy yourself watching his expression as he works. 

It’s not the wisest decision, you know; especially not in your current predicament.  Watching The Doctor work for any length of time inevitably led to an embarrassing infatuation, to butterflies in your stomach and rushes of affection that clouded your judgement… all things that you had been trying like mad to stave off for weeks now. It was a bit difficult, though, when he was in such close proximity — and caring for you nonetheless.  His brown eyes are intense as he concentrates on his task which, now, has gone from cleaning up your wound to applying some sort of a balm (a numbing agent, it seemed), to a larger area of your arm than was probably necessary. 

You’ve just begun to allow yourself to enjoy the gentle way he’s touching you, to believe that maybe, maybe you could mention the way you felt about him without it taking a violent turn toward disastrous, when he speaks up and promptly proves you wrong. 

“Don’t dwell on it too much,” he says, and you blink yourself out of your stupor, tilting your head as he meets your eyes. “You’re still quite new to all of this, after all.  Something similar happened with Rose a long, long time ago.  Only it was about a hundred times worse, and we wound up trapped, hiding out in this cave — a cave, Y/N. Musty air, drippy icicles hanging from the ceiling — the whole lot.”  

The story doesn’t stop there.  He goes on detailing the experience that he had had with Rose, on another planet, in another time, and whatever hope you had been feeling fizzles out. The color drains from your face, as it so often does, and you sit there in silence, humming acknowledgments every now and then as he talks animatedly about the cave, and the snowstorm, and the glacial aliens that had wanted to crown Rose the leader of their species.  

This wasn’t the first time you’d had your hopes crushed, of course, but that doesn’t mean that it stings any less when he looks you in the eye, one hand holding yours steady while the other goes about nimbly placing a bandage upon your shoulder, and talks animatedly about his previous companion.  It had never been quite clear to you whether she had been his companion or his girlfriend, though, and it was times like this that you began to think that it was definitely, definitely the latter. 

It’s quite some time before you really tune back in to what he’s saying. You could offhandedly acknowledge his stories about Rose for days. You had gotten used to it, because a good majority of the time you couldn’t bring yourself to actively listen to them. Not really.  You brush off your own indifference to all of it, and think with a humorless smirk that maybe you would be better at all of this if you did listen to The Doctor’s stories. Took note of them, memorized them, tried to be more like the incredible girl he seemed to miss so much. 

“—but she was clever. So clever,” he concludes his tale, at the same time he finishes wrapping your arm with something that looks similar to gauze. It’s not gauze, though, because gauze isn’t wet, and it doesn’t adhere to your skin the way this bandaging seems to. You refocus your attention on his face once he’s gone quiet, and there’s a twinge of guilt in your heart as you realize that there’s a hint of sorrow, there, a darkness in his expression that betrays the smile he’s wearing.  You sigh, soft and resigned, and put on a smile of your own as you watch him check his work. 

“It bloody well sounds like it,” you agree, despite the fact that you had only caught maybe a quarter of what he had been talking about.  The glint of happiness in his tired eyes at your agreement is worth it, though, and in the next second he’s getting to his feet.  

You think for a split second that he’s about to walk away and leave you be, so you close your eyes and begin trying to get comfortable where you are.  The console room isn’t the most ideal resting spot, with its flashing lights and its humming and thrumming, but it’ll do — you’re not about to try and get to your bedroom with your ankle throbbing like it is, after all, and the day’s ordeal has left you knackered to your bones anyhow. 

Your effort doesn’t go very far, though, because in the next second The Doctor has scooped you up into his arms once again. You cling to him with a surprised yelp, all fluttering eyelashes and flushed cheeks once again as he cradles you against his chest and proceeds to carry you on down the hallway and into your room. Your cheek is pressed firmly to his shoulder as he walks, and you can’t help but notice the scent that clings to the fabric of his suit.  It’s not something you can describe, not exactly, but if you had to put words to it you would say that it smells like thousand-year old cologne and moon-dust. It’s obscenely distracting. 

“That old bench is no place for a good nap, Y/N,” he jokes. His voice is soft as he settles you down onto your bed, and it snaps you out of your preoccupied state in an instant.  You think you feel his thumb brush across your cheek as he straightens up, but you’re not sure whether you’ve imagined it or not, because the feeling of his arms around you has gone and scrambled your brain all over again.  You mentally kick yourself for it, reminding your flighty heart repeatedly that there’s no point in it — none. He was the object of your affections, the unfortunate focus of your primary-school crush, but he didn’t return those feelings. That was that. No blurred lines, no questions asked. 

“You get some rest, now,” you hear him say. “Gotta have you back at the top of your game for our next trip — it’ll be much, much safer, I promise. Well. Maybe not safer, not exactly — I’m not sure I can ever reasonably promise that. But it will be more fun. I can always promise fun.” 

You bite back a bit of laughter at his rambling. It’s typical of him, definitely, but more than that it sounds eerily similar to one of his half-apologies (which was another of the quirks that you had become closely acquainted with over the past few months). Thinking on that, you want to reassure him that none of what had happened on Aarmis had been his fault; he hadn’t known, after all, that there would be hostile, stoney-faced aliens waiting for you outside of the TARDIS doors. How could he have?  You keep it to yourself, though, well aware that The Doctor isn’t exactly fond of facing feelings of any sort head-on.  

“We’ll try to keep it a bit more novice next time around,” he quips as he turns to go, “Bit less climbing trees and running for our lives.  The caves and the icey fellows of the universe can always come later, after all.” 

And that — that stings. 

It was one thing to listen to him talk about her so consistently; that much was tolerable, at the very least. You would be the first to admit that it would always be hard not to take all of his talk about his beloved Rose to heart, especially considering the way that you felt about him, but it was tolerable. You could ignore it when and where you had to, and as they were, the stories weren’t actually hurtful, no matter how impossible they may have felt to live up to sometimes.  To hear him compare you to her so directly, though, and to have him outright call you a novice, of all things (even if it was true), was a bit… low.  It felt very low, and dirty — like an unbelievably cheap shot. And it left a sour taste in your mouth. 

The hopeful side of your brain (predictably) piped up near immediately with a feeble attempt to convince you that he didn’t mean it like it had sounded, but the other side, the logical side, was there to snuff that out in the next instant. How many other ways were there for him to have meant what he’d said, after all?  Sure, maybe his intention hadn’t been to hurt you with his words, but that didn’t change the way that they had landed, not in the least, and no matter how hard you try to avoid it, it all leaves you feeling very… second-rate. 

Before you really come back to yourself, The Doctor turns and ambles out of your room. He makes another offhanded comment about your next maybe-adventure, the next planet you might or might not be visiting once you were up and moving again, but you don’t hear it. You dismiss it entirely, in fact, as you roll onto your side with a huff and a groan, and fight to ignore the sting of angry tears in your eyes. You squeeze your eyes shut stubbornly as you turn your back to the bedroom door, and you vehemently ignore the sound of The Doctor’s distracted pacing as it echoes from the console room. 

As you lie there, you do your damndest to beat it into your brain that this won’t get to you; it won’t, damn it, you won’t let it.  It’s useless in the end, though, even despite all of your determination. Because in the end, you still find yourself lying there with a sprained ankle, a nasty burn, and wet eyes, wondering all the while if you were ever going to be anything to him. A friend, a companion, a partner in crime, a lover, a fling —  anything other than not her.  And when all was said and done, if someone had asked you to make an educated guess? You seriously doubted it.  

[mygreatadventurehasbegun]

Experiment in Terror.

Awesome score by Henry Mancini.

Slightly cheesy dialogue.  Feels cliche now, but was probably terrifying in 1962.

Really well shot and great cinematography.

Incredibly annoying to have to watch it with commercials,  It’s a two hour movie that was stretched to almost three.  It was almost enough to make me walk away and try and see it another time, but I decided to stick with it.

And I’m glad I did, it’s a very solid thriller.  Ross Martin as the stalker Red Lynch is super creepy.  I have to admit, I was not expecting a scene where he tells Lee Remick’s underage sister to take off her clothes.  That was disturbing.

And I thought the opening was well done, too.  I was expecting something like Midnight Lace, where the interactions are done via phone.  So when he showed up behind her in her garage, that definitely got me.  And the scene itself was great, I appreciated the fact that there wasn’t any score for that scene (or any scene meant to make you uncomfortable).  Though, a minor nitpick....watching an obviously re-mastered version of the film, you could tell a couple things.  One, some of his dialogue was obviously ADR’d....and two, there were times when it looked like his hand was about an inch from her throat, rather than holding on (gently of course, as per stage combat).  So she was fighting and struggling against something that wasn’t even touching her.  In the grand scheme of things, not a big deal...they probably wanted to be extra careful.

Ending felt a little anti-climactic, but still well done.  We never find out why he wanted the money, unless I missed it....was it all to make sure those kid’s hospital bills were paid?  That would be interesting if he wasn’t such a creep....sort of a contradiction...

I really want to watch the movie again, and not have to deal with commercials.  They really took me out of the story, and I’d find myself doing other things during the break and it would carry over when the film started up again.

[wanderingspacedragon]

Rey’s Shadow

Let’s roll out the ol’ crystal ball and see if we can unfog the future for Episode IX.

This time let’s look at what we may expect for Rey and where her arc may go.

Remember this is all speculation and just for fun. If you like speculating and predicting on next Star Wars film, more is below the cut.

Rey has been a bit harder for me to nail down on what might happen for her in the next film, but after some digging and re-reading of some storytelling motifs I think I’ve got a clue on what to expect next.

So a storytelling trope that is very important in Star Wars is Facing and Integrating The Shadow or just the Shadow Archetype. It's the part of the personality that embodies everything a character doesn't like about themselves/fears about themselves. It is the things they, often subconsciously, deny about themselves and project onto others. The more the Shadow has been repressed, the more powerful it becomes. This comes from Carl Jung and his psychological theory, but we are going to use it for its story writing means. Guess who also used these theories? Joseph Campbell.

And George Lucas was heavily inspired by Joseph Campbell’s The Hero Journey. By looking into these we can see the framework of the Star Wars Saga.

Let’s take a look at past Shadow Archetypes in Star Wars. We’ll start with the OT. In this the Shadow has a personification in the form of Darth Vader. He is a powerful force user that, opposite of Luke, is angry, cold, and full of hatred. These are emotions and things that Luke tries to repress in himself because he fears them and can’t accept they are part of himself. In Empire Strikes Back, Luke has a vision in the Dark Side cave on Dagobah that spells this out and also is a bit of warning if he follows through in repressing/killing the Shadow.

The Vision has Luke facing off with Darth Vader and striking him down, only to reveal that under the mask is his own face. In Return of The Jedi, Luke is brought before the Emperor who tries to get  Luke to give into his Shadow Self and act out on those feelings, knowing that if he does kill his own father that he would fall to the Dark Side. It symbolizes that trying to kill your dark side will only make it grow larger and eventually eat you whole.

That is what happened to Anakin. In the PT era Anakin’s Shadow took in form of Darth Maul (Rage, Vengeance, and Wrath), Count Dooku (Arrogance and Self-Superiority), and General Grievous (Power-hungry and willingness to sacrifice one's own ‘humanity’ to gain power). They represented all the parts that Anakin tried to repress in himself. It's what the Jedi Order taught him to do and since these shadows were killed off instead of integrated, a larger Shadow emerged in the form of Darth Vader. What is interesting about the Prequels is the Shadow isn’t just Anakin’s, but the Jedi as a whole. This is the imbalance in the Force. The Jedi’s solution to the Sith and the Dark Side was to destroy it, not realizing that by trying to repress and erase they were just making it stronger. It is by Revenge of The Sith that all of these Shadows have been killed that the new one forms in Anakin as he is pushed to extreme decisions all cause no one wants to address the issues of detachment, obsessive love, anger, arrogance, fear, and the hunger for power. Thus a new monster is born. The Shadow will eat you if you do not accept it and properly manage it.

Now I’m going to spoil a movie here, so fair warning I’m going to talk about the movie The Babadook, a horror movie about a single mother and her child with behavioral issues. It’s more than that, but if you don’t want to be spoiled here’s your chance to skip over this part. I’m going to go over the story and how it all relates to dealing with the Shadow Self.

* * * * *

“There’s just NO WAY your OFF the HOOK

If you’re ALL GROWN UP

When you read this book.

And you snub your nose

With a civilized look…

You’ll appeal EVEN MORE

to the BIG BABADOOK.

And this is what he’ll say…

‘I’ll WAGER with YOU

I’LL MAKE you a BET

ThE MORE you DENY me

The STRONGER I GET.

You’ll then be my PUPPET, my plaything, my PET

I’ll MAKE you DO THINGS

You’ll be SURE to REGRET,”

-Limited Edition Mister Babadook pop-up book

Okay so in the Babadook the whole movie is about how this woman is not dealing with her Shadow Self and how it becomes almost a physical monster that terrorizes her and her son. Her husband was tragically killed in a car accident while driving her to the hospital while she was in labor. She does not celebrate her son’s birthday because it reminds her of her husband’s passing. She’s stuck in a job that she doesn’t want to do (she really wants to be a children’s book writer) and she has not be able to move on relationship wise. Her son and everything in her life has trapped her in this loop of the past in a way. When she reads a book called Mister Babadook, to her son before bed, everything in her life becomes worse and a monster seems to be stalking them. The book is scary and as it says in the book, “If it’s in a word, or it’s in a look. You can’t get rid of the Babadook.”

This book is an invitation and brings in the Babadook first by the paranoia of her son and then the mother starts seeing the Babadook. She keeps trying to repress her Shadow Self, which is the grief of losing her husband, the resentment she feels toward her own child, feeling trapped and angry over how her life is going. She keeps trying to deny and repress these feelings and thus trying to hid and get rid the Babadook. It gets so bad that the Babadook actually possesses her and she almost acts out the scenes in the book and nearly kills her own son. But his love for her is what finally snaps her out of it and she is able to control the Babadook. It’s never gone as the end of the movie shows. It now lives in their basement, but she addresses it and feeds it. And thus she can finally live a bit more peaceful and happier life.

“Whether adult or child, best give me a HOME.

Put the welcome mat out, with a room of my OWN.

And accept that I’m here and from YOU

I have grown

Keep me smaller in size,

I might leave you alone.”

-Limited Edition Mister Babadook pop-up book

* * * * *

You can’t kill the Shadow, but you can control and manage it. That is what integrating the Shadow means. It doesn’t mean giving into your impulses and bad feelings, but acknowledging them so you can control them. The Babadook is seriously a good movie, but it is terrifying. Psychological horror heavily relies on the darkness that resides in ourselves and what we try to deny feeling. These are some of my favorite kind of horror movies because they are the ones that last by lurking in your own psyche. Tragedies and Horror usually has the failing of integrating the Shadow thus the sad/terrifying conclusion. It’s scary even if the monster is defeated because we know that it could come back at any time.

Now to the ST era and what to expect of Rey and dealing with her Shadow. Well what is her shadow? Personified it’s obviously Kylo Ren. Kylo Ren is rage, the feeling of abandonment, self loathing, and feeling like you are the Monster.

These are things Rey fears about herself and has denied herself feeling so far. She was abandoned by her parents, but she lives in denial, hoping they will return for her one day. It’s why she keeps the hairstyle she’s had since she was little, in hopes they would recognize her. Why in The Force Awakens she keeps wanting to go back to Jakku and wait for them. If she was to move on then that would mean she would have to finally accept the truth. That she was sold off and left in indentured servitude to Unkar Plutt.

Now we have seen hints of Rage and maybe even the scary thought of a Monster in her. In The Force Awakens we see this darker side as she fought with Kylo Ren in the snow forest. She got the upper hand and had even knocked him to the ground. While on the ground she approached and seemed ready to strike at him after she already disarmed him, but the earth opened up separating them by a rift.

Wait a minute...this gif is right before the ground breaks apart preventing her from completing that swing.

ooooooohhhhh... *wink wink* Rey’s dark side showing just like Luke’s was.

In The Last Jedi, Rey seeks training from Luke. As she says “Something inside me has always been there...but now it's awake, and I'm afraid. I don't know what it is, or what to do with it, but I need help.” She’s afraid of this power. Why? She also seems to be drawn to the dark side and even spooks Luke because of her power and her willingness to explore the dark side sea cave.

This makes me speculate there is more to Rey’s past and we are going to find it out in Ep IX. And I don’t mean that her parents were anyone we actually know. I think a lot of audience aren’t getting that point. The point is they weren’t special people and they were in fact awful. Sold her off for drinking money and then left...But apparently they are dead in the Jakku desert... Which is strange cause that contradicts the vision Rey had in TFA where we see her as a child screaming  “Come Back!” to a ship that is taking off. How can both be true? Well I don’t think Kylo Ren is lying. The thing about the Shadow is that it tells the protagonist what they deny and don’t WANT to be true, but is the truth nonetheless. Remember Vader telling Luke he was his father. There were several audience members after ESB that thought Vader had to be lying because that seemed too awful for Luke. Same for Rey. It’s the Truth she has to hear but does not want to accept.

But the vision? How can both be true? Well I think we’ll find out that Rey as a child may have accidentally killed her own parents. As she said she’s had this inside her that’s always been there but only recently is now awake. What if it woke up before during a time of duress and in an attempt to bring her parents back, accidentally blowing up their ship as it was leaving.

That would both explain the Vision and what Kylo told her. It would explain why she’s afraid of this power she has and why she’s drawn to the Dark Side. The final truth she has to accept about herself and what she will have to face in the next film. This might be what brings her to that Dark Side’s edge and she’ll have to decide if she gives into it or learns to integrate with with Shadow. And remember the lesson in Star Wars, killing the Shadow only means that it will come back in either yourself or someone in your group. So if Rey actually kills Kylo Ren in Episode 9 then she may fall to the Dark side or cause a greater Shadow to emerge.

But I am 99.9% sure they are not going to have a tragedy or a horror movie for the ending of the freakin’ Skywalker Saga. Heck the fact that Vader dies in ROTJ could be the reason another Shadow emerges for the Sequel Trilogy and the purpose of this trilogy is to finally have a true integration of the the Shadow. There has to be a proper integration that gets expanded for the whole story’s universe. Balancing the Force.

So yeah I could go further into other Archetypes and who they are in the ST which would be fascinating, but this is already very long so with that it will have to be another time.

And remember…

“If it’s in a word, or it’s in a look. You can’t get rid of the Babadook.”

[long-thin-arms]

The End at Dusk

They pull the trigger. 

The man drops dead on his back, eyes opened. The little boy didn’t know what to do, seeing his father bloodied, unmoving. His father was killed by the authorities who barged in their house in the middle of the night, yelling words he did not comprehend. 

He is 12 years old. 

“Dad? Dad? What happened to you? Dad!” He relentlessly shakes his father, hoping for some glimpse of response, but nothing. His dad was no father, filled with alcohol and drugs. But all the same, he was his father. Never once did he hurt him, not even a bit. The little boy cried for a long time realizing that he was left alone, no relatives of his own, no mother, no siblings, nothing. He slept beside his dead father, relishing his last moments with him. 

He woke up to someone nudging him, and a voice saying, “Charlie? Wake up. Charlie? Charlie.” The voice was sweet, too sweet. He slowly opened his eyes while adjusting to the bright light around him. It looks like a hospital. Almost. “Where am I? Where’s my dad?” he said while frantically looking around. “You’re in an orphanage, Charlie.” The woman smiled while stroking his hair. Something about her made the hairs on his arms stand on end. 

He tried to remember what happened yesterday, at least, it has only been a day yet, right? He remembered his dad being gunned down by but then he remembered the lady sitting beside his bed, so he quickly wiped the incoming tears and asked again, “What am I doing here?” The woman stood up, closed the lights and opened the blinds in his room. “We found you sleeping alone outside the streets, shaking in the cold and we couldn’t leave you there so we took you in. It was really strange to find you lying on the ground like that. Where are your parents?” She was staring at him straight in the eye and it was eerie. He looked away.

 “I have no parents.” 

He got out of bed, attempting to get out of the room and get out of this creepy place, but the woman blocked the door. “Where are you going, Charlie? We’re going to take care of you here so there’s no need to be afraid.” 

“I don’t want to be here.” At that moment did it only occur to him that she has been saying his name for a couple of times now. He didn’t even know her. “How did you know my name?” 

“What do you mean? Everybody knows everybody here. I’m Clarisse, remember?” Who is she and how did I even get here? This is ridiculous. “I don’t. Will you just open the door?” 

Surprisingly, she did. Charlie was dumb-founded. It was not a hospital nor was it an orphanage. It seems to be a den disguised as an apartment. Filthy kids were running about in the alley and the walls were grimy and looked like it hasn’t been cleaned for months. It was a complete opposite of the pristine room he stayed in. “What is this place?” Charlie asked. 

The woman passed by a couple of rooms and when she noticed that Charlie wasn’t following, she looked back and motioned for him to come over. He did, passing by kids his age smoking marijuana and playing cards as if those were the usual things a 12-year old is supposed to be doing. The woman finally came to a halt and said to Charlie, “I’ll be leaving you here. Take care, alright?” She patted Charlie’s head and gave another one of those eerie smiles. Charlie tried hard not to think about it too much and entered the room. 

The room was dimly lit and there were people playing cards as well. But this time, they were adults. There were four of them. One of them laid eyes on Charlie and said, “Why are you just standing there? C’mere boy.” Charlie strode forward, calculating each step. Every step seems to be more dangerous than the other. “Alright, kid. You’re gonna be hitting the streets from now on. We need to earn money and fast. If you don’t, you get left behind. And when you get left behind, you’re dead. That’s how things work around in here. You got it?” The man was smoking a cigarette and blew the smoke straight to his face. He was too scary to contradict but Charlie summed up enough courage to ask questions. “I’m sorry but this must be a misunderstanding. I don’t belong here. My father was killed and I—“ Suddenly, Charlie felt a stinging pain on his face. Only did he realize that he was punched. “Look, kid, I don’t give a shit if your father was killed, or your mother, or your dog. It’s either you work here or you can follow the footsteps of your father. What’s it going to be?” Charlie was too terrified to even utter a word and so he hung his head low, hoping for some sort of miracle. In the end, there was none. 

He worked on the streets day and night, picking pockets from stranger to stranger. Charlie didn’t like what he was doing, but he didn’t like to die either. Eventually, as he grew older, Charlie learned to smoke cigarettes, smoke drugs, and drink alcohol. He uses profanity as greetings and finally became part of the filthy den he lived in. What started out as a forced occupation turned out to be a fun hobby for Charlie. 

Six years had passed. One evening, while he was walking along the street, he noticed a silhouette constantly following him. The street was empty, save for them two. It was a man, hiding in a trench coat and a cap, head hung low. Charlie held his knife in his pocket, like a lion ready to pounce. Before the man could get any closer, he faced him, knife in hand and said, “You’ve been following me for a couple of minutes, man. What the hell do you want?” The man neither spoke nor move and stayed in the position he was before. Then, he removed his cap and looked in Charlie’s eyes. Eyes filled with remorse and longing. Eyes that were hurt. 

Charlie knew those eyes. The same eyes that drowned in blood that cold September night, leaving him in the fray. “Dad? What? How? Why? I thought you were dead. How did you find me?” There they were again. Those bloodshot eyes. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I had to leave you at the time. They were going to kill you if I didn’t. I already lost your mother and I couldn’t lose you too. I’m sorry Charlie. I’m sorry...” Charlie was lost for words. He didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t know what to think. Seeing his father alive and moving was already too much for him. There were a lot of tof things he wanted to say, lots of questions he wanted to ask, but where to start? “Charlie, you have to listen to me. If they find out you’re my son, they’ll kill you. You need to leave that place immediately.” What is he saying? Despite the consequences he had gone through, the gang is his family now. He couldn’t just leave them, no. “Dad, what are you saying? This is stupid, you should just leave.” 

Just then, a group of cars arrives at the scene, surrounding Charlie and his father. A man gets out of the car, the same man who punched him six years ago. It was Mr. Ramirez. “Well, well, well what is this? A family reunion of some sort? I didn’t even know you had a fucking son, Frank.” “This is all a big misunderstanding. You don’t have to do—“ Mr. Ramirez points a gun right at Frank’s face. “Dad, what’s happen-“ He points another gun to Charlie. “You don’t get a say in this, kid. You’ve worked hard, but knowing you’re a child of Frank here is unforgivable. You don’t only owe me gold, Frank. You owe me a life.” Charlie had no idea what was happening but what he did know was his dad was going to die right here, right now if he stands there like an idiot. What do I do? This is Mr. Ramirez we’re talking about! He raised me like his own kid. 

He spots an open alley just by the side. Dad can escape from there. I just need a distraction. “Alright, I’m not wasting any more time on you, sons of bitches. See you in hell.” Before Mr. Ramirez could even pull the trigger, Charlie kicks him in the gut and steals the gun away from him with no problem, facing death so many times. “Dad! You need to go!” He looks at the alley and then to his dad. What felt like five seconds, felt like an eternity. There was no turning back. Frank stands there motionless, staring at Charlie as if memorizing every bit of a painting that was about to fade away. “Dad! RUN!” Frank holds Charlie’s hand. They share one last look. 

He pulls the trigger. 

The bullet hit Mr. Ramirez at the head, but it was incomparable to the rain of bullets that breached Frank and Charlie’s bodies all the same. There was no escape this time. No morning to wake up to, no more tears to be shed. The sun had already set.      

© long-thin-arms

[comedicreliefonlyworkswhenfunny]

Villain!Deku au; chapter eleven: Make New Friends, But Keep The Old

First

Previous

Waking up shivering, Midoriya decided that he needed a new blanket. He rounded up just enough cash to get what he needed, with some to spare of course, but not too much to where it was suspicious. He got dressed in his normal tacky shirt and pants attire, but with a hat for good measure. “Kurogiri, I’m going out,” he called as he tred through the bar. The nod was subtle and hard to see, Kurogiri was basically physical, colorful fire, but Kurogiri clearly nodded back to show his understanding. Midoriya slipped through the alleyways and to the main street. The hat atop his head kept anyone important from recognizing him, and thankfully he didn’t a background I.D. to get a train pass. He was going to buy groceries and a new blanket, but, to do that, he needed to go to a shopping district. A few stops in, he saw an ugly face. It was a member of one of the less loved gangs. He was known for being a pervert and a rapist. He would lure younger kids, usually teens to early twenties, by harassing them in the bus and following them when they get off. Midoriya gagged when he saw the thing practically on top of two high school boys.

Kirishima and Kiminari were going into town to meet up with their friends for lunch. It was a celebration to Bakugou, Todoroki, and Tokoyami for winning the Sports Festival, and for the fact that no one was hospitalized. The two boys wanted to do a bit of exploring before they met up with everyone for food, so they left early. Unfortunately, it would have been much safer to head with the group. The man towered behind them, hands way to close to things that mattered. Both boys were uncomfortable, but there was too many people on the train to make a scene. They tried ignoring it, but he was getting more bold by the minute. Kiminari suggested using their quirks to make him back up, but Kirishima shot it down. Even if it was a pervert, quirk usage was prohibited in public areas. They whispered solutions, desperately trying to pretend that the large, uncomfortable hands weren’t there. It seemed like a miracle when they left. The boys turned back to see a kid, who was around their age, pinning the brute to the floor.

Midoriya didn’t hesitate to yank that bitch down where he stood. He crouched down to the body, one knee on the floor the other on the man’s chest. The look of fear in his eyes was more satisfaction than Midoriya could explain. He hissed just loud enough so that the thug beneath him would hear, but not so much so that it gave away either of their positions. “Get your disgusting self off of this train before I do something about you. This is not your territory. This is my domain and I will not have your slimy trail leading to my area, so here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get off of this train at the next stop, or I will fill you up with my liquid,” Deku flashed the thin needle of a syringe. The horror on the man’s face said it all. Midoriya stood up, allowing the other to escape. He stayed just within sight, making sure that Deku would see him get off at the next stop. The train pulled up and he bolted.

Kirishima and Kiminari were astounded. Whoever this kid was, he was someone to be feared. While they were shocked that this scrawny, dead eyed kid who was no older than them was terrifying enough to make a grown man, twice their size scared, the two swallowed their fear and went up to thank him. He did save them from embarrassment and possible rape. “Yo, bro! That was super cool and manly! How’d you do that?” Kirishima was the first to start up the conversation. He placed his hand on Midoriya’s shoulder in a friendly way as the doors closed and the train began takeoff again. Kiminari followed up with a cheerful smile and a, “Thanks a lot, that was awesome!” Midoriya froze like a deer in the headlights. He had learned from his past how to fulfill the role of a tormenter, and playing badass was a skill that he had picked up at the bar, but a normal conversation? He had no idea what to do. He gave a sheepish laugh before giving them a response, “It was actually pretty easy, since his center of gravity was off. He was leaning forward, but, since you guys were standing there, I couldn’t push him over. However, it’s just as easy to pull him backwards, once he puts his weight on his back foot, I kicked it from under him. Other than that, all you have to do is be vaguely threatening. They don’t know what you’re capable of. Exploit that,” the art of fight, a language he spoke quite fluently. In his experience, if you can’t carry on a normal conversation, don’t. Both boys were in awe at this kid.

The three sat down on the chairs that opened up after people got off of the train. Kirishima and Kiminari did most of he talking; Midoriya mostly sat between them and added input wherever he was able. The train ride was a decently long one, unlike Midoriya’s conversation, but it wasn’t too far into the ride that he drifted off to sleep. The train tracks sounded like static and that made student’s conversation seem like it was just a television show; it felt like he was watching a movie at midnight was his mom, just like he used to. His head fell to Kirishima’s shoulder as the world faded from existence.

Kirishima almost jumped when he felt hair brush his cheek and a head fell on his shoulder. “Dude,” he called to Kiminari, ignoring any previous commentary, “Dude, he fell asleep.” Kiminari leaned in, confirming what he saw. The green haired kid was dead out. A low voltage shock spanned the short distance as Kiminari poked the boy in his freckled face. “Where do you get off?” it was a very important question, one that thankfully was answered. A sleepy voice answered with the singular word, ‘shopping,’ but it was enough for the boys to know that all three of them were heading to the same place. Kirishima tried activating his quirk and hardening his shoulder, but Midoriya was even more of a rock than the pebbles in the cobblestone path beside the vehicle. Kirishima and Kiminari quite enjoyed the train ride; they bothered the sleeping boy to their hearts content. Kiminari took a picture of the other two before taking a picture with all three of them in it. They both shook the boy awake as they heard their stop being announced as next on the intercom. The boy reluctantly woke just at the right time. The doors opened and boys waved goodbye; Midoriya, who had a set destination, and the two UA students, who were trying to find cool shops near some good food, parted ways as the train left without them.

Midoriya felt a bit stupid for falling asleep so easily, and so heavily for that matter, but what was done was done. He wandered off to find the things on his mental list as time became lost to the oblivion. Afternoon faded to evening as he finished up his shopping. Looking back at the train, he saw a familiar face. Green eyes met red as Katsuki Bakugou blocked out Kirishima and Kiminari’s story. He kept out of his seat and began running towards the figure that saw. “Dude!” Kirishima called aimlessly, but Bakugou was already off the train. The two boys sat back down with everyone that was left and told everyone that he forgot something and would catch the next train. Probably. With heavy emphasis on the probably.

Turning a corner, Bakugou saw him. “Deku?” a breathless pant, almost a question as it left his mouth. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Months of being missing, only to find him in broad daylight. Part of him thought that he was wrong, the Deku he knew was lost, but he wasn’t quite wrong… Until he caught the boy, cornered in an alleyway. Green hair poking out of the expanses of a dull, gray hat; freckles went off like a bomb, spreading across his face; the same tacky clothing style that he wore: this was the ‘Deku’ he knew. The blackened abyss under his eyes; the subtle cuts and bruises from various bar fights; the hollow holes in his eyes where the light was shattered: this was the ‘Deku’ that he didn’t know. Bakugou didn’t even need to call out into the alleyway that he saw the boy turn in; Midoriya beat him to the call, “Hey, Kaachan.” Bakugou froze as if the ground fell from beneath him. Hopelessly sputtering, he tried to find the words to portray his thoughts, “D-Deku?” He became speaking before thinking, “What happened? Where have you been? Why are you here?” questions spitting at the speed of light. “Oh, so you care now?” Midoriya replied sarcastically, clearly taking the other male aback. The ‘Deku’ he knew didn’t talk back or use sarcasm, let alone both. “What happened to you?” the real question. Midoriya only smiled, looking sorrowfully off in the distance. The way he held himself changed drastically, but Bakugou had just now realized. “You just vanished one day! Everybody thinks you’re dead! My mom-” another quick questionnaire, but Midoriya cut him off, “Are you trying to convince me that you care?” his tone was deadpan and flat. Looking Bakugou dead in the eyes, now, he continued, “Mitsuki-san is kind: she would have adopted me, you know that, right? She’s not going to let her best friend’s kid go into the fucked up foster care system. Is that what you wanted? Could you even live if we were in the same house?” he hissed. Acid hot on his tongue, he didn’t give Bakugou even a moment to recover, “Anything would have been better than living with you, and I know I’m not the only one that thinks that. If you can look me dead in the eyes and say that you wanted me to stay, go ahead. I dare you,” he challenged, green eyes meet red and sparks flying. Bakugou opened his mouth, but words would come out. Did he want ‘Deku’ to stay? Wasn’t his goal to get him out of his life? His mind raced with contradictions, but, before anything could leave his mouth, he watched Midoriya smile sadly. Green eyes hit the ground, “I didn’t think so,” was uttered as he turned away. Bakugou could only stand, mouth agape; words wouldn’t make their way to his mouth, his body wouldn’t move, but his mind continued to race. As the boy disappeared from sight, Bakugou began walking back to the train station with more questions than answers. What happened to the Deku he once knew?

Next

Master

[jupiternovak]

So let's talk about Sherlock...

I just watched The Final Problem today and I am very torn on my opinion on it. while watching i didn’t notice almost any of the major issues with it, probably because I was too emotional to pay attention. I came on tumblr right after finishing and to be honest I was overwhelmed by the amount of hate TFP got, although now it’s been a few hours though and the more I think about it, the more problems arise. I would just like to talk about the plot holes I noticed in this and also the things I liked and disliked.

for the record, I didn’t hate the episode and I didn’t think it was horrible, I just think that Moftiss were overthinking and absolutely overlooked some key points and needless to say, almost everyone noticed.

first off

- how the fuck did John get out of the well? he was literally chained to the bottom and they just threw a rope at him, what the actual friggity fuck?!?

- TLD ended with Eurus shooting John, not just shooting at him, John literally said in the beginning of TFP that he got shot. Eurus said she would put a hole in John’s face an I really doubt she’d miss if she really wanted to shoot him. John doesn’t seem to be hurt at all though, guess he must be jesus h. fucking christ in the flesh or something;

- speaking of mysterious healing, tHEY JUMPED OUT OF A FIRST FLOOR WINDOW WITH A BOMB EXPLODING BEHIND THEM AND DIDN’T GET A SINGLE SCRATCH ON THEMSELVES. firstly, they broke the windows with their bodies so they must have gotten damaged from the glass. secondly, they jumped out of a window. remember in scandal in Belgravia when Sherlock threw that guy out of a window and how bad he got hurt from that? thirdly, a bomb exploded behind them. that would have increased their speed and also hurt them. yet, in the next scene they are completely fine and don’t even come and tell me it was a while later because when they talk on the phone they say Mycroft is in the hospital unconcious, which would suggest that the explosion had just happened.

- jumping back to TLD now, what exactly was the purpose of Eurus dressing up as Faith, the girl on the bus and Johns therapist? I kinda understand Eurus helping Sherlock by giving him the letter and leading him to Culverton, but why the other two? I understand that she’s a literal psycho but what benefit did that give her? none. just fucking confusing everyone.

- Mycroft is one of the smartest men alive and yet he lets Moriarty and Eurus meet without anyone checking on them whAT THE FUCK

- how’d the “miss me?” video get all over London in HLV? who the fuck distributed it? Eurus? she can hack now?

- Mycroft: *locks Eurus in Sherrinford* Eurus: *escapes* Mycroft: “hey yknow what’s a good idea? let’s take Eurus back to Sherrinford bc that sounds like a great plan lol!”

- why’d they never look in the well when looking for Victor/Redbeard? tf smh

- how and why tf did Eurus build a fake cell? what was the fucking point?

- one moment Sherlock and Eurus are talking to eachother through a tv screen and literally three human seconds later Eurus is sitting on the floor in her room and basically looks like she’s absolutely traumatised, with no camera or anything. were the videos prerecorded? if thats the case then wtf happened to Eurus while Sherlock was out? this bit and the next one still piss me off the most

- I understand building tension and putting Sherlock under pressure but the whole plane story was literally pointless. did Eurus pretend to be the child? i understand the metaphore of it but everything about Eurus is contradicting itself at this point and her character is just messy tbh

- suprisingly convenient doors in cells that lead to other cells what a coincidence :o

- how did Mycroft Holmes, again, one of the smartest men alive, not see this coming? is he a moron? he knew exactly what his sister was capable of and he was just like tralala Eurus can literally hypnotise ppl and make them do what she wants but shes locked up in a prison so that means no worries for me (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

- where did the fake tombstones come from? did 8 year old Eurus bring them there or something? tf

- the absolute fuckery that happened when Sherlock first went into the room Eurus was in. how did he not see there was no glass? last i checked glass reflects, shouldn’t you be able to see that?

- there are fucking security cameras, did Mycroft literally never check what happened while he wasn’t there and while Eurus was just having a walk around London with Sherlock and having chips, and not only Mycroft, did nOONE CHECK AT ALL? SHERRINFORD IS A PRISOM FOR THE MOST DANGREROUS WHAT THE SHIT

- HOW DID JOHN GET OUT OF THE WELL I’M STILL CONFUSED

This episode wasn’t all bad though (hard to believe looking at literally everything I just wrote) but i did love a lot of things about it.

- WE GOT TO SEE SHERLOCK’S AND MYCROFT’S CHILDHOOD AND WHY THEY ENDED UP THE WAY THEY DID THIS IS ALL I EVER WANTED

- despite everything I still love the way they use the camera when filming Sherlock they’re all so smart about that

- Mycroft mouthing along to that movie

- Mycroft’s magic umbrella

- “hey bro!”

- THE HAT

- Mycroft having to sit in the chair

- MRS HUDSON LISTENING TO NUMBER OF THE BEAST

- Sherlock calling John family

- Sherlock calliNG JOHN FAMILY

- SHERLOCK CALLING JOHN FAMILY

- SHERLOCK LITERALLY GOT SO PISSED AT MYCROFT FOR WANTING TO EXCLUDE JOHN AND C A L L E D H I M F A M I L Y

- “Sherlock the pirate”

- Mycroft disguised as an old man anD THE REVEAL

- Sherlocks fake accent

- Eurus playing the violin

- Eurus being all gay

- Jim Moriarty

- Jim Moriarty stepping out if a helicopter with queen playing in the background

- Jim Moriarty literally hitting on his bodyguard

- Jim Moriarty

- “I am your christmas present”

- the thing Moriarty and Eurus do through the glass

- tiNY SHERLOCK

- FAT TINY MYCROFT

- TINY SHERLOCK BEING A PIRATE

- the absolutely horrifying amount of pressure Sherlock, John and Mycroft were under while doing the tasks

- the kid on the plane, absolutely terrified, but sippin on a juicebox

- John being so sure he could shoot the general but couldn’t

- Mycroft getting sick at the thought of killing

- Sherlock’s voice when he talks to the girl on the plane

- Mycroft and Sherlock deducing together

- Sherlock choosing John over Mycroft

- “soldiers today”

- Sherlock realising Molly loves him

- Sherlock choosing to shoot himself

- Sherlock doing the hand thing when matching the years on the tombstones to Eurus’s song

- Lestrade saying Sherlock is a good man yES

- violin-off

- SHERLOCK AND JOHN BEING ACTUAL FAMILY AND RAISING ROSIE TOGETHER

- HAPPY SHERLOCK HOLDING HAPPY ROSIE AND HAPPY JOHN HOLDING HAPPY ROSIE WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT

- SHERLOCK CALLED JOHN FAMILY I CAN NOT DEAL

- EVERYBODY IS HAPPY IN THE END (except probs Molly)

and now let’s get to everything I didn’t like, excluding the plot holes i described before

- how everyone treats John, like he’s always the dumb one in every situation, Mycroft thinks that, Eurus thinks that, Mary thought that, all the fans only know Sherlock and not him jUST PLS PPL APPRECIATE HIM MORE HE’S GOT IS SO HARD AND HE DESERVES BETTER

- Molly deserved better, she was just thrown around like trash like I get it you don’t wanna make Sherlolly canon (me neither dw) but stop toying with her like she’s nothing please she’s a great person and deserves more

- how John literally couldn’t physically and mentally push himself to watch the “miss me?” video at first but then when he got the “miss you” video he was like “oi Sherlock fam got some mail wanna have a movie night?”

- Moriarty is still dead, how disappointing

- there wasn’t enough Lestrade or Hudson, pls give the real heroes of the show some screentime they have to put up with Sherlock’s and John’s shit

- not enough deduction

- somehow even though Eurus is overpowered in every way Sherlock can still beat her so easily

- not enough Rosie

- we get it her name means East Wind now stop mentioning it every 2 minutes

- every character that is even a little bit LGBT is a bad character (Irene Adler, Moriarty bc let’s face it he’s gay as shit, Eurus etc)

that’s about all I got for now, I’m planning to rewatch the episode tomorrow so maybe I can evaluate it with a clearer head and get a less biased opinion on it. Moftiss could have done so much better when making this, TLD was an absolute masterpiece in so many aspects and TFP was a piece of literal garbage next to it. really hope they redeem themselves in the next season (if there is one) and explain a few things they didn’t this time. I really hope people stop hating on Moftiss for the decisions they made with this episode and instead give them actual legit points where they went wrong. too much negativity in the fandom right now. hope you all have a good day!

[spongeguyandlelouchvibridankia]

Christmas Gift for a friend

December 24th. 1933.

 Spider-Man Noir, known only to a few as Peter Benjamin Parker, and affectionately known as Noir to 5 other spider people, stumbled into his office.

 Blood soaked his trenchcoat, but it was painted black and white.

 It was all painted black and white.

 The steps to his office/apartment were now laced with pools of blood, dripping every so often as he ascended them.

 The rusty railing made no sound as his hand used it to keep going, and the door only lightly squeaked as he pushed it.

 Light washed over (sort of) the room, revealing his office.

 A simple wooden desk, pens and papers scattered everywhere, and a left over cup of coffee from the morning that was ice cold; a hard, wooden chair, the 5th this week thanks to the recent mob attack of his building; and an egg cream stained couch that was somehow more comfortable than the bed despite the clear arch pain in his back.

 Maybe because he wanted to feel that pain.

 Just to feel something. Anything.

 Burning matches was just not cutting it.

 Noir tried to move his mouth, even a little bit, but his jaw was clearly disconnected.

 And his hands were too filled with glass shards to really handle that right now.

 The floorboards squeaked like the door as he tried his best not too collapse on them.

 “Is… Is she ok?”

 CRASH!

 Clearly, his best wasn’t enough.

 “It wasn’t enough… For that girl…”

 Noir didn’t want to think about it.

 He didn’t want to think about her.

 About her terrified eyes as she was in the hands of those monsters.

 About her petrified screams as he tried in vain to get her out from there.

 About her outstretched hand as he tried to reach…

 And about her faint, unmoving hand as the deed was done…

 Her blood, still on his coat.

 She was gone…

 She was gone…

 She was go…

 Removing his mask for the first time months, Peter Benjamin Parker breathed heavily, flashes of the scene still burned in his mind.

 He knew that Cletus Cassidy was a killer…

 But he didn’t know how far he’d go…

 Only the sound of heavy heaving could be heard from his office, soon deafened by heavy rain.

 Heavy.

 Chest.

 Abrasions.

 Left rib.

 Maybe some fractures?

 Maybe if he focused on the pain, it wouldn’t hurt.

 “Hospital.”

 Hospital.

 That’s good.

 They’d stitch him up all nice and well.

 He’d be back on his feet.

 Unlike her…

 PUNCH!

 Noir now felt a little bad for the hooligans he took on some days. His punch hurt like hell.

 Hell. He’d go there some…

 “Ok, this is getting ridiculous.”

 Noir felt like shit, but he wasn’t going to stay in this cycle for much longer.

 He needed… Air.

 He needed to think.

 The rooftop was sparsley populated, the pigeons flying away immediately as he crawled up.

 Carefully sitting down, now realizing he may have a bruised tailbone as well, Noir closed his eyes, his mask back on so he wouldn’t have to face even the stars.

 Her voice, still calling out for him, echoed in his ears…

 …

 “How could I have done this? How could I have failed?”

 Noir had seen many terrible things in his life.

 But this one almost took the cake.

 It made him question everything.

 How could he call himself a hero when he couldn’t save that girl?

 How could he ever make up for such a mistake?

 The metal in his mouth stung and he suddenly thought of another little girl in his life.

 One who confused him endlessly.

 He didn’t want to think about this now, but anything was a welcome distraction from the pained screams as she was touc…

 Shaking his head, shivering, Noir forced himself to see the one person he didn’t get, even more than Ham: Peni Parker, a Japanese Spider-Girl from the year 3145.

 When they first met, Noir thought she was slightly less confusing than the antromomorphic pig. For one, she wasn’t a cartoon character (at least, he thought), and secondly, she was a little girl. Those were easy to understand, no?

 But as time passed, Noir found that less confusing did not equal easier to deal with.

 Peni was a mixture of contradictions, a cavalcade of emotions: She was proud and a little haughty (introducing herself as a “genius, badass, and hero”, in that order), yet shy and almost scared whenever something really weird happened, like if some particularly scary looking guy would pass.

 Of course, the reason was because Sp;dr needed time to re-charge, but Noir had a hunch that Peni wasn’t as brave, or to be less harsh, wasn’t as fearless as she liked to pretend.

 Not that she was JUST a little girl!

 In the three days he had spent with her, he had been given many chances to be impressed with the odd girl: She was a genius as she said (how DID she make that doohickey, and how did she pilot it were most impressive!), she was a skilled mechanic too (watching her work was almost mesmerizing, almost offering the illusion that you yourself could do such wonders) and her childlike wonder was at times, almost infectious.

 Despite his unfamiliarity with this new universe, she kept asking him questions (which Ham was MORE than eager to answer with a quip and or pop culture reference), ones he tried his best to answer, because her eyes sparkled even in this mad color spectrum that surrounded them.

 Perhaps that was why he had struggled at first to comprehend her, he thought, as he began to relax a little, breath now slower and more controlled.

 Lying down on the roof, hat still firmly in place, he winced as she appeared before him, bouncing around almost as she pointed at things:

 “Why are people still driving cars? Don’t they remember the fly function?”

 “Isn’t that funny, Noir? (she had quickly assigned him that nickname) That guy is working in an office!”

 “Wait, people still eat Hot Dogs? Did they NOT hear of the green bits epidemic of…”

 Since then, Noir had not been able to touch a hot dog, though honestly, he noticed he was better off without them.

 Sighing, but now with a hint of affection, his mind wandered to the first night.

 Peni had so far both confused and impressed him.

 She had even managed to help when they got attacked by some simple mugger, despite his attempts to get her to hide.

 That… Ticked her off a bit, but he had managed to make amends with something called “Sugar Nightmare Express Deluxe and Knuckles”.

 The sugar rush had taken time to cool off, but by the time it did, Ham was fast asleep and he was on a rooftop, surveying the area.

 And…

 Peni was there, suddenly.

 “Whatcha doin’?”, she had asked, clearly shivering.

 Noir did not offer his coat, but only because his eyes were still hurting.

 “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

 “Shouldn’t you be not rubbing your mask?”

 Noir chuckled. She was quick, he had to admit.

 Pain still swelled in his gut, though. He needed some alone time. Besides, this kid wasn’t someone he should get attached too. He doesn’t do that. He…

 He can’t do that.

 “Look, doll, you really should rest. I’m sure that Ham makes for a good blanket.”

 “You bet!”, he somehow floated up, wiggling his eyebrows.

 “…How did you do that?”, Noir asked, as Peni couldn’t help but giggle.

 “It’s a gift, just like my incredible sense of humor!”

 As Ham floated down, wearing a bellhop outfit because OF COURSE, Peni looked over at Noir. “You know, you didn’t tell me what you are doing.”

 “You know, you’re very nosey.”

 Good trait in a detective, he couldn’t help but think.

 Peni schooced closer and made puppy eyes. “I promise I’ll go to sleep if you tell me!”

 Noir had to end this.

 So he got up, hands in his pockets, and stood with his back to her, watching the painful sky from another angle.

 “Doll, I’m serious: I’m bad news. Just stay away. Besides, I doubt you can help.”

 Peni took offense to that and crossed her arms, turning her back too. “I can so! I can totally help!”

 Noir pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated. “Ok, then try this for size, kiddo: How come everything is out of wack? Why are my eyes seeing things that shouldn’t be there? Why the hell am I here, when I’m sure they could have chosen any Spider-Man?”

 Ok, so maybe he was venting a bit. He had never liked himself. It had always surprised him that his Aunt May hadn’t cut him off.

 And it was even more surprising when Peni suddenly turned and gripped his coat.

 “Well… I think you’re sort of impressive.”

 You couldn’t see it, but he was raising an eyebrow. “How so?”

 She was shuffling at her feet. Suddenly, she remembered she was 14, and perhaps a little younger than she liked to think.

 “…Well, you have the cool detective gimmick. And the hat! And… Well…”

 She was avoiding something. You didn’t need to be a private eye to pick up on that.

 “You’re holding something back. Spill the beans.”

 Somewhere down there, Ham was spilling a cup of coffee and snickering.

 “…I guess… Well…”

 Finally, she spat it out, pouting.

 “You make me feel safe, ok?!”

 Noir was surprised by this, and turning wildly, he got blinded by the colors again.

 Still, he blinked it away to focus on the weird, black and red blur who sort of looked like a girl, but resembled something else as well.

 Her blacks and reds morphed into greens and pinks and blues as she became a shell onto herself.

 “I know I play it tough, and I can take care of myself, don’t misunderstand…”

 She sighed, looking down at a massive amount of responsibility.

 “But I miss home. And I know that something is wrong here. And, well…”

 She sniffled.

 “You’re perhaps the closest thing I have to someone who can protect me if me and Sp;dr are in trouble.”

 “HURTFUL!”

 Peni shouted back. “Hey, you’re there to make jokes!”

 “True. I retract my comments, your honor. The whole system is out of order, as is the escalator.”

 Peni looked back at a very confused Noir.

 “…I guess… Well…”

 Peni clutched her tiny fingers together.

 “You just feel nice. Maybe I’m wrong, but I think that we could be friends.”

 No one had ever said such things to him, least of all a little girl.

 Sitting down, putting a comforting hand, weird as it was, he avoided answering by letting her help.

 “…All these… Colors, I think? Are blinding me. I come from a place where everythin’ is black and white. It’s… Painful.”

 Peni was more than happy to teach him.

 And as she did, Noir looked at her, at her reds and blues and pinks and greens and blacks that he could now sort of name (but constantly forget) because she helped him, and he couldn’t help but think how Peni was not only a mixture of contradictions and a cavalcade of emotions:

 Peni Parker was a kalidascope of colors.

 And for once, he didn’t want to turn away.

 And that feeling had been there ever since, twisting in his gut.

 Knots formed in his stomach as he thought of her, of all those odd moments since that night, where she would cling a little, where she would look down and blush, where she would suddenly climb his shoulders before sheepishly going down.

 She’d tug at his coat and she’d offer to show him her world and she was always checking up on him and he didn’t get it.

 What had he done? Why was she so nice?

 And it was at that moment that Noir began to piece it together.

 Peni had lost her dad, he remembered. It was a sore subject, like Uncle Benjamin for him.

 And as hard as he wanted to hide it from her, the group had once managed to get him to talk about the man who ruined his life.

 The man he later wrestled to the ground and beat the living daylights out of.

 Blood was flowing everywhere, and for a moment, the chance was there.

 But…

 Revenge was not his game.

 So he withdrew.

 And as he walked down to his apartment, feeling like he was going to die, who else was waiting for him but Peni.

 He had asked her not to come to his dimension unless he said yes, but she ignored him.

 Not that there was time to be mad.

 He wanted to, but the moment he started he saw Vulture…

 And he fell to the ground, sobbing for the first time.

 And that was when Peni Parker surprised Noir for the first time: She hugged him.

 Noir had never felt so loved then when a girl from another dimension whispered that it would be ok in his ear.

 And now it was all clear.

 Why else would she do all this if she didn’t care?

 Of course she cared: She saw him as…

 As…

 Noir stood up, wiping his brow, the image of the girl he let down very much in his mind, but getting replaced with a new task.

 It was Christmas Eve.

 It wasn’t too late.

 At least one girl was going to be happy tonight.

 It was an hour later when Peni Parker was in bed.

 And a figure crept in to her room.

 And laid a present on her bed (gift wrapping was harder than it looked).

 Before he leaved, Noir observed her.

 Her hair (black, if he recalled) was at rest, her eyes (large, wide… Calming) were shut, and her snores were nearly silent.

 She muttered something about “gumballs” in her sleep, and giggled, and suddenly Noir realized that all his knots were actually wishes, wishes to die for her if it meant she was safe, vows to protect her from all harm, promises that would be kept till he was too old and too tired to keep going.

 Suddenly, as he kissed her forehead, Noir realized how much he cared, even though he feared hurting her.

 And though that fear didn’t go away, it didn’t stop him from seeing her and the rest as family.

 When Peni Parker woke up that morning and looked at the spider plush, she smiled.

 But it was when she saw the tag that said “Merry Christmas, Love, Noir” that she felt safe.