#New York is like an abusive spouse

[confused-pyramid]

Coming Up For Air | s1

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

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

word count: 10.4k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, death of a spouse, slow slow slow burn, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 1x01, 1x06, 1x07, 1x08, 1x15, 1x16, and 1x22

a/n: I started rewatching Criminal Minds from the beginning, and this is what came out of it heh. This is the first part in a little series I'm starting that follows Hotch and his childhood best friend in the BAU, beginning with the pilot. If all goes well, this will continue through the rest of the show, with ~1 part per season :) Title is from Coming up for air by Signals in Smoke

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You haven't used your oven in over a year. It's not that you don't like cooking - because you do - you just haven't had the time. If you could, you would blame it on the extra hours you have had to put in after starting at the BAU, but that wouldn't be fair. Your transfer to the unit was the only thing that got you through his death at all.

After your husband was shot and killed in action while tailing a kingpin of one of the New York mobs, you couldn't bear to be in this house at all. You had gone back home to stay with your father for a couple of months, but eventually you had to get back to your real life. With a month remaining on your bureau-mandated leave, you returned to the home you had shared, before one of the lower-level mob soldiers misfired -

You didn't let yourself think about it for almost a year, but time heals all wounds. The poets were right. At least you hope they are.

Even back at home, you still couldn't bear to be there alone, other than when you were sleeping. That's why your peloton was gathering dust and your kitchen went untouched, until just now.

So, of course, the call from the office comes when you're making dinner. It takes five minutes to change into slacks and a button-up, and two more to toss your half-cooked vegetables in the trash, before driving down to headquarters.

A fourth girl has been taken in Seattle, and the local PD only now decided to invite your team. You know the BAU isn't well-liked by the other departments, but that doesn't mean you aren't effective.

When you enter the building, you rush through the I.D. check and jog over to the lecture hall, where Morgan and Reid are standing outside of a neighboring office like children waiting for their father to come and get them.

Shooting them both a thin-lipped smile, you step inside just as they finish discussing the unsub's pattern.

"They want you back in the saddle," Hotch says to the man beside him after greeting you with a nod.

Your eyes are so immediately drawn to Hotch that it takes you a moment to realize that you recognize the man standing next to him. You haven't seen him since the day you were assigned to the BAU, mostly because you were technically transferred to this unit because of his extended leave.

What was supposed to be one month became six, before Hotch informed you that your temporary placement would be permanent, if you were willing to stay in Virginia.

It was a no-brainer.

You turn your gaze to Jason Gideon as everyone in the room stares at him expectantly. He looks self-assured, but you're sure the confidence is a front. "They sure they want me?"

"The order came from the director," Hotch says simply.

"Well," Gideon states, "we'd better get started, then."

Hotch glances over at you as everyone files out of the room and you raise your eyebrows momentarily, a quick check-in between the two of you. He nods imperceptibly and it's enough for now. He didn't tell you Gideon was coming back today, but now isn't the time to give him hell for that.

***

Hotch is the last to board the plane, and he takes his usual seat beside you, this time in the aisle, a few rows away from the rest of the team.

"I was going to tell you," he says as soon as you close the case file in your hands. "The section chief wants me to evaluate him to see if he's ready to return to the team."

"That's a lot of pressure." They have to know that Gideon will be able to smell him out within the day. "You sure it won't get in the way?"

Hotch makes that face you hate, the one that says he knows you're deflecting. "I was going to tell you."

It doesn't take much for you to forgive him. It helps that you trust him completely, especially after everything he has done for you.

"Still," you smile, bumping his shoulder with yours, "it would have been nice to know about the sudden change to my job security."

You're mostly joking, but his frown is genuine. "Don't be silly. You'll always have a place on this team."

He takes everything so seriously these days. You suppose it's only fair, given the files he has to sort through on a daily basis. Picking which case deserves the team's attention the most.

But he wasn't always like this. You're the newest member of the team, but you've known Hotch longer than any of them.

You still remember the first time you met him, at eight years old. He was your first real friend at school, and you became inseparable easily. Your shared love for The Beatles and Law and Order made you fast friends, and as you grew older, your interests shifted in tandem.

Sometimes when you look at him, you still see that little boy who knew too much, but still managed to always make you laugh.

***

The team disperses soon after you land in Seattle. You've never had to come up with a profile in one afternoon, but it's also been a long time since your ticking clock to find the victim was just over a day.

When Gideon and Morgan head to the latest crime scene, you join Hotch and Reid to interview the victim's brother. The moment the three of you step into his house, his dog, Sandy, starts barking up a storm.

"It's what we call the Reid effect," Hotch smiles, walking over to pet her. "Happens with children, too."

You can't help but smile as well, peering over at Spencer, who looks about as uncomfortable as he usually does.

It doesn't escape your notice that the brother looks looser now. Hotch has a way with people that traces back to his childhood self. He was always wiser than his years, something you chalk up to his need to grow up faster than he should have, but his paternal instinct comes from practically raising his brother, Sean, after his dad's untimely death.

The casual interview reveals enough about the victimology that when you head back to the station, Gideon calls the officers in to explain the profile.

You can feel Morgan's agitation wafting off of him as he watches Gideon state his assumptions with startling clarity and confidence. Hotch, on the other hand, looks contemplative, which reminds you that he's been tasked with the returning agent's evaluation.

He can see your furtive glances in his direction, even as you try to remain secretive about your interest in his demeanor. He presses his lips together to keep from smiling as he thinks about how lucky you are that you went into profiling and not covert operations.

You have never been especially good at keeping your own thoughts or intentions to yourself around him. While some would call that a weakness in this field, he sees it as your greatest strength, because it clearly shows how much he can trust you.

As a kid, you were outspoken about every idea you had, and you used your strength and willpower to look out for him when he needed it. It took him a long time to admit how much he used to need you (maybe too long), but you always knew.

***

Gideon's profile leads to the arrest of Richard Slessman and Tim Vogel, and Elle manages to save the last girl while she's still alive. You catch your breath for the first time in 36 hours as you stand with Hotch in the shipyard, watching the paramedics and local police clear the scene.

"What are you going to tell them?" you ask under your breath as his gaze turns to Gideon, who is getting patched up in the back of an ambulance.

He had goaded the unsub into shooting him instead of the girl, but your mind can't seem to focus on the silver lining.

Hotch sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, as though to hold his coat closed against the breeze. "They want to know if he's fit to be a field agent again."

Normally, you would give him shit for using that tactic. Avoiding a question by providing more information. This time, you know he's just thinking out loud.

"What would you say?" Hotch asks as Morgan walks over and sits on a barrel next to you.

"Gideon saved her life," Derek shrugs, his eyes flashing to you for a moment. "That's good enough for me."

Hotch seems to ponder this for a second. "Do you know what Gideon means in Hebrew?"

"Mighty warrior," Reid interjects, popping in to the conversation with the subtlety of a tiger.

You're confused at first, but then you remember the baby names book that was sitting in Hotch's living room the last time you visited him. "You cannot let Haley name your child Gideon."

Hotch laughs suddenly, and you can tell you surprised it out of him. Your chest warms comfortably as he smiles, his cheeks flushing softly in the chill air.

He looks over at Gideon again, deciding in real time that he's going to recommend him to come back to the team. He would never admit it to you or anyone, but he knows that if your position on the team was in jeopardy from Gideon's return, he wouldn't have been able to complete his evaluation fairly.

It was Hotch who recommended you for the open position after he was promoted into Gideon's role as unit chief. You deserved the spot, of course, but Jeff's death had still been fresh and he knew better than most how much the job can take one's mind off of the other aspects of their life.

While Hotch watches Gideon, you watch him. You can tell from the look on his face that it's a done deal. Jason's coming back to the team. It will be a change of pace for everyone, but that doesn't mean it won't be good.

Having joined the team right after the bombing, you saw exactly how Gideon changed after getting the profile wrong, but so did everyone else. What people didn't talk about was how Aaron changed too. Rising into the rank. Growing to fill the hole that Gideon left in the unit, but somehow also shrinking into himself at the same time, because that's what this job does to you...it takes and it takes and it takes until you have nothing left to give.

But sometimes that's what you need: to give something up so you know you aren't losing everything.

***

Gideon settles into the team faster than you anticipated, and soon it's almost like he never left. Even though you can see the vein on Morgan's neck pulsate every time he hijacks a profile, you can't help but appreciate the support he gives to Spencer and Elle, both of whom are becoming incredible profilers before your very eyes.

That's also why you find yourself a little worried when Hotch tells you that Reid failed his weapons recertification.

"I thought you said you were helping him practice," you say as the two of you walk past security and toward the bullpen.

"I was," he emphasizes, before correcting himself, "I did. I'm sure he was just nervous."

You nod, pushing open the doors and spotting Reid sitting quietly at his desk. "He can test again in two weeks. He'll be fine."

When Morgan hands him a whistle with a quippy joke, you sigh into your coffee tumbler, but don't bother stepping in. He's being childish, but if you try to intervene, it'll just embarrass Spencer more.

"Okay," JJ starts, "Franklin Park, Des Plaines. Yesterday afternoon."

She dives into the case, but you have already read the file (and you know Reid has too) so you scoot your chair over to his desk and lean forward so only he can hear you. "I failed my first weapons certification at the bureau too."

Spencer looks up immediately, his face colored with surprise. "Really? You're one of the best shots I know."

You smile with a shrug. "The tests aren't real life. When it comes down to it, I get the job done. Just like you will."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, but then his lips curve up into a small smile. You both turn your attention back to the front just as JJ finishes explaining the case details.

"Wheels up in 30."

The flight to Illinois is filled with heated discussions about the bureau's fruitless history of trying to profile long distance serial killers.

"L. D. S. K.s are so rare, we haven't been able to build a standard profile," Hotch explains as the jet reaches cruising altitude.

Gideon chimes in immediately. "Here's what we do know: they're always male, and they frequently have law enforcement or military experience, and they always contact the police or the media."

Elle looks confused and you echo her sentiment as you lean your hip against her armrest. "To take credit or relive the experience?"

"Both," he says simply. "All serial killers attempt to relive the ecstasy they get from their killings. Some use souvenirs taken from the victims, and others return to the dump site to interact with the body. Both modes require contact with the victim, contact which, by definition, long distance serial killers don't have."

"Our unsub hasn't contacted anybody," you point out. "What do we do until then?"

"Sometimes it's not what the unsub does that reveals the profile. Sometimes it is what they do not do."

Reid glances up from the file in his lap, and you notice that he looks at Gideon first. "He doesn't kill his victims."

"Underkill's a unique signature," Hotch ponders, standing up and walking along the cabin. He only paces when he's deep in thought. "The question is, does he shoot them in the stomach intentionally just to wound them, or is he just aiming at the biggest part of the target?"

The team is silent as you take in this new analysis. You're not surprised when Gideon is the first to speak up. "Specifically, does the unsub lack the skill to make the head shot, or simply the will to take it?"

When the plane lands, you check out the last crime scene before spending the day talking to the local police and the victims' surgeons at the nearby hospital.

That night, when you check into your hotel room, the click of the door lock closing behind you is a welcome relief from the tension of the day. Many of the Des Plaines police officers were unhappy with the team's initial assessment, because it heavily implied that the unsub may have been a law enforcement official himself.

You wash your face and change into a tee shirt and a comfortable pair of sweatpants, before climbing into bed and opening the case file back up again. The rest of the team has also gone to their own rooms, but you can't help but wish you had another set of eyes looking at this with you.

As though reading your mind, a knock thuds on your door and you stand up quickly, in case it's an emergency. When you check the peephole, you see Hotch standing way too close to the door.

Unlocking it slowly so you don't startle him, you open the door to find him in still in a full suit.

"Is there a problem?" you ask immediately. "Do I need to get dressed?"

He shakes his head, glancing around the hallway so quickly that you almost miss it. "I was just looking over the profile and I wanted your opinion on some thoughts I had."

The corner of your mouth twitches and you open the door further to let him in. He doesn't miss a beat as he takes a seat on the armchair in front of your bed and flips open his notepad.

"I was thinking about the bullet we recovered on the scene," he says slowly, like he's thinking through every word he's saying.

You nod, sitting on top of the bed covers and crossing your legs under you. "Garcia called after you left the station. The bullet was a .223 fired from the M-4 variant of the M-16."

"That means he's military," Hotch says, reaching his hand out without taking his eyes off his notepad. You close the case file you had laid out and hand it to him. "M-4 is a shorter barrel than the M-16, so it's less accurate and a lot harder to fire, especially at these distances."

"This level of skill indicates specialized training. That means..."

"It means the underkill was on purpose," Hotch says, finishing your thought. "What is he trying to prove?"

You purse your lips as he sits up in the chair to give himself room to remove his jacket. His pinstriped button-down is slightly crinkled under his arms, but you can tell it was freshly ironed this morning.

"Maybe he's in a fast-paced occupation," you suggest, "which would fit with the profile that he has a big ego."

"Then we're back to law enforcement."

You lean forward, your eyes following his hands as they fidget with his cuffs and undo the buttons, one at a time. You've always been attune to every one of his movements, but maybe it's just because you've spent so much time around him.

"Hotch," you whisper-yell, snagging his attention from your case file, which he tosses back to you.

He hums and you take that as an invitation to continue speaking. "Be careful tomorrow, when you're giving the profile."

One of his eyebrows lifts and you can tell he's holding back a smile. "It's just in front of the Des Planes PD. You'll be there too."

"It's not that," you sigh, shaking your head. "Everything about this profile points to the shooter being either current or former law enforcement. I'd be surprised if they didn't take it personally."

His eyes flit up to yours, his brow furrowing. "I can handle myself."

"I'm sure you can, Hotch," you say with a breathy laugh. "Doesn't mean I don't still look out for you."

He pauses and it's like his whole body takes a beat. "I know."

***

You're talking to Dr. Landman with Derek, Elle, and Jason the next day when a gunshot rings out through the hospital. Last you checked, Hotch and Reid were in the E.R., but you haven't heard from them since you arrived.

"It's Phillip Dowd," a nurse informs you when you meet with local police outside the closed E.R. door.

After a quick call to Penelope, the profile becomes clear.

"He joined the army at 18," Gideon recites, pacing around the room in a vaguely reminiscent manner, "went to ranger school, did 6 years before being dishonorably discharged in '95 for conduct unbecoming. Obviously lied about it, joined the Arlington P. D."

"You were right," the police captain sighs. "He was a cop."

His hopeless tone is disheartening, and you find yourself upset for not the first time that your team was correct in their assessment.

After the initial commotion, the E.R. is silent except for a few muffled voices. You can't hear what's being said, but the lack of gunshots or loud noises is all that's keeping you from falling apart.

"It'll be okay," you hear whispered from next to you. You turn to see Derek, who presses his shoulder to yours briefly. "Hotch will know what to do."

You know there's nothing you can do from out here, especially with how precarious the situation inside is, but doing nothing has never been your strong suit.

"I know," you tell him, echoing your thoughts. "I just wish we could help."

Derek cocks his head at the S.W.A.T. team readying themselves to break the door down. "We can help. We need to give Hotch and the kid time to wear Dowd down."

His tone is light and you feel yourself laugh, ignoring the thickness that swells in your throat. "That shouldn't take long."

Derek bumps your arm again in a silent extension of comfort, and you mouth a silent thank you.

You can feel Gideon losing patience as he reasons with the captain, but he eventually buys them three minutes to do what they can. When the final five second countdown starts, you unconsciously hold your breath, only to be released when Hotch's voice calls through the door.

"Hold your fire!"

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you squeeze Derek's arm before rushing forward. Hotch stumbles past you with a murmur that sounds obscurely like "help Reid", so you push your way through the throng of civilians moving to escape until you see him.

"Spencer," you gasp, crouching down to help him into a standing position. You would never admit it to him, but ever since he joined the team, he's been something of a little brother to you. "What happened in here? Are you okay?"

"You were right," he says with a surprising steadiness to his voice. "I got the job done."

You don't ask what he means, knowing that Hotch will fill you in when the time is right. Instead, you decide not to fight the vaguely maternal urge rising within you and you pull him into a tight hug. It's more of a quick squeeze, because you don't want to push past his physical boundaries, but he doesn't complain, instead looking over at you with a small smile that's more than enough for now.

***

You find Hotch where the departed ambulance that patched Reid up was parked. All of the hustle and bustle of the paramedics and local police officers and bureau agents comes to a standstill as you walk over to where he's sitting on the edge of the curb.

"I heard what happened," you say as a way to announce your presence. "Can I sit?"

He nods without looking up, and you crouch down next to him, settling on the curb with your shoulder pressed to his. You can feel the tension in his muscles as he grips the sidewalk, his palms digging into the concrete like he could break through if he pressed hard enough. "Reid.."

"..is fine," you whisper, nudging him so he looks up to where Spencer and Jason are chattering excitedly. "He's more proud than anything."

He doesn't say anything, so you bump your knee against his. "I guess all of the physical training classes you made him take at the academy paid off."

He knows you know exactly what is running through his mind, so he doesn't bother trying to articulate it. Instead, he lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, and looks over at you. "Do you remember that self-defense class we took before law school?"

You're not expecting this question, and you almost laugh. "You mean the singular self-defense class you dragged me to before dawn in the summer before we started at Georgetown?"

He levels you with a look that you would think is serious if you didn't know him so well. "You don't regret it, though."

"No," you smile, your eyes blurring with emotion. That's where you met Jeff. "I don't."

He was your instructor that day. He only taught that class twice a week, between lectures at Georgetown Law, and it doesn't escape your mind that you so easily could've missed him. One day earlier or later and you never would've met him, never would've been his girlfriend, or his wife, or his widow.

Hotch remembers meeting him that day too. He had to literally come to your apartment and drag you out of bed to make the seven AM class that he had signed you both up for, and you had been grumpy the whole drive over.

There wasn't much, other than coffee, that could get you alert before eight in the morning, but the moment you walked into that gym, it was like you were wide awake. He spent the rest of the class trying not to look as the man he would later come to know as Agent Adler kept coming over to give you extra pointers, and he pretended that the coil of ice slithering up his spine was there just because he was watching out for you.

When he found out the two of you had started dating, he continued to pretend the nausea rising in his stomach was from the day-old sandwich he had had for lunch, because it wasn't fair. Especially since he was with Haley, and he was happier than he had ever been, even if the new law school course load was making it harder to see her as often as he wanted to.

But eventually, your happiness with him overpowered every protective urge he felt, and he realized that even if there was a feeling in his gut that he didn't recognize when he saw you two together, Jeff was perfectly suited for you.

***

"He's so gorgeous!" JJ coos, her hands twitching at her sides like she's trying not to reach forward and take the baby out of Haley's hands.

She brought Jack, their newborn son, in to work today to show the team, and Hotch looks prouder than you've ever seen him. "Thank you."

"If you find baldness and wrinkles attractive."

"Reid!" you chastise, swatting at him. He dodges your hands without even looking.

"Look at his widdy biddy nose," Garcia squeals, before turning to Morgan with an inquisitive look. "Don't you want one of these?"

He just laughs as he rests his chin on her shoulder. "Mm, I'll stick to practicing."

"Congratulations," Elle chimes in before returning to Gideon's side to continue discussing the new case that came in. She's always on top of things, and it's something you respect greatly about her.

"Thanks," Hotch smiles, his gaze returning to Jack after looking away for only a moment. Jack is like a siren, the way each of his little sounds or movements holds Hotch's attention so steadily. He's the most focused of all of you, but you've still never seen him this enamored. "She's amazing. I'm a little terrified."

"You're glowing," you tell Haley as the rest of the team heads to the briefing room. "How is it that you had a baby just a few weeks ago?"

"You're sweet," she smiles, before tilting her head forward. "Do you want to hold him? You're practically his aunt."

You gasp quietly, so as not to wake little Jack. "That is a title I will carry proudly. And yes, I would love to hold him."

Haley hands him to you slowly, and you make sure to support his head carefully as you cup your arms around him. He looks so much like Haley that you almost make a joke about Hotch's genes not even putting up a fight, but that nose...that nose has Hotch written all over it.

When you glance back to where the team left from, you see him turn back at the same moment and offer you an encouraging smile.

"How are you holding up?" you ask Haley, barely able to focus on your surroundings with a newborn in your arms. Maybe there is something to the siren thing.

"Jack's been incredible. He barely cries, it's kind of a godsend...but I do wish Aaron could take time off with me."

You give her what you hope is your most comforting smile. "We've been super swamped with cases here, but in all my years working with him, I have never seen him so eager to leave every night."

She laughs, a pretty sound you remember from your youth. "I know. I feel so unfair when I complain about these things, but I appreciate you humoring me."

"Not at all," you assure her, glancing back down at Jack, who is mid-yawn. "I understand completely. If I had one of these little guys, I wouldn't be able to think about anything else."

You hear her breath catch and you open your mouth to reassure her that it's fine, but she is already reaching forward to squeeze your arm. "You and Jeff would have made amazing parents."

When you both joined the bureau, you were so busy with work that kids weren't on your mind at all. It wasn't until you got settled at the BAU, and Jeff found his place with organized crime, that you even started talking about it.

You want kids, don't you?

Only a few. Maybe four or five. Yeah, five's a good number.

"I should get back to the team," you say softly, blinking away the memories.

Haley sees your face and she smiles sadly as she takes Jack back from your arms. "I'll see you soon. Tell him I'm heading home, will you?"

You nod and watch the elevator doors close in front of her, before joining the team.

***

"I can't believe you went bar hopping without me," Derek shakes his head, feigning offense as he leans so far back in his chair you're afraid it may tip over.

"I think hopping is kind of a strong word," you say, glancing over at Elle, who is perched on the edge of your desk. "We only had one bar in mind, but it closed earlier than we thought, so we went somewhere else after."

"This was a much needed girl's night," Elle grins, patting Morgan on the shoulder as he continues to pout. "We'll invite you next time."

"How was your weekend, Dr. Reid?" you ask, turning around to face him.

Spencer doesn't look up from his crossword.

You say his name again, recalling the attention of Derek and Elle, who had started talking about some trip they've been planning for what feels like months.

When he still doesn't look up, you pick up one of the BAU-provided pens on your desk and chuck it at him, just hard enough to bridge the gap between your desks, but not so hard that it hurts on impact.

"Ow!" Spencer yelps anyway, glancing up with a look that's somewhere between confusion and indignation. He picks the pen up off the ground and turns it over to see the tiny insignia on the cap. "This is FBI property."

"How was your weekend, Spencer?" you ask again, ignoring him. "Didn't you say you had some fun stuff planned?"

"I did," he lights up, instantly forgetting about the pen incident. "My local movie theater was showing reruns of the first season of the original Star Trek, so I got to experience it on the big screen."

Derek laughs and walks back over to his desk next to yours. "We have very different definitions of fun weekend plans, kid."

You're about to tell Derek that no one wants to hear what his idea of fun is when the office door upstairs flies open and Hotch and Gideon walk out.

Reid hands you back your pen, and Derek sits up in his chair so fast it's almost comical.

"We have another case," Hotch announces before coming to a stop.

Gideon takes it away. "Our unsub is male, intelligent, organized and methodical. He has the confidence of a man who's been killing for a long time."

"Only victim removed from the scene is Freddy Condore indicating some tie to him."

Hotch turns to you. "You, Elle, and Reid stay on Condore's background with Garcia. The rest of us will head to the crime scene."

You nod before standing up. "Let's go, kids."

Penelope's lair is just as eccentric as you remember it.

"Take a seat," she instructs before logging into her computer and opening up her criminal history database. "Just don't get too comfortable."

Your lips quirk up as Elle flashes her eyes at you, and you nod your head at the empty chair on Garcia's opposite side. Reid is already sitting on a desk chair by the back, spinning in aimless circles as he rattles off a list of markers to search for.

After a minute, Penelope stops typing. "Credit card receipts show Freddy loved crab cakes, preferred light beer and used to spend his Thursday nights with a woman in Fells Point."

You pick up a stress toy shaped like a tomato from one of her shelves and bounce it in your palm, just for something to occupy your hands.

"What about his associates?" Elle asks, grabbing a pen with a pom-pom on the end and poking it at Spencer's knee.

"Most of them have criminal records."

Elle glances up. "That much I guessed."

Penelope frowns, and looks pointedly at the pen in her hand.

"She's holding the tomato!" Elle complains, throwing a finger at you.

You lift up your hands in surrender, dropping the stress toy. "Thanks a lot, Greenaway."

"Anyway," Reid interrupts, to everyone's surprise, "One of these guys is particularly interesting. Pull up James Baker's rap sheet."

Penelope turns back to her computer as Spencer reads over her shoulder. "He spent time in juvenile detention for attempted murder, was released at age 21, and then subsequently arrested for, and this is in order, armed robbery, petty theft, burglary, narcotics sales, and rapе."

"What's so interesting about that?"

"When it comes to psychological behavior, anything is possible but this criminal history? It just isn't probable."

Elle nods in agreement. "I mean, as a minor, he began with attempted murder and then devolved into pettier crimes?"

"It's the criminal history of a fractured schizophrenic with multiple personality disorder," you sigh. "It just does not make sense."

***

Hotch calls you into his office when he and Morgan return from Baker's address. You can tell something is off before you even step through the door, so you shut it behind you and take a seat in front of his desk.

"What's going on?" you ask, your eyes glancing over his face to see if his micro-expressions can give you a hint. "What's wrong?"

He looks up with a sigh, his hands clasped on his desk. "Baker's place was an artificial dwelling, and the weapon we recovered on the scene was standard law enforcement issue."

It takes you a few seconds to comprehend what he's trying to say - a few seconds longer than usual - and your breath stutters in your throat. "He was undercover?"

"That's what it looks like," Hotch agrees. "I wanted to inform you before telling the rest of the team."

You nod, pressing your eyes closed for a beat.

He missed his pick-up, Mrs. Adler.

We'll call you as soon as we know more.

The memories start to flood back in and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter before opening them. Hotch looks blurry for a moment until your eyes adjust to the light again.

"Does organized crime know where he is?" you ask, desperately needing to fill the silence.

He looks down at the case file. "We assume so, but it's not like they would tell us. They weren't too happy that we were taking on this case at all, and now we know why."

"Maybe they'll talk to me," you suggest, even though the idea of talking to Josh Cramer makes you taste bile. You haven't seen him since a month after the funeral. It's not for his lack of trying, you just couldn't stomach looking at any of them after what happened. One missed call turned to ten and eventually they stopped trying.

There's a piercing pain behind your eyes and you squeeze them shut for a momentary relief. "It was only supposed to be three months."

Hotch's brow furrows and you don't look up at him just yet. You can already picture his expression, the anguish you know he feels for you whenever you bring up Jeff.

"It was a three month operation," you continue, knowing you won't be able to discuss it later if you stop talking now. "That's all we signed up for. Three months away from me and then he was on leave for the rest of the year, so that we could focus on us again. Maybe even start a family."

Your voice cracks on the last word and you tilt your head down to hide your face. He hates it when you cry, but that's not fair. He knows how important it is to get your emotions out, so they don't pile up inside of you, but if he had his way, you would never have had a reason to cry in the first place.

"I hadn't seen him in over a month when he was..."

He can hear the tightness in your voice and he resists the overwhelming urge to reach his hand out and take yours. You're sitting a foot back from the desk, and it's not he could reach you from here anyway, but his fingers still ache.

"I don't want to blame them, Aaron," you sigh. Your words sound watery, and he pulls a handkerchief out of his inside jacket pocket and hands it to you. He's almost surprised when you accept the gesture, pressing the cloth square under your eyes to catch the tears leaking out. You were so self-reliant as a kid, never wanting or needing anyone else's help. "I don't want to blame them, but I do. I can't help it, I just do."

Someone else would have consoled you. They would have assured you that feeling this way was natural, and that no one could blame you for feeling what you do, but that isn't who you two are. "Jeff wouldn't."

His name is like a dagger to your heart. You practically wince as Hotch digs further. "That team was his family, just like we are yours. He wouldn't blame them, not for this. Not for something he chose."

Something he chose. This is why you don't let yourself remember that day. This is why you kept that day - the day you got that horrible call - locked up inside your brain, where not even you could reach it. Because if you let yourself think about it and remember, then you will remember that it wasn't really Cramer or his unit or the bureau that you blamed. It was him.

For choosing to miss his pick-up. For choosing to go undercover. For choosing to join organized crime.

You take a deep breath and re-adjust yourself in the uncomfortable chair Hotch refuses to replace, even though it's literally splitting at the seams. Something about your tax dollars hard at work. "What are you going to do about Baker?"

He lets you change the subject. "We have to contact Agent Cramer before-

"What the hell is wrong with you people?"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Sorry?" Hotch frowns, both of you standing up immediately.

Cramer doesn't take his eyes off Hotch as he seethes with anger. "I told you, this is my case! You ran my agent through IBIS?"

"Because I wanted to know who he worked for and now that I do, I'd like to talk to him."

"You don't have him?"

You can hear your heartbeat in your skull.

Hotch looks at you then, and finally Cramer notices your presence. "Y/N...it's been a while."

Your lips press into a thin line. "Almost two years." The anger you've been trying to avoid seeps into your voice against your will and you sigh, returning to the investigation. "How long has Baker been missing?"

"About 12 hours."

"You think he ran?" you ask, watching Cramer closely as his jaw ticks.

"No, Jimmy's too experienced to run without contact."

He realizes his misstep immediately and his shoulders fall. To his credit, he doesn't break eye contact, even as his expression softens. "That's not what I meant. All I'm saying is that I think someone's keeping Jimmy from calling in."

You can feel Aaron looking at you, but you avoid his line of sight. If you're going to have to interact with organized crime, you might as well make yourself useful. "We all want the same thing, Cramer: to get Baker back to his family."

You wait outside as he explains the situation in more detail to Hotch and Gideon, and you're surprised when he's the first to leave. "Can we talk?"

Hotch comes out behind him and raises his eyebrow for a fraction of a second, a check-in. Swallowing thickly, you nod your head and follow him down the hall to the top of the stairs.

"I'm sorry I haven't reached out recently," he says as soon as you're out of earshot of the others. "You know Jeff was one of our top guys."

Your eyes shut at his name, as though someone clapped their hands too close to your face. It's almost laughable how sure you were that you were past your grief. You passed the bureau's psych evaluation after your six month leave with flying colors (because your team practically wrote the answers yourselves), and as each new day passed and you weren't so debilitated by just the thought of him, you thought it meant you were fine. Because time heals all wounds. At least it's supposed to.

"I know," you whisper scratchily, before clearing your throat. "I know that. And it's okay. We've all been busy." You look down at the bustling bullpen where his agents are interacting with your team. "Clearly."

Then you remember you're job here in the first place. "We really are just trying to help. It wouldn't hurt to keep us involved."

Cramer sighs and you know he won't refuse. "We'll loop you in."

***

James Baker is found and Vincent Perotta gets taken into custody, but you can still hear the end of the interrogation ringing in your ears.

"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent.

When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers.

And some people grow up to catch them."

You can't pinpoint exactly what you're feeling, but if you had to guess, it would be sorrow. Sorrow for that little boy who got dealt the worst hand you can imagine, and still turned into the best version of who he could've been.

Hotch can't get the interrogation out of his mind either. He had grabbed his briefcase and headed out to the elevators as soon as Perotta was taken away, in the hopes of avoiding everybody. He's about to let out his breath when a hand reaches between the doors and sends them flying open again.

Normally your appearance is a welcome sight, but tonight, he's had enough talking. Perotta took everything he had to give, and then some, and he doesn't know if he has the strength to go through the proceedings again with you.

"I just want to get home," he says as you stand next to him without a word and face the doors. To my family.

You don't say anything as the little fluorescent floor number ticks down - has it always been this slow - and he feels his nerves tighten with agitation. You're never silent, especially not about something like this.

Just before the elevator reaches the second floor, you reach forward and pull the emergency stop button. He whispers your name, half irritated half relieved, and you step in front of him, focusing your eyes on his. It's a classic profiler technique, both to mentally establish trust and to physically block him from the keypad.

"You're a great father, Aaron."

His mind flashes back 25 years, but he squeezes the hand in his pocket into a fist to keep himself from succumbing to the memories. "I'm trying."

He knows what you're doing, and he would normally be open to a healthy exchange between two adults, but tonight he just can't. It's too fresh.

You seem to understand at least a fraction of what he's trying to convey. Your next words are gentle. "That already makes you a thousand times better than him."

That almost makes him smile. "You can say his name, you know."

You shrug, looking at him with a glint in your eye. "Honestly, I don't think I can. I'm afraid I'll turn into a pile of ash, with the fury your father instills in me."

That's what gets him. He coughs out a laugh that echoes around the elevator, and you return to his side, giving him a moment to breathe on his own.

This time, when his mind spirals back to his childhood, he's not as equipped to block it. The memories come in flashes, a blackening bruise on his abdomen, a split lip explained away through roughhousing in the backyard, the thin scars on his hands and elbows as he finally started to fight back. He would've taken it all forever if he had to, if it meant that he could keep the horrors away from the people he loved. "I really should go."

"Yeah." You push the emergency stop back into place and the elevator hits the ground floor in no time. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hotch."

He steps out, half expecting you to follow him. Instead, the doors close and he's by himself again, and he suddenly can't remember why he wanted to be alone in the first place.

***

When the Keystone Killer is finally caught after 18 years of inactivity, he finds himself expecting for there to be some sort of celebration, either in the form of a commendation, or a much-needed break. Instead, what he gets is a mountain of paperwork.

He usually doesn't mind the paperwork that comes after a long case. It's a helpful way for him to sort through his thoughts on what went down, and to learn from mistakes that were made along the way, whether in the profile or in the capture of the unsub.

Lately, paperwork has felt like an added torture to the long hours he already spends at work. It's not that he wasn't excited about going home before, but ever since Jack was born, he hasn't been able to get out of the office fast enough. But being the unit chief of the BAU has its responsibilities, and this is one of them.

He's drowning in consultation files and case reports when you knock on his door, two coffees in hand.

"Thought that was you," he says, finishing the sentence he was writing.

You frown, setting one steaming cup down on his desk. He hasn't even looked up yet. "How'd you know? Or do you just say that to everyone who walks in here?"

His lip twitches and he puts his pen down. "I could smell the coffee. It always smells the same when you make it."

"Oh?" You weren't aware you had a method. "And how's that?"

"Burnt."

You take the lid off your cup and chuck it at him with surprising accuracy. It would have thwacked him in the forehead if he hadn't swatted it aside with his stupid catlike reflexes.

"What are you working on?" you ask after taking a scalding sip of perfectly brewed coffee.

He looks up for a beat before diving back into the file he was skimming. "Paperwork for the Keystone Killer case."

"But we just finished that," you point out before reaching forward and taking the file out from under his nose.

He huffs. "I was...looking at that."

"This is a report on what happened a couple of hours ago," you say, ignoring his remark. "You can easily do this tomorrow, or later this week."

"It's fresh in my mind now. I don't want to forget any details."

You shrug in a motion that says 'fair enough'. "Or, you could actually go home before midnight for once."

You slide another file off the top of his pile and flip it open, reading over the notes Hotch has scribbled in the margins. He's so meticulous about his job that you almost forget he was promoted just a little over a year ago. He became unit chief at the same time that you joined the team, so you didn't get to see him in his early days, but looking at him now, you almost can't imagine it. It's like he's built for this, for taking responsibility and leading people with kindness and respect.

"Elle said something on the plane today," he says suddenly, jerking you from your thoughts.

You close the file and look up as he runs a hand over his head, pushing his thick hair back just for it to bounce forward again. "She said that she's scared she's going to look up and see that her life has passed her by while she was chasing monsters."

Something cold runs through your veins and you sit up straighter in your chair. "And what did you say?"

"I told her the truth."

You smile in an effort to keep your eyes from shining. "What, that we're all doomed?"

He looks at you candidly. "That this job will eat you up if you let it." Your smile falls and he continues. "You just can't let it."

"I'm sure Elle loved hearing that."

He shrugs. "She was surprisingly receptive."

That gets a laugh out of you, even if the good humor doesn't last long. "I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?"

"This job, while also being a husband, and a father." You sigh, and you can almost feel the weight of the air as it leaves your body. "When I go home, I don't have to be anything to anyone. Most of the time it feels awful, but sometimes, after an especially bad case, I'm almost relieved when I can go home and just check out."

You aren't talking about him anymore, and he can tell. He doesn't mind, if this is what it will take for you to work through your emotions.

"We were gonna start trying for a baby."

That surprises him. Not that you wanted to be a mother - he knows that - but that he didn't know you were already thinking about it, especially because of how you grew up. You don't talk about it often, but after losing your mother to a drunk driver when you were ten, you almost transformed into her, becoming the emotional support for your family when there was no one else to fill that role.

You press your lips into a thin line and take a deep breath, your coffee cold and forgotten on the desk in front of you. "We had been talking about it for years, but with the paths our careers were taking, there just wasn't enough time before then." Your eyes look far away, and you don't seem to notice that your lips have unconsciously curved up into a reminiscent smile. "Jeff wanted five kids. Five. God, can you imagine?"

He can, but he doesn't say anything, because he knows you aren't looking for a response. Just for someone to listen.

"I'm an only child," you say with a laugh. "I don't even know what it's like to have one sibling, let alone four." But Jeff had come from a huge family, and he had wanted you to experience that. He loved how full his home always felt growing up, never without someone to talk to. Now you won't ever get to experience that. "I guess I just wish sometimes that we had tried earlier."

"You'll have it someday," Hotch says simply, practically reading your mind. "If that's what you want, you'll have it."

"I waited so long," you whisper, closing your eyes for a long moment. "I was just so afraid that I wouldn't do it right, because I didn't have my mother anymore to help me."

"You would've been a great mother," he assures you, his voice confident. "One day, you will be."

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you clear your throat to keep the tears at bay. "How do you know?"

"I just know."

***

When you push through the doors to the bullpen the next morning, you are greeted by a familiar head of blonde hair.

"Sean?"

He turns around slowly, clearly recognizing your voice, and pulls his lips up into a smile that you return. "Hey, Y/N, how's it going?"

You weren't close to him as a kid, mostly because of the age gap between him and Hotch. You had tried to make more of an effort after graduating college, but Sean was fierce in his convictions, and there were a lot of things he didn't understand about his childhood that you certainly weren't going to explain to him now.

"Good, good," you say, leading him away from the throng of staring women. You shoot them a look that makes them disperse. "You here for your brother? He's upstairs."

He nods, glancing up at the closed office door. You start to lead him to the stairwell when he stops in his tracks and turns to you. "What mood's he in?"

"Why?" you ask, your brow furrowing. "You got bad news? Nothing I need to worry about, I hope."

Sean shakes his head, glancing up at the closed door again. "Nothing like that. I'll just go up."

You let him walk up on his own, knowing he doesn't want you getting involved in whatever he's thinking about. Before you have a moment to catch your breath, the three women return to your side.

"That's Hotch's brother?" Penelope asks, standing so close you can feel her breath on your ear.

"Maybe Hotch is adopted."

"What do you mean?" you ask, unconsciously glancing up the stairs. "They're honestly pretty similar." You're only half joking. They don't look anything alike, but that Hotchner brand of righteousness runs deep.

JJ frowns. "I don't see it."

"Yeah, he looks...like that," Penelope murmurs, before looking at you. "Did you know him when you were younger? Was he hot then too?"

You choke on your own spit. "He was nine years old when I left for college, so...no."

Her eyes widen and she lifts her hands in surrender.

"Ooh, here he comes."

You look up to see Sean storming down the stairs, Hotch hot on his heels.

"Sean, listen to me."

He turns so fast, you're afraid they're going to crash into each other. "Don't profile me, Aaron."

Sean stomps out of the bullpen while Hotch watches him leave, and you can't get the striking feeling of deja vu out of your head. Two boys, 15 years younger than they are now, standing in the same positions, with the same looks on their faces.

You imagine that you and Hotch probably act the same way around each other as when you first met, at eight years old.

The memory comes easily, even with more than two decades of time standing in the way. The little boy with dark hair who had sat next to you on the school bus, just because there were no other empty seats available that day.

You hadn't said anything for the first few stops, just watched him out of the corner of your eye as he nodded his head unconsciously to the music coming out of his large headphones. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you tapped on his shoulder. "What are you listening to?"

He had taken his headphones off quickly, as though caught in the act. "What?"

You repeated your question before leveling him with a pointed stare that meant 'there is a correct answer'. You were a feisty kid, and you weren't always the best at making first impressions, so his steady response impressed you. "Beatles. Revolver album."

"I love that one!" you had gushed, leaning in closer without a warning to press your ear to one of the speakers on his headphones. "Is this Yellow Submarine?"

He had nodded, the confusion in his eyes slowly transforming into delight. "You know their stuff?"

"Of course. My favorite's Eleanor Rigby."

He had frowned then. "That one's too sad."

You weren't surprised by his opinion. You had yet to find a boy your age who could appreciate serious music, but liking The Beatles was a start, at least.

"I'm Y/N," you had said, extending your hand like you were starting a business meeting.

He shook your hand furtively. "Aaron."

"Maybe I'll see you around."

The school bus had stopped at your street then, and you had gotten up without another word to this boy, who would one day become your best friend in the world.

Luckily, the next day, Aaron chose to sit next to you again, this time with a second pair of headphones to attach to his compact cassette deck. Two days turned to three, and before long, you had a new friend.

***

"I can't imagine what two weeks away from this place is gonna feel like," you sigh, packing some essentials into your bag and snapping it shut. "I might actually miss you guys."

"Not me," Morgan grins, before pressing a kiss to your cheek as he zips around you. "Two weeks of pure heaven with nothing but young, beautiful adults looking to make vacation memories."

"Your friend's resort better be as nice as you say it is," Elle says sternly as she wiggles her finger at Derek, who is busy inviting Reid to join their vacation.

"Thanks, but I'm going home," he says quickly, without looking at any of you. "Have a good one, guys."

"I'll head out too," you announce, grabbing your things and following him to the elevators. "Wait up, Spence."

He doesn't seem to hear you, but you slip through the doors just before they close. "You okay?"

"Huh?" he says, finally looking up. "Oh, yeah. I'm just not looking forward to the Nevada heat."

You can tell he's lying, but you don't want to press him right before the long break. "You can always call me if you need anything. Seriously."

"Yeah," he nods. "I know."

You wave goodbye to him in the parking lot, and you're back in the silence of your home by the end of the hour.

The rest of your day is spent lazing around the house, and you're asleep when you hear a knock at your door. After Jeff's death, you started keeping your gun in your nightstand, more out of a general sense of security than any specific acute fear, but its proximity during late night calls has given you the peace of mind you needed to finally sleep through the night.

Lifting it from the drawer, you hold it behind your back as you tiptoe to your front door and look through the peephole. When you don't see anyone, you carefully pull the door open, only to find a small packet sitting on your welcome mat with your name scrawled on the top.

After bringing it inside the house and locking the door again, you pry open the seal and extract a large piece of paper covered in a series of numbers and dots.

That's when the phone rings.

***

"How's it going?" you ask Reid and Morgan as you enter the conference room where all of the Fisher King's clues have been laid out. Neither of them have taken their eyes off the paper you brought in since you tacked it up on the board.

As expected, Reid doesn't look up. "The answer to what book we need has to be in here."

"Yeah," Derek sighs, glancing over at you, "but we sure as hell can't see it."

"Yet."

You look at the numbers again, hoping that your short walk to the coffee station and back would have been enough to unlock something new in your brain. Nothing. "The answer has to be based on specific details of each person's clue." A small sound turns your attention to the couch, where Elle is lying on her side. "Is Elle asleep?"

"I'm awake!" she starts, sitting up lethargically.

At the outburst, Hotch walks into the room and points at her bags. "I'm sending you home. You need to get some rest."

"No-"

"We won't do anything without you, I promise."

"Elle, seriously, we're not any closer than we were."

She nods, her lack of sleep seeming to dawn on her as she yawns again.

"Anderson," Hotch calls out, before you stop him. "What is it?"

"I can take her home," you suggest, looking over your shoulder as she lugs her bags down the hall with bleary eyes. He looks like he wants to protest, so you speak up before he has the chance. "She barely knows Anderson. I'll make sure she's settled, and then you can send him to watch her house, so I can come back here."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he sighs, his eyes still trained on Elle's silhouette lingering by the elevator. "We may need you here."

You cock your head at Reid and Morgan, who have been sitting in the same positions for so long, you're surprised their necks haven't locked. "It's like they said. We haven't made any progress in over an hour. I'm not helping here."

He still looks unsure, but you know it's just worry. He'll always worry about you. "Okay, go. Call me in an hour to check-in."

You dip your head in a nod and jog through the bullpen to catch Elle as she's heading out.

"So you're my bodyguard, huh?"

You laugh, pressing the button for the ground floor. "Something like that."

"Good," Elle says, trying and failing to stifle a yawn, "you're much more fun than Anderson."

"Prettier, too."

The car ride to her house starts off silent, but eventually you break your internal promise to let her come to you. "How are you feeling after last night?"

She just shrugs. "It was more annoying than anything. I'm just glad I got to enjoy at least some of my vacation."

"I heard there was blood all over your room," you point out lightly, trying to broach the subject in a delicate manner. "That can't have been fun to wake up to."

"It was all on the outside. That's part of why they weren't able to hold me. That, and Hotch's lawyer chops."

You raise an eyebrow, glancing over at her as you pull over to the sidewalk. "His lawyer chops?" You know he used to be a prosecutor before joining the bureau, but you never got to see his skills in action.

"Yeah," Elle gushes, her face brightening considerably, "you should have seen the way he walked in there. Those beat cops had no idea what hit 'em. He was in full prosecutor mode, went all rainmaker on them until they released me."

You can imagine it. If any of you were in trouble, he wouldn't let anything get between him and your safety. "I wish I could've seen that."

When you put the car in park, you help Elle with her bags and walk her up to her door, where she insists that she'll be fine on her own.

"I promised I would wait with you until another agent could come and relieve me," you emphasize, instinctively scanning the vicinity around her home as she walks inside and drops her things on the floor.

"In about thirty seconds, I'll be passed out on this couch right here," she points at the window seat behind her, "so you'll just be watching me sleep for an hour."

You open your mouth to argue but she cuts you off. "Y/N, I'll be fine."

If there's one word to describe Elle, it's stubborn, so you let her shut the door behind her and you walk back to your car. Even if she won't let you sit with her inside, you still can't bring yourself to start the ignition, so you lean your seat back halfway and close your eyes, just for a few moments.

You haven't gotten much sleep either, and you're about to doze off when you hear a loud thud from outside the car. Jerking up, you undo the clasp of your holster and push open the car door. The world is silent, except for the rustling of leaves in the wind, but you start making your way up the drive, just to be sure. There's another thud, quieter this time, and you reach for your sidearm as you ascend her porch steps. Then comes a gunshot.

You start running.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x female!reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #elle greenaway #penelope garcia #spencer reid #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #jason gideon #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner series #criminal minds series #criminal minds season one #criminal minds fic #fic #criminal minds imagine #hotch fic #anchor series #anchor

[pynkhues]

literally sooo fascinated by logan and caroline's marriage tbh. give us all your thoughts!! (if you want ahah)

Oh, man, I could talk about them all day, haha. I kinda feel like people can sometimes rob both Caroline and Logan of any nuance, because yeah, sure, they’re often the central antagonists of the series, and their abuse and neglect of their children permeates the series, but the show’s always also been careful to show that the cycle of violence never started with Logan, and Harriet Walter’s talked in interviews too about the cycle of neglect not starting with Caroline either. They’re victims and perpetrators in the same way that Kendall, Roman and Shiv are victims and perpetrators, and the fact that neither of them were able to break that cycle is the exact sort of tragedy that's at the broken heart of this series.

It makes it really fascinating to me in that sense that Caroline and Logan found each other at all, and I think really slots into what we know about his three marriages – namely, that he marries women who are in some ways as damaged by life’s cruelties as he is. We understand that explicitly with Marcia, who pretty much says out loud that their connection has been born out of the fact that they’re both survivors, but I think it’s implied in his relationships with both Caroline and Connor’s mother too. At least Marcia and Connor’s mother became somethink like partners for a while too – Marcia was a co-conspirator with Logan for the bulk of season 1, and the RECNY Ball episode I think also showed that Connor’s mother, for at least a while, was the sort of socialite who could lubricate and work politicians alongside Logan.

We don’t really know what role Caroline played in that sense, but she’s obviously intelligent and savvy enough to have worked to secure the kids real power in the divorce, something we see her give back to Logan in 3.09. We also know that her title gave Logan the class elevation that he wanted (even if its one he also seems to bitterly resent), and that his money gave her security, and in a lot of ways, that’s a strategic match that sees them both step forwards in power together.

I was actually listening to an old episode of Vanity Fair’s Succession podcast recently where they interviewed Dame Harriet Walter, and she talks quite a lot about Caroline’s backstory.

She says that Caroline was born into a neglectful aristocratic family, an only daughter who due to the social structures of British aristocracy, wouldn’t have inherited her father’s estate as a result of her gender. Instead, his estate would’ve gone to a distant male cousin, which ties into what Connor says in 1.09 to Willa about the house being the ancestral home Caroline didn't inherit.

She was disregarded by her family but encouraged to marry rich, and she sees Caroline as having gone through a bit of a wild child phase, that she partied, used drugs, tried to escape herself. That she was probably featured frequently in the social columns ‘in disgrace’, and then married young to a rich British man who bored her. She sees Caroline as having escaped to New York on a trip, and met Logan who dazzled her. Who was the opposite of the men she’d grown up with, the men who’d cut her out of her own inheritance, and that he was exciting and creating something and married too, and that they likely left their spouses for each other. That he married for a title, but he also married her because he found her fun and funny and different from the other women of her class and station.

I actually love that backstory a lot, and in particular I think it feeds into the themes of cycles on this show, both with Shiv, but also in Caroline being cut out by her own family, and then cut out by the one she tried to make for herself, and the damage that likely caused her. It also I think really beautifully depicts this idea of legacy and succession which is so crucial to the show – that Logan can spend a childhood brutalised by a man who’d give him just enough to build an empire on and that Caroline can spend a childhood in luxurious neglect with parents who will leave her with nothing.

What that meant for their relationship - - I think they did love each other, as much as they could love anyone, and I think that vulnerability between them was something that probably allowed them as true an intimacy as they’d ever have for a while. I also think that that vulnerability and that intimacy gave them power over one another that they’d use often and likely cruelly, and that the final years of their marriage were probably torturous for both of them.

After all, at the end of the day, Logan had the wealth Caroline could marry but never inherit, and Caroline had the title Logan could marry but never inherit, and what is that if not a reminder of the poisoned soil they sprung from?

#i am literally obsessed with them #in the 1980s spinoff in my head they are despicable to one another and i adore them #interestingly too harriet walter says that they were married for 15 years #which is an interesting indication in terms of the kids' age gap too #with the insane timeline that exists in my head haha #i do think it's probably four years between shiv and kendall #and roman and shiv are either twins or he's a year older than her / three years younger than kendall #which works with shiv being 11 when caroline left + the 15 year marriage #anyway haha #caroline collingwood #logan roy #caroline x logan #hbo succession #succession meta #welcome to my ama #always thinking about Them atm

[thedevilsoftruth]

The Two-Faced Savior ( 1. The angel and the Martyr)

Pairing: Moon Knight system x Afab Reader

Content warning: drugs and alcohol, depression, sexual content, age gap ( 26 f, 35 m ) mdom/fsub dynamic, size difference, scratch marks, crying during sex, cheating with multiple people, mentions of spouse with cancer, biting, piv, Khonshu is also the worst person ever and literally hits the reader in one scene, rough sex, unprotected, two sex scenes, power play, sexual trauma, mentions of miscarriages.

W/c: 8k+

Summary: After your family is heald for ransom and eventually killed, you are the only survivor and are found in a back ally by a man named Khonshu who tells you he has a very powerful son who will save and protect you.

Notes: THIS IS MOSTLY COMIC MARC SPECTOR W COMIC REFRENCES BUT NO SPOILERS. ( takes place in New York in 1995. Don't ask me why, I don't know why either) Heavily inspired by The Downward Spiral by Nine Inch Nails. Very few elements here are inspired by Phantom of the Opera and mostly inspired by the movie Spilt. I came up with this fic a very long time ago when I wasn't in a good headspace. I used this as a coping mechanism. This fic is in no way, shape, or form glorifying abusive relationships. In fact, I try to make it very clear in this story that the relationships are unhealthy and not " sexy ". Abusive relationships are wrong and should not be viewed as sexy or healthy. if you are or know someone who is in an abusive relationship, please don't be afraid to seek help. You are not alone.

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Chapter playlist.

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It's times like these when you question how the hell you got to where you are. It's times like when you start to drink and smoke your life away when you realize just who you have become. I was questioning my life every single day that I lived. My life was a waking nightmare, nothing but a mere skinkhole waiting, threatening to consume me. I didn't even know who I was. Everyday i asked myself the same questions, who was I? What was I? How did I manage to have such a fucked up life? These were things I questioned as I sat in front of the tv screen as I was getting my hair combed out like I was a five year old from a man I was pretty sure was trying to abuse me.

" that's him... Isn't it, Khonshu? " I asked as I guled my tired eyes onto the screen. He hummed in response but I could tell he didn't look. He didn't want to and he didn't care to.

" You shouldn't watch too much tv, little lamb. It'll ruin you. " He said, spraying water on my hair and continuing to brush out the knots. But I wasn't paying attention to him or whatever the hell he was saying, I was too busy fixating on his supposed " son " that was being yet again reported on tv. I enjoyed watching the TV, but Khonshu didn't. Before I had gotten my own place, he barely would let me come down and watch it at night. But sometimes, in the middle of the night, I would come into the living room and turn on the TV real quiet and watch the news channels where they reported Khonshus son fighting crime. I would also steal and read the morning paper to see if there was anything about him in there as well. When I first met Khonshu two years ago, he told me I would meet his son, and then his son would protect me and train me to become a Moon Knight like himself. His name was Marc Spector.

Moon Knight... Marc Spector it had a nice ring, didn't it? I would bet he was handsome underneath the mask. Handsome just like his father. Yeah... His father was pretty easy on the eyes despite his personality. He was a very tall man, reaching above 7 feet tall. He was lanky and skinny and wore a white suit, he had a diamond like facial structure with a semi long beard and wore his hair long, black and slicked back. He claimed he was so tall because he was a " god ". I highly doubted it since the beginning.

For the past two years, i had been under his wing ever since I lost everything. My family. My home. He wasn't caring enough for me to pretend he was my father, and he wasn't empathetic enough to be a friend either. He was just someone in my life. Someone who gave me shelter, but that was about it. Khonshu wasn't the nicest person ever. He didn't yell at me, but he spoke to me in a way that drove every bit of confidence out of my soul. He treated me like a fucking pet, like I was his obedient servant. I had very little tolerance for him and he had very little respect for me. But the worst part about Khonshu was...

" Come here, little lamb. " He spoke in that sweet, tender voice he used all the time when he wanted something from me. I knew what was coming, and although I thought I was prepared for it, I wasn't. I sat down next to him but he picked me up and sat me down on his lap with my back against his chest.

" You know, you've been real good to me lately. Maybe I'll reward you. " he spoke as he stuffed his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling my scent and making me feel sick.

" Khonshu... I can't tonight. Please. My back is really messed up right now. " I said, closing my eyes tight as he ran his big hand down my thigh. Khonshu clicked his tongue and chuckled.

" Oh, poor baby. Well, that's too damn bad, isn't it? We made a deal, don't you remember? My salvation for you as long as you satisfy my needs in the end. " He cooed into my ear, reminding me of my burdens. The only reason I was still with him was because he made me feel good and gave me money. But I couldn't argue with him. Not anymore. I was completely powerless against him.

" you know the drill, little lamb. If you're good tonight maybe I'll be nice to you later on. " he tried to encourage me, even though nothing about encouragement by him made me want to have sex with him any less. He wouldn't be nice to me, and I knew he wouldnt. He said that to me everytime he got me underneath him, and he always ended up on fucking me until he felt like we needed to stop. And that would range from anywhere near from 1-6 hours. But still, knowing the consequences, I lifted my legs and rolled my lacy black panties past my ankles and off my feet.

He took his hand from my thigh and grabbed hold of my scalp, yanking my head back against his shoulder and making me yelp. " And maybe next time, don't try to get out of this by telling me a useless lie. Now sit back and enjoy my gift to you. It's not like you deserve it anyways. " He demanded, nudging his hips against mine and signaling me to take off his pants. I gulped, hesitating for a moment until I shifted myself on his lap and uncomfortably reached my hand for the zipper of his pants. I wanted to explain to him I wasn't lying to him, but nothing I would say would convince him otherwise.He wriggled around a bit and gave himself enough space from the couch and his body to let his pants run loose. I could feel his hungry cock already nudging against my cunt and it didn't make me feel excited. I felt dirty. I felt unwanted and guilty. I knew this man didn't actually want me, he just felt bad for me and was taking advantage of my vulnerability. Nothing he said was real. He didn't have a son, and he was not a god. He was just some dude trying to get some pussy.

Then that familiar feeling hit: his slimy cock entering into me like it did so many times before. My breath hitched, and as much as I hated it, I knew I liked it. If I didn't like it I wouldn't have been coming back, that's what he said at least. He let go of my scalp and took his glove off of his hand so that he could reach down and rub my clit. His greedy lips traveled up my neck, tasting my nervous sweat on his tongue as he slowly thrusted forward into me. It was the same thing as always. I smoke my day away and then come to his house to get fucked for money so I could pay fro my dying husbands medical bills. Even if I didn't want to come over, he would notice when I didn't call him and would call me himself and demand of my presence. And I would go. And I would let him control me.

" you're being awfully quiet. Don't tell me you've gotten sick of me. " He commented, almost stopping his thrusting completely. I knew he wouldn't be upset even if I confessed to being sick of him. He'd act like it, throw me out of his house and spit on me and tell me he didn't ever want to see me again, but I know he wouldn't actually give a shit. It's not like he didn't already have other women he kept on the side. But my silence said everything for me. Khonshu growled, and in one swift move he managed to get half of his 8 inch length into me, making me scream from the sudden discomfort and dig my nails into the palm of my hand.

" do I need to get out the toys? I wanted to go easy on you today but you're making it very difficult for me to not be harsh with you. " Khonshu threatened, his voice so deep in my ear I could feel it in my chest. I shook my head, my nose burning as a hot tear went down my cheek.

" no-no, please no. I'll be good, I promise. I'm sorry, sir. " I whimpered through soft cries. I didn't even understand what I did wrong. My back did genuinely hurt that night, I never lied to him about anything. I remember what happened the last time I " lied " or " disobeyed " him. He had tided me down with ankle and wrists restraints and had gone a round on me from the front, back, and side all two different times. I couldn't walk home that night, I gave up before I reached his porch and called my best friend of the time to come pick me up.

" Then be good. Prove it to me. Just take it, It's not that hard. " He whisper-shouted into my ear, rutting back into me faster than how he started and continuing to rub my sore clit around his finger that was was big enough to cover my entire pussy. He used his free hand to dig his nails into my skin, and he dug his sharp teeth into my neck and sucked my skin gently. I could feel my cunt becoming puffy and spilling out little juices around him, clear signs of my arousal but nothing about this was arousing to me. I wanted to throw something at him and tell him to go to hell, but that would make him bend me over the coffee table and ravage me like I was a toy for the next 5 hours.

" Fuck. Your little pussy is addicted. Clinging onto me like like the way it is right now, I'm starting to think that you're just pretending to not want me. " Khonshu whispered in my ear, licking and kissing my jaw and scraping my thigh with his fingernails. I let out a choked moan as I felt him rub a spot on my clitoris that caused my legs to jerk up in the air subconsciously. I felt his pace getting a bit faster, and the faster he got the harder he dug into my skin. He was digging so deep that he broke off a few layers of skin, and I was bleeding a bit, but he didn't care. He never cared about how I felt. In fact, he wanted to mark me. Not so that the world could see, but so that I could see and I could remember what he did to me.

Then, I couldn't keep it in much longer and I released onto his shaft. I didn't want to, but I couldn't control my orgasms. But he didn't care, he was gonna keep moving until he was done.

" Oh, look at you. I bet you were hoping for me to be done. Tsk tsk, Mmm, you gotta wait for me, too. " He chuckled darkly, slowing down and flipping me over on my back. He wasted no time to immediately start back at the same pace as before, knocking the wind out of my lungs each time his cock nudged against me. He took my wrists and pinned them together above my head, his two free middle fingers forcing their way through my mouth.

" Oh, little lamb. You need me to survive. You know this, right? " He asked. The question made me sick, but he wasn't exactly wrong. I did need him to survive. He was the reason I could keep my husband alive. I looked at him with tears flooding my eyes, my fingernails searching for anywhere on the couch below me to hang onto. My legs were shaking as he ruthlessly rutted into my sweet spot, eyes rolling into the back of my head as he drove into the deepest parts of me. He was groaning loudly, and he put a hand on my hip for support and to hold me down.

Khonshu made his final thrusts and then plopped out of me, taking me by surprise and shooting his hot spend onto my stomach. He looked me up and down, tongue darting out to wet his lips. I knew what ever he was planning next was evil.

" Taste it. " he commanded, guiding my hand onto my stomach. My hesitation showed when i didn't move for a moment. Khonshu huffed loudly and rose his hand, striking me across face hard and inflicting a loud cry out of me.

" That was an order, little girl. " He hissed, grabbing hold of my jaw and forcing my gaze towards his. My bottom lip quivered, and I was shaking profusely in fear. And what was I going to do? Say no to him?

I shakingly dragged my two middle fingers across my belly, collecting his fluids on my fingers before I parted my lips and stuck my tounge out. I looked up at Khonshu, rolling the tip of my tounge onto my fingers and licking his cum off my skin. I swallowed slowly, and it didn't taste good but I couldn't show that to him. He let go of my jaw finally and stared up at me with an evil grin.

" That's my girl. " He said, grabbing the back of my head and kissing my forehead. He stood and buckled up his pants, walked towards the coffee table next to the couch and grabbed a white handkerchief. He threw the handkerchief at me and It hit the back of my head softly. I picked it up and looked up at him. This was something he normally didn't do.

" Clean yourself and get out of here. You're lucky I even went easy on you tonight. " He said, walking out of the room and upstairs. He probably expected me to be gone within the next 10 minutes, so i hurried to the kitchen and soaked the handkerchief in warm water. I used the handkerchief to clean myself throughly and then dressed myself and left his house quickly.

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The next night was hell. I went and saw my husband in the hospital and then spent the rest of my night getting wasted in a bar.

The bar was quite empty, which was fine with me. It was too late anyways. I had just paided for my last drink of the night and was about to leave when a man came and sat next to me. He was wearing a leather jacket and a white tank top with black jeans and this goofy looking golf cap. He had a full mustache and a little bit of facial hair all over his jaw.

" Hello, beautiful. " He said after he had ordered a martini. I stared at him for a moment. It was usally bad news when a guy sat next to you in a bar, and that was his greeting. But he seemed harmless. He looked soft, and he didn't come off as disgusting as the other men in the bar. He smiled at me widely and put his hand out for me to shake.

" My name is Jake Lockley. Yours? " He had a very thick new york accent and his voice was deep and gravely, but it was seemingly pleasant. I looked at his hand for a minute, hesitant to take it.

" C'mon, darlin' don't leave a fellow hangin' " He joked, inching his hand closer to me. My lips quirked up into a small smile, and I took his hand and shook it. He had a very firm grip and I could feel that his hands were rough. He must have been a hard worker. He looked at the menu with a very intense look.

" Can I buy you a drink, ma'am? " He asked me, continuing to search the menu.

" No, thank you. " I responded, lowering my head into my arms on the bar table.

" Well, suit yourself. " he said, which was surprising to you because most guys would try and talk you into letting him buy you a drink. But he seemed different somehow.

" Hello Jake! " said a woman's voice from in front of you. It sounded like one of the very few female bartenders that worked in that bar.

" Hello Naomi. It's great to see you, beautiful. I'd like my usual, but give me two of them. " he told her. It seemed like he was a regular there. I didn't go there often, and I didn't even drink that often. But something had just brought it out of me that night.

I rose my head back up and looked at him. I tried to smile at him, but it came off looking odd and unnatural..

" My name is Y/N, by the way. " You told him. He looked back at you and grinned.

" That's a lovely name, darlin'. Almost as beautiful as you are. " He flirted, winking at me and making my cheeks heat up.

" Oh my--i-- thank you. " You responded. He chuckled. You looked at his jacket for a good second. He had a name tag on it that read, " Jake. L " That had the logo of the cities taxi cab company printed on it. So he was also a cab driver?

" anytime, sugar. What do you do for work? " He asked. You stared at your hands, becoming anxious. You didn't really have a job.

" I'm still tryin' to figure that out. I got fired from my job at FYE a couple months ago. " You explained to him. He hummed In response.

" I'm sorry to hear that, sugar. I hope you can find another job soon. The workspace is crazy nowadays. It's hard for people to find and get into jobs, and it's really sad. " He said, putting his hand on mine and looking at me with empathy in his eyes. He seemed really sweet and understanding, but i wasn't sure if he were trying to get in my pants or make " friends " with me.

A woman wearing black lipstick and a patch over her eye came back with two drinks in her hand and set them in front of Jake.

" Thank you, Naomi. " he said, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket and handing her a 30 dollar bill. She took it and smiled.

" Thank you, mister. " she said with a grin before walking away to take someone else's order. Jake put his fingers on the rims of the glass and moved it in front of me.

" Strawberry margarita, give her a try. You won't regret it. " He persuaded, immediately digging into his first. I gave the redish-pink drink a very long stare, unsure if i was going to dig in or not. I looked at Jake with a smile.

" No, thanks. I need to get back home. " I explained to him. He pouted.

" Can I walk you home? " He asked, and I thought about it for a second, but I decided upon disagreeing.

----

I didn't see Khonshu that night, and I didn't want to see him ever again. I made that decision up as I was drunkenly walking home. It was past 2 am and the busses weren't running and I lived too far away from any family or friends. I couldn't even walk up to my porch without stumbling and almost falling. I reached my hand into my purse and pulled out my house keys, but before I could open the door I heard a rustling noise from a bush. I looked over my shoulder, and saw a man standing on the sidewalk in front of my house.

" Are you miss L/N? " He asked me with this voice that was as clear as day, soft as silk and sweet like honey. He was a tall man with a muscular build wearing a completely white suit. He had a little bit of a very light beard, and had brown, curly, short hair with a slit in his right eyebrow. He reminded me a lot of Khonshu. I stared at him for a moment.

" Yes? How can I help you? " I questioned, quirking my eyebrow and wondering what the fuck he was doing out here, looking for me at 2 in the morning.

" Hello, ma'am, my name is Marc Spector. I was sent by a man you might know as Khonshu. " He said, reaching his hand out for me to shake. I didn't take it. Instead, I dropped everything I had in my hand and stared at him with an agape jaw and wide eyes. Was this really him? No, it couldn't be. He wasn't real. He was just a lie Khonshu came up with to use me. There was no way this was actually the Moon Knight.

" I'm sorry, I just--do you want to come inside? " Whatever I intended to say, it wasn't this. I could have--should have told him off. But no. There I was, inviting the possible son of a man I was having sex with into my house.

" I'd love to. " He said happily. He had a completely different demenor from Khonshu. This guy seemed genuinely nice and sweet, and Khonshu was everything but nice and sweet. So I gathered my stuff and opened the door for him, letting him in first so that I could shut and lock the door behind us.

" Please, make yourself comfortable. " I said, letting him wander around as I slipped my shoes off and put them next to the door.

" And can I, like, offer you something to drink? " I asked as he sat down at the dinner table in the kitchen.

" no, thank you. " He said, putting his hand up and smiling. How was this guy so cheery? He seemed like the complete opposite of Khonshu. I couldn't help but wander how Khonshu raised him. I couldn't stop myself from staring at him with the same expression even as I sat down in front of him. I was at a loss of words.

" Are you okay? " He asked. I scoffed.

" I'm sorry, I don't know what this is, but there is no way this isn't some sort of fucked up set up by Khonshu. Marc Spector isn't a real person, theres no way he is. " I spoke, smiling through my disbelief while making exaggerated movements with my hands as I spoke. He chuckled.

" you don't have to believe me. And you certainlydont have to believe him. " He said simply, reaching into his white suit jacket and pulling his wallet out of his breast pocket. He opened it and laid it in front of me, pointing to his i.d and drivers licence in the front two pockets.

Marc Spector. born on March 9th, 1960, in Chicago, Illinois.

I looked him up and down and furrowed my brows.

" who are you? " I asked, sitting up in my chair and reaching for my switchblade in my pocket and holding it out in front of me. His eyes widened and he put his hands up.

" whoa, there missy. I'm not here to hurt you. I know what you're thinking. I'm the son of Khonshu, I must be a dick, but please just listen to me for a second. " He explained, his cheeky grin fading and his tone becoming stern. Maybe he was serious.

" I know it's a lot to believe, but I'm here to help you. I don't like Khonshu, you, and me both on that, but I heard about you through him and needed to make sure you were okay. " He said, lowering his hands and standing up from his seat slowly. I stared at him, my eyes huge with rage and now becoming watery. That's when I started crying again. My hands were shaking, and the muscles in my face started becoming tense. Everything came back to me, and the mention of Khonshus' name reminded me of everything he'd done to me. The smacks across the face I'd received, the constant texting me and begging me to come over and satisfy him. I could feel the burning of his sharp nails digging into my thighs, and my legs shook at the thought of it. I put my hand down and began to relax.

" are you really here to help me? " I asked, my voice brittle and on the verge of breaking. He stepped closer to me.

" of course I am. You know, I don't fight crime for Khonshu, I do it for the justice of the people. not for him. " He whispered, almost as if he were telling me a secret about Khonshu and were afraid Khonshu could hear him, getting closer to me and reaching his arms out for me.

" I can feel your pain. " He spoke gently as he welcomed me into a warm embrace. I almost forgot how a real hug felt. My husband had been in the hospital and was too weak with cancer to move in the slightest.

" I know what you're feeling. Khonshu finds weak people he knows are fragile, pretends he cares about them, and then breaks them until they are nothing. He did it with me, and he's doing it to you, isn't he? " He asked, his voice so soft and tender I could fall asleep to it. Tear after tear fell from my eyes, and I was starting to feel like I couldn't breathe.

" yeah. " My voice was barley audible behind my heavy crying. He nodded and pulled away from me, looking at me with the most genuine empathetic expression I had ever been given.

" I will do anything in my power to keep you protected from him. I know how he is. The second he had brought you up to me, I knew I had to help. " He promised, patting me on my shoulder and wiping my tears away. I nodded, forcing a smile onto my face.

" I have to go now. Heres my house number and address in case you need me. I have work to do. " He said, handing me what seemed to be a little business card. On the top of the white paper, it said, the midnight mission with a crescent moon replacing the ' O ' in mission. I looked up at him as he walked to my front door.

" thank you, Marc." I said through a sniffled cry. He looked at me and grinned.

" No problem. And please, call me me Mr. Knight. " And just like that he was gone. Leaving me with burning questions for the rest of the night. I couldn't sleep that night, and all i could think about was my need for somebody's genuine comfort like his.

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" You didn't do it. " I could hear him say from behind me as we walked out of her house. I scrunched my face up in anger at how difficult they were being. They'd been nagging to me about the plan all day.

" can you guys please just have patience? Things like this take time and effort. She has bad experiences with men. Just let her be for now. " I said as I pulled the mask over my head.

" I'm just saying, it'd be more fun if we just started-- "

" did you not hear anything I just said? I'm never letting her meet you guys. You guys are dirt bags. "

" yeah, sure, whatever. We'll see how that pans out. You're never able to contain us. "

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The next morning, I went back to see my husband in the hospital. It was quiet in the room. The only audible sounds being heard were the clock ticking and his heavy breathing. He looked horrible. He had lost about six pounds, and skin around his eyes was dark, his cheekbones more defined than before.

" John. Johnny. " I called for him, shaking him very gently to see if he was still awake. He didn't move or peep a word, and i was left with silence and staring at him in his dying state. There was so much medical equipment hooked up to him. It was terrifying. His heart monitor was still going, and that made me relieved.

And then, Johnny made a movement with his hand, and I could hear a low groan come out of his lips.

" W-water. " He said, interrupting himself with a loud, heavy, wet cough. I looked around the room and saw an empty pitcher on a counter by a sink. Sink water probably wasn't the best idea, but it was something. I stood up and grabbed a paper cup from the counter and filled it up with water from the sink before rushing back to him.

" Here, " I said. " Drink. " He sat up a bit and opened his dry mouth, clamping his chapped lips onto the rem of the cup and slowly sipping out of it. He drank and dark until it was all gone, water dripping down his chin as he finished what was left. When he was for certain done with the cup, I withdrew it from his face and threw the cup away and got a paper towel to wipe off his face. I sat down in the chair next to him, and then, for a moment, I just stared at him. I remembered our history together, the day we got married, and even the bad days. like the many times we had tried to have a child, and my multiple miscarriages... And the day he was diagnosed with leukemia. A week before his diagnosis, my family had been heald for ransome. It seemed like luck was never on my side, and I was never going to be in a good situation. Johnny was my only reason for holding on. He was the light of my day, the sun to my moon. And now he was slipping away from me.

" are you feeling any better? " I asked worriedly as I watched him sitting back down. He shook his head no.

" Can you pull the sheets up? " He asked, his voice barely above a whisper and gravely. I couldn't hear most of the sentence. All I heard was " sheets up, "and that told me everything. I nodded and faked a smile, grabbing the top of his blanket and moving it up to his chest. I couldn't let him know I was so messed up over his situation.

" Is this fine? " I asked. He nodded. I sat back down in my chair and continued to stare at him. He was getting worse as the days went on. I wanted to stay with him, but I had been seeing him every day and didn't think I could take it anymore.

So, I left. I told him goodbye, and I left. This time, I smoked on my way home, angrily walking the sidewalks and turning the corners of streets as I questioned the point of anything. What truly was the point? What was the meaning of living if living was nothing but nonstop pain for me? I looked at happy couples pass by on the street, recalling the days when I was happy with Johnny. And all I could see or feel was Khonshu's fingernails scratching my skin and the disgusting things he said to me. All of my hope was gone. When I was a little girl, I wanted to be something. Maybe I could be a doctor, maybe I could be an author, maybe I could make movies, maybe I could star in movies. I'd never imagine I'd be broke at the age of 26 with a dying husband, and fucking a man for money. What a world I lived in.

I looked up at the sky for a moment. I was almost at my apartment, but I could sense something was wrong before I even knew something was wrong. There was always something wrong.

Up in the sky was a big cloud of smoke coming from the other side of an alley, which my apartment was. I sighed and cursed under my breath, put my cigarette out from the sole of my shoe, and immediately made a move to jump the wall. There was a broken chair nearby, which I used to hop over the wall with. When I hit the floor, all I could see was smoke, people running and policeman and firemen shouting. And the apartment I had been living in for a couple months, the apartment I worked so hard for, was now falling into peices under a flaming fire that was threatening to consume everything in its wake.

I ran across the grassy field and over to the crowd of policemen. I couldn't believe what I was seeing--I didn't want to believe what I was seeing.

" The hell is going on here? " I shouted, looking around frantically. When they noticed me, they were immediately telling me off.

"This is a crime scene, ma'am. we haven't caught who we're looking for. Please evacuate. " One man said, pointing to the direction away from the area. I didn't move. I couldn't process it. It took me having to be dragged off the scene to be able to actually move from my horrified state. And how was it a crime scene?

It felt like I was falling down a hole I couldn't get out of. I was stuck. Trapped. Isolated. I was constantly being stripped away from anything that made me human; from anything that was real. especially in the past couple of weeks. First Johnny, my family, Khonshu, and finally, my apartment. I didn't have family. I didn't have any friends. I was alone again. I was frightened and I was scared. How would I tell Johnny? Where would I go, what would I do? I was so scared, I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest. I couldn't go back to Khonshu... but then I remembered Marc.

---------

it was getting dark, and it was cold. Thankfully, he didn't live that far from me, and I was able to catch a bus. He lived in a huge, two story building in the middle of a street that was surrounded by markets, bars, and stores. The doors in the building had creasent moons painted on them. I hesitated for a moment before inhaling and knocking on the door twice. For a moment, there was silence before I heard a man groaning and a loud crash. I waited another couple of seconds before a man opened the door.

" Wha'do ya want? " He said very slowly as he reached his hand under his dirty white tank top and scratched his stomach. he was wearing a brown jacket and black leather pants, and on his jacket, he had a name tag that read, " Jake. L" on it. Wait a minute...

" Oh, hey, it's you. " He said, giving me a tiny smile. He looked tired... and drunk.

" Is Marc here? " I asked, rubbing my cold arms and slightly peeping into the building. Jake yawned and then groaned.

" yeah, whatever. just give me a minute. " He said before slightly shutting the door, leaving it a little bit open. He had a very heavy New York accent. I didn't want to evesdrop, but I faintly heard two men conversating from the other end of the door.

" something, something- did it-something, something- You're a fuckin genius! " I heard someone say over-excitedly. Another person responded with, " I didn't think it would go through-something, something-" but shortly after, the door swung open, and I was greeted with Marc rushing out of the building.

" Oh jeez, what's wrong? Are you okay? I came as soon as I heard. " He asked worriedly, leaning over the door frame with wide eyes. I shook my head.

" can I come inside? " I asked, trying not to let my voice shake. He nodded his head and held the door open wider, motioning me in. The inside of the building smelled like cinnamon, and he had a fireplace near the entrance of the door, and it was lit. I wasn't quite sure what i was looking at, but it looked like an office building. Near the fireplace, there was a couch and a coffee table. Maybe it was some sort of lounge area.

" Come sit by the fireplace. you must be cold. " He said, sitting down in front of the fireplace and patting the spot next to him. I sat down, keeping a distance between us, and watched the bright orange flames of the fire dance in the fireplace, reminding me of how my apartment had gone up in flames that very same day.

" What's wrong? " He cooed, putting his hand on my shoulder for comfort.

" my apartment. it got burned down. I'm sorry for coming here, I just--didn't know where to go. " I apologized, rubbing my arms to keep myself warm.

" It's okay, don't apologize. I told you to come here if you needed me. I'm sorry I couldn't make it in time to stop the person who burnt down those buildings. Khonshu was keeping me busy all day. " he explained, looking at me the whole time he spoke. I didn't look at him. I wondered if he could notice the scars on my arms that Khonshu gave me. I wondered if he also had scars.

" I'm exhausted. I've had a horrible day. " I sighed, rubbing my temples and curling myself into a ball. I could hear Marc humming in response. I couldn't imagine how long his day must have been too.

" Johnny... my husband, he's dying. There's nothing I can do about it. I just--i don't want to be here any more. I want to go to sleep and never wake up again. " I told him, rubbing my wet eyes, and inhaling and exhaling deeply to try and contain myself. He scouted closer to me and put his hand on my shoulder.

" hey, " he said. " It's going to be okay. Things are going to get better, I promise. I have been in your exact same position before. Life isn't always going to be sunshine and rainbows. I'm sure you know that by now, but I can assure you you'll see the sun finally peak through the dark, rainy clouds. " He shook my shoulders a bit as he spoke to me, and I seemingly felt comforted. I rose my head to look up at him. I never realized just how beautiful he was until I saw him as close to me as he was in that moment.

" Gosh, I feel so dirty. It was so hard walking into that hospital, knowing I was spreading my legs for another man. " I couldn't help but go back into that same self-loathing tangent again. Marc tried to hush me quietly, but I kept talking. " I don't deserve your comfort. I don't deserve anything-- "

" Don't say that about yourself - " he tried to say, but i cut him off.

" No--I can't take it anymore. Don't even bother with me. I don't even know why I'm here. I'm wasting your time. "

Marc continued to try and hush me up, but nothing he was doing was working. Then he finally decided that if I wasn't going to shut up, he was going to make me shut up. That showed when he cut off my deppressive outburst by grabbing my head and smashing his lips against mine. It was a soft but heavy kiss, and I couldn't help not following along. He put his hand on mine, and when he pulled away, he made sure to hold on tightly to my hand.

" I am not wasting my time trying to help. You deserve comfort. Whether it's from me or anyone else, you deserve to be happy and feel like you're wanted. And you are wanted. " He reassured me, squeezing my hand and looking me deep into my eyes with a strong sense of sincerity.

" You are not filthy. Never say that about yourself again. " He made sure his words were drilled into my head, his voice strong as his grip on my hand got tighter. I nodded my head, showing him I understood until he finally let go of me.

I was feeling something in my stomach I hadn't felt in a long time. There was something in the way that Marc felt genuine to me that made me drawn to him. Something in the way he had comforted me and kissed me to try and get me to stop talking bad about myself. I wondered if he was feeling the same. We had already known each other for two days, but I was drawn to him like a magnet.

" I need salvation. " I whispered, staring back into the fire. Marc grinned.

" than I am your savior. " He said, gently grabbing my chin and guiding my face towards his. He welcomed my lips back onto his and climbed on top of me, his lips moving against mine a little bit harder than last time. He ran his hands up my thighs but stopped when he felt the scars. He pulled away to examine his discovery. He flicked his eyes up, and all I could see was pure concern in his eyes.

" I won't touch you. Not if you want me to. " He said, almost getting off me before I put my hand on his chest and stopped him.

" You can touch me. " I gave him permission, looking him in the eyes and searching for any sort of sign that might have been telling me he was lying. But all I saw was worry and honesty.

" Are you sure you want to do this? " He asked, raising a brow and tracing a finger around a part of my thigh that wasn't scarred. I nodded my head.

" go easy on me, yeah? " I said nervously with a slight chuckle. He chuckled too and nodded.

" whatever you want, honey. Tell me to stop if it ever gets too much. " He said, unbuckling his belt and sliding it out of the loops of his pants. While he was working on that, I worked on taking my clothes off as well, starting from my jeans and working my way up to my top.

For once in a while, I had actually felt excited about having sex. It wasn't something I was pressured into and it was from a man I knew I could trust. But maybe I was putting too much faith into him. Maybe I was moving too fast. I did only just meet him the night before, but I couldn't help myself.

Marc didn't finish taking off his clothes. In fact, he only took his pants off. I, on the other hand, was stripped down in front of him, completely exposed and free for him to go crazy on. He looked me up and down, his mouth agape and his eyes wide.

" Do you know how beautiful you are? Seriously, i--i don't think I'm going to be able to keep my eyes off of you. " He said, pinning me back down onto the ground and spreading my legs just far enough for him to fit perfectly between them. The sparkle in his eyes when he looked at me, the sweetness of his voice, the gentleness in his manners. Everything about him is what I had been missing, what I had been longing for for so long. I couldn't remember the last time someone had called me beautiful from a genuine faint of heart. I just had to return it.

" And did anyone ever tell you how perfect you are? Seriously, Marc, I've only known you for so long, but you're incredible. " I expressed, inflicting a wide smile to appear in his face.

" You're too sweet. But please, call me Mr. Knight. I am your savior, after all. " He chuckled darkly, obviously joking around, but I knew he was serious. I crossed my legs over his hips and welcomed him in as he slowly entered me. My breath hitched, and I could already tell that I would actually be able to take him. He kissed my forehead and curled his fingers into my scalp as he pumped slow thrusts into my aching core. He rest his free hand on my knee, his lips trailing down to the crook of my neck and kissing my skin gently.

This was the most true thing I'd probably felt in such a long time. I felt alive again, I felt happy. And I wasn't about to give that up for anything. Everything that happened in that week had completely disappeared by Marc's simple caress. He was the drug the I needed. Maybe he could be my sunshine after the rain.

We were gwtting comfortable, and he picked up his pace and lifted up my leg to rest it over his shoulder so he could deepen his thrusts.

" Fuckin' hell, you're literally so gorgeous. How could someone see this and just... Throw it away? " He praised, the sweet sounds of his cock slamming in and out of my soaked pussy mixing perfectly in the thick air surrounding our hot bodies with the sounds of our moaning. He was starting to become fast, more urgent and uncontrolled as he rammed into me, making sure that I felt every last inch of him. I felt a burning in my stomach, the familiar sensation i remember from my time with Khonshu, except this time it was more intense. Marc grunted, and was able to thrust most of his length into me. I yelped and closed my eyes tightly, gasp after gasp escaping my lips.

" Marc... Can't--can't take it all. " I choked out. He growled in response.

" That's not what I told you to call me, sweetheart. " He said, grabbing hold of my jaw and squeezing my pink cheeks as my puffy lips began foaming out droll.

" Mr...Mr. Knight " I whimpered, eyes rolling into the back of my head as i found myself getting completely getting lost within the rapture of the moment. He smirked down at me.

" Yes? " He cooed in a sweet voice that said nothing but sarcasm. I felt my pussy fluttering at the mere sound of his deep voice filling my ears.

" I, I... Can't--fuh--uck " I couldn't even finish my sentence without choking on my words and losing myself to my own moans. I sounded pathetic, and I looked pathetic. I felt his grip on my jaw getting tighter, and he growled again.

" Can't what? You're going to have to speak up, honey. " He teased further, at that point just trying to get me frustrated. And I was. I was whining in response to his playful teases and i just couldn't take it. How was he able to get me so desperate?

" I can't take it all, Mr. Knight. " I cried, digging my nails into his arm. He clicked his tongue.

" If you can't take this, than it's gonna take you a lot to soften up to me. But I'm sure you can take it. " He said, " c'mon, baby, you can do it. " He raised his hand and gave my ass a hard smack, making me yelp in surprise and the skin where he slapped redden up and sting. He was killing me.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, he started using his thumb to rub tiny, hard circles around my throbbing clit. I gasped and sunk my bottom lip in between my teeth, trying to prevent myself from moaning but desperately failing. I felt so tiny compared to him. His hand was bigger than my forearm, and that hand in between my legs mixed with his thick cock was more than a dream for me. Maybe it was exactly like how Khonshu had had me the other night, but this was heavenly. He wouldn't break me, and knowing that made me feel safe and content.

" look at you, taking me so well. What a good girl. " He praised, the sweetness in his voice authentic and promising. He was better at fulfilling my needs better than Johnny, and admitting to that hurt since i knew and was married to Johnny for two years and only knew Marc for two days. But something that didn't hurt to admit was that he was so much better than Khonshu. Khonshu would get you underneath him, spit on you and then kick you out of his house but Marc would be the opposite. Marc would understand you, take care of you for the night and then have you stay with him or him stay with you for the night. But even thinking about Johnny made me feel utterly guilty and ashamed, where was that sense of real guilt when all I could feel was Marcs warm cock thrashing every inch of bliss into me? He had me at the tip of the mountain and there was no coming down. Except for when you were actually coming down.

" Mister--oh, I'm gonna-- " I found myself, once again not being able to finish my sentence without feeling like there was a lump in my throat as pleasure engulfed me. Marc finally let go of my jaw and increased the speed of his fingers to match the fast pace of his cock. I tried to let hold back a moan, but ended up on choking out a loud cry.

" go ahead, honey. Jus' keep screaming like that. " He whispered, hitting a spot so deep within my core that sent me way beyond the edge. My legs jerked and I screamed. The faster he got, the more I moaned meaningless slurred curses. A chorus of helpless cries and whimpers came out of my hungry lips as I already felt myself spilling out fluids onto his shaft. He noticed and chortled.

" sweet baby, making a mess all over me. It's my turn now. " He purred, slipping out and then forcing me on my belly. He put one hand on my back and re-entered me, slipping back into that same spot he was hitting before. The hard wood floor against my face wasn't the greatest feeling, but I had felt worse. But even having my back forcibly bent and my face against hard wood floor, I was still at the tip of that mountain.

" I want to fucking tear you apart, honey. " He whispered into my ear, letting go of his hand on my back and using it to curl a fist back into my scalp. He pulled my head back and rutted into me inhumanly faster than before. He only lasted for a couple more thrusts before immediately exploding through a shaky orgasm.

For a minute there was silence... But not really because we were panting and severally tired. I couldn't do anything but stare at him, awestruck.

" I'm sorry. I got a little carried away. " He laughed nervously, also unable to keep his eyes off the mess between me. He sighed and pulled me into his arms, holding me close to him and brushing his fingers through my hair.

" I'll get you a towel or--you can take a bath, if you'd like. " He offered, pointing to his staircase. I nodded.

" I'd like the bath option. " I replied. he smiled.

" good choice. It's upstairs and the very first door on the left. There's also towels in the closet. " He told me, standing up and walking off somewhere down the hallway, presumably to another bathroom. It took me a moment to get up. Not because he fucking ruined me, but because I just couldn't believe what I had just done. It was what I believed to be the greatest fuck I'd ever had in my life, and I could not be any more happy or relieved. Even if it was from a man I had barely known.

---------

I sat on the outdoor couch outside, taking a drag from my cigarette as the boys started giggling again.

" She's hot. How did it feel? " Jake childishly asked, sounding like a friend you would have in grade school who'd ask you questions about your new girlfriend.

" Fuck off. You guys never shut up, do you? " The other one was even worse about it.

" c'mon, Marc. Think of the money we could make-- " I knew what was coming up. He mentioned it everytime I brought this woman up.

" I don't fucking care about making money. I may be an underpaid superhero, but I ain't even mad. " I joked even though it wasn't funny, resting my head back and huffing out a smoke ring. Jake was snickering.

" Exactly, you're broke. That's why you're never able to keep a stable relationship. " Jake cackled, snorting a line of coke on the coffee table. I raised my hand and smacked him in the back of his head, making him choke and cough profusely on the drug.

" you shut your manwhore mouth up. I'm never able to keep a stable relationship because of you cocksuckers. " I said, closing my eyes and finishing my cigarette. The other one groaned.

" you're such a whiney bastard. At least let us fuck her? " the other one suggested. I huffed angrily and extinguished my cigarette.

" I said no. Plus, I think she really likes me. Don't fuck this up for me or else I'll cut your dicks off. " I threatened as I got up and walked back into the house.

They stared at each other in silence for seconds.

" fuck that guy. I'm gonna fuck her. " the other one laughed as he also stood up. Jake dropped the straw he was using for his coke and stared at him in disbelief.

" in your dreams. " Jake mocked. But the look on the other ones face told him he was serious and ambitious." you'll never convince Marc. "

" maybe not, but i can force him to step down. "

---------

" Marc? " I called out from the peaked open door. I had just gotten out of my bath and realized I had forgotten my clothes. Thankfully, he responded quickly.

" do you need something? " He was at the stairs, but not peering into the room.

" yes. I forgot my clothes. " I told him, embarrassed. Then he looked at me and we very awkwardly locked eyes.

" I'll bring you pajamas or something. I don't want you wearing the same clothes to bed. " He said, not giving me a choice before walking past the bathroom and heading for a room further down the hallway. When he came back, he covered his eyes and handed me black shorts and a red sweatshirt he said could fit me. I got dressed quickly and he showed me to the guest bedroom. The second story to his house was weird. There were two bedrooms and for some reason, a small kitchen and an entertainment room. He told me he was running a mission under the name Mr. Knight, and I was one of the few people who had actually seen his face before.

" I'll wash your clothes for you, and you can sleep here until you're in a situation where you don't have to stay with me anymore. " he said lazily, pointing to the queen sized bed in the room. He seemed tired, exhausted even. I was also tired.

" and, uh... Goodnight. " He said, but before he could walk out of the room, I stopped him.

" Marc? Thank you. " I thanked with a smile. He quirked his eyebrows and then shut the door as he left.

For the rest of the night before I fell asleep, all I could think about was Johnny. I didn't even want to think about Khonshu, but all I could think about was how much I was truly missing Johnny. He didn't know my situation, and he was never going to know what my situation was. At least unless he ended up on surviving. But I couldn't help but think maybe somewhere else, there could be a universe where the both of us would be finally happy together. We could have a family and live far away somewhere quiet. But now, I had my eyes set a a bigger prize, a prize I wasn't even sure I truly wanted.

---------

" wake up, slut. "

I had awoken, but not in the way I expected to. I had waken to someone screaming in my ear and splashing my face with cold water. I was gasping for air and my body jerked like I was falling and I got violently pulled back against something hard and cold. I looked around and I found myself to be in an unfamiliar room, arms and feet tided behind something that felt like a pipe or pole. I couldn't move and I was have trouble adjusting to the dark room. Panic immediately rose in me, and I began frantically searching around for any signs of anything even though it was completely dark.

Then, a red light suddenly came on, illuminating the room and showing me I was in an empty basement with an unfamiliar person standing in front of me.

" oh my, you're even sexier up close. "' He chuckled. He looked like Marc a little, but something about him was different. He wore a black suit and his hair was combed to the side and flat with gel. Not only that but he had a completely different demeanor.

" I know you're wondering who I am, and It's a shame you don't know already. My name Is Steven Grant, and I think you'd be great in this new movie I'm making. "

• Chapter One: The Angle and the Martyr

-- end

~~~~

A/N:

Hello if you've made it this far, and thank you SO MUCH for reading. This is a revamped upload if the original up load of this I posted around march. I hope you enjoyed, please let me know what you think in the comments <3.I just wanted to take a moment just to talk about this for a second. Out of all of the fics I've made, this one was the hardest. A lot of inspiration, listening to a lot of nine inch nails and pulling all nighters to write drafts in a notebook were put into this fic. I've never thought out a fic as well as I did this one. None of my fics were beta read or edited, but this one was ( including a playlist that I had to match up songs with timelines in this chapter) I deleted this post about a week after I uploaded it. I thought it was cringe, and it is, but I realized it had potential. So I took my time these past two day, and went through everything I had wrote... five months ago and I added onto it. I don't like this chapter, but I like everything that comes after it, and I hope you guys will too.

But this is the darkest fic I've ever written, and it's only about to get more dark and fucked up. I feel like I got a bit lazy on my writing sometimes during this fic but I think it's fine. Only recently, I wanted to add an oc I had into this fic--and I know that sounds bad, but here me out. Hes another alter of Marcs and his name is Joseph Mills. He's a journalist and yada yada. I don't think he's going to be in this fic, but we'll see where the road takes us.

This chapter was originally going to be named Johnny and start with a poem foreshadowing the ending of this fic. I don't know how to fucking write poems and the ones I made ended up on not sounding good. This fic was originally going to be based off of Phantom of the Opera only. The stories are different but still similar. There was a Johnny but Johnny wasn't like.. fucking dying. Khonshu played the same role but the relationship between him and M/C was less abusive and less sex. Marc was supposed to be the Phantom and would talk the reader into killing people who " deserved it "but didn't know how to expand the story from that point on and I came up with 5 different alternatives for plots. This fic was supposed to be called Phantom Moon, White Knight, Black Knight or The Downward Spiral. I didn't know Black Knight was already a marvel character so I didn't chose that and White Knight just wasn't enough for me. I hated Phantom Moon after the first week of writing, and right before I published this I scrapped the Downward Spiral title because I didn't want to make it obvious this was inspired by the album TDS and wanted something original. I filled an entire 160 paged notebook with ideas and drafts or demos, whatever you want to call it, for this fic. I almost introduced Gena one time, but she sadly did not make the cut. I'm excited to release this next chapter. There will probably be 1-2 or 1-3 chapters. But that's about it. Cya.

Xo, Bullet

#marvel #marvel cinematic universe #moon knight #marvel mcu #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant #moon knight comics #marvel comics #marvel smut #marc spector smut #mk comics #comic marc spector smut #comic marc spector #jake lockley fanfiction #jake lockley smut #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant smut #marc spector x reader #comic mr knight smut #comic mr knight #mr knight #mr knight smut #mr knight x reader #mcu #mcu smut #mk

[thenewgothictwice]

A story of love and resistance | The Electronic Intifada

Susan Abulhawa - "Several members of their family were martyred that day. Israel murdered two of Layan’s siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, their spouses and children, the two cats Layan promised to protect, and, most painfully, their mother.

“She was our whole world,” both Layan and Ghada tell me. They show me pictures of her, a beloved matriarch at the center and head of their close-knit family.

Ghada calls to her sometimes in her sleep, waking other women in the hospital room.

Again, the only possession that survived the second bomb was the plastic purple box of their love letters and notes.

“God spared our letters because our love is true, not just one bombing, but two!” she says, and adds, “I just want to know he’s okay.”

A week into my stay in Gaza, they called me to their corner of the hospital room as soon as I walked in from a long day elsewhere in Gaza. They are both giddy, smiles stretched across their beautiful faces.

“We’ve been waiting for you all day to tell you the good news!” they say, and I am excited and curious to hear.

She motions for me to come near. I bend my ear to her face, and she whispers, “Laith is alive. He’s in [withheld name] prison!”

I feel over the moon to know that this man I never met is alive, and I make pleas to God to protect him and bring him home to Layan. I pray for their reunion and feel honored to have been allowed to share in this rare moment of relief and hope at this hour.

Israeli television recently aired snuff videos of an unknown prison featuring systematic abuse and torture of Palestinians they’ve kidnapped. I wondered if Laith was among the men forced into degrading positions as Israelis spoke over them as if they were vermin.

I think about Laith when I read Western propaganda accounts of mass rape by Hamas. I know they are parroting Zionist lies, not only because they offer no evidence, and not only because honest journalists around the world have blown holes in their stories, most prominently the shameful New York Times feature co-written by a former Israeli military official who liked genocidal comments on social media, including one saying Israel needed to “turn the strip into a slaughterhouse.”

I know in my heart they are lies because, like most Palestinians, we understand the values that animate Hamas.

There is much one can criticize Hamas for, and many do. But rape, much less mass rape, is not one of them.

Even the biggest detractors of Hamas, including Israel, know such acts would never be tolerated among its ranks in the first place, and in the improbable circumstance that they happened, would be punished with expulsion and/or death.

May God protect Laith and every Palestinian fighter who left their family to sacrifice their lives for our collective liberation.

I will continue to imagine a day when he and Layan are together again, their home rebuilt in Gaza and filled with the patter of their children and the family gatherings of those who remain."

#susan abulhawa #palestine #gaza #free palestine #gaza genocide

[darkcrowprincess]

I so want to write a romance like Lukercy or Pernico... Fanfics aren't really my thing, but I'm often inspired to create my own stories. There is so much potential behind these dynamics. I'd love to know if you have any ideas to offer, because I don't really have a starting point, or even a concrete idea. Maybe there will be nods to Romeo & Juliet, who knows ? Your posts and reblogs on them finally made me see and understand the beauty of this love story. Most of my romances will certainly have nods to it now, like with the case of Beauty and the Beast.

@darklinaforever

Do I have ideas!!! I got tons. And if you want to take them off my hands I'd love that!

Percico:

I have this idea for a potion of Endymion fic. Where to save Percys life Nico gives Percy a potion that heals him but puts him in immortal sleep(look up the greek myth Selene and Endymion to understand). Now Nico has to find a cure for Percy. The catch is though Percy and Nico can meet in dreams/have shared dreams. The dreams are very addictive. Nico and Percy are both very tempted to stay in the dream world where nothing bad could hurt them and thry can be together(Nico thanks since its a shared dream its the obly reason why Percy has feelings for him). The dream world is something they both can share and create together.

A 2004 troy movie au where Percy and Nico are Helen and Paris. Percy is in an abusive arranged marriage(it doesn't have to be Annabeth, but if i were to write it thats how I'd see it) so Nico his secret lover hides him away on his sister Bianca's boat when their heading back to Troy. Now war is on the horizon because Percy's abusive spiteful spouse wont let him go. But Nico will fight for him(look up the plot for 2004 troy)

Romeo and Juliet style romance between Percy and Nico who are young gods. They are children of Poseidon and Hades and are forbidden from seeing each other.

Lukercy:

Luke and Percy runaway together(Canada or Alaska) sometime between canon and dont look back. They start a horse ranch together. Maybe someone from their past finds them.

This one is based on the tv show. But them aged up. Luke kidnaps Percy and takes him with him through the portal when Annabeth finds them.

Luke is resurrected during Heroes of Olympus and helps the seven. He has gold angel wings and mainly protects Percy. He and Percy fall in love.

Tv show again, Luke finds where Percy lives in New York before season 2. Luke keeps trying to convince Percy to join him. Also apologizes for hurting and lying to him. Percy also wants to convince Luke to leave Kronos. Adventure and romance in New York for a year before summer. Who will convince who?

Hope you like my ideas.

#my thoughts #percico #pernico #lukercy #perluke #percy jackson #nico di angelo #luke castellan #otp:doomed by the narrative🗡🌊 #otp:don't pretend that you don't want me🌊👻

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Following the Supreme Court’s elimination of the federal right to abortion in June, conservatives have taken aim at other fundamental protections, such as same-sex marriage and access to contraception. But some on the right are resurfacing a different, long-simmering project: stigmatizing divorce, including, in some instances, attacking no-fault divorce laws.

No-fault divorce in the U.S. was first adopted in California in 1969, and New York was the last state in the country to pass a no-fault divorce law, which it did in 2010. Although state laws differ, in general no-fault divorce means that one party can successfully dissolve a marriage without needing to first prove wrongdoing by the other partner – including adultery, abuse, or desertion.

Ohio Republican Senate nominee J.D. Vance praised the idea of staying in violent marriages in remarks to high school students in southern California last September. Vance argued “all of us should be honest” about how “making it easier for people to shift spouses like they change their underwear” by leaving marriages that were “maybe even violent” had negative effects on the children, according to Vice, which first reported the comments.

Although Vance’s comments were made before the overturning of Roe v. Wade, they’ve taken on a new salience amid a conservative movement that sees formerly out-of-reach goals as newly attainable. And Vance has lots of company in right-wing media.

Reactionary YouTuber Tim Pool recently discussed no-fault divorce laws on his show, titling the clipped segment: “No-Fault Divorce Has DESTROYED Men's Confidence In Marriage, Men Don't Want To Get Married Anymore.” The discussion focused on how no-fault divorce laws were to blame for what the panel perceived to be a rise in prenuptial agreements, which segued into a meandering discussion lamenting divorce in general.

“The courts are heavily biased in favor of women to an insane degree, especially with children,” Pool said, parroting a cliche often espoused by so-called men’s rights activists, an anti-feminist movement that claims men are structurally disadvantaged in divorce proceedings and family court. (Although it is true that women are generally granted sole custody more frequently than men, the reasons for that are complicated and have to do with men historically having higher incomes and sexist ideas about mothers being natural caregivers.)

Fellow conservative YouTuber Steven Crowder has also argued that no-fault divorce laws are disincentivizing young men to get married. In an unfocused June 24 rant calling for the Supreme Court to now overturn marriage equality rights conferred in Obergefell v. Hodges, Crowder said no-fault divorce laws are “a raw deal for a lot” of men.

“Oh, it’s no-fault divorce, which, by the way, means that in many of these states if a woman cheats on you, she leaves, she takes half,” Crowder said. “So it’s not no-fault, it’s the fault of the man.”

“There need to be changes to marital laws, and I’m not even talking about same-sex marriage,” he added. “Talking about divorce laws, talking about alimony laws, talking about child support laws.”

That wasn’t the first time Crowder has made the argument. After referring to “no-fault divorce states” using air quotes in an April 22 segment, he said, “It’s the only contract that I know of where one side is financially incentivized to break it.”

“If you’re a woman that comes from meager means, and you want to get wealthy – you’ve never worked, you didn’t get a degree, you have no skill set, but you’re good-looking – your best path to victory is simply to marry a man, leave him, and take half,” Crowder added. He later reiterated that “we need to reform divorce laws in this country.”

Some of the loudest anti-LGBTQ conservative voices are also the biggest critics of no-fault divorce, in both cases making an appeal to tradition and what they see as a God-given natural order while defending nakedly patriarchal power relations. Patriarchy depends on a rigid gender binary, with clearly defined roles and expectations; conservatives believe LGBTQ identities subvert this dynamic. Similarly, no-fault divorce laws upended patriarchal power, freeing women from de facto second-class status and dependence on men.

No one encapsulates this tendency more than the virulently anti-trans conservative pundit Matt Walsh. In defending Kanye West’s harassment and threatening behavior in March toward his estranged wife Kim Kardashian, who had recently filed for divorce, Walsh also argued that it should be more arduous to dissolve marriages.

Walsh has made versions of this argument dating back to at least 2015, explicitly in the context of the supposed threat that same-sex marriage posed to heterosexual couples.

Walsh’s Daily Wire colleague Michael Knowles made the same point last year.

“We see the weakening of marriage through no-fault divorce," Knowles said. “This is a very bad turn of events.”

“Do you think society has gotten much better since the social and sexual revolutions of the 1960s? Or has it gotten a little bit worse?” Knowles asked. “Are we in a period of ascendancy or a period of decline?”

Knowles’ line is increasingly common on the right. Senior writer at National Review Online Dan McLaughlin also sees the liberation movements of the second half of the 20th century as a locus of social disintegration, recently linking gay marriage rights and no-fault divorce as twin aspects of a singular problem.

Some conservatives are even more overt in their playbook. The right’s successful campaign to overturn Roe should serve as a “path by which campaigns for social change must be patterned,” Katy Faust and Stacy Manning write at The Federalist. “That’s especially true for those still willing to fight the battle for marriage.”

Faust and Manning run Them Before Us, which describes itself as “a global movement defending children’s right to their mother and father.”

In their piece, they present a hypothetical back-and-forth that activists can use to field questions, such as:

“If you really think family is so important then you must be against divorce.”

• Correct, no-fault divorce is the original re-definition of marriage and it has devastated the American family.

(The two also oppose same-sex marriage on the grounds that “children of gay couples lose maternal or paternal love and half their heritage.”)

Others on the right downplay this trend.

“As for no-fault divorce, it’s not entirely clear that the policy — while a tragic mistake, from the social-conservative perspective—actually features prominently in the mainstream Right’s priorities. (Which Republican is campaigning on repealing no-fault divorce?)” writes Nate Hochman at National Review. To answer the rhetorical question: the Texas Republican Party, for one, which includes in its 2022 platform a proposal “to rescind unilateral no-fault divorce laws and support covenant marriage and to pass legislation extending the period of time in which a divorce may occur to six months after the date of filing for divorce.”

Justice Clarence Thomas’ concurring opinion in the Supreme Court’s recent Dobbs decision, which overturned Roe, made it clear that aspects of the right are interested in rolling back marriage equality and contraception rights. “We have a duty to ‘correct the error’ established in those precedents," Thomas wrote. It’s not difficult to imagine a movement built on patriarchy targeting divorce laws next.

#us politics #news #media matter for america #2023 #republicans #conservatives #no-fault divorce #tim pool #steven crowder #matt walsh #michael knowles #sen. j.d. vance #YouTube #timcast irl #obergefell v. hodges #roe v. wade #patriarchy #Dan McLaughlin #Katy Faust #Stacy Manning #the federalist #National Review Online #Them Before Us #Nate Hochman #National Review #Texas Republican Party #tweet #twitter #justice clarence thomas #feminism

[thephantomcasebook]

The Wilderness: A Psychotic Morally Bankrupt Exercise in Petty Feminist Immaturity

I've been preoccupied lately with the alarming trend of female power fantasies in media involving committing acts of crime and overall evil and not only getting away with it but revealing in a strangely moral superiority and smugness in the acts itself.

Shows and Movies such as "Anatomy of a Scandal", "Last Night in Soho", "Gone Girl", and recently "The Wilderness". Three of which started as novels by female writers. All have a very dubious premise of a so called "Wrong Woman" getting revenge on their spouse or boyfriend by dark and extremely immoral ways and are anointed as heroines by the writer for the supposed "Liberation" of the female protagonist by committing otherwise heinous acts that do not fit the crime they're supposedly avenging.

"The Wilderness" is one of the most dangerously psychotic and frankly one of the most immature examples of this trend of the female revenge fantasy. In which Olivia (Played by the amazing Jenna Coleman) murders her husband's mistress and then proceeds to cover up the crime under the guise of helping her unsuspecting husband protect himself, before framing her husband for the crime she committed. Then, in the end, the show frames this all as an empowering and heroic triumph, despite Olivia murdering two otherwise innocent people.

It is uncomfortably unhinged to go through the reasoning of the show that Olivia who killed her husband's mistress and beat the mistress's boyfriend's head in with a stone is less guilty than her husband who was cheating on her since they moved from London to New York. That somehow killing two people is less worse than her husband's serial infidelities with his American female workmates. Most of all is the strange encouragement and affirmation from other female characters like Olivia's mother and even the goddamn female Police Detective investigating her. They all continuously tell Olivia that she's not evil and what she did isn't bad, despite the fact that two innocent people are dead because she killed them.

I find it a disturbing growing trope in female led fiction that if one feels a certain way that any action taken from those emotions are valid and morally justified no matter what is done. That hurt feelings translating to an unhinged violent or transgressive action against someone is affirmed as empowering if said person has indeed emotionally wronged the female protagonist. Thus a cheating husband is far worse than the wife that murders because somehow he is the reason that his wife is killer. It is not only childishly immature logic of a toddler throwing a tantrum but outright ignores any personal responsibility of the female protagonist's own actions.

I'm for darker and more complex female characters, but said female characters should face consequences for their evil actions.

Also, I'd also like to address the racist trope of the "Magical Black Lesbian" that is also showing up a lot lately in white feminist fiction. The frankly immature Sapphic fantasies of women who think that all of their love life problems would be solved by simply being in a relationship with another woman - ignoring the fact that domestic abuse among Lesbian couples is at 64%. But the growing trend of portraying gay black women as some sort of wise and sainted reverent figure borders uncomfortably on the "Old Black Uncle" of mid-19th century antebellum literature in which usually young white female characters are seen as safe and comfortable with non-threatening elderly black men.

Now, in this strange cultist thinking of progressive white women, they've turned the elderly black grandfather into a lesbian black woman who serves two masters of being sainted for her sexuality and skin color while allowing the white liberal woman to show off her virtue by opening herself to the possibility of being in a safe and nurturing lesbian relationship with someone of the "Underclass" thus taking on their supposed racial and marginalized status and giving them a higher sense of virtue in their own eyes.

I find it all disgustingly dehumanizing, taking a skin color and sexual preference and washing down into a moralistic object of shallow progressive cultist belief rather than see them a person with flaws and prejudices like anyone else.

"The WIlderness", despite stellar acting performances by the main cast - especially from Jenna Coleman and Oliver Jackson-Cohan - remains a rather disgusting and degenerate pieces of morally bankrupt trash.

#The WIlderness #Jenna Coleman #oliver jackson cohen #Last Night in Soho #Gone Girl #Anatomy of a Scandal

[astrologycharts242]

The 12th house of bed pleasures (sex) Using the singer Ashanti's birth chart (sidereal).

I have a video of this on my YouTube channel so imma drop the transcript. Not everybody is into the visual stuff but I recommend looking.

Is the singer Ashanti a sex addict? The 12th house in astrology Part 1 sidereal stumbled on her chart because her birthday is soon and I wanted to see more musician charts. By the way I looked at the transits for when she met Nelly in 2003 and he seems to be a spouse if she was to ever get married or engaged.

Around the time she met Nelly I don't see any indications of a relationship but more so meeting a spouse and February 23 2003 was the perfect day. Her 12th house caught my attention the most because there is a moon, and mars conjunction there. They are both in the in the Scorpio sign of sex drive, and gentilia.Moon is the mind, our thoughts, mental state etc. Although the moon is debilitated her mind would often be thinking about 12th house things. Which are bed pleasures and sex, don't forget she thinks about Scorpio things as well.Basically moon in the 12th house can make someone think about sex a lot. Moon in the 12th house makes someone have an emotional attachment towards sex. Moon in Scorpio makes someone think about his or her sex drive a lot.The debilitation of her moon will make her have emotional trauma or PTSD about sex.I wouldn't know what causes the PTSD though. It could be for various reasons like sexual abuse even rape but it has something to do with genitalia. Mars is what we put our energy towards doing so whenever it is in the sign of sex drive. Mars in Scorpio will make someone have a high sex drive even for masturbation. Mars in Scorpio are those that can go for many rounds. 12th house relates to bed pleasures even masturbation so we can easily see mars makes her put energy towards indulging in those things. Mars and moon being conjunct can show more of an aggressive or rough sexual experiences. Her sex life has a lot to do with control and her boyfriends being very possessive. Since Scorpio is about secrets she likes to keep her sex life very private. Not just with sex life she'll be secretive about her relationships and who her sexual partners are. Her sex life is so secretive I can't even find information of her talking about sex. This sidereal chart clearly shows sexual partners and boyfriends who are not from New York.

#astrology #vedic astrology #ashanti #nelly

[a-strange-inkling]

You wrote in the NYE fic that Eddie & Chrissy are diagnosibly codependent... so do Eddie and Chrissy see this as a negative or a positive aspect of their marriage? Does it affect their abilities to do things as individuals? I think it's kinda cute... but Im just wondering. Also, out of all the friends, are Eddie and Chrissy the most stable couple?

Ah! I love waking up to great questions!

Yes, they are diagnosably codependent, because of their shared trauma and their perpetual fear of losing one another. While they aren’t officially diagnosed and if they would be, they’d be classified as high functioning, it has been suggested by Chrissy’s counselor who has already officially diagnosed them with separation anxiety. They can be apart, go to work, pick up the groceries, get the girls where they need to be, etc, etc. But there is a great emotional and mental strain on both of them when they are separated for long periods of time (especially Eddie).

I’ll definitely tackle that topic more in the Chicago Era and New York Era. It’s so heavy and fascinating.

For Eddie and Chrissy, their bond is very deep and special. They don’t see any part of it as negative. They know where their codependency/separation anxiety stems from (where others don’t) so they have a better understanding of it. When they’re together, they’re fine, it’s not an issue, but it does become an issue with situations like Eddie’s first tour. The girls are just too young to come along, so Chrissy has to stay in New York with them and it’s very difficult on both of them. Eight whole weeks apart. Eddie almost calls it off, but Chrissy doesn’t let him. She knows it’s too important for him to pass up. Like everything in their life, they continue to grow and heal the best they can day by day. It’s not always perfect, but they do their best.

All the couples have their own strengths and weaknesses. Steve and Gwen are pretty healthy and stable, they’re very compatible and want the same things in life, but there’s some strain because Gwen doesn’t know about his Upside Down history and he’s scared and hesitant to share that with her. Same with Robin and Vickie, the domestic day to day stuff is perfect, but when Robin’s trauma flares up, it can be difficult to deal with since Vickie doesn’t understand that part of her. Nancy and Jonathan, as we all know, run hot and cold, they’re passionate and loving, but there is a lot of conflict with Nancy’s ambitions and Jonathan’s anxiety and devotion to his family. They tend to fight often, but always manage to resolve their issues in the end and come out stronger than before.

Eddie and Chrissy are probably the most stable in terms of harmonious partnership. For being so different from one another and having all these odds stacked against them; coming from extremely different backgrounds, their past familial abuse, the paranormal traumas they’ve experienced, their varying physical and mental health issues; I think they’re kind of a marvel for the other couples.

They love each other deeply, of course, and depend on one another, but they also really like one another as they are. They’re best friends as well as spouses. They rarely fight and if they do it’s short lived and they try to learn from it. They see a problem, they fix it. With both their past parental abuse and witnessing unhealthy and broken marriages, they are determined to break that cycle.

Thanks for the ask!!

Sorry it was a big long winded! 💖💖💖

#hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #munningham #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer fanfiction #hellcheer fanfic #old haunts #ask answered

[starry-blue-echoes]

You ask and I shall receive. Also can I be an anon here?? I really enjoy your content and actually sent a couple Jojolion AU asks myself ;) Anyways, let's get into it.

So, Shiloh is a time traveler from the 2020's [this year, actually!] and holds the stand Space and Time. Technically it's two stands but I think of it like Mista's Sex Pistols. It's fine. So anyway, this grants them the ability to time travel and warp reality, a bit like sans undertale and doctor strange. They are from Germany going on a college tour to New York for their studies. One night when they're off on a walk their stand Time kinda fucks up and transports them back to 1930's New York where they accidentally run into Joseph and get pulled into his wacky shenanigans. The plot continues fairly normally, saving Caesar from being stuck in a rock and a hard place. Until they have to leave to go back to their time, choosing the worst time for this, when Kars gets knocked into space. Everyone thinks they're dad now, oh no :(

Now back at their own time, they meet Ayumu, another stand user of Pillar Man descent [what are the odds], and the two of the take down an evil CEO of a company from Global Domination, making allies along the way. I don't have it super planned out, but during this time Shiloh gets attacked by a stand ability and shoved into a pocket dimension. Obviously they teleport the hell outta there but they end up in the 1870's England before Dio had beef with Jonathon. They are incredibly tired so they go to a bar to wind down when they see this kid being abused by their dad. They stand up for the kid and take him out for an actual meal because that kid as def starving. They have a nice talk and Shiloh stays for a it, but eventually as to leave to fight in that bizarre adventure in their time. But as something to remember them by, they give the kid a little green heart pin. You'll never guess who the kid was.

A couple years pass from defeating the company and now Shiloh and Ayumu are married, congrats fellow gays. They take their honeymoon to Egypt in the 80's for funzies. But then Shiloh got nabbed by Dio while the two got separated. The kid Shiloh had met in the 1880's was actually me, Dio, who very clearly remembers what happened that day. Shiloh gets turned into a vampire. Meanwhile Ayumu can not find Shiloh ANYWHERE. She has searched and searched and searched for so long and yet no sin of them, but she knows that they wouldn't abandon her. Until she spots one of Dio's minions [unspecified, possibly Hol Horse] who told her that Dio had them. Now she's angry at Dio, so she asks where the hell he is and what stand ability he has, but the guy runs away once she becomes 'too aggressive' [it's her spouse after all]. She's seen Polnareff before as an agent of Dio, so she decides to go find as many minions as she can to possibly get any info out of them as possible. Then they find Polnareff, non-fleshbudded, and just attacks him. The gang gets involved and Ayumu gets beat up until everuone realizes that all of them are here to kill Dio and Ayumu joins the SDC. Also if you're wondering why Shiloh hasn't escaped Dio's thot manor, I brought in Pucci to steal their stand so they couldn't teleport out of there. Rest in piece Shiloh </3 so they go kick Dio's ass and Shiloh and Joseph have that awkward reunion with each other because Joseph thought Shiloh was dead and Shiloh thought that they'd never see him again because they're lives were literally 100 years apart. Bonus everybody also beats up Pucci and Shiloh has their stand back :)

This is all I can type rn as it is one in the am and I need healthy sleeping skills, I will continue with the lore later because I am far from over :)

-Oc Anon

OOOOOOOOOOO THEY!!!!!!!!!

#this was a very nice thing to wake up to in the morning #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #not my oc #sb answers #oc anon

[nani-nonny]

The kids finally got a partner (or spouse) what would the peepaws react to it? And what would they do if this partner were to hurt them physically or mentally?

I feel like I’m being interrogated(/teasing) about my peepaws and I love it

I think I mentioned in an ask that DMD would be slightly wary for about a year but wouldn’t step in. He’ll let the kiddo figure it out for themselves but get involved if the situation requires it. If their partner were to get hurtful, DMD would repay twofold. He would turn on the Battle Nexus Champion switch and full on threaten the s/o. If it gets worse even after that, he’d send them to Big Mama so that he could have a “word” with them in the arena. He would lend a shoulder to cry on and all the peepaw hugs the kiddo would need to recover, but be unsure of how to make the pain go away.

Reunion would find out on one of those days he visits and be completely astonished. He would tease and joke and make fun of the kiddo, but give a few warning glances to their partner. If he recognizes the partner, he might tease the kiddo even more. In the case the partner is hurtful, he would find out from the other kiddos or see it by chance when visiting. Upon learning/seeing it, he would get involved, surprisingly, like an appropriate adult. (Surprising because of his childish teasing when he originally found out about the partner.) He would demand the s/o never come near the kiddo ever again, will physically involve himself in making sure the abusive partner is nowhere in sight any longer, and assure the kiddo gets the help they need.

LCD would see it by chance when patrolling the Hidden City, or the off chance that he visits New York for a new change of pace when patrolling. He’d feel different about the partner. Uncertain how to feel about it, maybe even a little jealous that the kiddo can keep moving on with life. But he wouldn’t get involved at all. He wouldn’t even watch from afar to make sure the kiddo is okay because, in all honesty, he’s sure they can handle it on their own. But if he happens to see a single tear on the kiddo’s face, the partner will suddenly disappear off the face of the earth. There would be no warning, no signs—just completely wiped clean of ever existing. And the kiddo will never get the closure needed.

WDS would find it so endearing but also finally have a chance to make fun of his own brothers. He’d do everything to embarrass the kiddos while secretly keeping an eye on the partner (that includes the future brothers watching). Cockroach peepaw’s (my nickname for WDS F!Leo because of an ask) nosey ass wouldn’t appreciate being sent away so the kiddo and their partner can be alone, and would give a time limit before he takes his kid away. If the partner was hurtful, the partner should be aware they will face the wrath of WDS and his own brothers. They will make the partner fear ever knowing the kiddo and regret having the audacity of hurting the kid. WDS and ghostly bros will erase all traces of the kiddo’s partner in the lair and help get over the asshole.

#rottmnt #peepaw multiverse #nonny’s corner of peepaw multiverse #nonny peepaws #reunion #whispers of distant souls #leonardo come down #dead man’s deal #nani nonny answers

[princess-of-the-corner]

Also, none of the antagonists have gotten any lasting comeuppance. Not counting Gabriel and accomplices, we have Lila (who is still scheming with the only thing thrown against her being that the school knows about a supposed "lying disease"), Audrey (still being an abusive parent and spouse and gets to just keep doing her thing without even any verbal reprisal), Bob Roth (who was exposed as a plagiarist but whose career did not seem to have taken a blow), Chloé (who has been shoved back into the role with the writers insisting that she is irredeemable, but who has barely gotten any karma for anything she does in Season 4), and Félix (who is apparently set to be redeemed rather than pummeled into the ground). All of whom are or were initially intended to be and listed on TV Tropes as Hate Sinks. Even the racist ticket collector gets off scot-free. At least Alec is (too casually) redeemed (although he wasn't really treated as an antagonist despite causing an Akuma with his bullying nearly every time he appeared).

Not counting Techno-Pirate, who was arrested. But in that same vein, Cash was taken to be arrested for actual murder only to appear in the stinger of Miraculous New York (set later), so he fits in the list.

Kinda hard to hope for and expect the heroes to succeed when the villains are either not affect or rewarded for their deeds.

I think they've attempted to punish Chloé by taking away the Bee Miraculous but like.

Its... not really the best fit at this point and it wasn't entirely thorough her own downfall considering the other shit that happened.

[marta-bee]

Until I moved last fall, I lived about three blocks west of Columbia University. I occasionally went to academic talks and film screenings as an off-campus visitor, and also as a student. I was at Fordham, but we were in a consortium with them, could take their courses and attend their special events without special permission.

So this question of "outside agitators" (on top of being vaguely dog whistle-y and an easy way to avoid dealing with what the protests is about), feels personal. This is my old neighborhood, and it's something I actually know a thing or two about. And while protests were never really my scene, a year ago and in a slightly different context this could have been me.

First, to get the facts on the table: 112 people were arrested last week at Columbia in connection with the protests; 32 (29%) weren't affiliated with the university. A small number face more serious charges like arson and burglary; CNN mentions James Carlson and Aidan Parisi particularly. Parisi is a suspended student, and Carlson they didn't mention any specific connection to the school, but he does have a prior 2005 arrest connected to the G8 protests in San Francisco. On Thursday when the CNN article was published, 74 had been arraigned and of those only 6 were charged with burglary. Based on the context, I'm reading this to mean 68 (91.9%) were only facing trespassing, criminal mischief, or other fairly minor crimes.

James Carlson seems like the kind of boogey-man Fox News and the like have in mind when they talk about outsiders stoking up the protests. He's older, has a history of arrests for violent protests, is being charmed with more serious crimes, and at least as far as this one article went, had no connection to Columbia U. specifically. I don't want to prejudge and should mention (a) the 2005 charges were dismissed in 2007 and (b) he's only been charged not convicted of anything connected to the current protest. But even if he's a professional violent protester chiding the actual students to protest, setting the school on fire, and shooting bystanders from the clocktower for funnsies, he'd still just be one man.

Parisi is in much more gray territory: per CNN he was suspended but still listed as a student on the school's website, also still fighting his expulsion from student housing. So he may not have the same legal rights to be there as an active student, and he may well have had an ax to grind, but he really doesn't feel like an "outside agitator" coming in to make trouble.

That's 2 of the 112 arrests. What about the other 110? We know very little about specific people arrested or arraigned, of course, including if they were actually guilty. But the fact that 32 weren't Columbia students does challenge my perception of this as a student protest. So if you'll allow me a little speculation....

Columbia has a lot of grad students. Grad students often have families. Spouses would probably not be fellow Columbia students.

As I said, grad schools in New York intermingle. We attended each other's events, and have friendships and professional relationships across programs. A Fordham or CUNY Grad Center student would not be out of place on Columbia's campus, but also not be formally affiliated with the school.

Columbia is just south of Harlem. There were regularly posters up for campus events outside my grocery store. The political news I've read has said black Americans are particularly motivated over the Palestinian civil rights abuses (think of all those "uncommitted" votes against Biden in the Democratic primaries). So a major pro-Palestinian protest at Columbia might well have felt like a "neighborhood" event to people living in the surrounding neighborhood, and they probably would have been welcomed.

Schools tend to prefer not to have their students arrested for all sorts of reasons. So students are more likely to be rerouted to campus security, whereas outsiders are more likely to be arrested. Meaning those percentages probably over-represent people from outside campus anyway.

Based on my own experience, it would not be hard to get on campus during the day. Probably they would have had to show an ID at security -- state ID or other-school ID would work fine -- and maybe explain their business on campus. Even telling the truth would get them access. They'd probably also have their bags checked, but if they're just protesting or trespassing it's not like they need to bring gun on campus to do that. Mostly they want to have a record of who's on the campus if anything goes wrong.

Would I necessarily want someone like James Carlson on my school's campus? Possibly not, though I don't know enough to really have a hard informed opinion. But just because he's there doesn't mean he's causing the whole situation and that that high-seeming number of outsiders being arrested means this isn't an organic, student protest supported by family, friends from other schools and people from the neighborhood.

The really interesting question is why it should matter, and why people are so drawn to focus on that rather than the very real concerns being protested. But that's a bigger issue than I have the energy to dive into on a Sunday afternoon.

#politics #columbia protest #palestinian protest #marta blathers

[liewithm3]

Domestic Violence During The Christmas Holiday Season

I received a text from New York State's Orange County Family Court asking me to log in to their online portal recently but it is no longer in my message list.

I was nervous and this was my response; But the children may be alive and part of the cover-up, as they also abused me.

I do not trust you.

I do not believe that the children that I supported are alive.

I believe that this is an attempt to hide a crime by the likely perpetrators, Jessica's ex spouses.

I Believe this is may be an attempt to control my future social security income by making it appear that I can't recognize the children that I supported.

You people can do whatever you want with impunity. I'm also sick, and have a hard enough time, just trying to keep up with life.

I rarely made and do not make any attempt to contact the children that might be mine anymore.

You can make even logging in difficult. Have you ever watched Family Guy?

Just text me that they dropped the case and stopped wasting the court's time.

I have no power or I'd investigate and prosecute.

#christianity #feminism #violent relationships #women in stem #domestic terrorism #catholic #jesus #tech

[vajbyrne]

What Family Law Attorneys Do

Family law lawyers can gain early exposure to family law through externships, clinics and other experiential learning opportunities.

Custody and parenting time cases are complex, with states determining child-rearing responsibilities based on a variety of factors. Family lawyers also represent clients in divorce and separation proceedings.

Spousal support is a key component of any divorce case, with courts considering several factors including length of marriage and the ability to work. Family lawyers help prepare legal documents, file court petitions and provide advice to clients.

Child custody and parenting time

When children are involved, custody and visitation are major issues that impact every family. A judge will look at what the child’s needs are and work out a schedule to best meet those needs. It is generally a good idea for both parents to have contact with their children. The schedule might be specific and set dates, or it may be “reasonable parenting time” where the non-custodial parent has weekend or weekday access with the children on a regular basis.

A skilled family law lawyer can help protect your rights and work out the best arrangements for you and your children. Whether it is a divorce, a request for or defense against an order of protection, custody and visitation, or fighting unfair allegations of abuse or neglect, you will need an experienced advocate to help you through this difficult process. Working out the matter outside of court is always a good idea if possible. If it must go to trial, an experienced child custody attorney will also know how to prepare the case for appeal.

Divorce

Divorce is a difficult and emotionally draining process. Family law attorneys help clients navigate this complicated issue and ensure that their client’s rights are protected. Divorce cases often involve complex issues such as property division, child custody and spousal support.

Attorneys whose practice is primarily divorce may still have expertise in other areas of family law such as prenuptial agreements, guardianship or adoption. However, most attorneys whose practice is primarily divorce do not handle a large volume of these other types of cases.

When people think of a divorce attorney, they often imagine a ruthless litigator. In contrast, the image of a family law attorney suggests someone who is more moderate and resolution oriented. Regardless of how they are perceived, both types of lawyers play an important role in helping people through some of the most challenging times in their lives. They do so with vast legal expertise and extraordinary empathy. This is why finding the right lawyer is so important.

Child support

Whether you need representation in a contested divorce or to establish child support payments, a knowledgeable family law attorney can help. Family lawyers often have an intimate knowledge of the state’s laws and procedures, including what judges expect to see in court.

Most states have established child support guidelines that a judge will use to determine the amount of child support payable between two parents. The amount typically depends on the income of each parent and the needs of the child or children involved.

A good New York family lawyer will be familiar with these guidelines and be able to present your case in a way that is likely to gain approval from a judge. He or she will also understand that child support is one of the most important aspects of many families’ lives and work hard to ensure that it is addressed promptly and fairly. They will strive to settle cases through negotiations but will be prepared to take your case to trial if necessary.

Spousal support

Spousal support, also known as alimony, is designed to create financial fairness between spouses after a divorce. It requires the higher earning spouse to pay support to the lower-earning spouse. This can be awarded temporarily while the divorce or legal separation is in progress and then again once the final judgment has been issued.

In New York, courts consider several factors when determining the duration and amount of spousal support. One is the length of the marriage. A judge also looks at the ability of each spouse to earn income. For example, if a person quit his job to grow mushrooms, the court may not award alimony.

A qualified family law attorney can help you navigate a divorce or other family-related legal issues. You can find a reputable lawyer through professional organizations, which often have tools to help you locate an affordable attorney. You can also seek out pro bono assistance or community legal services.

[cuntwrap--supreme]

I love the pride market because I always end up meeting actual elder queers (like, people who are 55+) and getting to hear their stories. Just got done talking to a woman who had to be in her 70s about how she and her girlfriend of 45 years met in rural Alabama back during a time when they'd have been openly abused by their families and community, yet they continued to meet in private until they both saved up money to move to New York and start new lives. Like, she'd been engaged to a man she knew she could never love (because gay) and she and this other woman both up and left their respective spouses/fiances to go be gay New Yorkers, and there's just something so beautiful about that. The balls that shit had to have taken. I can't imagine how scary that would be.

#gay #lesbian #lgbt #queer #lgbt community #pride