#and here i thought david was supposed to be the subtle one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

incognit0slut · 5 months

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Better for you

Spencer spends the change of year with a new resolution as he starts looking at his rival differently.

(THIS CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE BUT IS TECHNICALLY A THIRD PART FOR LOSE CONTROL AND THE LAST LAUGH)

words: 4.6k Category: fluff (surprisingly this is not my usual NSFW work) warnings: kissing, suggestive content a/n: I’m killing two birds with one stone here. One, I caved in and did another part for this rival couple. And two, I wrote this as a participation in @imagining-in-the-margins office party writing challenge🥳 Here are the prompts: 1. The team hardly believes it when Character A agrees to dance with B. 2. “I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

WAS A PARTY SUPPOSED TO BE THIS BORING? A subtle sigh escaped her lips as she glanced around the backyard. When Rossi invited the team to gather around at his house in celebration of the new year, everybody was on board.

"Who would say no to a David Rossi party?" JJ had said, which led her to bring her family along the occasion. Even Simmons brought his wife and five little kids. And now Rossi’s place never looked so alive with this many people, it seemed that everyone was present at this joyful soirée.

Everyone but one person, that is.

She turned her attention back to the drink in her hand, leaning against the open bar Rossi had set up, her mind drifting towards a certain man. It wasn't like she was keeping tabs on him. Really, she wasn't. It just happened that his absence became surprisingly noticeable when he decided to take some time off work to visit his mom, even days before Christmas break.

How long had it been since the last time she saw him? Two weeks? Three? It seemed like a considerable amount of time had passed since she saw was forced to work with him, which happened during the case in a remote town. And despite successfully apprehending the Unsub days later, her resistance to temptation, unfortunately, wasn't as successful.

It was hard not to think of what happened during the travel when it kept playing in her mind like a broken record. It was as if the memories were engraved in her brain—his slick, sweaty body pressing against hers; his soft lips caressing her skin; his large hands roaming her curves, traveling to places that had her hot and wet—

What the hell was wrong with her?

She took a sip of her drink—or more like chugging it down—trying to test if the burning sensation could wash away her filthy mind.

"Whoa," a sudden voice broke through her haze and she looked up to find Luke standing close to her. "Easy there."

His easygoing grin met her gaze as he gestured toward her almost empty glass. She shrugged, aiming the glass toward him in a mock toast. "Just trying to enjoy the party."

"Yeah?" He chuckled, leaning against the bar.

She shot him a sideways glance. "What's it to you, Alvez?"

His grin widened. "Well, when someone's drinking like they're on a mission, it catches my attention. Everything okay?"

She hesitated for a moment before responding, her tone calm. "I'm just getting into the party spirit, you know?"

Luke raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor unwavering. "Is that so? Or are you trying to drown out some thoughts?"

She scoffed. "Thoughts? What thoughts?"

"The kind that makes you chug down your drink."

"You're imagining things. I'm simply enjoying this..." Her eyes scanned the party, trying to find a word describing the ongoing festive. "...ambiance."

"Alone by the table full of alcohol?"

"Well, someone's got to keep an eye on these drinks from disappearing too quickly."

"Hmm," He responded. "It kind of seems like you're waiting for someone to join the party."

Her cheeks warmed slightly, and she scoffed again. "I know who you're referring to, and no, I am not waiting for anyone."

He leaned in, the mischief in his eyes unwavering. "So, you're telling me that if Reid walked in right now, you wouldn't do a happy dance?"

"Please, there would be no happy dance," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just a casual acknowledgment, maybe."

"Casual acknowledgment? You're going with that?" His grin widened, his teasing persistence unyielding. "There's nothing casual about you two."

"If you mean hating each other's gut, then sure, there is nothing casual about Reid and me."

"He doesn't hate you, you know." She gave him a deadpanned look, her skepticism evident in her arched brow. Luke laughed. "Fine, he disliked the idea of having another prodigy on the team. When he got out of prison, he felt like you were his replacement."

She frowned. "I kind of was. Emily wanted someone to fill in for his absence while he was away."

Luke raised an eyebrow, his expression turning thoughtful. "True, but I think you're starting to grow on him." She shook her head, trying to brush off the comment. "I'm serious, I think you made an impression."

Her skepticism lingered as she fully turned towards him, pointing a finger at him. "So you’re telling me every time he tried to pick a fight he was actually impressed by my intelligence?"

"Well, Reid's got this... unique way of expressing himself, but trust me, he respects you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Now you're just pushing it."

"There's got to be something more than what you're letting on. He's not exactly subtle, you know."

She leaned back slightly, trying to maintain composure. "You're reading too much into it. Reid and I have..." a complicated dynamic between coworkers who hate each other but had sex twice—well, three, including that one time in the shower. "...a professional relationship," she decided to say.

His grin widened. "Professional? I've seen the way you two spar during cases."

She huffed. "It's just our way of solving problems. It doesn't mean anything more."

Luke's expression turned thoughtful. "I've worked with him for a while, and he usually doesn't go back and forth with people in smart talk. There must be something about you that intrigues him."

"Or irritates him," she added dryly. "You're giving him too much credit."

"Maybe," he admitted with a laugh. "But I don’t know, he might surprise you one of these days."

She shot him a skeptical glance. "I highly doubt that."

"Yeah?" He suddenly looked past her, a sly grin forming. "Then maybe should find out for yourself."

Confused, she turned around to see what had caught his attention…. And time seemed to slow as her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted Spencer entering the party, a casual smile on his face as he greeted everyone. For a moment, their eyes locked, and despite her attempts to remain nonchalant, a subtle flutter danced in her chest.

She quickly looked away, her attempt to maintain composure falling apart.

"See what I mean?" Luke's voice broke through her thoughts.

She rolled her eyes, trying to deflect. "It's just a party, people look at each other. There's nothing special."

He raised an eyebrow and responded with a hint of sarcasm. “Sure."

"I'm serious. Stop reading into it."

"Alright, I won't."

That only annoyed her even more. She took a deep breath, attempting to regain control of the situation. "You're insufferable."

"What? I believe you," he replied. "I mean, nothing could've happened between two people who were locked together and then forced to share a room, right?"

She shot him a glare, but before she could say anything, she felt a presence coming up behind her. A sudden chill ran down her spine as she caught a whiff of scent she was accustomed to by now, something woody and fresh with a subtle hint of sweetness.

"Reid," Luke greeted as he gave her a side glance before moving towards Spencer, casually dropping an arm around his shoulders. "It's good to see you. How's your mom?"

Spencer's eyes met hers briefly before responding to Luke, "She's doing well, thanks."

“Good to hear.” Luke nodded his head towards her. "Y/n here was just telling me how much she missed you during the holidays."

Suppressing a groan, she shot him a warning look. Spencer, however, responded with a small smile. "You did?"

Her cheeks warmed slightly, caught off guard by his direct question. She feigned nonchalance, offering a casual shrug. "Please, I was just mourning the lack of someone to challenge my wisdom."

Luke chuckled and gave her one last pointed look before excusing himself with a pretense of Rossi calling him somewhere from the crowd. Her eyes narrowed on his back as he walked away, shaking her head in disbelief. "That man coming close to being second place on my hate list."

"I take it I'm still on your number one spot then."

She turned towards him at the sound of his voice, and now that they were alone, she finally took her time to observe him.

Her eyes scanned his clothes, taking in the details. From the carefully styled hair that hinted at the time he took to prepare, to the open dress shirt that he seemed unbothered to button all the way, exposing his long neck and the slight expanse of his chest. He looked good. He looked clean, polished, and undeniably handsome.

She blinked and cleared her throat, attempting to regain composure. "Well, you certainly took your time getting ready."

He met her gaze with a hint of amusement in his eyes, seemingly aware of her scrutinizing observation. "I believe in making a good impression," he replied, a subtle smile on his lips.

She arched an eyebrow, resisting the urge to acknowledge the effect his appearance had on her. "Trying to win over the crowd with something beyond your brain?"

"Partly," he admitted, "And partly because someone once told me that a well-dressed genius is a force to be reckoned with."

"Must have been Garcia."

He grinned. "You know her well."

She took another sip of her drink, a blend of sweet and bitter notes dancing on her tongue. Keeping her eyes on him over the rim of her glass, she observed the play of shadows on his face, accentuating the angles of his features. The ambient light from the party cast a subtle glow, and she couldn't help but notice how it highlighted the soft strands of hair that fell gracefully across his forehead.

"I'm actually surprised to see you here," she slowly remarked, her voice laced with curiosity.

"Surprised? Should I be offended?"

"I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

"I'm not," he agreed. "The only exception of social gathering I can endure is with everyone present here."

"Including me?"

“Especially you."

Her demeanor faltered for a split second, caught off guard by the unexpected turn in his tone. It wasn't the usual witty remark she anticipated. A flicker of surprise crossed her features before she could conceal it, her throat clearing as she attempted to regain control over her beating heart.

"Especially… me?" she echoed, attempting to mask the surprise in her voice.

Spencer's gaze held a warmth that felt unfamiliar, and he nodded. "It seems social events are more bearable when you're around."

She tilted her head and studied him. "You're just saying that because you have someone to pick a fight with."

"A fight?" He wondered. "Is that what we've been doing?"

"It's what we've always been doing."

"Not for the past few weeks, we haven't."

She knew what he was referring to. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of indulging in a conversation about their sexual escapades, she instead responded with, "Well, you haven't, I'm still trying to play my part here."

He chuckled softly, the sound resonating in the quiet space between them. "And what part would that be?"

"The one where I constantly question the liability of your knowledge, of course."

Spencer's smile widened, the lines of his face softening. "Maybe," he began, his voice low, "We can explore different roles that don't involve any fighting."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting a truce, Dr. Reid?"

"More like a change of tactics, Dr. L/n," he replied, gently taking the glass from her hand and placing it by the bar.

Her frown deepened, uncertainty in her eyes. "What are you doing?"

He nodded toward the center of the backyard where most of their team members filled the space of the party. "Dance with me."

She gazed towards the dance floor, then back at him, and her brows furrowed. That did not sound like the Spencer she knew, heck, she wasn't sure she had ever seen him dance before. Her eyes narrowed further when he gave her a grin.

"Come on, it's just a dance. It won't kill you," he urged, extending a hand towards her.

She eyed his outstretched hand with mock skepticism. "Are you implying that dancing with you is some kind of survival?"

Spencer grinned. "Considering the number of times you've survived my intellect, this should be a walk in the park."

She rolled her eyes. "Intellect, yes. Dancing? I'll take my chances."

"Are you afraid you'll step on my toes?" he teased.

"More like I'm afraid you'll step on mine," she shot back.

Spencer chuckled. "Just one dance, and if you don't enjoy it, you can revert to questioning the liability of my knowledge."

Her eyes drifted between his outstretched hand and his gaze, a silent contemplation unfolding within her. She knew that if she agreed to this, there was no turning back. Was it a wise decision? Probably not. But a small, rebellious part of her was curious to see how the night would unfold.

Spencer watched her with a patient expression, his hand still extended. The music continued to play, a steady beat that seemed to echo the pulse of the night, and after a moment's hesitation, she sighed in mock exasperation.

"Fine," she said, finally placing her hand in his, "But I reserve the right to make sarcastic remarks about your dance moves later."

"Deal," he agreed, leading her onto the dance floor with a grin.

She could feel everyone's scrutiny on them as he pulled her onto the dance floor, her breath hitching when he grabbed her other hand and placed her arms around his neck before snaking his arms around her waist.

"Everyone's watching us, aren't they?" she asked as they started to move to the soft beat of the music.

Spencer's gaze held a mischievous glint as he twirled her around, navigating the dance floor with surprising grace. "Let them watch," he replied, his voice low, sending a shiver down her spine. "It's just a dance, after all."

"You don't strike me as the 'just a dance' kind of person." She arched an eyebrow, unable to shake off the sense that there was more to this move than met the eye. "You don't even strike me as someone who even knows how to dance."

He shrugged. "Dancing is easy. All you have to do is move in circles and hold on to your partner."

He proved his point by pulling her further into his arms, and she couldn't help but notice the contrast in their heights. His broad chest pressed against her, the softness of his abdomen against her stomach, while his arms securely wrapped around her body.

Her breath caught for a moment, her gaze instinctively locking with his. The initial awkwardness transformed into a surprising ease, and she reciprocated the movements with a newfound confidence. The subtle sways and turns took on a rhythm of their own, syncing perfectly with the music that enveloped them.

"See?" he whispered, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down her spine. "Easy."

They continued to move to the rhythm, and she couldn't help but notice the intensity in his gaze. The world around them seemed to blur, and for a moment, she actually enjoyed being held close to him.

But before she could fully relax in his arms, JJ appeared on the dance floor, hand in hand with her husband Will. The look of disbelief in their friend's eyes was unmistakable as the couple approached them while being tangled in their own dance.

"Are my eyes deceiving me," JJ teased, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Or are you two getting along quite well?"

She rolled her eyes, attempting to maintain a casual facade. "It's just a dance. Don't read too much into it."

JJ's grin widened as she exchanged a knowing look with Will. "I didn't think I'd see the day when you and Reid would willingly share the dance floor."

She shot a glance at Spencer, and there was a momentary flicker of something in his eyes—was it surprise? amusement? She couldn't quite place it. Collecting herself, she responded with a mock grimace, "He forced me into it."

Spencer's expression turned playful. "I have a way of convincing people to do things they didn't know they wanted to do."

"You mean manipulate."

He chuckled. "Persuade, Y/n. It's all about perspective."

From the corner of her eyes, she saw JJ and Will exchanging another pointed look. "Either way, you both look like you're having a good time."

"And you both look good together," Will added.

"Thank you."

"We're not together."

They both looked at each other while JJ raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Yet here you are. Spence, you might have just discovered a hidden talent—getting Y/n to dance."

She let out a sigh. "Don't encourage him."

Spencer leaned in, his tone low. "You're just mad because you're enjoying this."

She narrowed her eyes. "Let's not get carried away."

"Come on, just admit it," The corners of his lips lifted in a playful smirk. "You're having more fun than you expected."

"Fun?" She scoffed, attempting to deflect the growing warmth in her cheeks. "I wouldn't call this fun. It's just an unfortunate consequence of being at a party."

"Yet you can't deny that you're not entirely opposed to the idea."

She shot him a glare. "You're dangerously close to overestimating your influence."

"Or maybe you're underestimating your willingness to enjoy the moment."

She shook her head, turning towards JJ. "Can you believe him—"

She stopped when she realized they had been left alone for a while, noticing JJ and Will were already at the other side of the dance floor. However as her eyes scanned around them, the scrutiny of the others didn't go unnoticed by her. She fixed her gaze back on Spencer.

"We must be such a sight to see," she remarked. "I bet they're starting some rumors about us."

He raised his eyebrows. "You think they haven't already?"

She sighed, acknowledging his words. "Fair point."

"What do you think they're saying about us?"

She considered for a moment. "That we secretly don't hate each other," she responded after contemplating her answer. "I think they might be disappointed when they realize the truth."

His arms instinctively tightened around her waist. "And what's the truth?"

She studied him, her heart suddenly beating fast. Weeks ago, she would have answered the question with certainty, stating that they were nothing more than coworkers who were both very stubborn. But as she felt his eyes watching her intently, she wasn't so sure anymore.

"The truth?" she echoed, her voice a little softer than she intended. "I don't know, Reid. What is our truth?"

He held her gaze, and for a moment, she was hypnotized by the look in his eyes. "Well, the part where we secretly don't hate each other is true, for me at least."

Her breath caught as she absorbed his words.

“…you don't hate me?"

"Hate is a very strong word." Spencer leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Hate is often fueled by fear or misunderstanding. It's a complex emotion rooted in our perceptions and experiences. So, in a way, hate is a reflection of the mind rather than a true evaluation of a person."

She couldn't help but let out a disbelieving laugh. "Did you just use psychology to explain why you don't hate me?"

"Considering our line of work, it seemed appropriate."

She shook her head in amusement. "Only you would analyze hate in the middle of a dance."

Spencer continued, "Well, understanding emotions is crucial in our field. And I believe there's more to us than mere hostility."

She pursed her lips together, her mind suddenly going through the times they often bickered. "I still find it hard to believe you didn't hate me the first time we met."

"Dislike would be a better way to put it. But I was at my lowest point at that time. It wasn't just you, I was angry at everyone. At the circumstances. At myself." He slightly leaned back and sighed. "And I admit, it was wrong of me to take it out on you."

Then after a moment of silence, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She felt the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against hers. The apology hung in the air and she found herself at a loss for words. For a fleeting moment, the walls she had built seemed to crumble, leaving her standing on the precipice of something unfamiliar.

She took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper, "And how do you see me now?"

Spencer's gaze held a thoughtful intensity as he considered her question. "I think you're someone who challenges me. There's a depth to you beyond the harsh glare and cold shoulder." He eased, pressing a hand on her lower back. "And, if I may say, someone who looks surprisingly stunning on the dance floor."

A blush crept over her cheeks, and she narrowed her eyes, wondering if he had another motive behind the compliment. "You're using flattery now? Are you trying to get in my pants again?"

He laughed. "Is it working?"

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Nice try, Reid. Flattery might get you far, but not that far."

His grin widened, and he guided her through the dance floor with ease. "Well, I'll have to come up with better tactics then."

His touch, gentle and deliberate, sent a shiver down her spine as his thumb traced an almost hypnotic pattern on the small of her back through the fabric of her dress. The soft caress felt both intimate and tender, catching her off guard. "I mean it though," he said, his voice a soft murmur that resonated with honesty. "You do look beautiful tonight."

There was something in his gaze that was unfamiliar, even hearing him easily compliment her was foreign in her ears. Her confusion must have been evident on her face because he smiled at her. "What?"

She shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. "Nothing. It's just... unexpected, coming from you."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her as they moved in sync with the music. "It's part of my New Year's resolution."

"What? To be nicer?" She guessed. "Be a better person?"

"To be a better person for you," he corrected.

Her heartbeat picked up, and she found herself drawing closer to him, the music weaving a subtle spell around them. The warmth radiating from him, the soft glow of the string lights, and the gentle melody created an intimate atmosphere that blurred the lines between the hostility she often wore.

The distance between them diminished, and she felt the subtle shift in the air. Without registering what she was doing, her fingers came up behind his neck, softly playing with the strands of his hair. They were so soft, just like the look reflected in his eyes. Then her gaze went down to his lips; they too looked incredibly soft.

"Stop looking at me like that."

Her eyes snapped to his. "Like what?"

"Like you want to close the distance between us," he whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. "Because I'm trying to restrain myself from doing just that."

His fingers found the small of her back, pressing gently, while hers continued their silent dance in his hair. Every touch, every movement, fueled the escalating heat between them. His proximity was intoxicating, and the magnetic pull between them was undeniable. The distance diminished further until she could feel his breath, warm and inviting, grazing against her lips.

But before she could indulge herself, Garcia's voice echoed somewhere in the crowd. "It's the final countdown, people!"

Suddenly becoming aware of their surroundings, she released her arms from around his neck and shifted her gaze elsewhere. Her eyes landed on the projector screen, previously used by the kids for a movie marathon and now it displayed the vibrant scenes of people joyously ringing in the New Year celebration.

As the digital numbers on the screen ticked down, the energy in the backyard intensified. The countdown became a collective heartbeat, a shared anticipation that echoed through the crowd.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!"

In those final moments, she stole a glance at Spencer, their eyes locking silently.

"Seven! Six! Five!"

But his stare became so intense that she quickly looked away.

"Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!"

The cheers erupted, and the backyard was bathed in the glow of fireworks, the sky above adorned with bursts of color. She watched the dazzling display in awe, the explosions of light reflecting in her eyes.

Amidst the celebratory chaos, she noticed her friends wrapped in the arms of their loved ones, celebrating happily. JJ and Will shared a sweet kiss, Simmons was embraced by his family, Penelope and Luke exchanged laughter, and even Rossi, with a subtle smile, clinked glasses with Emily and Tara.

And as the colorful explosions painted the night sky, she felt a lingering gaze on her. Turning, she found Spencer watching her intently. His eyes were searching hers as if he were asking for permission to close the short distance separating them.

She knew what he meant. It was beyond asking permission to kiss her. It was a gentle plea to understand the unspoken boundaries that lingered between them. Engaging in intimacy behind closed doors was one thing, but to take that step in front of their peers meant exposing a vulnerability she had carefully guarded. Did she want to cross that line?

A part of her wavered, finding herself drawn to him—his warm brown eyes, his smile, everything about him seemed to call out to a part of her that she had kept guarded. The barriers she had meticulously built started to feel like fragile walls as everything around them started to fade, leaving only the soft glow of string lights and the distant echoes of laughter.

Oh, fuck it.

Feeling the pull of an undeniable force, she took a step closer with a small, bashful smile playing on her lips. It was all the answer he needed. Closing the distance between them, he framed her face with his large hands, his warm touch sending a shiver down her spine. Surrounded by the cheers of the crowd and the vibrant display of fireworks overhead, he finally leaned down, gently brushing his lips against hers.

Warmth spread through her body as he held her, his touch gentle yet possessive. He tipped her jaw, allowing his mouth to move along with hers. His tongue easily slipped into her as he continued to taste the subtle hint of liquor she had been drinking. Spencer was never one to drink, but he didn't mind tasting it on her. If anything, he couldn't get enough.

Her arms instinctively traveled underneath his suit jacket, seeking more of his warmth as she wrapped them around his waist. The fabric of his suit was smooth under her fingertips, and the heat of his body radiated through the layers of clothing.

The kiss deepened as he continued to explore her mouth, growing more intense with each passing second, and it wasn't until they heard someone through their haze calling out, "There are kids here!" that he finally pulled away.

He laughed, a soft, genuine sound and she couldn't help but join in. He then rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space that separated them. The lingering taste of their kiss hung in the air, and for a moment, they simply stood there. The reality of the situation slowly sank in, and they exchanged a glance filled with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"I guess we got carried away," he mumbled.

"You think?" She chuckled, her fingers playing with the lapels of his suit jacket. "We should keep it PG-13 for now."

His fingers gently traced the curve of her cheek. "Does that mean we can go R-rated later?"

She let out a laugh, throwing her head back in mirth. "You're relentless."

He smiled, savoring the moment of ease between them, and he found himself captivated by the genuine joy she radiated. His gaze traveled around the backyard and noticed everyone watching them with amused grins. He leaned down and pulled her flush against him. "Everyone's watching us."

She groaned and hid her face in the crook of his neck. "I can already imagine their teasing."

There was a moment of silence before he responded, "I think it's worth it."

"What is?" she mumbled into his neck.

He pulled away and looked down at her. In a tender gesture, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "I can handle the constant teasing if it means I get to hold you like this."

The corners of her lips curled into a soft smile. "You're willing to endure their teasing just to hold me?"

His gaze met hers, unwavering. "More than willing."

Her gaze softened as she looked at him. She couldn't believe how this night had turned out, yet, here they were—wrapped up in a dance of their own. It was a position she would've never imagined herself in. And despite her best efforts to resist, the walls she had meticulously built were crumbling.

"Can I kiss you again?" He whispered. "I promise I'll make it family-friendly."

The corners of her lips curled as she laughed. The unexpected turn of events had brought them to a place she never anticipated, but surprisingly, it felt oddly right.

"I suppose one more won't hurt."

His smile widened, and with a hint of mischief in his eyes, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. "Happy New Year," he whispered against her lips.

She found herself smiling, realizing that perhaps, unexpected as it was, this change of year wasn't so bad. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, and wondered where her life would take her this year. The path ahead seemed unclear, but one thing was certain—Spencer Reid had managed to find his way into her heart.

a/n: if you’ve followed the story since lose control, this is the ending for this short series. As much as I wanted to write smut again for the last part, the fluff was calling out to me :3

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starbylers · 4 months

Text

This is a response to the person who sent me an ask about their doubt last week, just hiding it below incase people don’t want to see that :)

For context this is an in-depth explanation of:

Why Mike’s monologue had to happen

Hi! And yeah of course I can try. I fully understand why the monologue is throwing you off and as someone who doesn’t believe Mike was consciously lying you’ve come to the right place lol. I explained a little more about why I think that in the tags here if you wanted to read more about that perspective. I’ll probably link to a few other posts in this aswell because it ties into a lot of stuff I’ve made Byler analyses about before.

So the thing you said about his arc being ‘does he love her or not?’ is what I think is causing the issue, because that isn’t Mike’s arc. You’re right in that that’s the question that is being posed to the audience at face value, but that’s not his character journey. I have a long post about this here but essentially, the core driving force of a character cannot be another person—Mike needs to, and does, have his own personal inner conflicts which the Byler perspective provides (pressure to perform being grown up which is made incredibly obvious to us in s3, and dealing with the tumultuous process of figuring out that he is not straight in s4—I personally don’t think he’s there yet though, I think the full realisation of why he’s been having all these problems with Will & El is still to come).

The perspective of ‘yes he does’ love her just because he said the words is the crux of the entire plot twist, because it’s the conclusion people inevitably come to when they don’t pay attention to the details. (I don’t mean this insultingly at all btw! The whole thing is very subtle and easy to misinterpret). And ST is all about details, something which has been told to us by the creators and is also obvious in their use of foreshadowing/hinting/referencing in all aspects of the show, not just Byler.

Mike’s arc didn’t finish a season early. This has even been told to us i.e. by David talking about how s5 will pay off big characters including Mike, and Finn himself saying Mike still has a ‘journey’ to complete, and also just the fact that we don’t have the final season means no-one’s arcs are complete because the story isn’t complete. The fact that a “love confession” occurred at the midpoint (s4/5 are basically intended as two halves of one story—post explaining this here) is what makes it extremely obvious that Mlvn is not the conclusion of this tale.

The monologue can probably be said to have many purposes, but here are the main ones to me:

It presents a solution that ultimately ends in disaster, and associates that disaster with Mike and El’s romance. The monologue is so, so important in showing that Mike and El’s love did not, could not save the day. That it wasn’t strong enough—further proof from the script here. It shows that El got what she thought she wanted, only to discover it wasn’t what she really needed. It may have helped save her but it didn’t help her achieve her goals (save Max, kill Vecna). Kind of a metaphor for their entire relationship lol. It’s also supposed to show that not even an ‘I love you’ can fix their issues—they literally don’t speak afterwards. I’m not sure El’s fully processed all this yet, but figuring it out is what’s going to drive her arc towards self-actualisation and allow her to win next season.

It furthers the miscommunication plot between Mike and Will. It’s an indisputable fact that Will’s lie influenced that monologue. (We can tell just by watching but it’s also in the script if we needed even more proof lol. Not to mention: the track that plays behind it is You’re The Heart. The episode is called The Piggyback. Will’s face is right over Mike’s shoulder when he says ‘I love you’—Will is integral to and inseparable from that confession). That is so important, and something we’re supposed to notice. The whole point of the monologue is who’s really behind it (aka who’s really behind the painting & words that drove Mike’s speech), because this sets the stage for the Byler confrontation next season. It’s literally the Benverly poem plot from IT, something we know the Duffers have taken inspiration from.

If Mike hadn’t gone through with it, there would be no movement forward in the story, we’d enter s5 with exactly the same plot we just watched in s4—Mike trying to say he loves his girlfriend for the literal third season in a row. It’s boring, it’s not good entertainment. Mike finally saying it (and yet there still being problems between them & it occurring under questionable circumstances) pushes development in the narrative, sets up new conflict for the next season. Or, if Mlvn had decided to break up because of Mike not saying it in s4, that would’ve led to Byler becoming painfully obvious and ruining the twist they’ve been setting up for literal seasons. Everyone knows Will loves Mike, and if Mlvn broke up in that same season the entire audience would see the ending of the show coming from a mile away. Remember, Byler is being written as a plot twist. It’s very likely tied up with the supernatural plot too.

The content of the monologue itself is supposed to demonstrate precisely why Mlvn are finished, why they don’t work, and should raise people’s eyebrows about the legitimacy of Mike’s “confession”. Like you said…he remembered her t-shirt lol. It’s impersonal, nothing about why he loves her or what he loves about her; he literally, proveably, lies in it and anyone can verify that by watching s1; and he makes comparisons to superheroes which is the exact opposite of what El needs (her whole issue is thinking she’s either the monster or the superhero, when what she really needs is to stop thinking in such a binary, and learn to be El the teenage girl, the sister, the daughter, the friend, the human being, and find her power in that).

And something else they purposefully do this season is give us examples of other love confessions to contrast and show how ingenuine Mike’s really is: Jancy & Will (not my original post! I just expanded on op’s point).

Now as I said before I don’t think Mike intentionally lied. My opinion is that he knows deep down something is not right with their relationship and that he doesn’t feel how he should, but after Will’s speech and encouragement he choses to believe that he can love her, that he can be what she needs (except it’s not what she needs, it’s what Will needs lol). So not lying, but the monologue is basically a desperate attempt to a) grasp at straightness and b) save her life. He’s in denial, and also terrified of her dying. Very bad combo.

So yeah there’s my reasoning :) what you were saying about the potential of a familial ‘I love you’ is true, yeah it could’ve ended the plot line. But that’s the kind of thing that should be a conclusion to the entire story, something that occurs right before victory not disaster. Because then what would the implication be? That El’s family’s love isn’t enough for her to save the world?

And the way they will explain the monologue is so simple. It’s Will. It’s Will’s feelings that inspired Mike. All that needs to happen is for Mike to realise that, and the audience will realise it along with him. Mike: I only said that because of how much Will loves me? Audience: Oh! So he doesn’t actually love her! It’s Will, Will is who he’s meant to be with! It’s a classic ‘the person who was right in front of them all along’ trope. Once people understand that, it basically makes truly romantic interpretations of the monologue invalid.

I can’t say exactly how the ending will play out—I expect we’ll see the cracks in Mlvn shatter rapidly as s5 progresses, maybe more arguing/demonstration of their incompatibility or El asking Mike to say it to her face and he still can’t, Mike and Will simultaneously getting closer and it becoming increasingly obvious that Mike is in love—but I’m choosing to trust they’ll do it justice. Mike’s monologue is just a key turning point in the larger story.

Also just one last thing, you said he seems sincere and I do agree but I think it’s because his fear in that moment is extremely real, and there are truths within his monologue i.e. that he doesn’t want to lose her etc. so that’s where it’s coming from in my opinion :)

#byler #anti mileven #sorry anon I meant to respond earlier but this week got hectic with those leaks lol #anyway here you go <3 #this is very long btw but I wanted to cover all bases

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third-arch · 2 months

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So, I got Law's perfume.

I did one spray on my drawing pad glove and thought I'd say everything that comes to mind.

I also go nose blind really easily, so I'm posting this so I'll never forget :))!!

I chose to not use the image below and just go with it.

Here's what I was supposed to smell.

My disorganized rambling interpretation of what I smelled.

Overall, Law just smells really nice. He just smells like a guy haha. There's no better way of putting it. It smells like a fresh wooded area with eucalyptus and subtle hints of rosemary. The lemon gives it a more natural and sunshine and morning dew feeling to it. It gives it this slight edge and almost tanginess.

Clean, professional, doctor/'s office, fresh, plants, morning dew, rosemary, some mint.

It doesn't irritate my nose. It makes me feel calm. Just relaxed and happy. There's nothing in particular that makes it pop or makes me feel like waaa >////<, it's just relaxing, soothing, mature. There's a gentleness that follows, too. Like if someone was smiling softly at you or gazing softly, or like a small gentle breeze. Or even patting your head.

No sweetness nor bitterness, just gentleness and softness.

It's nice, like a slight intensity of these mature ingredients and a gentle after feeling.

The best way I'd describe it is like if someone just came out of the shower and was getting ready for the day.

Incense, like a really nice and natural incense. Even like a cologne or something.

There's no sweetness or sugary scent to it. He just smells very natural.

The first thing that I thought of is just Law's back. Like he's wearing nice clothes.

Not like the smell of fresh clothes, but just like nature and plants, specifically eucalyptus. Followed by a soft rain or drizzle. The ground still dark and slightly damp.

Sort of but not really, like if someone had spent the day working with plants at their desk, with a mortar and pestle or just working with plants indoors, and collecting them outdoors.

I think of sunshine peeking through the canopies of trees,

If I had to give it a song, it would be a Hozier song or Daylight by David Kushner. The after smell is Lavender Haze by Taylor Swift, or a more acoustic version of the song and Unidentified Flavourful Object by Mili.

This song, too,

Vivaldi Variation (Arr. for Piano from Concerto for Strings in G Minor, RV 156)

Or maybe like a piano playlist, like something by oliviaalee. Sort of but not really dark academia. (Lemon what are you talking about)

It even smells a tad like very subtly like the ocean. Just like a fresh watery, natural breeze.

I can now smell the lavender and the lemon a bit better.

A bit like fresh lavender.

I feel relaxed when smelling it. It's very mature, attractive, professional, and clean.

A quiet morning. Going on a nice evening date with your boyfriend/partner, who dressed up nice. Like a nice, black suit.

Here are some visuals of what I imagined when smelling it. Literally Daylight-David Kushner MV.

(Insert photo of law shirtless getting out of the shower/bed or wearing a suit or the back of his neck.)

Here’s a transcript of my live reaction to smelling the perfume!!

Overall, just reading this all again makes the smell familiar again :))

In the end, Law just smells like a guy, just fresh and natural.

I hope this helps some writers out there!!

#one piece #op #trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgardwaterlaw #one piece art #trafalgar d law x reader #law x reader #op imagines #law one piece #law #my trafalgar law hc's!!#no surprises a trafalgar law x reader fan fiction

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fantasies-fairytales-n-fics · 2 months

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Code Blue Ch. 47- Punch Drunk Love

Summary: It's one step forward and two steps back for Lee and Jo. The same can be said for Jo and Craig, only their encounter "lands" on a more comical note. Jo wants to play detective. Dave receives a message from beyond the grave.

*Chapter Warnings* language, angst, mentions of murder, drinking, intoxication, ghost child

Chapter characters: Lee, Josie, Craig, David, Jacob

Chapter word count: 6,699

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Salem, Massachusetts

March 21, 2023

An hour had passed since Lee had left you in the boathouse after his regretful blowup. As he sat in his lake house bedroom, staring blankly out the window at the gray sky morning, he could hear the muffled voices of you, Britt and Jason downstairs and then all went quiet, except for the creaking of his door opening.

He closed his eyes and lowered his head in sadness when he felt you softly sit down on the opposite side of the bed. As your movement ceased and you began to speak, a subtle breeze laced with the biting scent of your intoxicating vampire perfume flowed straight to Lee's nose, causing his heart to palpitate as he eagerly inhaled it.

"Jason and Britt are gone, just as you wanted. I think I should go too as soon as the laundry finishes."

Lee turned his head to the side and could see that you were sitting with your back to him.

"I'm sorry about your brother."

"What for? You were right Lee. He and Britt shouldn't be here. It was my stupid idea to bring him here to help Britt."

"It was both of our ideas Jo and it was for the best. Now he can take care of the woman he loves and leave us out of it. I don't want any part of this shit anymore Jo."

"I can agree with you there. Neither do I."

Your weary tone spoke a frightening volume to Lee.

"Does that include me...Jo?"

Your soft voice became hesitant and shaky as you still wouldn't turn to face him.

"I...I don't know what to do anymore Lee. All these secrets are like an incurable cancer and every time I believe it's in remission because you tell me it is, the secrets metastasize and honestly, I don't know if that is even the worst part anymore because we both just accused each other of killing Elizabeth."

"Yep." Lee softly and sorrowfully agreed as he nodded, then turned to face your backside.

"The only difference is, I stood by you and tried to protect you over it by disposing of the blatant evidence I found in my car, but you...you allowed Luke to put doubts in your mind with his circumstantial bullshit and you turned on me. You're the only one who's ever truly known the real me and yet you actually believed I was capable of doing something so repulsive, that I am some monster."

You finally turned to face him with an anxious tone.

"Lee...I am sorry. I know in my heart you didn't hurt Liz and yes, I stupidly let Luke twist my thoughts. God, it's just that lately, your behavior has been so erratic and even violent and you won't tell me why!"

"What..so I'm not allowed to be human and have emotions that happen to include anger?? Everything that has been going on is why Jo and we all react differently to stress, you know that. The day you tried to justifiably attack Landy's sister, THAT was violent but I didn't believe that could make you a murderer. Look at the violent shit Luke has done. He deserved that vase to the head. And Carpenter deserved my fist in his face and Gordon deserved his ass handed to him."

"I get all of that. I do. Can't you put yourself in my shoes just for a minute about Liz though? You cut her seatbelt to mess with her and kept that from me and when you had finally learned the truth that she was responsible for Jacob's death, you and my brother plotted right in front of me about taking her out and framing Ethan and you refused to help her when she was brought to the ER. And now I find out you were off living some double life with Luke that involved blowing up terrorists and god knows what else. What was I supposed to believe?"

"Me Jo. You were supposed to believe me. You just said you believe in your heart that I didn't do it, so which is it Jo? Are you with me or are you against me because it's feeling a lot like you're still against me and if that's the case, then why are you even here?? Jesus Jo...what I did for you, you haven't even said a word about that. Ethan's clearly been watching us. He snuck in here before he killed Liz and took my car, my knife and your clothes, then after he took care of her, he planted everything, all in hopes of framing you because we both know he wants you away from me and yes Jo, at first I believed you had done it, but ONLY due to having some blackout break in reality from your pills and all that wine."

"Something still don't seem right Lee. Why didn't he just kill me then? Wouldn't that have been the easiest and fastest way to get me out of your life and.."

"Jo, stop, god, don't say this shit. Just the thought of him being in this house and anywhere near you......"

Lee paused and rubbed his palms over his face, releasing a stressed sigh, then continued.

"Besides the most important reason, that being that he knew I would come and kill him without hesitation...he still needed to cover his ass in her death because he knew he would be a number one suspect. We weren't supposed to find it Jo. I'm willing to bet Ethan was going to drop an anonymous tip to the police about the evidence and I honestly thought that was why Luke was here, so now, I'm also feeling something isn't right because no one has showed up. Regardless Jo, I risked everything for you, my career, my freedom, because that would all be gone if it were found out I destroyed all the evidence and I DID it to make it all go away for you and like some stupid school boy, I actually thought you'd be impressed."

"What I am is scared Lee. I understand why you did what you did and I DO appreciate it, I promise you, but you have still got to get rid of that knife. He killed her with it and it can be matched up to her wounds."

"I'll take care of it. It will never be found."

"And then what Lee? We just go on with our lives as if nothing ever happened? I mean, first of all, Luke is never going to give up. It's his job now and...."

Lee sarcastically snickered. "It's just his way to feel like he's a good person."

"God Lee, I just don't get it. When he came back for Landy, you and he seemed like really great friends, but with what I just overheard between you and my brother, how is that if Luke supposably set you up as you put it?"

Lee shook his head in frustration. "There's no supposably about it Jo. He did what he did and we were both just trying to move on from it, from that life. I just wanted to forget it and then he just shows back up here as if nothing ever happened and his presence brings back all those bad memories and all those feelings of having to be on guard every second. None of that life was ever supposed to involve you. I didn't hide it from you to be sneaky or deceitful. I'm not that person anymore and I don't want to be, but he brings it out of me and not only that, but I'm not oblivious to his desire of you either. I just want him to go back to where he came from and stay there, in the past. You and I were finally getting it right and he swoops in and fucks our forever all up and now here we are, yet once again. And I know Jo, I know that everything happening is not all because of him. I know it's me too and god, I am trying so hard to be the man you want me to be and that you deserve after all you have been through in the past, but all I have done is drag you through hell and let you down over and over again. You're this angel of light and I'm nothing but a devil of darkness."

Lee's voice had become choked up and if there was one thing that tugged at your heart strings, it was seeing him cry.

"Please don't speak about yourself that way." you compassionately said as you scooted over to him and rubbed his back.

"You're not evil baby. You just feel cornered and like no one is on your side and I cannot apologize enough for ever thinking you could have hurt Liz. All that murder plot talk with Jason was nothing but anger. Your fears had just been validated that she was responsible for Jacob's death and as far as not wanting to help her at the hospital is quite understandable. I overreacted about all that Lee. I know in my heart what a compassionate and kind person you are. It's one of the many reasons I fell for you, so fast and so damn hard. And as far as myself, I am certainly no angel. I have a dark side. You've seen it, especially around Megan. She brings something out of me just like Luke does to you. I don't want to be that person either so I get it. Now you though, you had every reason to believe I could have done it and what you did to protect me, the sacrifices you were willing to make, means everything to me. That is FAR from letting me down. I'm so sorry for how I reacted. So you know, I...I would have done the same for you...without hesitation."

You slid your hand down his bare arm and laced your fingers into his. Lee softly sighed and tried to smile as he then placed his other hand over the union.

"I look at you Jo and I...I just love you and it terrifies me. It terrifies me what I would do for you. I did not wait for you. I didn't even know you were coming. When you walked into my life, I didn't know it was you because I didn't know there WAS a you. You were never a list, a goal, an expectation, a dream, ok maybe you were a dream. You were a surprise, a gift, an adventure, a new beginning to a story I thought I would never have and I am scared to death of losing you and that you won't love me anymore if you know all of the things I've done. I'm scared of a world without you."

"You know I feel the same way about you Lee. It's patience and trust that I am running out of, not love. But...is love enough? Even for us? You keep lying to me and do understand why, but it doesn't make it right. Like you said, your past didn't have anything to do with me and I agree, but when it affects me, it does. It's affecting us Lee. I've looked past your secrets and forgiven you twice now and yet, here we are again. Lord knows I'm not strong enough to stay away from you. I've tried... but I'll have to find the strength Lee, because I won't do this anymore. I don't want to leave you, especially now with all of this and also with tomorrow being the one month anniversary of your father's passing and your birthday being four days away, but it's the third time now of being side swiped by your secrets and it's certainly no fucking charm. We have to trust each other. You have to trust ME and tell me what happened between you and Luke since it involves Peter...and it involves who you were and I want...I deserve to know all of you. Remember that time we danced in your other house and you looked right into my eyes and sang that song, All of Me, to me? You said you give me all of you. I thought you meant it. It's all or nothing Lee. Release this weight and let me help you carry it."

Lee kissed your hand and softly sighed as he gently rested his forehead on yours and gave you a tender eskimo kiss, then brought his sapphire eyes to yours.

"Of course I meant it. Let me show you. Let me make love to you. I need you Jo."

His warm, sweet breath over your mouth was driving you mad with desire and all you wanted to do was press your lips to his and tear his clothes off. Being this close to him was dangerous. You would always become puddy for him to shape and mold you just the way he wanted. You were a puppet on his strings. You were simply spellbound. Lee had healed all the hardships you endured before him, bringing you a peace you had never known and just a simple kiss to his bewitching lips, that alone had the power to render every part of you helpless, sucking your mind, body and soul right into his....but you couldn't give in to him. Not this time. As his lips lowered to yours, you regained control by softly but very reluctantly pushing him back before it was too late.

"Lee, please. No. Sex is not going to make this better or make this go away. Stop deflecting and tell me what happened."

Lee released an obvious sigh of frustration as he closed his eyes and lightly pursed his lips.

"I want to tell you baby. I do. I...I've just never spoken about it to anyone. As I said, I was just trying to bury it and move on. I certainly did not expect this to ever come up, especially now. Feeling cornered is an understatement. There's so much happening. SO much to deal with already. Can't we just do this another time Jo? I will tell you, I prom..."

You pulled your hand from his and stood right up in a huff.

"Don't you promise me anything! I don't believe your promises anymore Lee, because you break them, every single time. You swore to me you had told me everything, but then more dirty laundry always appears and to me, that is a lie...and now, you're making excuses and trying to fuck me to get out of telling me the truth. Putting it off is just making this worse. There's never a right time Lee. You just need to do it. You need to trust me. I'm not going to leave because of your past, but I WILL leave if you can't be honest. I am sorry you feel backed against a wall but it's now or never Lee. I love you more than anything in this world but I am so over this!!"

Lee stood up too and in his anger, he said something he shouldn't have.

"So, it's your way or the highway. Is that it?? Then just go if you want Jo. You would clearly be better off anyways. I said I would tell you and I meant it, but in my own time. I don't like being forced. I'm not ready. Take it or leave it."

"Wow. Well...ok then. Guess I'll leave it. Maybe I WILL be better off because CLEARLY you refuse to change or even try to. You know what? I'm done. I need to go see my mother, see if I still have an apartment and try to find Dave. I'll get my things later."

Lee watched in shock as you whirled out of the room and then he raced down the stairs behind you, pleading for you not to go, for he never thought you would choose that option.

"Jo wait!"

"Wait for what Lee?" you snapped as you tugged your leggings up and slipped your boots on. "You just told me to go."

"I didn't mean it like that. I said take it or leave it. I gave you a choice."

"And I chose! Just like you did."

You grabbed your purse, took out your keys and headed for the door, but not without Lee stepping in front of you.

"Yeah...and quite easily too. So that's just it?? Fuck forever? Jo don't do this. Please. Everything that you want to know, it's not just some quick and simple story to tell. It's dark, it's traumatizing and it's terrifying.

"THIS is dark, traumatizing and terrifying. I'm tired Lee. I'm so fucking tired. Even if you tell me now or tell me later, it will just be half of it, just like it always is, although you will swear to me that you told me everything and then I'll find out the rest later, not by you but by accident and I'm just over it. I don't want to do this anymore. I want a normal relationship and this is far from normal and it's a perfect example of why people put walls up. To protect ourselves and I stupidly let mine down for you. Not anymore. I'm rebuilding it. Now get out of my way Lee."

"Jo. Don't go. Please. Don't leave me. Let me fix this."

"You can't. I don't believe a word you say anymore. I don't believe I would even know what I know if it weren't for overhearing you because I don't believe you were ever going to tell me."

"Ok, that is not true. You don't even understand. I was going to tell you. I had to... or I would have never been able to ask...."

Lee paused with a hard sigh and desperate eyes that quickly wandered from yours.

"Ask? Ask what Lee??"

His hands went to his hips, his head lowered and his eyes closed.

"I...I can't...not yet. Not like this."

"Oh my god....I can't even right now. Goodbye Sam."

As you stormed past him and slammed the door shut behind you, Lee stood dazed and motionless, softly answering your question.

"Ask you to marry me."

You jogged down to the garage where your Monte Carlo was being concealed from the bar thugs and off you went, without a care if they found you. If they did, you would just tell them your car had been stolen and you just got it back. If they didn't believe you and tried something, then you'd give them an attitude adjustment on top of their heads with your Kubotan, Hank Williams Jr. style, just like you did to Luke which dropped the hunky herculean like a sack of potatoes.

For the entire twenty minute drive to your mom's in silence, your arms were locked straight on the wheel as you focused on your breathing so you wouldn't have a panic attack. Everything had escalated so quickly in only a few hours. One minute, you and Lee were dancing in the kitchen and sharing breakfast together, basking in the afterglow following a beautiful night of making love and the next, you couldn't get away from him fast enough. Did you overreact? Should you have stayed and let him speak? You tried this once before, leaving him, which that lasted a whole hot minute and it changed absolutely nothing, so how could you, would you, do it this time when all you wanted to do was turn around and run back into his arms?

The visit with your mom was nerve-racking in itself between trying to hide your emotions over Lee and her trying to hide hers over the horrific ordeal of finding a butchered and still breathing Elizabeth the evening prior and then there was your sister. Your mom informed you that Megan hadn't come home last night and wasn't answering her phone. Of course you couldn't have cared less and wished she'd never come back, but you still tried to make your mom feel better and reminded her that this was not out of the ordinary for Megan to do. It made you think of what Luke told you, that she had actually came to the police station of her own free will and told him that she believed Ethan took Blaise because he thinks he is her father. You had to wonder what would make her turn on him like that. Did she finally see what a dangerous piece of shit he was? Speaking of Blaise, it was now time to go see Craig and you dreaded that almost as much as you dreaded large bodies of water.

As you drove to your apartment, all you could think about was that poor little girl and prayed she was alright wherever she was. For her sake, for Craig's and even for yours, because you knew what Craig's reaction would be when he found out, if he didn't already know, that you knew Liz dropped Blaise off with Angel and you didn't tell him. You also knew he would believe you did it intentionally, which was in no way true whatsoever, to get back at him for not telling you Jason was alive. The guilt was unbearable. How could you have been so self absorbed?

You parked the car and tried calling Dave again before you went into the lion's den and once again, no answer, so you left another voicemail.

"Dave, seriously. Are you THAT mad at me?? If you are, then fine, I can deal with that but at least just text me and tell me you are alright, or text Britt if you don't want to talk to me ok? I'm so worried about you. There's things you need to know about Liz if you don't already and...I really need my friend right now. Ok...bye..."

As you got out of the car, you could hear the muffled sound of music coming from the complex and the only one who blared it like that was Craig when he was working in his art studio. Granted, it was a small complex with only four other tenants but If you could hear it, then so could they and you had to wonder how they could deal with it, BUT, at least his taste in music was right up your alley and when you entered the building, the artist's distinct voice could not be mistaken. You always loved a good David Bowie tune....and this one seemed rather fitting for what you walked in on. How relevant it was for you as well.

youtube

Upon nearing his wide open studio door, the strong odor of paint and sweet cigars stung your nose. You weren't sure what was worse as you walked in. The smell or the vision of him lying on a wheeled platform, desperately engrossed in smearing yellow paint over a giant canvas with his bare hands, silver rings on and all.

The closer you got as you walked up behind him undetected, it was clear that he was not only drunk as you glanced down at his glass of blood red wine and two empty wine bottles on the floor, but he was in a very deep state of despair. He appeared as if he had just rolled out of bed, although he didn't look as if he had even slept at all as your astonished eyes rolled over him from head to toe. His dark hair was wildly awry as was his normally groomed facial hair and his feet were as bare as his revealing bare bottomed butt crack which you highly doubted he gave two fucks about considering anyone could walk in just as you did.

You now had the problem of getting his attention without startling him, for you knew why he was in the condition he was in because the last time you had just walked in unannounced, you were accidentally almost struck with a can of blue paint due to his fit of rage, and right now, he looked like a ticking time bomb ready to explode. With all that taken into consideration, you decided to just pull the plug on the music and hope he didn't pull a gun on you this time as you tensed up from the thought.

Craig quickly sat up at the sound of silence, gave you a curious glance over and then the only thing he reached for was his paint covered glass that he picked up by the rim and drank from after asking you "what's up?"

"Hey." you softly answered. "Sorry to just barge in but...I...I have been trying to reach you. Are...are you alright?"

"Well now. Is that somewhat of a rhetorical question? Do I look alright? Unless you're here to tell me that you know where my daughter is, then that would be a big fat no. Fancy seeing you here just Josie. I thought you hated my guts?"

Judging by his well noted inebriated sarcasm, you could tell it was going to be a walk on egg shells type of conversation and you still weren't exactly sure if he knew that you knew Blaise had been right within his grasp before she vanished into thin air. You figured he would have instantly called you out if he knew, but Craig didn't seem to be the type that got straight to the point about things. You had the distinct feeling he was the type that liked to toy with people like a cat does with it's prey. An intimidation tactic per se and it was surely working, so you decided to just come clean and face his claws.

"No. I..I don't know where she is and I...I don't hate you. Not even a little bit but you may not like me so much. Craig I...about Blaise...I need to tell you something that I should have much sooner. I just...I didn't know...how to."

There was a brief silence as he peered up at you and you could see the curiosity growing in his dilated blues.

"Not even a little bit huh? Hmmph. Must be pretty bad, whatever you did, if you're worried about me not liking you after what I did to you. Alright then love, I'll bite. Is my curiosity going to kill the cat? You seem pretty skittish right now."

The fact that he basically just read your mind regarding the cat references made you gulp and then it just got worse when you couldn't find the words.

"Cat....got your tongue just Josie?"

"Ok, please just stop with the cat thing already."

"Mrrrow!! Feisty one are we?" he shot off as he grinned and raised his hand, making a swiping gesture with his fingers.

"Craig! Stop it and listen before I lose my nerve."

"Jeesh. I think you need this wine as bad as I do. Have a drink. It'll calm your nerves. There's another bottle in the fridge. Would you be a doll and fetch it for us?"

"It's....10 a.m. Craig."

"Yeah and your point is? There's no time restrictions for drinking in your own home and even if there were, I don't follow the rules. I make them. It's 5 o'clock all the time in my world."

"Fine. Whatever."

You went and got the wine and a clean glass for yourself and him too because you couldn't stand watching him put his lips on wet paint.

"Here. Wipe your hands off." you commanded as you handed him a towel and opened the wine.

"Yes mommy." he chuckled and did as you told him. "Now. Have a seat and let's hear it."

"I..I'd rather stand."

"Suit yourself then. Cheers."

Craig raised his glass and knocked it all back in three gulps, then gazed up at you with a happy grin as you took a nervous sip.

"What the hell was that? Only a mouse could get drunk on that. Come on now, down the hatch."

You felt like a mouse alright, caught in a mouse trap as your anxiety began to slowly choke you. Enough was enough. You downed the wine and blurted out what you did.

"Craig..I..I knew Blaise was at Angel's before she was taken and I should have told you but I didn't because I was dealing with Jason and some other things."

His reaction was just as you had expected it would be. Shock, which was written all over his exhausted face.

"Is that so?"

"Y..yes." you softly squeaked and then began rambling. "And I..I am SO SO sorry. I was at Lee's and I saw Liz drop her off and I..I did try to call you. I texted too but you didn't answer or reply and then some other things happened and I...I had to go meet Jason and then I..."

"And then you just forgot about my daughter?? Does that sound about right? Because she didn't go missing until 48 fucking hours later. Did you forget where I live too?? but suddenly, you remembered today??"

In his aggravation, Craig purposely picked up the paint covered glass and filled it to the rim with more wine, then took a hefty gulp.

"Craig, so much happened. Obviously, Liz was attacked and then later she died and.."

He cut you off again as his agitation increased.

"And yet I still did not hear from you until now and now that I have, all I hear are bullshit excuses."

"I mean, that's two fucking days Jo. You were certainly able to go meet Jason but not come here. Last time I checked, your brother is a big boy who can handle his own problems, which is exactly what he's selfishly doing after all I did for him, but a 4 year old child is helpless Jo! I'm sure you slept too right? All snuggy in your bed, playing doctor with the doctor, all the while that piece of shit Ethan was plotting to kidnap Blaise. I even tried to protect you from him, right after you slapped me stupid and told me you never wanted to see my face again. Eh, that don't even matter. What matters is Blaise and it could have been prevented if I HAD KNOWN that she was merely 50 fucking feet away from you and so here I am now, daughterless and drunk. You know what I've been doing in my spare time since I have exhausted all my resources in locating her? It's like she has fallen off the face of the earth."

Craig put on some old cheap flip flops and stood up, then pointed down at his painting.

"You see that? I did what you said to try. I used Blaise as some inspiration to try and cure this painter's block I've been dealing with for so long. Did you know she likes bees? So I attempted to paint her a giant fucking bumble bee for when I get her back, or should I say IF I get her back, no thanks to you and certainly none to that dunderheaded detective who shares Ethan's rancid blood. Audacious British fuck writing me into his little black book as a person of interest in Lizzie's death. I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a monster, even if I was raised by one."

"Craig, speaking of Cyrus, he happens to be one of the other problems we have been dealing with. Things that have nothing to even do with this. So much more has happened too and I don't expect you to understand that but I swear to you, I never meant for anything to happen to Blaise. Please...please believe me."

"I'll tell you what I believe. I believe you did this intentionally. What a great way to stick it to me for not telling you your brother was alive huh? Checkmate. You got me good Jo. Gold stars for you. Hit me right where it hurts the most. You're right. I don't like you so much anymore Miss March. I'll have your last months deposit ready for you in a few days and then I expect you out by the end of the month. Now get out of my sight. Good day."

"Craig come on. I would never put your child's life in danger just to get back at you or for any reason!"

As the acrimonious kiwi walked away, completely ignoring you, there was spillage of the yellow paint in his already cluttered pathway and the combination of flimsy flips flops worn by someone sober or tipsy, slick concrete and liquids do not mix.

Down he went as one foot slipped right out from under him and there he laid, stunned and flat out on his back with wine all over his face.

"Craig oh my god!" you gasped as you quickly but carefully made your way to him. "Are you alright??!!"

"There's that question again so I'll answer with the same answer. Do I look alright???" he snapped and attempted to get up, only to slip again and land on his butt.

"Here. Let me help you."

You reached down to him but he smacked your hand away.

"I might be a teeny bit sauced right now, but I'm not an invalid and if I were, I certainly wouldn't want or need any help from the likes of you Jo March."

"Fine." you huffed and then smirked at him. "Good luck then since you're now sitting in a giant smeared puddle of paint. I suppose if you crawl like the petulant child you're being, ass crack and all, you could make it out of your precarious predicament unscathed."

He glared up at you as he thought for a moment about demeaning himself even more than he already had by doing as you said.

"Fine." he also huffed and jerked his sticky hand out to you.

You took his hand and began to pull. As he pushed himself up with his other hand, his foot slipped out again and this time, he pulled you right down on top of his chiseled chest.

"Well now. Now who's in a precarious predicament Einstein? Now we're both covered in paint and not to mention fucked, just not in the way I would like." he boasted with a cheesy smirk as you both were nose to nose and damn near mouth to mouth. So close that his facial hair tickled your upper lip and his hot sweet wine breath made you drunk in a way that it shouldn't have as you and he stared into each other's eyes.

You quickly broke the trance he had you in and pushed your way up off of him.

"Come on Craig. Get up so I can leave. Now is clearly not the time to talk to you."

You reached down again, but made sure you were in a good stance to pull him up this time. Once he was securely on his feet, you handed him another towel to wipe the wine from his face and when he was finished, things became a bit awkward and silent for a moment as he fidgeted and fought having eye contact with you.

"I uh...I think I broke your glasses." you mumbled as you glanced at the black framed spectacles hanging from the frayed neckline of his knit shirt.

His head snapped down to look at them and then his defenses were right back up.

"Oh...well, no biggie. What's one more thing you've broken? I've got more, although... I don't have another daughter. I'm going to bed. See yourself out."

This time, Craig safely made his way back to his apartment entrance without a single glance back at you and then you quietly left. When you returned to your own apartment down the hall, you immediately took a long hot shower to decompress and cried your eyes out the entire time. Once you were finished, you sat down with a chilled bottled of wine you had in the fridge to try and calm your nerves. The conversation with Craig had went just as you imagined it in your head many times and he had every right to be angry with you. You should have went straight to him and met Jason later. Blaise would be safe and sound with Craig right now and you were the reason she was not, and for that, you were going to make it your mission to find her yourself and bring her home. You didn't have a cue as to how, but you were to try and make things right.

But of course, while trying to think about where to start, your mind betrayed you as all your thoughts went right back to Lee, but you knew they would once you were no longer distracted. How in the hell were you going to stay away from him this time if you couldn't even sit still without thinking of him??

The one glass of wine that early in the morning had caught up with you and made you somewhat sleepy and it wasn't long before you dozed off on the couch without even realizing it. Meanwhile, in a small town called Grandview, 15 miles from Salem, Dr. Dave had just returned home from a much needed getaway.

As he sat at his kitchen table, drinking a beer, reading your texts and listening to your voicemails, he contemplated calling you until he heard a noise in the living room. Dave lived alone and had no pets, so it was either his older but newly remodeled house still settling or....it was what is usually was. A ghost. And he had the gift to see and speak to them, although he would not call it a gift, but a curse and the only ones who knew were you and his sister Britt.

When he got to the living room doorway, there sat a little boy, about 5 years old with sandy blonde hair and big blue eyes, whom he had never seen before and he just looked at Dave until he spoke to him.

"Hey there. What's your name?"

"Jacob."

"Hello Jacob. I'm Dave."

"I know."

"Alright. Can you tell me why you're here?"

"She needs help."

"Who...needs help?"

"The girl at the train yard. I saw her. The bad man hurt her."

"The train yard??"

"Where mommy was hurt. Over there."

Jacob pointed out the window and Dave then realized he was referring to Train Town. It used to be a public attraction, about a mile away by a state park, but it was shut down many years ago and was now basically a train car graveyard.

"Who's your mommy Jacob?"

"Elizabeth. She died and rode the train."

Dave had to collect himself, for he now knew he was talking to Liz and your Lee's son.

"Ok. I heard about that. I am very sorry Jacob, but...who is the girl you said is hurt? Is she there now?"

"My new and favorite mommy's sister."

"You mean Josie? Her...sister?"

"Mmmhmm."

Dave sprung to his feet and called you, but got no answer so he called your mother Margaret and she confirmed that Megan had not been home since yesterday and that she could not reach her.

"Jacob, can you show me where she is at? It is a really big place."

"Yep. Last one there's a rotten egg!"

Jacob hopped out of his chair and ran out the front door and vanished like the typical fugacious ghost as Dave stood in a transient spell of shock. As his mind resumed focus, he then grabbed his medical bag, raced to his truck and sped off without a thought of the danger that could be waiting for him.

@redeemer46

youtube

#lee pace #lee pace fanfiction #code blue #craig parker #david conrad #love stories #dark stories #dark fiction #drama #angst #murder mystery #ghosts #supernatural encounters

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thefuseoftemptation · 2 years

Text

HIGH ON YOU PT.2 ||

THE LOST BOYS PAUL X GN!READER

(GENDER AND RACE NOT SPECIFIED OR MENTIONED)

PT.1 HERE

A/N: there wasn’t going to be more to it but since you guys asked so nicely who was I to deny. It’s longer than the other part :)))

WARNING(S): cussing, mentions of drugs.

. . .

To say Paul was looking forward to the date would be an understatement. Restless with each night that went by as it got closer. It was common for him to never sit quite still, but it wasn’t very common that the usually slick-tongued guy was now fumbling to get just a few words out.

The boys could only be amused by it. And slightly, slightly peeved—mostly on David’s part.

The guy had been nonstop talking on it for a week. Telling them everything bout you, and then giving a little too much thought and detail when it came to what goes through his head when he’s with you. But lets be honest, they know full well what those were before he even mentioned it. They share a link and not only that but Paul isn’t exactly quiet and subtle type when it comes to that.

It was the night before your guy’s date and the tall blonde could not stop pacing. He was going round on the fountain ring with some fuckin giddy ass grin. Mumbling on and on ‘bout how he ‘can’t wait’ and all that. The boys tuning in every so often.

“So, where are you taking them?” David asked. Paul had been talking ‘bout it so much, he thought he’d get to know a little more on what’s to happen. Might as well. But when he said that, the boy had seemed caught off by the question. Halting in his movements.

“Huh?”

“I asked where were you taking them? Y’know for the date” He repeated, gesturing with his hand

The boys watched as Paul stood there, expectedly waiting for a response though they should have known that the response they were looking for was not the one they were getting. Seeing as Paul’s face went from contentment to pure and utter fuckin fear within a seconds. His eyes widening in realization.

“FUCK!”

Paul had been so focused on talking ‘bout the date that he forgot to actually prepare for it. He was now trying to figure out what to do for it as he fisted his hair.

“We’re supposed to do something on it aren’t we—”

“Well I would think so, that’s how dates work,” Dwayne said interrupting

“Alright you dick, no need for the tone.”

“You’re telling me all this time, and you haven’t even prepared for it?” Marko questioned pointedly

“How many times are we going to cover this! I don’t have crap bud—IT’S NOT FUNNY!”

It sent Marko into a fit, the smallest boy having a hard time keeping his chuckles to himself. Clutching his stomach as he did.

“Instead of fuckin losing it, how ‘bout you try thinking—“

“That’s a lot you’re asking for, Dwayne.” David spoke

The brunette rolled his eyes and sighed, looking to his brother who was already staring, anticipating for the words to be released. Dwayne knew how much this meant to Paul, even if the dumbass forgot it. So he was trying to think of something that could be done within such short time.

“Well, first think of what’s there is to do and then just cross out the things that you don’t really think you’ll like.” He suggested

Paul nodded, pursing his lips, trying to concentrate and think. While Paul’s head is constantly running and trying to keep up with what his mouth says, he can also sometimes be quick when it comes to those two things. It just takes a little push and maybe time.

Snapping his fingers, he points “supposedly there’s a concert!” He exclaims. Jumping up and down as he got something in mind.

“There you go then.”

David clapped in the back mockingly, cheering at the boy for his success. Marko behind him pushing the chair as they rolled through the cave.

Tomorrow was going to be eventful.

Paul was at the curb of your guy’s usual spot, both of you choosing it would be where you could meet. Rubbing his palms against his pants as he could feel his nerves set in.

“Hey you.” You greeted

Paul turned to see you, a wide grin immediately crossing his features. He stood there taking the sight as if he hadn’t seen you in weeks. Once he did, he was quick to bring you into a tight hug, putting his head between your neck and nudging his nose on your skin inhaling your scent.

Fuck. You were one hell of a drug that he was not looking to get off of.

Pulling back, your arms lowered, hands settling on his bicep as you looked to him. “You ready?”

“You bet hun, let’s go!” He said running to his bike, you chuckled and stared as he went, only to yelp when he comes over to pull you with him.

Giving you a hand to help you on, your arms wrapped round his waist and leaned into his back. The bike revving underneath you guys.

“Hold on!”

There was something ‘bout being on it. The feeling it brought as the wind rushed, and him hollering and shouting through it all.

Paul had pulled up to some stair railings nearby at the beach, music heard at a distance.

“Where to nugget?” You question as you got off

“Come on hun, this way—” he said as he tugged you with him. Intertwining your hands together as you strolled the beach, the music getting louder as you went. There was a crowd surrounding a stage just further up, the body of people live with the night.

You guys were towards the back, Paul’s arm over your shoulder as you guys sung at the top of your lungs. Not really caring if it was on key or not. You were just there to be. There was head banging and at some points, a push or two that were put on to the other concert goers. It was honestly a sight to see.

Emerging from the crowd after an hour, you guys chose to make more of the still young night. Running long the side of the shore as you headed to the pier where the lights were.

There was never a dull instant. Though I don’t think there will ever be with Paul there. You had spent the whole night clutching your stomach from the many times he told or did something amusing. And he had spent the whole night watching you. Taking in every little thing, and then grinning wide knowing he caused that. There were the regular make outs and then you guys ate and then smoked and not long after, it was making out again.

Before you knew it, he was pulling up to drop you off. The night had gone and morning was in, it was nearly almost three. You slowly removed yourself from the bike, letting go of the grip you had round the boy’s waist. You stepped forward, then turned to look at Paul.

“Thank you for everything, nugget.”

The boy grinned, and if he could blush—he’d be red all over, from neck to face.

“Anytime hun. Thanks for coming.”

You snort as his response “Paul, you asked me out, obviously I was going to come unless you expected me not to—”

“No! I knew. I just—never thought you would say yes but then you did so yeah. But then again, how could you not, I mean look at me—I’m fuckin hot.” He said gesturing to himself, which earned a giggle from you.

“Well, I should head in and you should get going, alright? It’s late, well, early more like.”

He nodded. He honestly didn’t feel like leaving, and if he could he’d stay with you, he would.

“Tomorrow?” You questioned, bringing Paul out from his thoughts

“Huh?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You repeated with a tilt in your head

“Hell yeah hun. You aren’t getting rid of me ever!”

You went up to to him, cupping his cheeks and and giving him a kiss. He was quick to reciprocate. As much as you felt like staying like that, you had to leave before you guy’s got out of hand and tongues were involved.

Pulling back, you leaned your forehead on his, and then left. Heading up the driveway and to the door, you stop and turn over your shoulder giving him a grin.

“I’ll see you then”

Paul chuckled at the repeated words, watching as you went in.

Oh, you were the drug and he was definitely high on you.

He couldn’t wait to tell the boys.

a/n: alright well, now I got to smoke these feelings out of me. bye.

#the lost boys x reader #the lost boys paul x reader #the lost boys #the lost boys david #the lost boys paul #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys marko #the lost boys imagine #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys fic #the lost boys fanfiction

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wolfspero · 7 months

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Hey, I don't want to bother you, so I'll write to you here (and you don't have to reply, of course) I just thought I should say thank you for interacting with my old post, it made my evening- <3

Every time it’s nice to see that there are a few who are interested in this game in one way or another.

Hello! Oh no, I'm not bothered at all - quite the opposite, actually. This is such a sweet message. You don't owe me any thank you, but that's nice from you.

I was glad to see your post too. I was only looking for Heavy Rains' fan arts and gifs (well, especially those about Norman Jayden, but I think that I was open to a lot of things), but I didn't expect to learn anything about the next (unfortunately abandoned) game.

The potential was insane. The fact that it was centered on Norman already got me, but Jack Reilly's existence and their life together? Like omg? First, that means that Norman is canonically gay / bi, which is both awesome and unexpected.

I really had a great time with this video game. It probably was my first narrative game (and more specifically, a game with choices, but I don't know how to say it in English) and I loved the experience. I played it a few times and also watched some let's play (I just finished one today, because a very well known French streamer just discovered Heavy Rain and I wanted to live this experience again). It's always cool. A lot of feelings, several linked points of vue, endearing characters... bref, it works, and it's hard to just move on after the end.

However, it's really hard to ignore how the whole game shows a typical straight male gaze. Like all the time, and it's not even subtle. Women are objectified for no purpose - just because they can do it, I guess? This is not just about David Cage's shower obsession (like really, how many shower scenes? is it a kink or something? for real, it happens too often to be ignored ahah), but how he portrays his female characters. It's quite painful to watch. How many sexual aggressions? We even have a particularly scary agression in a dream? Was any of it really necessary? Did they exist in any other way?

Oh, yes, we had Madison Paige. I liked her, but she was not an exception at all. She also was over sexualized - not surprising, at this point - but that's not all. Yes, she is smart and brave. But that doesn't erase the fact that she only exists to be here for Ethan Mars. She was the nice nurse that helped him every time he was hurt, because that's how women are supposed to be.

Gender roles are very stereotyped and it even starts in the firsts minutes of the game, when Grace is depicted like if she was so boring. She took care of the children all day, managed all the organization herself and is basically exhausted.

And when she comes home, what? Ethan didn't do anything. He has to wait for his wife to tell him what to do, to remember that yes, it's his kid's birthday and he should be more invested. So a very hard task, to get the table ready... except he doesn't even know where the plates are, how to open the placard (I don't remember the English word, sorry) and can't even take care of the material. But he did it, so I guess we should applaud?

And after that, Grace continues to set up everything, without any consideration, while he goes out to play with the kid. It brings him the good role. I guess that Grace would love to spend fun time with her children too, but she can't since she is the only one to be invested in his son's birthday organization.

So when I read that Norman Jayden had a boyfriend, I was just confused. Wtf David? Were you drunk or something? How could you even not think straight? I know that sometimes a strong enough misogyny can involuntarily become gay, but still. This is so far from what we saw in Heavy Rain. I was not expecting it to be somehow canon. But it is, and I take it. It's just so sad that we'll (probably) never see it as a game.

The fandom seems to do the job for all of us. It doesn't appear as dead as you say, really. I saw some AO3 fanfictions... but didn't read any of it yet. It's not that easy to start an English story when you're so far from being fluent. I already struggle to read in French due to my attention issues (or at least it is the main reason), so starting a story in English is something else - and way harder. I already did it, but not many times and my level stays way too low for me to don't see any difference. Anyway, I hope to be able to start some of them. I saw a lot of potential in a few Norman/Ethan stories and I don't want to miss it.

Well, now, I also hope that Norman/Jack fanfictions exist. I guess not, according to your post? If so, what a waste. We don't know much about them (or at least I do not), but already enough to write a very entertaining story. Jack Reilly obviously was a very skilled scientist. He worked on advanced technologies and Normand used them on the field. This is both revolutionary and fascinating.

Also, we have the whole addiction to triptocaine part. They unfortunately had that in common - Jack even died for it. That brings a deep meaning to all the times we saw Norman fight against his addiction. The fact that he couldn't stop and was sure to die because of it. It's even more significant to know that his love died from it. It's awful and dramatic. But for the same reason, I think that it has - again - a huge potential. A story about their common addiction and how they deal with it would be amazing.

It deserves to exist, really. Oh, and of course, Jack also deserves to survive. I want to see Norman and him happy together. Our poor FBI guy wasn't very lucky until now, so it has to change. I'm not sure that I couldn't support anything else ahah.

Well... This answer starts to be long (or at least, way more than what I expected), so I should stop here. Just thank you for your kind words and your implication in the fandom. It's really pleasant to see. And the fandom doesn't need anything else to be alive.

#heavy rain #quantic dream #norman jayden #jack reilly #ethan mars #madison paige #david cage #sorry for the long answer #I'm not used to it #anyway #thank you again

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saints-who-never-existed · 1 year

Text

Episode Seven: Random Rewatch Observations

These posts are rapidly becoming “Just Things I Like” rather than “Observations” but still, I forge on!

1. Shout out to lovely, lovely Tom Hartnell being a good friend even in a flashback and allaying wee David Young’s fears about engine noises. I wonder if they just met or if this scene is suggesting they knew each other somehow already?

2. Hodgson, you hilarious motherfucker.

3. I love that Hickey’s response to any opposition or problem is a sly little smile and a bobble of the head. He did it to Goodsir earlier and he does it to Tozer here – as if to say “Oooh you just became interesting to me…! You’re definitely on my radar now, son!”

4. On the subject of Goodsir – he apologises! He’s trying to do the job of four men taking care of everyone, fighting against absolutely unwinnable odds in terms of illness, and still when it’s not enough the first thing he does is apologise!

5. I’ve just noticed that right after Crozier speaks with the men being left behind on board, it cuts to reveal he’s already got his slop trousers on underneath his usual fancy uniform. I know all of them do have a combination of clothes on now but I just found it funny to cut from him giving a serious, noble speech to him looking like a giant ill-proportioned toddler while he does so.

6. I’d love to know who the fuck the dude is just casually lying on top of one of the sledges when they’re about to leave. Presumably he’s just one of the already-ill but still, makes for an interesting image.

7. Check out fuckin’ Cool-Guy Crozier flinging his hat out for Jopson to catch in an equally cool manner. They’re so in sync!

8. Hickey’s not even pulling that boat! The rest of them are straining forward in their harnesses and he’s out for an afternoon stroll on the ice!

9. God, that’s all it takes! For one single person to actually bother to ask how he’s feeling, and Collins is gone! Heart-breaking!

10. Hickey doesn’t actually take the lead in a good bit of the mutinous talk in this episode I don’t think, at least not initially. It’s Gibson that starts talking about abandoning the main party and Armitage/Pilkington who make the observation about Neptune’s rations. Hickey does, however, look delighted to have people starting to agree with him and then I suppose he’s very much front and centre when they’re trying to win over Hodgson later on.

11. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – the huge redeeming feature of Tozer as a character is that he’s not just out for himself and he never has been. Look how quickly he flings himself down to help Morfin when he slips – not a single second of hesitation to help another person!

12. Only when Crozier directly refuses his request to be euthanised does Morfin step back and the lamplight illuminates his eyes. I don’t even want to say it’s in a demonic sort of way because he’s definitely not that but that light in his eye is haunting and it definitely does signal a fundamental shift within him, his mind made up about what he’s about to do.

13. There’s a very subtle little change in Collins’ expression in that very quick shot of him in the tent listening to events outside. He’s so troubled already by it all but at the line “Mr Morfin is in great pain… He’d like us to end it for him…” his gaze widens right up and I have to wonder what terrifies him more - the idea that, damaged as he feels he is, he sees himself making a similar request to be put down in the future, or the idea that he’ll be refused when he does so. Gut-wrenching!

14. When I first watched this scene I thought Morfin’s gun went off accidentally as he was lowering it but no, it’s a very deliberate decision he makes. You see him glance over and spot Tozer taking aim and only then does he lower his weapon and fire at Fitzjames in a deliberately non-lethal way in order to force their hand.

15. Jopson even holds back the flap of the tent for wee Hartnell! How lovely of him!

16. I know the main answers are basically plain old racism and hubris and whatnot, but it’s always baffled me that in all the time they’ve been in that part of the world, no one but Goodsir bothered to learn any Inuktitut! Like, we know that it was a thing for the Navy to hold classes in their downtime on various subjects as well as languages like Latin and Greek, and teach illiterate men to read etc. so why oh why couldn’t they have done it for the native bloody language? Even Crozier/Blanky/MacDonald passing on their own imperfect grasp of it to the officers could’ve made a difference!

#The Terror #The Terror AMC #S01E07 #Horrible From Supper #Tom Hartnell #David Young #George Hodgson #Cornelius Hickey #Solomon Tozer #Francis Crozier #John Morfin #Henry Foster Collins #Thomas Jopson #Observations

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baura-bear · 9 months

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OK MAURA FIRST OF ALL BANGER POST!!! AS FUCK!!!! 💯💯💯 and now i will take the opportunity to dump. a bit of info + thoughts about david and his fav polish books.

as i mentioned!! pan tadeusz (mr. thaddeus) by adam mickiewicz is definitely one of david's favorites. it's basically a very important (for polish folks obv) epic that tells a story about a bunch of people in a traditional polish manor house, it has elements of love and also mentions uprisings (fighting against the oppressors at that time) and i just. always imagined david's grandpa (before david had to leave poland) also telling davey stories about both the uprisings and how life used to look like in a manor like that or at least a village nearby! and i think davey just loves to reflect on that and his favorite part is definitely the description of how life looked like and how the house looked like and. yeah.

while talking about mickiewicz! he's just a well known poet and i think david likes his ballads in general. they're all from the romanticism epoque and so they're a little mystical and very dramatic (which davey learns to appreciate with age i imagine?) and he definitely loves some of the quotes from these. example (rough translation of course) "a heart isn't a servant, it does not know what a master is" and. i think that one little quote helped david connect with his queerness a lot especially!

ok moving on. i mentioned wesele (wedding reception?) by stanisław wyspiański. it got published in 1901 soo 2 years after canon but whatever. and basically it's a drama about a polish reception in a small traditional village style but its main charm is that it's also a critique of various polish attitudes at the time! i won't dwelve into it obviously because it could be boring but i just think that it would give david a grand old time with connecting all the subtle references to actual real life events and he definitely just loves the symbolism

and also. latarnik (light house keeper) by henryk sienkiewicz! a very short novella that tells a tale of a man who's supposed to turn the light on in a light house every single night, but one night he gets a shipment of a few polish books (such as pan tadeusz) and he gets very emotional about it because he spent 40 years away from poland and. i think david relates to that a little? he definitely misses his home at least a little (or at least some parts of it) and. yeah

and !!! you mentioned david loving long and good descriptions!! well then henryk sienkiewicz is known for that (and that's also usually why a lot of people [read: teenagers that have to read his books for school] don't like him)!! quo vadis, krzyżacy (teutonic order), potop (deluge) or w pustyni i w puszczy (in the desert and the wilderness) are all chok full of loooong descriptions of everything and davey would love that.

okay holy hell that turned out to be a little longer than i wanted it to be but ! i just have so many thoughts about david and his polish heritage! rant over. tee hee

Had to pause reading several times to giggle and scream into my pillows. DAAVVVEEEEE I’m just sitting here making different sounds trying to figure out how I can verbalize how much I love this. The thing about his grandpa reading to him??? 🥹🥹🥹scream sobbing. AND THE THE HEART QUOTE AND DAVEYS QUEERNESS HHHHHHHH OH MY GOD th thank you so much for sharing I am cradling this information like 🤲

I need to find this one fic I once read because it was just 🙌 idk why this made me think of it but I’m gonna find it and post it on here because I need the world to read it

#asks #David jacobs

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theharpermovieblog · 11 months

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#HARPERSMOVIECOLLECTION

2023

I watched Antiviral (2012)

An interesting sci-fi film from the son of David Cronenberg.

A salesman of celebrity diseases injects himself with an infected blood sample to later sell on the black market, only to find out it's deadly and may have been caused by an act of murder.

I've only seen one film from Director Brandon Cronenberg. 2020's Possessor was a fantastic sci-fi horror that made sure Cronenberg would not forever be in his father's shadow, but a great filmmaker all his own. Antiviral is his first feature film.

Antiviral has an incredibly creepy idea behind it. An idea that I think could honestly take off in the future. To be infected with celebrity diseases seems like a fanatical sexual fetish with a monetary future. But, I suppose that's what the best science fiction does. It shows us who we are by attempting to predict the future, whether through amazing accomplishments or dystopian destruction.

Brandon Cronenberg has a nice visual style. His vision of the future here is crisp and clean, while little things like certain machines or wallpapers or wood paneling feel almost classic and dirtier. There is a realism and life to everything despite the sanitized appearance. This film, low budget as it is, does look quite good. You can see slight touches of it's smaller budget, but it's shot and edited well.

The film's overall idea is well thought out. This world has celebrity diseases for sale through big companies, a black market for said diseases, exclusive contracts with certain celebrities, steaks grown from the cells of celebrities (which is morally debated), licenses for terminal illnesses. It's all thought out and that's necessary for us to buy into this idea and this world.

What else is necessary is the actors to sell all this. Actor Caleb Landry Jones is our lead and great as always. I wish he'd show up in more movies honestly.

While everything I talked about is great, what Cronenberg brings to this that many others couldn't, is fantastic and strange imagery and it's more than enough reason to watch.

Some people have disliked this film for it's "not-so-subtle" themes and for it's slow pace. While I agree that the themes aren't subtle, I don't think it negatively effects the film in the least. It's an interesting and easily connectable concept. And, I wasn't bogged down by the pace at all. I found the film very interesting throughout, and the runtime was fine. At one hour and forty five minutes, it's not exactly trying to get through.

I liked this movie and I like Brandon Cronenberg's ideas and the majority of his execution in both films of his I've seen. This movie was violent and disturbing and left me feeling uncomfortable.

I think it'll eventually be considered an excellent and underrated Sci-Fi Horror film.

#antiviral #brandon cronenberg

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ingravinoveritas · 10 months

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New interview with David about GO 2 that is entirely too homosexual for my heart to handle, but this in particular:

...Staring at Michael's what, David??

(Also his slutty-ass slinky hipped Crowley walk only came back when he was staring at Michael? Umm...)

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demonvampire180writes · 2 years

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Community Guided Chapter 5

Later that evening, Aomine headed out to a local café for dinner with plans to meet Kagami and Whitney. He’d asked Kaylee if she had wanted to join him but she had refused, saying something about watching her figure. In reality, Aomine knew, it was because she’d just bought a new game and wanted to binge it the rest of the night. Guaranteed tomorrow she would spend about three hours telling him about every single aspect of the game, from lighting effects, to voice acting. Honestly, he had no idea what sort of games she played; he only knew that every once in a while, he’d hear some pretty suggestive noises coming from her switch. He never investigated any further.

He reached the café a few minutes after the arranged meeting time and found the two of them already seated at a table. Ordering a coffee and grabbing a menu, he ambled over to their table and slid in across from them. “Where’s that one girl?” Kagami asked, disinterested.

“Who knows. She’s a freaking otaku, I swear.” Aomine shrugged, taking a long drag of his coffee.

“Otaku?” Whitney blinked at him.

“A loser who spends all their time obsessing over something. In her case, video games.” Kagami clarified. Aomine couldn’t even argue, though the part about being a loser was unnecessary.

“I thought she played sports?”

“She does. She’s super into tennis but once she gets hands a new game she was excited about, I won’t hear from her again until she finishes it. I’m surprised that she even makes it to class.” Aomine rolled his eyes. Whitney laughed. “But whatever. It keeps her out of my hair.”

“Like you even want that.” Kagami scoffed. “Her boobs are freaking huge. I bet you wish you could spend all day every day buried in them.”

“Not if it means I have to listen to her tell me one more time about some ecchi scene in one of her games.” Aomine snorted, making a face. He’d heard about a few games he really wished he hadn’t. Kagami snorted his drink, caught off guard.

“She plays those type of games.” He shuddered. As Whitney turned to ask, he shook his head feverently. “You don’t need to know.” She shrugged and took a long sip of the milk tea she was working on. “Anyway, how are things going? It seems like the guys from the basketball court are leaving you alone.”

He shrugged and leaned back into the seat, draping one long arm over the back of the wicker chair. “I hardly see them at the school and if I do, they leave me alone. I think they’ve finally learned their lesson.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“I told you they’re not such bad guys. Just a little… Eccentric.”

Aomine snorted. “I don’t know if eccentric is the right word for a guy like David, the racist prick.”

“Just be thankful you don’t have super prominent Asian features.” Whitney scowled, biting the tip of her straw until she’d imprinted teeth marks. “I don’t know what that guy’s problem is, like for real.”

“Is that super common here? Just today I ran into some other guys like that. I thought people from California were supposed to be super open minded or some shit?” He broached the subject without even thinking about it.

Kagami stared at him. “What are you talking about? What happened?”

Aomine shrugged, surprised that he’d be interested. “I was going to class when I saw this kid being cornered in a classroom by some group of thugs. They were totally surrounding on him.”

“What did you do?” Whitney asked. There was a very subtle shift in her attitude, as if she were expecting a certain answer but she didn’t want to let on that she was. Her fingers curled a little tighter around her cup, but neither of the boys noticed.

“I stopped them, what else? I wasn’t going to just let them beat the piss out of him. He looked so scared he was about to wet his pants.” Aomine took another long drag of his coffee. “There was even a girl in their group. Jordan, I think her name was.” Whitney scowled. “What, you know her?”

“And I wish I didn’t.” She spat, mood souring. She slammed her empty cup on the table. “She just does whatever her boyfriend does. I don’t think that she has even two brain cells to rub together. I don’t even know how she got into college, let alone the one you guys go to.” True enough, their college wasn’t exactly prestigious, but its acceptance rate was lower than the average state or community college.

“Wait, don’t you go to our school? And is her boyfriend a big, buff looking dude? With super short redish-blond hair?”

“Nah, she goes to a business college a little further away.” Kagami replied, biting into a sandwich that had just been dropped off by a waitress. “And that sounds like the guy.”

“You’ve met him?”

Kagami snorted. “Something like that. The dude is trouble, but he’s practically a genius.” Aomine could easily see that. The guy definitely didn’t have the air of a typical meat for brains. There was some intelligence behind his beady little eyes. “So, what were they even ganging up on him for? Just for fun? Was he black? I’ve heard a lot of rumors around here that there are some seriously racist people here that only target black people.”

Aomine shook his head, though hearing Kagami say that it made total sense how they’d reacted to him. He may have been Japanese but his dark skin wasn’t exactly something people could ignore. And, like Whitney had said, it’s not like he, or Kagami, had particularly defined Asian features. If he kept his mouth shut, he could be mistaken for just about anything. “I dunno. They kept accusin’ him of being gay.”

Whitney sucked in a sharp breath but said nothing. “And you stepped in? Did you even know the guy?”

“No, at least I don’t think so.”

“So, what happened?” Whitney spoke again, brushing a piece of fallen hair behind her ear. He sour attitude hadn’t lifted. If anything, it seemed to have gotten worse. “He didn’t get hurt, did he?”

Aomine shook his head. “They didn’t get the chance. I stepped in just as he was about to throw hands.”

“How many of them were there?” Kagami asked, eyes flashing.

“Like five of them? Six maybe.”

“That’s horrible.” Whitney gasped; her bagel she’d been slowly picking at totally forgotten. “I can’t stand people like that. First they gang up on someone and then they pick on them in numbers? How childish.”

“I mean two of them weren’t anywhere near him, just sort of watching, but the big guy and the girl were messing with him with two other guys.” He chugged the rest of his coffee. “I did end up punching him once because he tried to throw hands directly at me but in the end, nothing happened to either of us. The kid was fine and I went to class. It wasn’t anything interesting.”

Kagami sat back and wrapped an arm loosely around his girlfriend’s shoulders, a thoughtful look on his face. “Was he?”

“Was he what?”

“A homo?” Whitney shoved him hard in the shoulder and glared. “What? I’m just curious.”

“He says he wasn’t, but who fucking knows. It’s none of my business.”

“Don’t they make you kind of uncomfortable?” He took another large bite of his sandwich and chewed carefully. “I mean, what if they were looking at you in that way.”

Whitney gaped at him. “How could you say that? You like women, so do you look at all women in that way?” She asked.

“Of course not.” Kagami responded, staring wide eyed back at her. “I only like some types of girls.”

Interjecting Aomine said, “I don’t know. They’ve always just kind existed to me. Since I don’t like dudes, it’s never mattered to me whether they’re lookin’ at me like that because even if they do it’s not like they have a chance.” He sighed. “Plus, I don’t even know any gay guys.”

“Isn’t that Kise kid gay?” Whitney eyed him. “One of his old teammates. He was a model.”

Aomine shook his head. “Who knows. He’s never confirmed nor denied, and honestly, I don’t give a fuck. He was a good player and that’s all I care about.” He contemplated another coffee. “But I guess I kinda get what you mean. I wouldn’t want some dude hitting on me. It just feels kind of wrong.”

Whitney’s bright blue eyes turned sharply on him. “What is it with men?” They stared at her. “It’s like you guys forget that you have preferences, too. Just because a guy likes another guy, or a girl likes another girl, doesn’t suddenly mean that they want every single person they walk past.” She crossed her arms over her chest and moved away from her boyfriend.

“Yeah, but I mean… What if a girl hit on you?”

“Aho, that’s totally different. Girls are constantly flirting with each other-“

“How is that any different?” She demanded. “If a hot girl flirted with me, I’d be over the moon. A compliment is a compliment.”

The two of them looked at each other, then at her, and then shrugged. “It’s just different, okay. I don’t want a guy thinking about what he’d do with me in bed. That’s just weird.” Aomine asserted, rubbing his hair in awkward frustration. “Like, they can be gay if they want to but I don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Kagami nodded in agreement. “They don’t need to push it in our faces.”

Whitney let out an exasperated sigh and got to her feet. “I just don’t understand how people can think like that. Like, thank you for stepping in for that guy, but don’t go trying to diminish his existence just because it makes you feel uncomfortable.”

“I mean I would’ve stepped in whether he was or wasn’t-“ He tried to clarify but she cut him short.

“But I bet if you knew before, whether he really was or wasn’t, you probably would’ve hesitated, or even shared some of those bullies’ thoughts.” Aomine couldn’t really argue. “I’m going home. I’ve got homework to do. Taiga, I’ll talk to you later.” She didn’t even look at him as she picked up her purse and turned to leave. Watching her leave, they both exhaled in exasperation.

“Man, what was her problem? I don’t understand women. Of course, being hit on by a guy would be uncomfortable.” Kagami scoffed, shoving the rest of his now cold sandwich in his mouth, swallowing it whole. “Guys and girls are totally different.” He licked his fingers one by one. “Anyway, let’s go hit the courts. I haven’t paid you back for last week yet.”

“Shouldn’t you go after her?”

“Nah. Once she gets like this it’s best to leave her alone until she simmers down. I’ll call her before I go to bed tonight.” Kagami replied, reaching for the small duffle bag he’d tucked down at his feet. “Let’s go before it gets too late. The courts don’t have a lot of light.” His friend nodded, eagerly and followed shortly after him, a small part of his mind still bothered by the events from earlier that day.

#aomine x kagami #aokaga #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #ao3 #archive of our own #ao3 writer #ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #ao3fic #completed fanfic #completed story #completed fic

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whump-town · 3 years

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Was Hotch Abused?

I offer you my 2,300+ worded thoughts on the matter with episodes included. There's going to be lots and lots of talk about abuse so you're going to want to steer clear of that if that's something you're not cool with but for those of you interested... I give you all the proof I could think of:

Natural Born Killer.

In the eighth episode of the first season, “Natural Born Killer”, we meet Vincent Perrotta. His father was abusive but from the outside looking in, no one knew a thing. Perrotta started drinking at fourteen and committed petty crimes, as well as assault, for pleasure. Going as far as to kill his own father not too long after. But Perrotta is a monster and a psychopath so it’s clear we’re not supposed to sympathize which makes his interaction with Hotch so peculiar.

Hotch is our “Captain America”. A true neutral with an infinity for doing what’s right so it’s inconceivable to compare him to Perrotta and yet Hotch gives us some rather conflicting lines to dissect.

Before Gideon hands the interview over to Hotch, he spends a moment talking with the others out in the bullpen. The whole time he’s leaned back and he’s watching Morgan and Hotch. Now, at this point, we don’t know about the sexual abuse Derek Morgan faced at the hands of Carl Buford but there’s something about the way that Gideon spends the entirety of the conversation only looking at the two of them. Waiting for them to put together what he clearly already has and when Hotch does…

Hotch jumps straight into Perrotta’s profile, asking: “You grew up in a house that looked normal and happy, didn’t you Vincent?”, “But your father beat you every chance he got”

Perrotta excuses it with a shrug, “he smacked me around some, didn’t everybody’s old man?”

Abuse is a complicated thing and, often, abused children just don’t know what their parents are doing to them is abuse. It can be a subtle and outright thing but there’s an element of normalcy to it. The parent’s abuse is as habitual, as minimal as biting your nails to the child. Adults often can’t identify their parent’s past abuse.

With Hotch you learn that his lack of expression is often as telling as his expressions and as Hotch looks back at Perrotta, there’s something so sad about his eyes. His voice goes from loud, assertive to his whispered answer to Perrotta’s question. “No.” As if, well, maybe that’s a question he’d raised once too.

Perrotta doesn’t care about that though and he taunts “well, maybe if yours had you would have learned to fight”. But is it not more telling that Hotch didn’t make a sound? Perrotta got in several hits and the only sound Hotch made was when the wind was literally punched out of him. Not even when Gideon called to him and at that point, Perrotta did not the garrote around Hotch’s throat. That’s another thing mentioned before in the profile and something Hotch mentions to Perrotta directly. You learn to take the beatings, smile even. So, it’s just a little odd how little Hotch responded…

But that’s all nothing, you can take that how you want

Which leads us to the fateful, not everyone comment.

"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"

That can’t mean NOTHING, there’s so much there but there’s something about Hotch’s subtle wording. The way he’s unconsciously slipped himself in there (a very real thing that people do) and he hasn’t even realized it. Doesn’t even know he’s done it until Perrotta pushes and he pauses, asks what Perrotta means. And the subtly of it, the way he doesn’t even mean to that says more than anything else.

“And some people grow up to catch them.”

It’s a super-specific comment to make. He can’t possibly be talking about Derek because he doesn’t even know about Carl Buford yet not to mention saying that about him would be incredibly rude if he were talking about Reid (and again, he doesn’t know about Reid’s childhood yet). So… that really only leaves him because JJ, Garcia, and Elle were not abused.

“P911”

In season two, episode two “P911” the team is hunting down a man trying to sell a young boy, Peter, on the black market. Kevin Rose is an underage boy “selling” himself on the internet while his abusive father has been in prison. I’ll let you just guess who it is that leads the team on finding out more about Kevin.

Your guess is more than likely right-- Morgan and Hotch. Now, we know about Morgan but come on. Nothing to say about it being Hotch who makes the emotional appeal?

The camera even follows his gaze, he’s crouched down (to appear non-threatening because he’s so close) and we watch his eyes take in the scars on Kevin’s chest. You can also note that while Gideon remarks that Kevin’s father was “always drunk, you never knew why he was hurting you, why he was so angry” both Kevin and Hotch look away from him.

AND FUCKING TRY AND TELL ME THE “some grow up to catch them” LINE WAS NOTHING TRY BECAUSE GUESS WHAT GIDEON SAYS? NO, NO GUESS--

Gideon: “At night you’d cry yourself to sleep hoping someone would come and save you”

And it’s HOTCH, HOTCH IS THE ONE TO SAY: “You have the chance to be the one who saves someone, Kevin. You can be the one who answers him, the one who stops his pain.”

PARALLELS PEOPLE THE PARALLELS

“Profiler, Profiled”

I bet you weren’t expecting this one, huh? But there’s something about people who faced trauma that makes it so perceptible to other traumatized people-- they sniff it out like coke to a drug hound. And, just guess, who it is that spends the majority of his time fighting with Morgan? Who knows (like I said about the bloodhound) immediately there is something Morgan’s hiding.

Hotch is angry, he’s upset that Morgan would hide anything. Mumbling about there being “larger implications” and how the team can’t have secrets. With the knowledge of exactly what that secret is it makes Gideon’s eye roll a little telling. Because it’s like they both know but neither will say. Driven home by Gideon turning the attention to Hotch, asking “would you want us profiling you?”

And again Hotch is the one to leap onto the abuse. The one to put the pieces together. Hotch’s anger makes no sense. He says he’s angry that Derek’s keeping a secret but the team has many, way too many. Over the years the team unwraps all kinds of secrets, he’s never angry then. So, it’s not about the implication of a secret at all. It’s what the secret is, like misplaced anger. Anger with himself may be leftover from his own abuse. But still…

Hotch lets Morgan escape. Knows exactly who and what Carl Buford is but all he tells the team is that “he won’t even speak about him”. He always knows how to find the abuse… like I said, a bloodhound.

George Foyet

I know you’re going to find this so fucking surprising but guess who also was abused? George Foyet was beaten by his biological father and his mother didn’t save him so he hates women (bleh, men are disgusting what’s knew).

Now, blah, blah, blah Hannah, I know you’re not about to say Foyet and Hotch are a lot alike-- no of course not. Don’t be silly. What I’m going to say is that they’re foil characters? They accent one another in an opposites sort of way. Foyet is a manipulative narcissist who doesn’t work well with others. Hotch is a guilt-ridden team leader who can’t let The Reaper’s case go. There are meant to be comparisons drawn between them. A good villain does that. George Foyet shows us that Hotch is not at all this removed, cool guy that we’ve previously assumed him to be. He cries in an alley because he blames himself when The Reaper kills a busload of people.

We see he has a rather compulsive nature. He never let The Reaper case go and has very personal ties in this case. Not even after Foyet attacks him, if anything it’s worse. He brings the case file home.

But it’s certainly interesting to see yet another “villain” with that same tragic abusive father and submissive mother come into play with Hotch. We’re nearing a point where it’s getting hard to call it coincidence (and according to David Rossi, there simply is not such thing).

Haunted.

In the second episode of the fifth season, “Haunted”, Hotch voice’s over a Dickinson quote: “One need not be a chamber to be haunted, One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing. Material place.” These quotes are often cheesy, if not a little cliché, but given the premise of this episode is in exploring the ways in which a man’s traumatic childhood has left him now grappling for a truth he can not define… well, maybe we can say the writers were onto something here.

Darrin Call, debatably the Unsub of “Haunted”, was abused by an alcoholic father. We see several signs of it throughout the episode-- Darrin’s delayed speech & severe neglect that leaves Darrin in dirty, hole-riddled clothing. If what we see is not enough, the reports that the team is given on Darrin explicitly state that he was extremely physically abused. It is this abuse that leads to the PTSD that he’s diagnosed with.

As sad and disheartening as Darrin Call’s life is, overall it’s the sort of episode that is forgotten over time. When it’s placed right after the episode that viewers have to watch Hotch say goodbye to Haley and Jack then, who is Darrin Call when compared to the agony of watching Hotch show genuine weakness? After watching Hotch lay in a hospital bed, tears in his eyes wondering if his son will remember him? His fears become our own and after watching George Foyet disarm and mutilate the one guy we’ve been led to believe for five seasons is infallibly, unflinchingly never going to break… well, Darrin Call has it bad but our focus is elsewhere.

It’s on Hotch, right?

The guy who is coming back to the job after only a month (and a day) off to recover. Who Morgan worries might have PTSD but he knows they can’t easily measure because Hotch wrote the questionnaire, he knows all the right answers. Who we see has had new locks installed since the attack and has Foyet’s file sitting open on a table for easy access. Who hears Darrin Call’s life (worked the same job without promotion for years before getting fired, no wife, no kids, a hermit) and bluntly asks why Darrin hasn’t just killed himself.

And let’s just take a moment to break down that comment. Hotch, who in the episode previously lost his wife and child, wants to know why a man who is steadily starting to sound a lot like him hasn’t just killed himself.

And I don’t say “sounds a lot like him” lightly.

Darrin Call has PTSD. Hotch, more than likely, has PTSD

Here are some signs just from that episode: hostility (he yelled at Garcia over something very small), self-destructive behavior (he ran into Darrin Call’s father’s house without a vest, back-up, or telling the other’s what he was doing), and guilt (blamed himself for missing the eye twitching Darrin exhibited because of his years of antipsychotic use)

Darrin Call was abused… this marks the second HEAVILY implied time that Hotch has been compared to another man abused by his father

Vincent Perrotta was the first with that hard to forget the exchange

George Foyet and his notably exactly the same past as Perrotta

“Haunted” feels like it’s supposed to prove to the audience that Hotch is losing it. He distances himself from Morgan, leaving every room that Morgan is in. He doesn’t pick up Garcia’s calls after Darrin Call attacks his therapist. The only glimpse we see of the old Hotch is with Emily, pulled to the side, but his guilt burns and he even brushes her off. Shaking his head and turning his back to her because somehow he should have seen something no one else did.

Throw in Reid’s comment about Call “victims are often drawn to the scene of their first trauma” and we’re painfully reminded of Hotch’s apartment. A place you’d think he’d want to escape but didn’t. The man was stabbed nine times in his own apartment and stayed in that same place. Almost sounds like that statement could be applied to Hotch too.

A dash of Hotch’s own comment about where Call would go to in his confusion and he says “to what he knows”, even the importance of how that orphanage is “where he became Darrin Call”. Where does Hotch go? What does Hotch know? The job.

So… we tally now three total Unsubs that Hotch has this direct relationship with. Three Unsubs with abusive fathers and mothers who couldn’t protect them. Hmm… coincidence?

Brothers Hotchner

Supervisor Special Agent Hotchner is a master of hiding, that is undeniable. It’s hard to see anything behind those furrowed brows and impersonal suits and that’s likely for a reason. However, anyone with a little sibling can tell you that no one on this Earth can and will annoy the ever-loving shit out of you like a sibling.

But that’s not really important. Sean and Hotch don’t talk about their parents. At all. Ever.

Hotch says that when Sean was in the first grade he got sent off to boarding school. “I was the screw-up making bad choices”. Interesting enough of a statement to make but you throw in the rough ages of Sean and Hotch at that time and it’s a little more than just “interesting”. You have Hotch at roughly 14-15 getting into trouble just like Morgan did at that same age (coincidence???).

(now you can certainly look at Hotch’s parentification vs. Sean’s immaturity doubled with substance abuse problems but we’d be stretching. “The Tribe” touches on the parentification but Sean just calls it “the big brother” thing and tells Hotch that he’s not Sean’s father and it’s fine it’s whatever. Hotch is a bit pushy. That’s not new. Substance abuse can just be a problem, it doesn’t have to be bc they were abused but again… a little coincidental)

So... was Aaron Hotchner abused as a child? I certainly think so

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner

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lumosinlove · 3 years

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Between Fifth And You

AO3

chapter two

It’s Saturday night for Manhattan’s elite, and we know what that means. The Noble House of Black beckons, and one particularly family seems to be a little behind on preparations—at least, their youngest son is.

Spotted—Logan Tremblay, looking hot in nothing but basketball shorts. Better soak up that fading blue August heat while you can, Lo. Or are you more interested in something a little more…fiery? But in the LES? Why so far from home, Dorothy? Eye color isn’t the only thing green about the Tremblay family. And they have a bad habit of sorting everything out with a little help from Ben Franklin.

“Shoot, shoot!”

Logan pivoted on his heel and was able to toss the ball around his opponent’s shoulder. He only caught a glimpse of red hair as Finn caught it with ease and jumped it up to the rim.

Finn O’Hara. One of these days Logan was going to step on his own shoes watching Finn O’Hara. His pale chest looked like sugar dusting, his exertion-red cheeks the goddamn cherry.

“Point moo-oi!” Finn shouted, slapping Will Morgan and Percy Marshall on their bare backs. “That’s how you say it, right, Tremblay?”

Logan feigned a shudder. “Non.”

“Shorty’s got game,” Will laughed, sweat dripping down his dark brown skin, darkening the leather bracelets he wore.

Percy shook his head, swallowing over a caught-breath, his silver Star of David swinging at his throat. “Shorty must be cheating with his Upper Side shoes.”

Logan just narrowed his eyes and laughed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’re just tall. Doesn’t mean you’re good.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mazel tov, you fucker.”

“I’m finally winning,” Finn grinned. “And now I gotta get back to the shop. I said be back in five…pretty sure it’s been fifty-five.”

Logan swallowed. “I’ll—I’ll walk you.”

Percy slapped him on the back as they left, and Finn held the cage door of the basketball court open for him.

“So, you’re back at school?” Finn asked as he pulled his shirt on. Logan nodded, following suit, picking at the neck where it stuck to his sweaty skin.

“Yeah,” Logan nodded. “I’m supposed to be getting fitted for a suit right now.”

Finn snorted. “What does that have to do with school?”

“Oh,” the corner of Logan’s mouth raised as he realized. “Nothing, I…well, you know. The social scene. It sort of all feels like one thing, up there.”

Finn pouted at him. “Poor baby. Too many parties.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Logan laughed.

“Hey, feel like lunch?”

“I thought you had to be back.”

Finn shrugged. “I’m hungry.”

Logan bit his lip, wondering how many different ways his older sisters could actually kill him. Honestly, he thought he’d just die on the spot of he passed up the change to be squeezed into one of the small restaurants that Finn frequented. Screw the grand tables of his life. Logan wanted cracked leather booths small enough to let their ankles brush. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

Finn didn’t disappoint. They walked down the shade of Mott street, then turned at a bakeshop on the corner. Finn pointed at it.

“You’ve been here, haven’t you?”

Logan raised a shoulder. “I don’t get down here much.”

Finn snorted. “Listen to you. Down here. You’re down here enough to pop into my bookstore all the time.”

Logan studied the cakes in the windows, biting his lip when he realized Finn’s eyes were still on him in the reflection. “I…yeah.”

Finn flicked the bill of Logan’s hat which shaded the back of his neck. “How’s that latest book you bought?”

Logan turned away from the window to get them walking again, not sure where they were going but trusting Finn to lead. “I’m starting school, man, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

Finn just laughed. “Come on, let’s catch the 6.”

Logan found himself squeezed into a tiny French restaurant in the West Village that served them even tinier croissants.

“I know the chef,” Finn said popping one he had spread jam and butter on into his mouth. “Dumo. Don’t pay a cent. I fucking love these things.”

Logan would have bought Finn a thousand of the tiny pastries without a blink just to see him lick a bit of jam from his thumb again.

“Dumo doesn’t sound very French…” Logan began cutting up his waffle.

Finn laughed. “Pascal Dumais does.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s more like it.”

Logan glanced at a woman and her baby, who had started crying. He tried to think of something to say. For someone who’s job seemed to be making small talk at various parties and charming people with his accent—or so his mother sometimes said—he sure was horrible at it.

“So, what’s the suit for?” Finn asked, taking a sip of his black coffee.

“A fashion show,” Logan sighed, hiding his surprise—and maybe delight—at Finn’s unknowing shrug. “It’s…sort of a lot. Lots of people and cameras. And I always have to wear something green.”

Finn hummed in understanding. “It’s the eyes, yeah?”

Logan nodded. “A lot of fast English, too.”

Finn tilted his head. “I didn’t know that was hard for you. You’re perfect.”

Logan tried not to flush and covered it with a shrug. “I lived in France until I was fifteen before we finally moved to my dad. It’s still nice to be able to read lips sometimes. With the flashes and they make it super dark…I don’t know.”

“No, that makes sense,” Finn said, brown eyes soft. He smiled. “Hey, well, if you don’t want to go to the fitting, come man the shop with me. I’d love the company.”

Logan looked at him and ached, but saw his older sister Noelle’s pleading, excited expression in his mind. He might not love the scene, but he loved his sisters. “I wish I could. Really.”

They finished up their food and Logan had to admit that he lingered over his coffee until Finn said he absolutely had to leave.

“Hey, Tremblay,” Finn called from down the sidewalk, and Logan turned in the full knowledge that seeing the smile Finn sent him would only make him want to stay more.

The dutiful son wants the bookshop boy…I don’t know, Lo. How will their royal highnesses feel about that?

“Come buy more books you don’t read soon, okay?”

Logan couldn’t help but smile back. “D’accord.”

Finn walked backwards a few steps, yelling, “And bring me something green!” before turning and jogging down the subway stairs.

Logan laughed as he called his driver to him, escaping the heat for air conditioned leather.

XOXO

Pearls or diamonds, Upper Siders? Armani or Ralph? What, like you have other questions tonight?

Well, I have one for you. A tip from a friendly scroller gave me a peak at tonight’s guest list. Do you think we’re in for more than just a showdown on the runway? Cat fights over cat walks is what I always say.

XOXO.

[Image description: Two name cards reading, from left to right, Leo Knut and Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and Sebastian Montague]

Remus found Julian already dressed and tapping at a game on his phone when he descended the winding staircase of their penthouse.

“You waiting for mom and dad?” Remus said, dropping a kiss to the top of his head.

“And you,” Julian said.

“Right, right,” Remus smoothed his black tuxedo, trying to ignore the subtle glint of blue-silver embroidered into the black velvet. His mother was a planner—which Remus liked usually—but this design had not aged well. This suit had a twin that it no longer belonged with. Remus clenched his jaw as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He’d hoped wearing it would feel like defiance.

But it only felt like he was lonely. He gave his head a hard shake. He had Leo. He couldn’t let New York throw him.

“Gossip Girl’s going crazy. Of course,” Julian said.

“Jules, you shouldn’t read that stuff,” Remus sighed. “It’s just gossip—”

“Just posted about Sirius,” Julian murmured.

Remus huffed, pushing his hair out of its too neat style in the mirror. “So?”

Julian shrugged, but pointedly looked away when Remus took out his own phone.

The photo looked like one from the paparazzi, but the sight of Sirius on the red carpet made Remus’ throat close up.

I spy a statement piece. Or maybe it’s just a statement. Sirius Black arrives on the red carpet—or should I say black carpet—with none other than New York’s favorite icon, in worship and fashion alike. The Saint of these streets is looking particularly dashing tonight, hand in hand with the heir of this city. Ouch, Re. Looks like you’ve been dethroned.

Remus stared down at the screen, neck hot. Sirius’ suit sleeves had the barely there leather half moon cut-outs that Remus remembered tracing onto his skin.

Sirius had smiled into their kiss. Think anyone will notice?

Remus had just laughed. Everyone will notice.

But there was Saint, a crown of moonstones in his golden hair.

Remus looked down at his own suit. Of course Saint had thought of a way they’d match, that was all it was, but it still felt like a snub.

“I sort of miss him,” Julian said quietly.

Remus’ heart pulled. He swallowed and clicked his phone off. He looked at Julian, who looked almost sheepish.

“Do you?” Julian asked even more quietly.

“Don’t you like Leo?” Remus asked.

“Of course,” Julian nodded quickly. “But…”

“Remus,” Hope smiled, coming down the stairs arm-in-arm with their father. “Jules. Ready, boys?”

Remus didn’t think saying no was an option. He cleared his throat, pushed his hair back.

“Almost,” he said, backtracking towards the stairs. “Just a second. Gotta call Leo, make sure he hasn’t left yet.”

XOXO

“We can watch a livestream of the red carpet and the show,” Natalie said. “Sit.”

Finn groaned, squished beside Natalie on her tiny sofa. “That feels like I’m stalking him.”

“We’re allowed to stalk the boys we like.”

“You’re dating my brother, Nat. Does this mean you stalked him?”

“It really does,” Alex said, coming in from the kitchen with their margaritas and dropping a kiss to Natalie’s temple.

“Hm,” Natalie smiled up at him, accepting a kiss to her lips. “Scruffy.”

Finn sighed and pulled a knee up to his chest, watching the loading video Natalie had pulled up.

“Your wifi sucks,” he mumbled.

“It’ll load,” Natalie scooted over for Alex and passed Finn his drink.

“Salsa, too,” Finn said, waving it over.

Finally, the video popped up to a view of the red carpet.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Alex said.

“Be nice,” Natalie laughed. “It’s fashion!”

“Look,” Alex sighed. “I know they’re wealthy and it’s suppose to be all, I don’t know sandy beaches and wristwatches, but not a single one of these people look remotely happy. Like take a look at this guy—“

Finn looked over the sandy-haired man posing in front of the cameras—well, not posing, really. Kasey Winter, the commentators were saying.

“Nice hair,” Natalie crunched on a chip. “And listen to that, his mother’s one of the biggest producers at Weird Sisters Records.”

“Fine, but he looks like he’s ready to kill someone. I mean, anyone else think its kind of fucked up that the New York families go to a New York university where New York businesses draw from New York’s elite?”

“Yes,” Finn and Natalie said in unison.

And then there was Logan.

Finn let out an embarrassing sound and set his drink down, leaning forward.

Logan walked out in front of the cameras with three girls—his sisters, Finn remembered. Not to mention he followed all of them on Instagram. They had a lot of shoes, sure, but they seemed all right.

“I saw this thing on Gossip Girl about one of the sisters,” Natalie said. “She—”

“Nat, why the hell do you read that?”

Natalie shot him a look. “Like you don’t.”

Finn ignored them, too focused on the dark, nearly black, velvety green cape—or was it cloak?—that covered Logan’s shoulders down to above his elbows, falling to an elegant point at the small of his back over his black suit. The sisters had a similar get-up in one way or another—a green train, a shawl, a corset. Logan’s clasp was a silver fleur-de-lis.

“Green,” Finn breathed.

“What?” Alex asked.

Finn bit the inside of his cheek at Logan’s expression. It was meant to be blank, Finn thought, at-ease and untouchable, but it came off almost enticing. His dark eyelashes swept against his cheeks. Finn watched his throat bob around a swallow, his adored eyes shifting from flash to flash.

“Nothing,” Finn answered his brother.

“How’d you meet this kid anyway, Fish?” his brother asked.

“I was closing up shop about a month ago,” Finn said. “And he stopped at one of our windows. Looked like he’d run the entire island, he was breathing so hard. Not to mention it was pouring like nothing else. Thought he was gonna pass out, so I unlocked the door and let him in to get dry. I don’t know, he was kind of shy at first. Listened to me talk for about an hour before he started giving anything back.” Finn shrugged, watching Logan walk off screen. “I invite him to play basketball with me, Morg, and Percy now. We get lunch after sometimes.”

Natalie sighed. “He looked like one unhappy camper.”

“I think his family puts a lot of pressure on him. He’s the baby. Only son. All that bullshit.”

“I kind of want that cape,” Natalie said.

Alex sighed. “That’s the idea.”

Natalie slapped his chest, then kissed his cheek, and Finn watched Logan walk off-screen.

XOXO

“What say you, Capulet?”

Sirius looked down at Saint at his shoulder. “They’re out of crab puffs.”

“Boo,” Saint said. “You still closing the show?”

“Yep.”

“Shouldn’t you be in hair and makeup?”

“Yep.”

Saint stepped in front of him, the gold band of moonstones nestled in his curls glinting in the dark stage lights. “Looking for someone?”

Sirius just reached out and ran a gentle thumbnail beneath where Saint’s golden eyeliner had smudged against his brown skin, striking it back to a point. “Nope. See you after the show.”

Saint clucked his tongue. “I’m unimpressed.”

“What else is new?” Sirius said.

Saint went to smile, when his eyes flickered behind Sirius and he raised his eyebrows. “That.”

Sirius turned around, and quickly schooled his expression. The cameras were going wild, and in front of all the flashing lights was Remus, hand-in-hand with Leo Knut.

“They make a sunshine pair,” Saint said from beside him. “How’re you feeling?”

Sirius touched two fingers to one of the black-leather moons on his jacket sleeve. They were meant to go with Remus’ stars. He remembered planning for them. He’d thought…part of him had thought if he’d worn them tonight—

“Cloudy sky,” he replied to Saint.

“I was gonna say dappled sunlight in…” Saint glanced around. “A dark forest.”

Remus and Leo were wearing dress shirts, collars rumpled and unbuttoned at their throats, each in a smooth shade of cream. Their hands, decked out in golden rings, were laced together, and they both wore pale gray slacks, slim cut, and laceless nikes.

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun…hmm, but don’t I spy some burning jealous?

“What are we going for here,” Saint raised an eyebrow. “Left in a hurry and didn’t get the dress code?”

“We’re going against me,” Sirius replied, slipping his hands into his pockets and trying to stand straight. “That’s all.”

“Sunlight in a dark forest, indeed.”

Sirius watched them looking out over the flashes, and tried not to look surprised when golden eyes met his own. Remus’ expression didn’t change either. Instead, he simply blinked, then looked away. Leo, tall and lean, leaned into his ear, and Remus smiled. The cameras popped like champagne.

I love right here, Sirius remembered his own voice, the feeling of the soft skin by Remus’ eye beneath his thumb. I love right here when you smile.

“I need to get backstage,” Sirius said shortly, and turned on his heel.

“I’ll be watching.”

“Don’t I know,” Sirius called as he weaved his way through the crowd, heading backstage. The woman with a radio in her ear looked annoyed and nervous when he slipped past her, and radioed that he had arrived to whoever it was that needed to know.

“Sirius!” Alice called, hands full of makeup brushes and up in the air. “Jesus Christ, do you think I have all fucking night?”

Sirius shrugged out of his red carpet jacket—which someone took—and slid into her chair. “Sorry, Al.”

She twirled a protective cape around his shoulders, snapping it at the base of his neck. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty. But then again, I think everyone’s pretty.”

Sirius closed his eyes, letting her begin. “People are.”

Alice had just finished contour when Sirius all but felt his mother’s presence. A shift in the air. A cooler wind. People standing up straighter and shivering.

“Sirius,” his mother’s face appeared in the mirror. Her red lipstick was the brightest thing about her, and even that was almost mauve. Her dress was tight around her breasts, but cascaded in thick waves of velvet behind her, and she wore tall leather boots. It almost looked like armor. “You’re very late, darling.”

“Sorry,” Sirius said. “Saint and I got caught up in the crowd, I guess.”

She hummed. “You two looked fetching out there. He’s much more pleasing than that other boy ever was. His family is important, too.”

It was true, that his mother had never liked Remus much. Though, Sirius couldn’t compare him and Saint. They were two different oceans.

“Get dressed,” his mother breathed, and was already snapping her fingers at one of the other models before Sirius could say another word.

“All right?” Alice asked him quietly.

Sirius looked at himself in the mirror. Her contour made his face look almost gaunt, as was the general makeup for all of the models, and he knew he’d be given dark eye makeup next, his hair fluffed into perfect curls.

“Fine,” Sirius said, and closed his eyes to let her work.

Sirius was shrugging into his given outfit—a billowing longcoat, 20th century in fashion, and a longer tunic made almost entirely of the thinnest black silk. It would shimmer when he walked, he knew, and his tall, lace-up boots, the flat sole so thin and delicate that he almost felt barefoot, would disappear beneath the shimmer. His mother was cold, stubborn, and cruel sometimes, an unfeeling, yawning sort of dark, but she was talented.

“Lord Vader,” came a voice from behind him, and Sirius laughed even before he turned to face Thomas Walker.

“Sounds about right,” Sirius said, and they clasped hands, pulling them into a one-armed hug. “You look fantastic, though.”

Thomas spun slowly on his heel, letting the long, loose fitting white linen of his button-down—which went out in two, tuxedo-like tails at his back—flare out above his slim, black trousers. He wore a thin scarf of distressed wool.

“Like a fallen gentleman, no?” Thomas grinned. “I might try and steal these pants. And maybe the shirt for Noelle.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sirius smiled, spying Noelle’s green eyes behind his shoulder. “She’ll love that.”

Noelle wrapped her arms, which were draped in a transparent green cloth, around Thomas’ waist. “Thanks for thinking of me, T baby.”

Thomas laughed in surprise. “Who let you back stage?”

“I’m a Tremblay, they’ll let us in anywhere.”

Thomas turned his head to capture Noelle in a soft kiss.

“See you after, hm?” Noelle said. “I’m gonna go say hi to my friend, she’s walking tonight, too.”

“Yeah, we’ll ride to Honeyduke’s together.”

Noelle raised an eyebrow at him. “You coming, Black?”

“Saint all but owns the place,” Sirius said. “Of course I am.”

Sirius walked. He didn’t look down, or hear the cameras. It wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, to be up here, not able to see past the lights—but something tonight was different. It felt as it had the night of his and Remus’ first kiss.

In that show, he had had one, thin line of black lipstick traced over the center of his bottom lip. It had marked Remus’ throat and cheeks like soot by the end of it all.

Remus had been waiting for him back stage.

“Come here,” Remus had whispered, and laced their fingers together.

“Where?” Sirius had answered, surprised by their palms pressing together.

But it hadn’t been a place. Remus had pressed them back in between clothing racks, and crashed their mouths together.

Here, Remus had whispered, and kissed him again.

Sirius felt the absence of the stage lights like a wash of cold air, and he stretched out his back, letting his stony face drop a little. He glanced around, but there was no one to be found. His cheeks were warm just thinking about it.

“Good,” his mother said as he passed her by to take off the makeup, and that was all.

XOXO

Saint looked across Honeyduke’s and felt like it was his. Logan was laughing with Thomas and Noelle, and he had Kasey Winter beside him, securing tickets to one of their favorite bands to see together.

“Done,” Kasey said, and flashed one of his rare smiles.

“I knew you were my favorite,” Saint took a sip of his drink, and Kasey scoffed.

“Me or my mom?”

“Maybe a little of both. Oh, and we’re going to sushi beforehand.”

Kasey’s smile was larger now. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. You gonna leave with that drummer again? What’s her name?”

Saint smiled. “Oh, Sally. And I make it a habit to always leave with the drummer.”

Kasey just shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. I’m getting a drink and leaving you to your one-liners.”

Saint watched him go, feeling settled, and set about scanning the room for Sirius. He was sure he’d know if he was there—people tended to swarm to Sirius, even if he didn’t ask for it. It was part of the reason they were so close. People flocked to Saint, too. So, they asked for each other’s company. A more intimate, calm part of life. Sirius was quiet. Saint wasn’t, but he let Saint , for a moment, be that way, too. Saint was loud. Sirius wasn’t, but Saint had his ways to fire him up.

“Another drink, sir?”

Saint looked over his shoulder, only to turn all the way around, interest peaked. The bartender had sandy hair, and a strong jaw, his cheeks textured by acne scars in some places. He had brown eyes—save for a sliver of green in one.

“Only if you have one with me,” Saint said, and glanced down at his name-tag. “Luke.”

Luke arched an eyebrow, pressing the heels of his palms onto the bar between them, revealing rolled up sleeves and some type of vine tattoo, wrapping all around both of his forearms.

“I’m working, sir.”

“Is that a later?” he nodded at the tattoo. “Nice.”

“I don’t think so,” Luke said.

“Oh, no?”

Luke scowled—how did he look so handsome doing that?

“Do you make it a habit to go home with all the waiters, too?”

Saint didn’t let his expression flicker, just smiled nice and slow.

“Hillrock,” Saint said. “Neat.”

The barkeep turned away.

Ouch. Looks like not everyone worships at your alter, Saint.

XOXO

The elevator doors opened, revealing the party to Sirius one outfit after the next. He had changed for the afterparty—the first of three. He wore a tight, thin black t-shirt and dark jeans. He hadn’t bothered to wash off the dark, smudged eyeliner from the show. His combat boots went up to just below his knee, and had the same nearly naked feeling sole. It made him feel soundless, like a shadow.

Maybe that’s why it was easy to find Remus and stand beside him without him stirring.

“You’re a little underdressed,” Sirius said without looking at him.

“Says the boy wearing a t-shirt,” Remus replied evenly.

Sirius scowled. “I meant at the show.”

“People like to be surprised,” Remus replied evenly.

“Who’s Leo?”

“My boyfriend.”

Sirius turned towards him. “You didn’t tell me you were coming home.”

Remus matched him. They were nearly chest to chest. “You didn’t say a word to me in class.”

“You didn’t—“

“I had the last word,” Remus snapped. “I figured maybe you’d finally have something to say back.”

Sirius stared at him, heart pounding in his ears. For a moment, he let himself look. At the golden eyes, hair more blond than ever from the summer’s sun. Sirius couldn’t stand that mouth set in a frown.

“Guess not,” Remus said softly, lips dropping open in the way they used to before they kissed.

Sirius all but felt him vanish into the writhing crowd.

XOXO

Finn looked up when a flash of color on the morning-silent street outside caught his eye. He set the books he was holding down, took the pen out from between his teeth.

Green.

“What the hell?” Finn laughed as he pulled open the door to his bookshop to find Logan standing there. “It’s five in the fucking morning, what are you doing here? Couldn’t sleep?”

“Never did,” Logan said, and that’s when Finn saw that Logan was still in his suit from the livestream.

“Ah, I see,” Finn said, eyes flicking up and down his broad form. He swallowed dryly. “The nature of afterparties, I suppose. Well, you—you look good. For someone who’s been up all night, I mean.”

Logan just smiled, one of his small, secretive ones. Finn watched as he stepped forward so they were almost toe to toe in the doorway.

“Wh…” Finn’s voice dropped off with a breathless laugh. He couldn’t help but look at Logan’s mouth. His full lips that could speak a language Finn couldn’t even begin to describe.

Logan just reached up to the base of his own throat and unclipped the fleur-de-lis clasp there. In one smooth swoop, he drew his short cloak from his shoulders and around Finn’s, right over his worn gray t-shirt, clicking it in place. The fabric brought a gentle scent, and he figured it must be Logan’s cologne.

“Something green,” Logan said softly. A warm, early morning breeze ruffled his hair, pushing the curls forward. Finn couldn’t move. “What are you doing here?”

“Inventory,” Finn whispered, then cleared his throat. “Inventory.”

“Okay,” Logan said. “I’ll help.”

#between fifth and you lumosinlove #lumosinlove #gossipgirl!au #wolfstar #wolfstar au #o'knutzy #hazelverse #harry potter #Harry Potter au

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docockbrainrot · 3 years

Text

i think i want you (to leave)

Summary: We’re all running from something. Sometimes, metaphorically. Sometimes, literally. Literally running, from the very strangely hypnotizing supervillain that seems hellbent on ruining every bit of your life he can get all eight of his limbs on.

Pairing: Doc Ock X Reader/ Otto Octavius X Reader

Content: Slow Burn, NSFW eventually, 18+

AO3 link here.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 5

anathema// former vandal

The next several days are an uneventful blur. You barely leave your apartment, except for brief dog walks and grabbing food from the bodega across the street.

It’s 9 pm on Saturday and you’re fresh out of the shower, tucked away in a very fuzzy robe, lounging on the couch and watching YouTube on your television. You almost miss the subtle taptaptaptap sound coming from your window, you're so engrossed in the cooking show you’ve been binging. Gotta fill the void somehow, right?

You can’t see anything outside from where you’re sitting. The lights are on and make it impossible to peer through the reflections on the glass. Maybe it’s a bird. Or a branch is caught on the fire escape. Either way, you certainly can’t be assed to check it out and you take another sip of your chamomile tea- you’ve been trying everything under the sun, just about short of literally snorting lines of melatonin, to try to sleep better at night. Nothing’s been working. But you have been making a very valiant effort.

A few moments go by and you forget all about the window disturbance until,

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP.

It’s jarring. It’s loud. Above all else, it’s annoying. Chekov spares you a look, like you’re the one making a racket. Effectively exasperated, you make an effort to set, not slam, down your mug, feeling decidedly not Calm and Relaxed as the tea promised. Suppose it’s not miracle shit though, is it? You would not be a good candidate for a horror movie because you fearlessly storm over to the window and throw it open (it wasn’t locked in the first place; you’re quite terrible at remembering to). You stick your head out and glower at whatever irritating mischief is happening out here, ready to rip the fire escape off the side of the brick building.

You’re greeted by something cold and hard (and indubiously metal, judging by how it felt against your sternum) shoving you back into your apartment, sending you sprawling unceremoniously to the hardwood floor. A string of profanities ready to leave your tongue, you sit up and adjust your robe in an attempt to preserve a modicum of your modesty. The rant dies in your throat as red eyed claws grip the threshold of your pre-war window and it’s almost comical the way He maneuvers himself in, far too large to be making these sorts of entrances. Standing up to his full height before you while you’re still sitting dumbfounded on the floor reminds you of just how impressively built he is. You manage to pick your jaw up, but your ass remains firmly planted on the wood.

“Uh… you could have just used the buzzer, dude. I have a front door, you know,” you sputter out, brain blitzing in pretty much every way possible. Your thoughts are racing and eventually they settle on the most important thing you can think to ask in that moment: “... Why aren’t you wearing a shirt.” You can't help the way your eyes are drawn to his broad chest, gaze lingering on the vast scarring that spills out from the metal contraption clamped around his midsection.

Otto very graciously closes the window behind himself. Or at least his little robot accomplices do it for him. You still aren’t sure what’s going on with that- the whole AI thing. Not even a blip on your radar of concerns at this point. “Didn’t want anyone to see me come in. Your building has a camera on the front, facing the street.”

“That’s why you’re shirtless?” You ask dumbly. Interesting method of camouflage. “What? No- what? It doesn’t matter- listen to me. I need you to do something for me. A small favor.”

He doesn’t seem to notice the compromised position he put you in. Typical. Gathering up your broken pride, you get up and tighten the tie of your robe a bit. It isn’t until then that he has the decency to look a smidge embarrassed and you hope you didn't just give him a free show on your way to getting to your feet. “You literally just broke into my apartment and now you’re asking for a favor? We barely know each other!”

“Less complicated when there's nothing personal involved yet, plus- you let me in,” he corrects you. You wish he would stop doing that. You wish he would stop meeting with you like this, under weird and mysterious circumstances. Even though it's only been like twice. You're already over it.

“You threw me across the room!”

“Touche.”

Otto does not apologize and you did not sincerely expect him to. The look on his face reads more like the cat that got the canary than regretful. You feel as though you’ve come to recognize that expression on his face and you also feel as though you don’t much like the fact that you’ve enough encounters with this man that you can recognize a damn thing about him. “What… could you possibly need me to do for you? I am not robbing a bank.” You just want to get that out into the open as soon as possible.

“I don’t need your help robbing a bank,” he snorts as if the idea is preposterous and you take a moment to feel insulted. Wow. Okay. You could totally rob a bank if you wanted to. Deciding to not comment on your wounded ego, you let him get to the point. Otto pulls something out of his inner coat pocket. It's some kind of rolled up paper and you think at first maybe it's a newspaper or magazine. He unfurls it onto the coffee table and holds it open with two metal claws on either side so it doesn't ravel itself back up.

You realize it's a blueprint. "This is… Oscorp," you point out stupidly, brow furrowing in confusion. There's levels to what's happening here. Layers upon layers, melding together with rot and decay and you can all but smell it. But there's something missing, something that would tie all of the wackjob shit that's been happening to you and around you together. It feels like when you have a very particular thought and then walking into another room makes it dissolve from your head. You're trying to grasp for it, to fit the puzzle pieces together, but it's just out of reach.

"Yes. It is. I have a small task I need you to do," Otto starts off, metal phalanges pushing his glasses up onto the top of his head as he looks over at you. For the first time, you can see his eyes in the light. The warm amber feels like a mockery- you have seen his cruelty in action.

"Where did you get this?"

"Does it matter?" Of course he'd say that.

Your fingertips brush against the metaphorical wayward chain link. It's right there. You just have to grab it and pull it back to you, like the anchor of a ship before it can set sail.

He's talking. You aren't listening. He's tracing a finger over the schematics. You don't see it. Realization washes over you in a heart-dropping tsunami. The voicemail you got from Oscorp plays like a broken record in your mind. 'Hello, Y/N. We're calling in regards to your employment status here at Oscorp. Unfortunately, due to a breach of security, we are having to make staffing cuts and are going to have to let you go. We appreciate your time and effort and wish you the best of luck in your next endeavor.' It didn't make sense at the time. A lot of things didn't. You replay the scene of poor David, desperately pleading for his life at the hands of the man hunched over here, just in your living room. You mentally re-run it over and over like bad 80s sitcoms on late night television.

"Lab Coat Guy…"

You don't realize you whispered it out loud until Otto goes silent.

"What?"

You slowly look at him and take a single step backwards, shaking your head. The company embroidered on David's lab coat hadn't been clear to you in the moment- but it's crystal in hindsight. Oscorp. "You got me fired." Your tone is flat, until anger flashes through you, like a streak of lightning through a dark, moonless sky, illuminating all of things that didn’t make sense before.

"It doesn't matter. What I need you to do-" He's so nonchalant, so blasé that it only stokes the embers of frustration until there's a roaring blaze burning beneath your skin. It's all about him, what he needs, what he wants. He has the nerve, the audacity, to keep traipsing into your life, kicking you while you're down and then ask for favors? You want to say all of that to him but unfortunately for you, you're an angry crier. Your outburst of bravery at him the last time you saw each other had surprised even you- but now there's so much more emotion roiling around inside you.

"No. No, no. Fuck you. You got me fired! I can't- I can't not have a job, I have to pay rent! You could get me arrested for just talking to you!" Oscorp had you canned to tie up any potential loose ends before anymore Davids could slip through the cracks. You think about how scared the poor dude must have been, threatened into stealing blueprints from the biggest corporation in the city, for one of the most infamous criminals. You don't know how they found out you were even remotely involved and you don't want to know.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks and once the floodgates have opened you're very familiar with how long it's going to take to close them again. After all you've been bottling this up since you found out, too disappointed to even tell any of your friends or family.

Otto appears taken aback, to say the least. He even looks like he's at a loss for words; that's a first. You know he could kill you where you stand in the blink of an eye, but in that moment you don’t even care. You’ve been trying so hard for so long to get on your feet, to do things for yourself and get away from the past. You moved across the country, you left everything behind, you got a damn dog. It seems like every time you manage to take a step forward in life, you’re knocked flat on your ass, apparently literally sometimes. It isn’t fair. Things don’t come easily to you, you’ve always had to work for them. You aren’t wealthy, you aren’t a supergenius, you’re just… you. The job at Oscorp was good money and you really felt like you were getting your shit together for a while.

“They’re not who you think they are,” he says finally, so calmly, with such carefulness about his words, that you sniffle pathetically and look up at him. He doesn’t look nearly as pleased with himself as you thought he might. And here you’ve been, under the impression that he gets off on hurting people. “Oscorp. I’m not… I’m not just doing this for me. You have to understand that.”

The schematics are furled up and tucked away. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes. Maybe it’s just the tears that blur your vision, but you swear you see a softness there before they’re hidden away again by his glasses.

He lingers at the window.

“I hope you’ll reconsider.” And then he was making his exit, even taking care to gently close the window on the way out. But he raps on the glass with his knuckles from where he stands on the fire escape and you know the look of confusion on your tear-streaked face speaks for itself. Otto points to the latches on the window. ‘Lock it.’ He mouths before he’s gone, presumably to wreak havoc and harass other unsuspecting young women that don’t want anything to do with him.

You thought everything had come together- but the more sense you make of it, the less you seem sure of the bigger picture. You aren't even sure exactly what he wanted you to do.

You’re left with an endless bounty of questions, and not enough answers to satisfy any of them.

#otto octavius x reader #doc ock x reader #fanfiction #otto octavius #doc ock

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