#going through articles from the first year (in this case days) after john's death is so fascinating

[pleasantlyinsincere]

May Pang, Sunday Mirror December 14, 1980

MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH LENNON - I didn't steal her man - by Tony Frost

John Lennon's secret love has talked for the first time about her "beautiful and tender" affair with the tragic superstar.

Chinese beauty May Pang has fought back the tears and said: "I still can't believe he is dead. Now he is gone, I feel a part of me has died too." Lennon turned to May after breaking up with his Japanese wife Yoko Ono in 1973. They spent eighteen 'Idyllic' months together - living in Los Angeles for six months, then setting up a love-nest on New York's fashionable East Side, before Lennon eventually went back to Yoko.

Only a few close friends knew of Lennon's romance with May, who was once secretary to him and Yoko. The affair was deliberately concealed from fans.

May, 30 but looking ten years younger, overcame her grief at last week's assassination of the ex-Beatle to give me an exclusive interview at her Manhattan apartment. "They were such magical times", she said. "Thank God, no one can take away my precious memories. I count myself as a very lucky woman to have shared some of John's most tender moments, his private thoughts and, most of all, his love. John brought me more happiness than I could hope to find in a lifetime with another man."

May originally worked for apple, the Beatles recording company. She became very close to Yoko and helped her in women's lib campaigns. "I don't want to say anything that might be hurtful to Yoko", she said. "She was always very kind to me. I didn't steal her man - they had broken up before John and I became lovers. I know she is deeply upset, and my heart goes out to her. But I have shed as many tears as Yoko."

Last Monday night, when Mark Chapman pumped five bullets into Lennon outside his New York home, May was at a friend's flat half a mile away. "We had the radio on," said May. "The disc jockey suddenly interrupted saying 'John Lennon has been shot'. At first I thought it was some kind of a sick joke. The initial news flash said that John was wounded. A few minutes later it was announced that he was at the hospital being operated on. I began shuddering and held my breath. I prayed that it wasn't true, but the third bulletin revealed the awful truth - John was dead. I screamed hysterically for several minutes. I stayed in bed for two days, sobbing and just thinking of John. I couldn't eat or sleep - my body was so numb from shock."

TOO UPSET

"The only thing I managed to do was pull a call through to Yoko. One of her aides answered the phone, saying she was too upset to talk to me. I can understand her feelings. Perhaps she cannot forgive me for loving John as much as her, and I feel I have no right to intrude into her sorrow. I left a message that I would gladly to anything to help her or their little boy Sean."

May's flat is a shrine to Lennon. Two pictures that she took of John - one showing him shirtless on a beach in California, the other relaxing with ex-Beatles drummer Ringo Starr - take pride of place. A note that Ringo slipped through the door of their New York home is pinned on the wall. "Dear John and May, Popped round to see you. Will call again." May has all of Lennon'd records but her most treasured possession is a doodle he produced.

"He was talking about finding peace and tranquility in his twilight years," she said. "He sketched for several minutes and handed me a drawing of himself as a little old man. 'That's how I'll look, when I'm 64,' he told me."

Lennon obsessed with assassination during the early Beatlemania years, later curbed his fear of death. "His great desire was to grow old gracefully," said May. "Some people fear old age, but John actually looked forward to it."

May, who was nicknamed 'Mother superior' by Lennon because she loved to organise things at his recording sessions, now works for Rod Stewart's record company. She cuddled two pet cats as she told of the gentle side of Lennon.

"When he read about callous acts of violence throughout the world, he would take it all so personally. 'Guns are for cowboys in the movies,' he said. John wanted desperately to be accepted at the level of the ordinary man. He always shunned bodyguards, to avoid attention being drawn to him."

WITTY VERSES

In a magazine interview shortly before his death Lennon said he had sometimes beat up his women. "He was never like that with me," said May. "He was a kind, caring and gentle companion. We would often stay up until dawn discussing music and the world's problems. Sometimes as we lay in bed he would recite poetry - nothing heavy just little witty, amusing verses - or sing to me. He was a real romantic and I don't believe he was capable of hurting a fly."

Lennon's fling with May ended after he bumped into Yoko backstage at an Elton John concert in New York.

She suggested he should improve his health by cutting down on alcohol, losing weight and stopping smoking. An appointment was made for him to visit a hypnotist who treated heavy smokers. Friends say that after his first session in the hypnotist's chair Lennon walked "almost spell-bound" back to Yoko's flat. From then the two were inseperable.

"When John went back to Yoko I knew it was finished between us forever, because he was a loyal and honorable person", said May. He was faithful during our time together and since he returned to Yoko there was never any question of him looking at another woman."

The last time May spoke to Lennon was three years ago ata party at Regine's nightclub in New York. "He was very careful in his choice of words because Yoko never left his side," said May. "I believe he could sense that I had never stopped loving him. I will love him forever. There will always be a corner of my heart reserved for John Lennon.

Lennon's affair was observed by Chris Charlesworth, then American editor of Melody Maker.

Chris, 33, said in London: "He was obviously infatuated with May. Yoko thought it would be a short-lived fling while John sowed his wild oats. I don't think he could ever get Yoko out of his mind. He used to ring her every few days just to hear her voice."

Chris said: "Dying so young was something that never entered John's head. 'When I'm 64, Yoko and I will be a doddery old couple living in a tiny cottage in Ireland,' he said. "Yoko envisaged them growing all their own vegetable and milking a couple of goats every day."

Lennon gave the reason why the fab four could never perform together again.

He told Chris: "If we got our act together it wouldn't be as good as the old days. We're rusty old men." The world will now never know if he meant it.

#going through articles from the first year (in this case days) after john's death is so fascinating #everybody staking out their claim. what narratives get set up what will later be changed.... #May Pang #John Lennon

[wherehopeshines]

The Image of God and our Imagination

Just as imagination can fuel fear, so can imagination fuel faith. After all, God created us with imaginations to use for His purpose.

The Word of God, the Bible, says that without faith it is impossible to please God. As an extension to this, without imagination, it is virtually impossible to have faith. How else are we going to see what we are believing for, before we ever see it in actuality? Hebrews‬ ‭11:1‬ says, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

So how did God create the universe and all that is in it from nothing? Hebrews 11:3 says, “By faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that the things which are seen were not made of things which are visible.” God exercised his imagination! He first saw the worlds, and then He spoke them into being!

God created man in his own image, endowing us with the same ability to create. Hebrews 11, the whole chapter, speaks of the faith of the patriarchs and the exploits that were done by faith, many never physically seeing all they believed God for this side of eternity.

The Latin term ‘Imago Dei’ refers to man being created in the Image of God, in all His creativity and attributes. I have attached a link to an article below expanding on the concept of Imago Dei.

God created the first man, Adam, in His own image. God later took the first woman, Eve, out of Adams side. Adam was like God in every way. He had full authority in the paradise that was the earth at that time, known as the Garden of Eden. Adam was also given the task of naming all the animals, an amazing feat of imagination! He walked and talked with God in the cool of the day.

The only thing Adam was not given authority over was the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, which God had instructed that he must not eat from, for the day that he did so, he would surely die.

When the fateful day came that Satan, embodied in the serpent, tempted Eve to eat from the forbidden tree, she shared the fruit with Adam. Death did indeed come, but not in the way you might expect.

Adam and Eve had been created to live forever in God’s presence, having constant fellowship with him in Eden. In fact, nothing ever died there until Adam disobeyed God’s express instructions to enjoy the garden, eating of any and all of the amazing produce of the land except the fruit of that one tree. Even the animals were all herbivores. Only after what became known as ‘The Fall’ did animals begin killing each other for food.

The first death after The Fall was not a physical death, but the spiritual death of Adam and Eve, a curse that would eventually lead to their physical deaths, and the deaths of all of their descendants.

The second death was when God killed an innocent lamb to provide clothing for Adam and Eve. Their sin of disobedience had opened their eyes to their nakedness, and they were ashamed. Prior to The Fall, they had been naked and unashamed.

God put Adam and Eve out of the garden because, had they eaten from The Tree of Life in their fallen state, they would have lived forever, never again having any hope of restoration of that pure relationship with God they had once enjoyed.

Fast-forward four thousand years. Jesus (the new Adam), conceived by a virgin through the Holy Spirit of God, came to the earth as a perfect man, just as the original Adam had been. His sole purpose was to point mankind back to God and dying as a perfect sacrifice for sin, the very thing that had broken the relationship between Adam and God in the garden.

For millennia between the Garden of Eden and the Cross of Calvary, mankind has, under special circumstances and in rare cases as detailed throughout the Old Testament of the Bible, been endowed with the ability to walk close to God, but there was always a separation.

But now Jesus has died and risen from the dead, conquering death forever. He has sent the promised Holy Spirit to those who will receive his gift of eternal life. As John 3:16-17 says, “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.”

In John 14:16-18, Jesus himself promises the Holy Spirit to those who will follow Him. “If you love Me, keep My commandments. And I will pray the Father, and He will give you another Helper, that He may abide with you forever— the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees Him nor knows Him; but you know Him, for He dwells with you and will be in you. I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you.”

Once we have received salvation from sin in Jesus and the promised Holy Spirit has been given to us, our spirit is restored to the Creators original design and we can begin the journey of relationship with Him, just as if we had never sinned. All the power, authority, wisdom and imagination that created the universe and raised Jesus from the dead has come to live in us. Just as Adam of old, we are restored to once again partake and partner in all the creativity and attributes of sons and daughters of the Creator God.

#freedom #hope #power for healing #live free #great marriages still happen #freedom in christ #hope shines #created in His image #imagination #imago dei

[thetalentedmrkashyap]

B-8 : Sixty Years of The Beatles - The Memories of A Fan

As I write this article, I've started watching the Disney+ Series called The Beatles: Get Back. It was about the recording of Let It Be, their final album. It talked about the tension and differences among the Fab Four (John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr) and the end of an era of music. 

What you're going to read is not a theoretical research paper about the history of the four Liverpool lads. It's not about their early stint as The Quarrymen, their original lineup with bassist Stuart Sutcliffe & drummer Pete Best, or their early gigs in Hamburg (Germany). It's not even about how manager Brian Epstein discovered the young talent, or for that matter - how Ringo replaced Pete Best as the drummer. It's about how a fan feels about it and its place in the fan's heart - as the band celebrated sixty years of its first album, Please Please Me (1963) - in March this year.

Talking a bit about myself, I first heard about the Beatles in a childhood story of John Lennon (1940-1980) that got published in Scharda Dubey's book The Best Days of Our Lives. I read it in September 2012. More than three years later (December 9, 2015), I came across a news story about the Beatles Ashram reopening at Rishikesh, Uttarakhand. I know the exact date because the previous day was the 35th death anniversary of Lennon. After reading it, I searched for them on YouTube - and that's when I heard the first ever song of The Beatles - We Can Work It Out. I kept to it for days before exploring the other musical gems. I was fourteen - and in ninth grade back then.

Every teenager faces adolescence-related problems (physical & emotional changes, insecurities, mental health, peer pressure, etcetera). For rescue comes a solution that proves to be life-changing. In my case, it was the music of the four lads from the unknown coastal city of Liverpool (not to mention that it became famous because of the band). Many of their contemporaries came along the way.

My personal Beatles souvenir Collection (Which I have maintained since 2016)

Coming back to The Beatles, my favorite Beatle was Lennon. Seeing them in live performances and music videos, I began practicing their songs on my keyboard - and eventually bought a guitar to match them. Like an ordinary obsessed fan, I bought souvenirs - guitar pics, music CDs, T-shirts, books, phone covers, etcetera online. I don't think any Indian fan could get such stuff in here that easily - even during the band's popularity years. They would get in the USA and UK - where such things would sell like hotcakes. I even made a poster at 15 about the band - which I pasted in my room.

Thanks to the band, I had quite a reputation as a music performer in school, college, and my locality. I would perform their covers at parties and musical events. Although, I couldn't play their songs in school. But thanks to them, I could look beneath myself to find the skills I possess. Hence, I decided to pursue entertainment journalism/writing. I often write similar songs - and try looking for a music producer to record them. When people suggest music software for completing the songs, I politely respond, "They won't have the same fun as the Beatles - and I want to keep that element in my songs."

As their first single, Love Me Do (1962), celebrated its diamond jubilee on October 5 last year - and their debut album on March 22, I can only say that the boys with the mop-tops are immortal and irreplaceable. Even today, I listen to the entire album the way I did seven years ago. I'm sure there are similar fans like me in different parts of the world - who admire the boys and express their admiration and obsession through various methods. With this, I put my pen down.

#the beatles #beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #brian epstein #george martin #pete best #stuart sutcliffe #billy preston #love me do #please please me #sixty years #diamond jubilee

[bi-bard]

Please Say That You're Joking (Pt.1) - Chuck Shurley Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Please Say You're Joking (Pt. 1) [You can read part 2 by clicking here!]

Pairing: Chuck Shurley X Winchester!Reader

Requested: Nope

Word Count: 2,930 words

Warning(s): mentions of sex, threats of violence

Summary: (Season 4; Season 11) (Y/n) had a single one-night stand while coping with loss in a not healthy way... if only they had a clue about the weight of their actions.

Author's Note: I was recently going back through some of the "lighter" episodes of Supernatural because I wanted to watch something I could chuckle at. That's where this came from.

This might be the most crackheaded thing I've written in a while.

Also, the amount of things I had to bullshit my way through this is actually ridiculous.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

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

Sam, Dean, and I walked into the motel room. We were all confused and slightly scared.

We had gone to a comic book shop to do some work on a case. However, we were then called fans.

Fans of what?

Well, fans of a series of books about our lives.

I was the middle Winchester child. Two years younger than Dean, two years older than Sam. I was beyond confused when I saw some weird, romanticized version of me on the cover of a book.

"This is so weird," I mumbled, plopping onto one of the beds in the room.

Sam jumped onto his laptop and started researching. Dean was holding one of the books, reading through it. I didn't even want to touch it.

"I don't like how he describes (Y/n)," Dean commented. "It's weird. It's like he's in love. Listen to this..."

Dean dramatically clears his throat and starts to read in an even more dramatic voice, "'Even after a hard hunt, (Y/n) could easily be seen as the most beautiful of the siblings. They mimicked the beauty of their mother more than their brothers. There's no bruise or cut that could take the loveliness away from the natural curves of (Y/n)'s face. If only they could see how everyone else would stare-"

"Okay, ew," I muttered, walking to the table. "What'd you find?"

"Well, it seems like Carver Edlund is a pen name," Sam shrugged. "And the fans are intense."

"As in," Dean asked, closing the book and joining the two of us at the table.

"Well," Sam handed me the laptop so Dean and I could look at it, "there's fanfiction. About all of us."

"What's this, 'Sam/Dean'," I asked.

"It's... me and Dean... together."

"They just don't care that we're related," Dean asked. Sam nodded.

"God, this is so weird."

"So, how do we find this guy," I asked.

--time skip--

We managed to find the publisher of the novels and found her house.

"So, you published the 'Supernatural' books," I asked as we walked in.

"Yep," she nodded. "Yeah, gosh. These books... they never really got the attention that they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap."

"Could not agree with you more," I said. "We're hoping that our article can shine a light on an underappreciated series."

"Yeah, because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press, then maybe we can start publishing again," she replied excitedly.

"No, no, no," Dean immediately shut her down. "I mean, why... why would you want to do that? It's such a complete series with Dean going to hell and all."

"Oh my god, that was one of my favorite ones," she rambled. "Dean was so strong and sad and brave. And Sam... I mean... the best ones are when they cry... like in 'Heart' when Sam had to kill Madison; the first woman since Jessica he'd really loved. When Dean had to call John in 'Home' and ask him for help. Or when (Y/n) went back to the motel room after getting kidnapped and just had to sit in their own head and had to truly process not only the death of their mother but now their father. The mixed feelings were amazing."

"You're a really big fan," I noted. She nodded.

"Gosh, if only real men were that open about their emotions."

"Real men," Dean asked.

"I mean, no offense," she replied. "How often do you cry like that?"

"Well, right now I'm crying on the inside," he muttered.

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

"Lady, this whole thing is funny."

"How am I supposed to know this is legit?"

"Oh, trust me," Dean mumbled. "We're legit."

"Well, I don't want some smart-ass article making fun of my boys," she snapped as she sat in her chair.

"Oh, never," I replied quickly. "We actually are big fans."

"You read the books?"

"Cover to cover," I promised.

"What's the year and model of the car?"

"1967 Chevy Impala," Dean smiled proudly.

"What's May 2nd?"

"That's my- uh... Sam's birthday," Sam replied.

"Sam's score on the LSAT?"

"Umm... 174," Sam said nervously.

"(Y/n)'s first hunt?"

"Vampire in Washington," I answered. "Dean was at the motel sick and (Y/n) almost chopped John's head off when he scared them."

"(Y/n)'s favorite memory that's not related to hunting?"

I smiled, "Helping Sam get ready for a date when he was a teenager because Sam didn't trust what Dean had told him."

"Dean's favorite song?"

"It's a tie," Dean replied. "Between Zep's 'Ramble On' and 'Traveling Riverside Blues.'"

She finally laughed and smiled again, "Okay, okay. What do you wanna know?"

"What's Carver Edlund's real name," Sam asked.

"Oh, no. I can't," she shook her head.

"We just wanna talk to him," Sam continued. "You know, get the 'Supernatural' story in his own words."

"He's very private," she shrugged. "Like Salinger."

"Please," Sam tried again. "Like I said, we're um... big fans."

Sam unbuttoned his shirt enough to show his anti-possession tattoo. Dean pulled his shirt to the side to do the same. I rolled my eyes and yanked the arm of my jacket down and pulled up the sleeve of my t-shirt. I don't wear as many layers as them and I had opted to put the tattoo on my upper arm because I thought it looked nicer.

"Awesome," the lady mumbled before standing up. "Y'know what?"

I looked away as she pulled her pants down.

"I got one too."

"Wow, you are a fan," I slapped Dean's arm. The lady fixed her clothing before grabbing a pen and paper.

"Okay," she said. "His name's Chuck Shurley-"

And I stopped listening after that. I knew that name... why did I know that name... oh... oh no. I'm gonna kill him. We're going to meet this man and I am going to end up killing him.

I followed Sam and Dean as they started walking out of the woman's house.

"Excuse me," she called as we reached the door. We looked back at her. "I'm sorry, but you look exactly like how I picture (Y/n) when I read the books."

I chuckled, "Thanks."

"He describes (Y/n) with so much detail," she smiled. "You could play them in a movie."

"Thank you," I waved as we walked out.

"'You could play them in a movie,'" Dean teased.

"I know who Chuck is," I said, ignoring him.

"What," he asked. I nodded. "How?"

I pointed to get into the car. I got in the back seat and Sam and Dean sat upfront. Dean started driving to the address the lady gave us before I started speaking.

"Okay, when you went to hell, Sam's not the only one who ran off," I explained. "I wasn't gone for four months... just two weeks. In those two weeks, I got involved in a single one-night stand. The name he gave me was Chuck Shurley."

"You screwed the man who wrote books about us," Dean asked, sounding angry.

"Do you think I knew he was writing books based on our lives?"

"He had to have known who you are," Sam added. "This isn't an accident. He has to get visions or something."

"Yeah, I know," I nodded. "He made money off of my name and then screwed me."

"Damn," Dean mumbled. "I missed a hell of a lot."

I rolled my eyes.

--time skip--

I knocked on the door loudly. Sam grabbed my arm, shaking his head at me. The door was opened and I smiled obnoxiously as Chuck. He was in a robe, his boxers, and an old white shirt. He looked tired and like he hadn't had a goodnight's sleep in days.

"Chuck Shurley," Dean asked.

"Chuck Shurley that wrote the Supernatural books," Sam added.

"Nice to meet you," I said. "This is Sam... Dean... and I'm (Y/n)... the ones you've written books about."

Chuck sighed and went to shut the door. I stepped in, stopping it with my foot.

"Listen, I appreciate the enthusiasm, I really do and I remember you," he motioned at me, awkwardly grinning before seeming to shake the memories out of his head. I almost slapped him right then. "But please... go get a life."

"You see," Dean followed me, helping to force our way inside. Sam made sure the door shut behind us. "We have a life... and you're selling books about it."

"Okay, this isn't funny," Chuck mumbled.

"You're right," I said. "We just wanna know how you're doing it?"

"I'm just a writer, I'm not doing anything."

"Then why do you know so much about demons and tulpas and changelings?"

"Is this some kind of 'Misery' thing? Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a 'Misery' thing!"

"No, it's not," I shook my head. "Believe me, we're not fans."

"What do you want then," he asked.

"I'm Sam... and that's Dean and (Y/n)," Sam tried again.

"Those are fictional characters," Chuck yelled. "They aren't real!"

Dean grabbed him and pulled him outside.

"Wait, wait-"

"We aren't kidnapping you, calm down," I rolled my eyes. Dean opened the hidden compartment in the impala's trunk.

"Are those real guns?"

"Yes," I nodded. "And real rock salt, real fake IDs."

Chuck let out a laugh at it, "Well, I gotta hand it to you guys. You really are my number-one fans. That... That's awesome. So, I-I think I've got some poster in the house."

"Chuck, stop," I rolled my eyes, grabbing his arm as he went to walk away.

"Please don't hurt me," he begged.

"How much do you know," Sam asked. "Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Have you not been listening," I asked. "The real question is how do you?"

"Because I wrote it," he explained.

"You kept writing?"

"The books never came out because the publisher went bankrupt," he furrowed his eyebrows.

I stepped back, letting go of his arms.

"Okay, wait a minute," Chuck crossed his arms. "This is some kind of joke, right? Did Phil put you up to this?"

"Oh my god," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. I grabbed his robe. "I'm sorry but I'm really tired. Nice to meet you. I'm (Y/n) Winchester, these are my brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester. You wrote and published books about us, probably knew who I was, and then you still slept with me."

He stared at me in shock.

"What," I asked.

"The last names were never in the books," he mumbled. "I never told anyone about that. I never even wrote that down."

"Then I guess we have a lot to talk about," I let go of his robe.

The three of us followed him inside.

--time skip--

"I got a visit from Cas," Dean explained as he walked in. "I've some important information."

After talking to Chuck and getting a draft of what was supposed to happen, we were all panicking. Dean told us to wait here. Lilith was going to come for Sam and we both thought it'd be harder if there was more than one of us here at all times.

Now, Dean was coming back from seeing Chuck.

"And that important information is...," Sam trailed off.

"He's a prophet of the lord," Dean said, smirking at me.

I shut my eyes, letting my head fall forward.

"Please say you're joking," I mumbled.

"Nope," Dean replied.

Sam looked over at me. He only started chuckling after his brother broke.

Dean was laughing his head off within seconds, "You screwed a prophet!"

"Shut up," I groaned. "I'm gonna kill him!"

"Archangel will kill you."

"I'll happily pay that price," I muttered. "I slept with a prophet."

"At least that means he didn't write himself to sleep with you," Sam tried to comfort me.

"Yeah, God just decided I was supposed to sleep with the guy publishing books about my life," I replied sarcastically. "That makes me feel so much better."

"Come on, it could be worst-"

"Sam, love you, but don't finish that sentence if you even kind of value your life," I muttered.

I was desperate for this conversation to just end.

--time skip--

After all was said and done, and Chuck accidentally helped us chase Lilith away for a while, we gave Chuck a lift back to his place.

I followed him up to his door, offering to look around and make sure that he's safe. He shook his head.

"I have an archangel protecting me," he reminded me. "Can't get any safer than that."

I nodded.

"I'm sorry, by the way," he said. "About us. I didn't recognize you until after... it all... and I didn't say anything because I didn't really know how to explain it. The whole event makes me feel all scummy."

"It's alright," I replied with a chuckle. "It's fine, I promise."

He offered me a nervous smile, "Y'know, in all of my visions, you're the most vivid thing."

With a grin, I leaned over and kissed his cheek gently. I stepped back and headed back toward the impala. I made sure to take note of his nervous and flustered face.

"See you around, Chuck!"

"You... You too," he called after me. I got in the backseat and got comfortable.

"So... screwing the prophet wasn't that bad," Dean asked.

I just rolled my eyes, waving through the window at Chuck as Dean pulled away from the curb. Leave it to a Winchester to end up in a situation like that.

--time skip (season 11)--

Sam and I followed Dean with our guns ready. Dean was following the amulet that he had owned for a long time without even knowing it could show us where God was.

Everyone had been infected by Amara only minutes ago but now it was okay and Dean's amulet was glowing.

"Holy shit," I mumbled, seeing who was walking over to us.

Chuck.

He was supposed to be dead. That's why Kevin's prophet powers had been activated.

"No way," Dean said.

"Hey," Chuck... or God said. "We need to talk."

Despite our understandable hesitation, Chuck reached forward, teleporting all of us back to the bunker. I stepped away from him, slightly overwhelmed.

"(Y/n)," Chuck walked over and tried to grab my arm. I instinctually slapped him. I was nothing but confusion and anger. "I deserved that. Just, please?"

I stepped away again.

From behind Chuck stepped Kevin's ghost. My breath caught in my throat. The poor boy had been through so much shit because of us.

Kevin told us about how we looked stressed and that we should listen to Chuck.

Then, Chuck waved his hand. Kevin turned into a ball of white and blue light before ascending beyond the bunker.

"Where'd he go," I asked.

"Heaven, where he deserves," Chuck promised. I nodded.

I listened to the rant about how Chuck had abandoned us all and how awful things were. Then, the conversation turned to the plan to stop Amara. The boys talked about needing Lucifer and Chuck got incredibly upset. In a fit, he went to leave. I stepped in front of him.

"No," I said bluntly. "Even if you want to avoid the subject of your estranged son, you can't just leave."

"(Y/n)-"

"Sam, Dean," I looked at them. "Give us a minute?"

They both nodded, glaring at Chuck on their way out. I tried to ignore the instincts that were telling me that Chuck was just selfish.

"(Y/n)," Chuck mumbled.

"Just answer my questions," I said. "Then we can discuss what to do with Amara without you storming away recklessly. Okay?"

He nodded.

"Have you been God the whole time," I asked.

He nodded.

"You wrote all of our stories?"

Another nod.

"Did you write that I was going to sleep with you?"

I felt manipulated and angry. I was desperate for an answer. I knew that this could've made me feel like dirt, but I needed to know.

"No," Chuck said. I clenched my jaw, ready to call him a liar. "I told you. I had been pretty much hands-off for a long time. Did I know who were? Absolutely. I'm sorry I lied to you about that. But I didn't plan anything between us. We weren't some divine plan."

I nodded, looking down.

"You know how Dean and Amara are connected," he asked. I nodded, looking back at him. "We're like them."

"And that's not a divine plan-"

"I'm not doing a good job explaining this," Chuck shook his head. "It feels like we're like them. Like there's this bond that just happened as soon as we met."

"You lied to me, for years," I said. "Saying we have some bond isn't gonna fix that."

"I know."

We both fell silent. Slowly, I started laughing. Chuck furrowed his eyebrows, "My only one-night stand... and it was God."

Chuck started laughing with me while I really processed what I had done.

I slowly stopped laughing.

I didn't notice until it was too late that Chuck had slowly gotten closer to me. As soon as his lips brushed mine, I pushed him back. Not hard, but enough to get him to step away.

"No," I mumbled. "Not that, no."

Chuck nodded, "Got it."

"Now," I sighed, "we need to actually plan to stop Amara, and if we need Luci-"

"We don't," he said bluntly. "We can do something else. We don't need him. Okay?"

I nodded. In my gut, I trusted him. Maybe that was me being an idiot but I did trust him. For now at least.

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

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[superman86to99]

Superman #85 (January 1994)

Cat Grant in... "DARK RETRIBUTION"! Which is like normal retribution, but somehow darker. On the receiving end of Cat's darktribution is Winslow Schott, the Toyman, who suddenly changed his MO from "pestering Superman with wacky robots" to "murdering children" back on Superman #84, with one of his victims being Cat's young son Adam. Now Cat has a gun and intends to sneak it into prison to use it on Toyman. She's also pretty pissed at Superman for taking so long to find Toyman after Adam’s death (to be fair, Superman did lose several days being frozen in time by an S&M demon, as seen in Man of Steel #29).

So how did Superman find Toyman anyway? Basically, by spying on like 25% of Metropolis. After finding out from Inspector Turpin that the kids were killed near the docks, Superman goes there and focuses all of his super-senses to get "a quick glimpse of every person" until he sees a bald, robed man sitting on a giant crib, and goes "hmmm, yeah, that looks like someone who murders children." At first, Superman doesn't understand why Toyman would do such a horrible thing, but then Schott starts talking to his mommy in his head and the answer becomes clear: he watched Psycho too many times (or Dan Jurgens did, anyway).

Immediately after wondering why no one buys his toys, Toyman makes some machine guns spring out of his giant crib. I don't know, man, maybe it's because they're all full of explosives and stuff? Anyway, Toyman throws a bunch of exploding toys at Superman, including a robot duplicate of himself, but of course they do nothing. Superman takes him to jail so he can get the help he needs -- which, according to Cat, is a bullet to the face. Or so it seems, until she gets in front of him, pulls the trigger, and...

PSYCHE! It was one of those classic joke guns I’ve only ever seen in comics! Cat says she DID plan to bring a real gun, but then she saw one of these at a toy store and just couldn't resist. Superman, who was watching the whole thing, tells Cat she could get in trouble for this stunt, but he won't tell anyone because she's already been through enough. Then he asks her if she needs help getting home and she says no, because she wants to be more self-sufficient.

I think that's supposed to be an inspiring ending, but I don't know... Adam's eerie face floating in the background there makes me think she's gonna shave her head and climb into a giant crib any day, too. THE END!

Character-Watch:

Cat did become more self-sufficient after this, though. Up to now, all of her storylines seemed to revolve around other people: her ex-husband, Morgan Edge, José Delgado, Vinnie Edge, and finally Toyman. After this, I feel like there was a clear effort to turn her into a character that works by herself. I actually like what they did with Cat in the coming years, though I still don’t think they had to kill her poor kid to do that -- they could have sent him off to boarding school, or maybe to live with his dad. Or with José Delgado, over at Power of Shazam! I bet Jerry Ordway would have taken good care of him.

Plotline-Watch:

Wait, so can Superman just find anyone in Metropolis any time he wants? Not really: this is part of the ongoing storyline about his powers getting boosted after he came back from the dead, which sounds pretty useful now but is about to get very inconvenient.

Don Sparrow points out: "It is interesting that as Superman tries to capture Schott, he at one point instead captures a robot decoy, particularly knowing what Geoff Johns will retroactively do to this storyline in years to come, in Action Comics #865, as we mentioned in our review of Superman #84." Johns also explained that the robot thought he was hearing his mother's voice due to the real Toyman trying to contact him via radio, which I prefer to the "psycho talks to his dead mom" cliche.

Superman says "I never thought he'd get to the point where he'd KILL anyone -- especially children!" Agreed about the children part but, uh, did Superman already forget that Toyman murdered a whole bunch people on his very first appearance, in Superman #13? Or does Superman not count greedy toy company owners as people? Understandable, I guess.

There's a sequence about Cat starting a fire in a paper basket at the prison to sneak past the metal detector, but why do that if she had a toy gun all long? Other than to prevent smartass readers like us from saying "How did she get the gun into the prison?!" before the plot twist, that is.

Patreon-Watch:

Shout out to our patient Patreon patrons, Aaron, Murray Qualie, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, Bheki Latha, Mark Syp, Ryan Bush, Raphael Fischer, Dave Shevlin, and Kit! The latest Patreon-only article was about another episode of the 1988 Superman cartoon written by Marv Wolfman, this one co-starring Wonder Woman (to Lois' frustration).

Another Patreon perk is getting to read Don Sparrow's section early, because he usually finishes his side of these posts long before I do (he ALREADY finished the next one, for instance). But now this one can be posted in public! Take it away, Don:

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow​):

We begin with the cover, and it’s a good one— an ultra tight close up for Cat Grant firing a .38 calibre gun, with the titular Superman soaring in, perhaps too late.  An interesting thing to notice in this issue (and especially on the cover) is that the paper stock that DC used for their comics changed, so slightly more realistic shading was possible.  While it’s nowhere near the sophistication or gloss of the Image Comics stock of the time, there is an attempt at more realistic, airbrushy type shading in the colour.  It works well in places, like the muzzle flash, on on Cat Grant’s cheeks and knuckles, but less so in her hair, where the shadow looks a browny green on my copy.

The interior pages open with a pretty good bit of near-silent storytelling.  We are deftly shown, and not told the story—there are condolence cards and headlines, and the looming presence of a liquor bottle, until we are shown on the next page splash the real heart of the story, a revolver held aloft by Catherine Grant, bereaved mother, with her targeting in her mind the grim visage of the Toyman.

While their first few issues together meshed pretty well, it’s around  this issue that the pencil/inks team of Jurgens and Rubinstein starts to look a little rushed in places.  A few inkers who worked with Jurgens that I’ve spoken to have hinted that his pencils can vary in their level of detail, from very finished  to pretty loose, and in the latter case, it’s up to the inker to embellish where there’s a lack of detail.  Some inkers, like Brett Breeding, really lay down a heavier hand, where there’s quite a bit of actual drawing work in addition to adding value and weight to the lines.  I suspect some of the looseness in the figures, as well as empty  backgrounds reveals that these pencils were less detailed than we often  see from Jurgens.

There’s some weird body language in the tense exchange between Superman and Cat as she angrily confronts him about his lack of progress in capturing her son’s killer—Superman  looks a little too dynamic and pleased with himself for someone ostensibly apologizing. Superman taking flight to hunt down Toyman is classic Jurgens, though.

Another example of art weirdness comes on page 7, where Superman gets filled in on the progress of the Adam Morgan investigation.  Apparently Suicide Slum has some San Francisco-like hills, as that is one very steep sidewalk separating Superman and Turpin from some central-casting looking punks.

The  sequence of Superman concentrating his sight and hearing on the  waterfront area is well-drawn, and it’s always nice to see novel uses of his powers.  Tyler Hoechlin’s Superman does a similar trick quite often on the excellent first season of Superman & Lois.  The full-bleed splash of Superman breaking through the wall to capture Toyman is definitely panel-of-the-week material, as we really feel Superman’s rage and desperation to catch this child-killer.

Pretty much all the pages with Cat Grant confronting Winslow Schott are  well-done and tensely paced.  While sometimes I think the pupil-less  flare of the eye-glasses is a cop-out, it does lend an opaqueness and mystery to what Toyman is thinking.  Speaking of cop-outs, the gag gun twist ending really didn’t work for me.  I was glad that Cat didn’t lower herself to Schott’s level and become a killer, even for revenge, but the prank gun just felt too silly of a tonal shift for a storyline with this much gravitas.  The breakneck denouement that Cat is now depending only on herself didn’t get quite enough breathing room either.

While I appreciated that the ending of this issue avoided an overly simplistic, Death Wish style of justice, this issue extends this troubling but brief era of Superman comics. The casual chalk outlines of  yet two more dead children continues the high body count of the  previous handful of issues, and the tone remains jarring to me.  The issue is also self-aware enough to point out, again, that Schott is  generally an ally of children, and not someone who historically wishes  them harm, but that doesn’t stop the story from going there, in the most  violent of terms. In addition to being a radical change to the Toyman  character, it’s handled in a fashion more glib than we’re used to seeing  in these pages.  The mental health cliché of a matriarchal obsession, a la Norman Bates doesn’t elevate it either.  So, another rare misstep  from Jurgens the writer, in my opinion.   STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

I  had thought for sure that Romanove Vodka was a sly reference to a certain Russian Spy turned Marvel superhero, but it turns out there  actually is a Russian Vodka called that, minus the “E”, produced not in Russia, as one might think from the Czarist name, but rather, India.

While it made for an awkward exchange, I was glad that Cat pointed out how  her tragedy more or less sat on the shelf while Superman dealt with the "Spilled Blood" storyline.  A lesser book might not have acknowledged any  time had passed. Though I did find it odd for Superman to opine that he  wanted to find her son’s murderer even more than she wanted him to.  Huh?  How so?

I love the detail that Toyman hears the noise of Superman soaring to capture him, likening it to a train coming.

I  quibble, but there’s so much I don’t understand about the “new” Toyman.  If he’s truly regressing mentally, to an infant-like state, why does he wear this phantom of the opera style long cloak while he sits in his baby crib?  Why not go all the way, and wear footie pajamas, like the lost souls on TLC specials about “adult babies”?

I get that Cat Grant is in steely determination mode, but it seemed a little out of place that she had almost no reaction to the taunting she faced from her child’s killer.  She doesn’t shed a single tear in the entire issue, and no matter how focused she is on vengeance, that doesn’t seem realistic to me. [Max: That's because this is not just retribution, Don. It's dark retribution. We’ve been over this!]

#superman #dan jurgens #joe rubinstein #cat grant #adam morgan #toyman #dan turpin #joke guns that only exist in comics #cat grant the dark retributor #coming soon to image comics

[cincinnatusvirtue]

Romantic Poets in Profile: John Keats (1795-1821)

The first generation of English language Romantic poets stemmed from the late 18th century and is most associated with the names of Blake, Coleridge & Wordsworth.  The second generation that followed was born at the tale end of the 18th century and overlapped with the first to varying degrees.  This second generation is usually most associated with another trio: Lord Byron, Percy Shelley & John Keats.

While all six of these men are known for their poetic output they are also known for their lives and how they in turned informed their poetry.  In the second generation only Lord Byron was a commercial & critical success in his lifetime to a wider audience.  Arguably, the celebrity & personality surrounding Byron and the many complex events of his life, notably many scandals are just as well known as the poetry itself.  Meanwhile, Shelley’s political and philosophical ideals were much more explicit and in some ways regarded as too ahead of their time and out of place in the era of the Regency in which he wrote.  His sometimes scandalous life and indeed the literary acclaim of his wife, author Mary Shelley and her work Frankenstein perhaps also clouded out the reception to his poetry both in his lifetime and later to an extent too.  Though both Byron and Shelley’s poetry has gone on to remain influential and highly regarded in subsequent generations, undoubtedly so too did the events of their lives and their political & philosophical ideals.  John Keats is perhaps the only one of this trio who’s poetical output was not also obscured by the details of his life.  Other than like Byron & Shelley, Keats did see his share of tragedy in life and indeed lived a short life.  However, it can probably be contended that Keats unlike his contemporaries is less known for his personality and life and more solely for his poetry and to a degree his ideas on poetry.  Yet, it would be a mistake to not say that his life and experiences did not influence his writing...

Early Life:

-John Keats was born on October 31, 1795 to Thomas & Frances Keats, he was the first of four children.  His siblings in order included George, Thomas & Fanny.

-He was born in the Moorgate area of London where his father managed an called the Swan & Hoop, where he previously worked in the horse stables next door.  Keats was born into a working class humble origin unlike Byron & Shelley who both had aristocratic backgrounds and were heirs to fortunes and titles of nobility.  

-John’s parents had hoped to send him to Eton or Harrow like Byron & Shelley but could not afford the cost.  Instead he was sent to the boarding school Enfield where he nevertheless was giving a thorough and modern education.  Early on he developed an interest like many of contemporaries in the classics such as Greek & Latin & history.

-John was physically quite short in stature at only roughly over 5 feet in height and slender in build but he was said to be physically strong despite his stature and made up for it with a tough demeanor willing to fight any bullies to himself or his brothers.  He was also described as having curly reddish-brown hair.

-He was very interested in literature and was almost always seen reading and by age 13 he was quite focused academically.  Winning an academic prize in 1809.

-At age 8 (1804) the first of many family tragedies took place when his father fell from his horse after a visit to Enfield wherein Mr. Keats died of a fracture to the skull, depriving the family of a steady source of income.

-Frances Keats remarried shortly there after but left her new spouse and sent her children to live with her parents instead.

-Frances herself died of tuberculosis in 1810 when John was only 14 years old.  Leaving all four Keats in the legal guardianship of their maternal grandmother, who likewise appointed two legal guardians in the event of her own passing.

-Keats had decided to enter the medical profession,  which in the early 19th century did not just follow a strict course of years of medical school and residency at a hospital with strict licensing.  Instead, many future doctors started out at apprentices to others, who served as either traveling or local surgeons & apothecaries.  In the autumn of 1810, Keats entered his apprenticeship with Thomas Hammond, the local family doctor.  Living with Hammond & his family in the attic above the surgeon’s practice for the next 3-4 years.

Medicine & Poetry

-In 1814, Keats (aged 19) tried some of his early efforts at poetry having never let go of his interest in poetry & literature during his apprenticeship.  His early efforts were regarded as imitation and derivative, even in title of his earliest surviving poem “An Imitation of Spenser” named after the poet-author Edmund Spenser.  

-1815 saw John admitted to Guy’s Hospital as a medical student, he became a dresser or assistant to surgeons.  This sense of dedication and responsibility seemed to be leave the impression to all that he was destined to a life as a doctor which would have likely brought him financial security, something he never really had.

-Finances were always a sensitive issue for Keats who was stubborn in his independence and determined to make his own way in life.  His mother had left him £800 for his 21st birthday and had left  £8,000 to be divided between her four children upon their reaching the age of maturity (Keats 21st).  However, he was never informed by his legal guardian/attorneys about the £800 bequeathment, possibly due to their own lack of information.

-Despite his heavy involvement in medicine, he was increasingly devoted to poetry and writing, which began to conflict with his studies.  Nevertheless in 1816 he did receive his apothecaries license, essentially making him a licensed practitioner of medicine to serve as pharmacist, surgeon and physician.  By year’s end taking inspiration from other well known poets, namely Lord Byron & Leigh Hunt, John decided instead to devote his life and earnings to poetry rather than medicine.

-In 1816, Keats got his sonnet “O Solitude” published in the Examiner, a liberal leaning weekly paper-magazine publication that was well known throughout Britain for its radical politics and featured modern artists including poets, it was published by Leigh Hunt, himself a poet and radical intellectual.  Also a friend of both Lord Byron & Percy Shelley.

-October 1816 through a mutual friend, Hunt met Keats for the first time. Under Leigh’s influence Keats met with radical artists and intellectuals of the day, though Keats wasn’t especially political in his writing.  Within month of meeting Hunt, his first volume of poems, called simply “Poems” was released to no commercial success and little critical notice aside from a favorable review in the publication, The Champion.

-Keats managed to switch his original publishers to a new set of publishers who’s past clients included Samuel Coleridge.  His new publishers were very enthusiastic about his poems and paid him an advance for a second volume.

-Meanwhile, Leigh Hunt published an article on Keats & Shelley to derive attention to their poetry while also publishing “On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer.”  The sonnet which marvels at Chapman’s translations of the Greek author and bard Homer, struck a chord with many in the literary world and while he wasn’t a commercial success, many new literary friends and acquaintances came into Keats’ social circle.  They were impressed with his talents and felt in time he had more untapped potential.

-1817 saw Keats leave London having faced too many ailments in the cramped quarters near the medical school as he had at one point intended to return to medicine and join the Royal College of Surgeons but nevertheless his poetic ambitions won him over.

-John moved in with his brothers to the nearby village of Hampstead where his brother Tom had now like their mother started to suffer tuberculosis.  John & George tried their best to help their brother but in the days before antibiotics and vaccines were known and developed, tuberculosis was essentially a death sentence, sometimes fast acting or as in Tom’s case long and drawn out.  Which combined with his poor finances depressed Keats (who was prone to depression his entire life).

-Hampstead nevertheless allowed Keats to be in a more rural setting more congenial to his writing and close his friends like Leigh Hunt and others in their literary circle.  Also Samuel Coleridge, the first generation Romantic poet who on at least one occasion walked with Keats through the woods talking by Keats’ own account on everything from poetry to metaphysics.

A Walking Tour of the British Isles:

-In June 1818, the Keats brothers went their separate ways, Tom remained infirm due to his illness and in the care of others at Hampstead.  While John & George departed themselves.  John travelled with his friend Charles Armitage Brown intending to take a walking tour of the north of Britain, so as to acquire some poetic inspiration and alleviate his depression.  The tour would take Keats & Brown to the famed and picturesque Lake District of Northwest England’s Cumbria region, along with a tour of Scotland & Ireland.  To save on travel expenses, they’d walk everywhere except where boat ferries were needed.  George Keats and his new wife Georgina accompanied John & Charles part of the way.  They was bound to emigrate for America where ultimately they would remain but perish poor and suffering from tuberculosis.  George said what would be his farewell to John in Lancaster, England.  Seeing each other only once more briefly in 1820.

-Keats & Brown made for the Lake District in Cumbria where famed first generation Romantic poet, William Wordsworth was living.  He attempted to meet with Wordsworth at his home in the area but no one was home at the time.  The two poets had met in 1817 on a number of occasions.

-Keats wrote a series of letters to his siblings almost daily, serving as a diary and practice place for his new found poetry.  In it he described not only the natural scenery of mountains, lake, rivers and glens but of the habits and appearance of the people of Northern England, Scotland & Ireland.  Which to 19th century Londoners was almost as foreign as far flung parts of the European continent. 

-Keats visited the grave and cottage of Scottish lyricist Robert Burns, he also visited Northern Ireland in the vicinity of Belfast along with the Scottish Highlands and several of the Scottish islands.  Keats also made observations of the extreme poverty the average Scots & Irish rural families faced at the time, with most children walking barefoot and that to keep warm meant burning bog peat in smoky huts with no outlets but the one doorway into the home.  The poverty shocked Keats sensibilities but the walking tour was pivotal in giving Keats new perspectives & indeed inspiration.

Return to Hampstead, Wentworth Place & Fanny Brawne:

-Keats and Brown returned to Hampstead in August of 1818, after two months of a walking tour.  He returned to caring for Tom whose condition worsened and would eventually pass away from his prolonged illness on December 1st, depressing Keats greatly.  Its possible during his caring for Tom that Keats contracted the disease himself which he began to refer to as a “family disease” having previously taken his mother.

-Following Tom’s death and George’s moving to America, John found himself alone with the English winter oncoming.  He moved into Charles Brown’s newly owned Wentworth Place, a house about ten minutes from his old lodgings in Hampstead.  It was here that Keats in the spring of 1819 would write a handful of his greatest known poems, his Odes on which his legacy largely rests to this day.  Including Odes to a Nightingale, Melancholy & Grecian Urn.

-Meanwhile, the publication of his second volume of poetry, the classically influenced Endymion, was also negatively received by the literary critics, many of whom opposed Keats for his association with Leigh Hunt and the radical politics he espoused.

-1819 also produced some of his other posthumously best known works: Lamia, The Eve of St. Agnes, Hyperion, La Belle Dame Sans Merci.  His publishers were lukewarm to the poems but did agree to publish them in 1820 the third and final collections of poems released in his lifetime under the title-Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St. Agnes & Other Poems.

-Previously in 1817, he had met an Isabella Jones who appears to have been an early long term flirtation with Keats and likely was one whom inspired much of his poetry that was noted for its sensual language.  In letters to his brother George and from glancing remarks from others, it appears likely Keats had his first and possibly only sexual relationship with Jones though the two seemed to never commit to an actual full blown romantic relationship.  Their trysts continued until early 1819.

-By autumn 1818 Keats would be meet the great love of his life, Fanny Brawne.  Fanny was an 18 daughter of a widow who was friends with Keats neighbors at Wentworth Place.  By 1819 the Brawnes had moved next door and John saw Fanny daily.  Evidently the two had much in common, including having grandparents who owned inns, family loss due to tuberculosis and interest in literature and theater.

-John gave books to Fanny to read and in time the two were almost inseparable.  They appear by summer 1819 to have been informally engaged to marry, “engaged to be engaged” as is sometimes described.  Nevertheless, despite his new romance and his productive and more mature poetry two things continued to put limitations on Keats as they always had.  The first was finances or lack there of.  Keats got his publishing advances but also had to borrow money and was often generous in loaning great sums to others making him indebted.  He also had no critical or commercial breakthrough as a poet yet either.  He did not want to marry Fanny until he made something of himself financially.

-The second trouble was the ever present danger of exposure to tuberculosis.  The realization that Keats was fatally afflicted with the same disease that killed his mother, younger brothers & sister in law occurred in early 1820.  Upon hemorrhaging blood in coughing fits, Keats was aware his death was approaching.

-He wrote hundreds of letters and messages to Fanny and professed what amounted to great anguish over loving her and the realization that his poverty and now fatal affliction would prevent their marriage from ever taking place.

Exile to Italy and Death:

-The treatment for tuberculosis patients in the early 19th century usually to ease though not cure the symptoms was to send the patient to warmer climates to ease the burden on the lungs and English winters with cold and damp conditions in confined spaces was usually regarded as too harsh on a patient in Keats state.

-In September 1820 on the recommendations of his doctors, Keats left England and Fanny behind forever, ship bound for Italy with the final destination being Rome.

-Percy Shelley, now living in self-imposed exile in Italy to evade creditors to whom he was indebted back in England along with the goal of establishing his own radical magazine publication jointly with Leigh Hunt & Lord Byron heard of Keats illness and wrote to him with the offer of having him stay with the Shelleys in Pisa & Florence Italy where they were staying.  Keats, who had previously met Shelley in England through Hunt years before declined the offer.  Shelley was a proponent and fan of Keats work but offered unsolicited advice to Keats on how to improve his poetry in time.  Keats found this patronizing and ever stubborn about making his own way refused Shelley’s help, albeit politely and under the guise of not wanting to burden’s Shelley’s family which had suffered numerous deaths of Percy and Mary’s children (of which only one would survive to adulthood)

-Shelley also wrote to Byron about Keats but Keats & Byron whom never met had a more distanced relationship.  Byron thought Shelley was too high praising of Keats abilities and in turn Keats felt that their differences were really creative stating: “You speak of Lord Byron and me – There is this great difference between us. He describes what he sees – I describe what I imagine – Mine is the hardest task.” 

-Keats’ friends helped contribute financially for his trip and to accompany him was his friend the artist Joseph Severn.  Their journey to Italy was plagued by storms and then followed up with a ten day on ship quarantine while docked in Naples due to a cholera outbreak in Britain.  From Naples, they travelled overland to Rome arriving in November two months after they left England.  

-Keats & Severn settled into a villa next to he famed Spanish Steps in Rome, at first he took daily carriage rides but his bad health caused this to cease.  he was cared for by Severn & an English doctor by the name of Clark.  Fearing he might commit suicide by being given opium tinctures in laudanum, he was denied any real painkiller leaving him in agonizing coughing fits.  Additionally, Clark followed the normal course of recommended treatment in those days including reducing his diet and bleeding the patient with lancets & leeches.  This probably weakened an already sick Keats.

-1821 came around and so Keats linger in agony, often to the point of tears as described by Severn, mostly due to the prolonged suffering and wishing to end his ordeal.

-Finally, Keats succumbed to the disease and died in his rented Roman villa on February 23, 1821.  He was 25 years old.

-Severn had him buried in Rome’s Protestant Cemetery with a tombstone arranged by Severn & Charles Brown.  To this day it is a common place for tourists to visit.

-Percy Shelley & Leigh Hunt claimed that Keats died due to his sensitive nature from reading a bad review of his poetry which in turn burst a blood vessel.  Byron while not personally subscribing to that theory did make a sarcastic quip in reference to it in his latest narrative poem, Don Juan.  Shelley meanwhile had immortalized Keats in his poetic tribute, Adonais.

-1822 saw Shelley, Byron, Leigh Hunt and others stationed near Livorno, Italy to finally piece together Shelley’s long awaited radical publication which attacked the politics of monarchy in England, an offense that in the 19th century could land one in prison.  All three men had liberal or radical leanings and were also supportive of Italian nationalism rising up against the Austrian Empire & Papacy which ruled over much of Italy at the time which existed as multiple kingdoms and occupied territory than one state.  For their politics and to avoid press coverage in England over personal scandals especially on Byron’s case, the three had exiled themselves to Continental Europe.

-However, in July 1822, just shy of his 30th birthday, Shelley while boating with another friend was caught in a storm at sea.  Having never learned to swim, Shelley drowned and washed ashore days later.  He was unrecognizable due to crabs eating his face but for a copy of a Keats’ poem Lamia kept in the pocket of his pants which he was known to have had on his person at the time of his boating excursion.  In a dramatic scene on an Italian beach, Shelley’s body was cremated with Byron in attendance.  His heart however was calcified and not reduced to ashes, instead Mary Shelley supposedly kept this as a keepsake and had it stored in a cabinet at her home in England until her own death where his heart was supposedly buried with her when she died decades later.  Shelley’s ashes however were like Keats buried in the Protestant Cemetery in Rome, next to his son’s grave.  Both poets graves are widely visited and the villa Keats died in is now the Keats-Shelley museum dedicated to both men with memorabilia contained therein, including Keats’ death bed.

-With Shelley’s death, the project for a radical publication died away.  Byron tired of life in Italy after several years decided to join the Greek War of Independence then underway in revolt against centuries of Ottoman Turkish rule.  Byron had hoped to use his celebrity and wealth to help finance Greek rebels and possibly be given command of troops despite no real military experience.  Byron arrived in Greece in summer 1823 to find the rebels poorly organized and facing in-fighting.  His next several months was coordinating the donation of loans to provide supplies and uniforms but he tried to avoid alienating different Greek factions.  In April 1824, having contracted a fever and weakened like Keats with bleeding treatment via lancets and leeches and from this weakness he died of complications to his fever.  He was age 36.  His remains were embalmed and except for his heart were buried in England.

-Thus ended the second generation of English Romantic poets, all dead within three years of each other and none older than their mid-thirties.

-All three men are routinely taught at school and cited by subsequent generations of poets and writer as influences.  Though often Byron and Shelley will be regarded for the quality of their work, their work is sometimes overshadowed by their tumultuous personalities, political outlooks and the many scandals that colored their lives.  John Keats, relative to the other two major poets of his generation is generally only regarded for his work and his Odes in particular are regarded as among the finest examples of English language poetry in history, fulfilling his dream to be regarded as one of the great poets of the language, albeit posthumously...

#john keats #romantic poetry #romanticism #19th century #england #italy #fanny brawne #percy bysshe shelley #lord byron #mary shelley #leigh hunt #english language #poetry #1800s

[teamhappyme]

a series of promising events (2/5)

aaron hotchner x female!reader

word count: 10.6k (yeah i have a spacing problem)

a/n: part 2 of this series is here! some dialogue, cases, and themes taken directly from criminal minds (S03 EP20, S04 EP01, & S05 EP08). originally, i had it planned to be 3 parts, but after editing, and looking at the word count, it makes more sense to be 5 parts. i don’t want to inundate you lovely people with massive word counts (even though 10k is massive) so this is the finalized count. because i finally got my shit together and finished this out, part 3 will be up wednesday morning, part 4 will be up friday morning, and the final part 5 will be up sunday morning. thank you to everyone who showed some love for part one, and thank you to anyone else who stumbled across my crazy writing and read along!

at the end, I’ve tagged the peeps that interacted with part 1. if you don’t want to be tagged for the other parts, just let me know :)

ok enough of my rambling inner monologue, here we go friends!

link to part 1: here

****

May 2008

We were in New York, investigating what started out as five connected shootings in the city. After twelve hours, we were up to nine fatalities.

We delivered the profile at nine thirty, finally satisfied with the outcome after a day's worth of combing over crime scene photos and witness statements. Hotch didn’t want to waste another second, making sure the profile went out before the night shift went out to patrol.

“Now, our first theory is that we’re dealing with a team.” Derek started. “In the case of the D.C. snipers, there was actually one intended victim.”

“John Muhammad wanted to kill his ex wife, but he knew if he did, he’d be the prime suspect, so he created a spree in order to mask his primary motivation.” 

Spencer added before turning to SSA Joyner. “Muhammad and Malvo also left a death card at one of their scenes, just like this unsub.”

“We believe our unsubs have studied that case. They’re opening a line of communication.” 

There was an outpouring of judgement focused on us, since we were in charge of the D.C. snipers case as well. These unsubs know we’re here, and they’re trying to show they can outthink us.

“Yes, they are playing games. But what that tells us is at least one of them has some intelligence.” You tried to hold your ground, and not let their opinions get to you.

“And like I said,” Prentiss interrupted, ready to put these cops in their place. “They know these cases. He’s also studied the placement of the surveillance systems well enough to avoid detection.”

“We’ve asked officers to canvass their precincts, and look out for a father-son type of duo that fit the dominant-submissive profile.” Rossi had Reid hand out some gang related profiles, just in case the profile shifted. But we were pretty confident in our first go. 

“Talk to the people on your beats, look out for anything suspicious. And let's pray that this isn’t random.” The detective in charge finished and let his precinct disperse. 

“Hey y/n/n, we’re gonna head back in five if you want a spot in the fun suburban.” JJ teased and lightly shoved Spencer’s shoulder. 

You smiled and started packing up your backpack. “Okay. Just, leave the fragile doctor alone.” 

After packing up any files you wanted to review when you got back to the hotel room, you let Morgan and Rossi know the four of you were headed out. They weren’t much further behind with Prentiss and Garcia. 

You met Reid and JJ in the lobby, droopy eyes and mouths full of yawns adorning the three of you. It was a long day, and it was only going to be worse tomorrow. 

“Where’s Hotch?” You asked, ready to get your feet out of these narrow leather dress shoes. You were wearing your combat boots tomorrow. 

“He’s checking in with the lady friend.” JJ nodded her head toward Hotch, who was conversing with Joyner in her office. They were standing close, and you thought you caught a smile on his face. “Do you think they’re into each other?”

“She looks like she could be Haley’s twin,” Spencer added and you sighed. 

The moment the team arrived at HQ this morning, everybody noticed the resemblance to Hotch’s ex-wife. SSA Kate Joyner went pretty far back with our unit chief. They went through the academy together and had some assignments overlap over the years. If it were up to Morgan and Garcia, the two of them would be out on a date right now. But you and Rossi quickly quieted the rumors, not wanting to deal with the rage that was Aaron Hotchner if he knew we were discussing his love life. 

It had barely been six months since Haley left with Jack, and Hotch had just taken off his wedding band a few weeks ago. He didn’t tell any of you until you all witnessed him getting served in the office. It slapped you across the face, especially since you’d just met Haley and Jack for a quick lunch a month and a half before. I guess she wanted Hotch to tell you when he was ready. 

As much as you valued your three year friendship with Aaron Hotchner, you knew Haley deserved better. Hotch adored his wife and son, and would fight heaven and earth to keep them safe. Unfortunately, he was too busy fighting the demons from hell to be a present father and husband. Everyone had their breaking point, and Haley had hit hers. From what Hotch has told you, they’re still amicable, and are trying to be friends again. After all, it wasn’t a lack of love that ended their marriage. It was a lack of prioritizing his family. 

“Knock it off. He’s on his way over.” The three of you turned to one another, pretending to hold an intriguing conversation about one of Spencer’s magic tricks. Truthfully, you were always intrigued in his magic tricks; you never understood how he could pull endless quarters out of your ear. But that conversation would have to wait for another day. 

“Ready to go?” Hotch pulled the keys out of his pant pocket, and the three of you nodded as Spencer called shotgun. A smile crossed your lips, never getting over the jovial things Spencer loved to claim when his intellect wasn’t needed to solve a case.

The fifteen minute ride to the hotel downtown was silent. You were all exhausted, emotionally and physically, sick of having to watch people die over and over again. 

The four of you made it into the lobby, tomorrow morning’s papers already spread across the table. “The late edition didn’t miss a beat.” You said and picked up one of the papers, the headline reading ‘Execution Style’ with a still from one of the murders. You showed it to Hotch and he shook his head. 

“I’m glad I never stooped to this level when I was publishing.” You murmured, reading the first paragraph of the article. 

“JJ,” Spencer started and pointed across the lobby, causing all of us to turn. It was Detective Will LaMontagne Jr., JJ’s adorably chivalrous Louisiana boyfriend. 

“Will.” You could practically hear the smile on her face as she led the walk over to him.

He was supposed to fly into D.C. to visit JJ for the weekend, but came to surprise her in New York when he heard the news. Spencer and I shared a look as Hotch extended a hand to him. 

“Detective.”

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, I know you’re working. But, um. I can’t stand you being on this case. And me not being here, not with what’s going on.”

JJ shook her head in the slightest, and you started to get nervous.

“Is there a problem?” Hotch asked, concern completely taking over his voice at the thought of any harm happening to his team. The couple shared a knowing look, and your patience was starting to run thin with the information being withheld. JJ meant the world to you, and you wanted to make sure she was okay.

Reluctantly, she turned to face you all, a shy smile covering her face. “I’m pregnant.” 

Spencer looked over at you, not knowing how to react to the news. But you couldn’t help the smile widening on your face. 

“Oh my god, JJ! Congratulations!” You wrapped your arms around her and she laughed, most likely out of relief. This was a secret she kept for a long time.

“I’ve asked JJ to marry me,” 

“Will.” She cut him off as Hotch gave him a congratulatory handshake. 

“We’re working out some kinks.” He added as Spencer was next to hug your blonde friend. A baby, in the BAU. You might have been more excited than JJ.

“We’ll, uh, give you both some privacy.” Hotch started towards the elevator, and JJ was quick to follow. 

“Hotch,” She didn’t continue, you knew this wasn’t the exact situation she wanted to tell everyone she was having a baby. 

“JJ, you could have told me.”  

The tenderness in his voice could have broken your heart in two right then and there, but add on the fact that you swore you could see Hotch’s eyes tear in the slightest, you were done. You didn’t want to mention it in front of Reid, but you knew this had to do with Haley. You’d be an idiot not to notice.

The three of you filed into the elevator, leaving JJ and Will to talk in private. You all got off on the fourth floor, Reid’s room the first to come up in the hallway. 

“Night Spencer.” 

“Goodnight. Seven a.m.,” He reminded you as he opened the door with his keycard.

You and Hotch walked down another ten feet before he found his room. 

“Goodnight,” He mumbled out and reached for his key. 

“Hotch,” He closed his eyes, nodding his head in the slightest. 

“I’m tired, y/n.” You could’ve pushed harder. You could have gotten him to crack if you started nagging enough. You’d earned the title as baby sister from the team since you could whine and nag them into doing anything. But tonight didn’t seem like a good time for your skills. 

You nodded, understanding this conversation wasn’t going to happen. 

“Goodnight. Get some sleep.”

Despite your best efforts, you didn’t sleep a wink. Hotch had gone over his files and called for Kate to meet him in the lobby. But then there was an explosion, and you had to watch from your window as Hotch sat by Joyner, waiting for her to die.

Once the team had caught the second unsub and wrapped everything up at the precinct, you headed to the hospital to check on Hotch. And unsurprisingly, he was refusing any further treatment for the ringing in his ears he tried to deny. You saw him kick Rossi out of the room, the third member that couldn’t get through to him. 

“Bobo, why don’t you give it a try. Can’t yell at the baby with a broken arm.” You were the one to tackle the unsub, and landed pretty hard on the pavement downtown. Nothing a black cast covered in smiley faces from Spencer and Garcia couldn’t fix. 

“I know you can’t tell, but I’m flipping you off right now.” You responded to Morgan as you raised your casted hand toward him.

You headed to Hotch’s room, knocking on the window before you walked in. 

“I swear to god if you try to put me in another MRI,” He started to raise his voice when you interrupted him.

“Shit, I should go tell Morgan he was wrong. Boss is willing to yell at the baby with a broken arm.”

He turned around to face you, the lines on his forehead disappearing once he saw it was you and not Rossi. 

“What happened to your arm?” You smiled and glanced down at the cast. “Just another day on the job. Tackled the unsub, the pavement was not very kind to me.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to put his tie back around his neck. You scoffed, stepping over to him. 

“Why the hell would you want to put that back on?” 

“Because it’s part of my suit.” 

You knew better than to pull it out of his hands. He was holding on to any semblance of control, and his outfit was all that he had left. Instead you took a seat in the stiff chair across from him, watching as he grimaced every time he lifted his arms too high. 

“If your goal is to get me to stay another minute here under observation, you’re not gonna win.” 

You shook your head. “That’s not my goal.”

He sighed, giving up on putting his tie on. He moved to finish his top button, he was at least going to be covered. 

“You should be excited for JJ.” You started, testing the water on this subject. 

“Did I suggest otherwise?” He asked and you shook your head. 

“When was the last time you saw Jack?” His eyes widened the slightest, and you regretted asking the question. You gripped the arms of the chair, ready to be ripped a new one. 

Instead, Hotch let out a sigh, and you snapped your head up. “Two weeks. Haley went to visit her mother for a week, and then we went from Florida to New York in three days.”

He was already away from Jack half the week when they were still living under the same roof. Now he was lucky if he got to say goodnight on a weekend. 

“Why don’t you take some time off? I’m sure you have weeks saved up. I’ve been here three years and have never seen a tan on you.” 

He shook his head. “Strauss would never approve of it.”

“Hotch,” 

“Y/n, I really want to get out of this hospital room and call my son.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Fine. But you’re not flying home. You have a choice between Morgan and Rossi to drive you home. My recommendation would be Morgan, you don’t want to sit through four hours of Opera music.” 

You stood up, refusing to meet his eye. You were sick of dealing with stubborn men. 

“I’ll see if they can fax your records to D.C. before we leave.” 

He muttered out a thank you as you left the room, shaking your head at the rest of the team.

“Nothing?” Morgan asked as you returned to them. 

“Nothing. Even the baby gets yelled at.” Spencer spared you a glance and you gave him a small smile. You would be fine. “And Derek, you’re driving him back.”

***

January 2010

You didn’t think it could get worse than seeing Hotch with nine stab wounds at the hands of Foyet. You desperately wanted to believe that it couldn’t be worse than that. But you were naive to think that he would let Aaron survive and not make him suffer.

None of you would be able to erase the image of Haley’s bloody body lying in the home where she and Aaron created their family. You wouldn’t forget the sight of Hotch beating into Foyet’s face, or the sobs that raked through his body once Derek had shaken him off. This was a tragedy that shaped the entire team.

After Haley’s death, the seven of you took turns checking in on Hotch, Jack, and Haley’s sister Jessica. She stayed close by when Hotch was on leave, helping him with Jack’s routine, and how to explain to the four year old where his mommy went. She moved back into her apartment a few blocks away before Aaron returned to work. He wanted to prove to her that he could do this on his own, that he could be the strong father that Jack deserved, and that Haley would be proud of.

While the three of them were together, the team would try and make it over every Saturday for dinner. Hotch needed to be around friends, and Jessica needed a guilt free night to spend with the people that made her feel good. He was reluctant at first, not wanting us over the apartment, complaining that it was a mess, and it was too small to fit everyone. But it was impeccably neat, the result of a widow not being able to sleep. Once he became comfortable with us coming around on Saturday’s, we’d pick two weeknights to stop by with a dinner, movie, or game to help take their minds off of the pain. Although you and JJ stopped by every friday regardless of whose week it was, Hotch really appreciated the extra company, and so did Jack.

Despite his attempts at being independent, there were one too many distressed calls being made to you or JJ if he couldn’t get a hold of Jess, or if he didn’t want to burden her with the responsibility. 

Your feelings about Jack Hotchner hadn’t changed in the four years since you met him. You would still do anything to see the adorable little boy smile. So, it was easy to say that you didn’t mind the late night phone calls worrying about Jack’s stuffy nose or when he should take the chicken out of the freezer without it going bad. Because the more he reached out to any one of you, the closer he was to finding a new normal. 

However, all of you were surprised to see SSA Aaron Hotchner in his office only a month and a half after the event. Sure, he made remarkable progress, but you all assumed he would take a little more time, maybe take Jack on a well deserved vacation. Instead, you walked into the office on a monday morning, Hotch the first one in attendance. 

That was two weeks ago. 

The readjustment period had worn off, and Hotch was back to being a drill sergeant. Even more aggressive than he was before. 

The case we were working was local, saving us the discomfort of sleeping in a hotel bed. We were in Virginia, investigating two murdered families, similar to ‘The Fox’.

“Who?” You asked, not familiar with the creepy nickname.

“Four years ago Karl Arnold, aka the fox, killed eight families.” Derek informed you. It must have been just before you started at the BAU. 

“Similar to this case he took the father’s wedding rings, except in his case he took them as trophies.” Spencer finished.

“Hotch, you gave evidence at Arnold’s trial. I think you should go see him.” Derek was acting unit chief since before Haley’s death, and continued his position even with Hotch’s return. Strauss was weary now more than ever to give Aaron the title back so quick.

“I’d like to take l/n with me.” You looked over to Hotch, his eyes resting on yours, waiting for your approval. 

You gave a small nod, placing your sunglasses over your eyes. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Hotch got the keys to a suburban and before you could meet him at the car, Prentiss pulled you back. 

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay with this?” She was always looking out for you, heck she was the one that made you pack extra barf bags for crime scenes. She knew meeting face to face with a family killer would do a number on you. But Hotch can’t face this guy on his own. Not after what happened.

“I’m good. Not the first time I've interrogated a psychopath.” She reluctantly nodded. 

“Okay. Just, let Hotch take the lead.” 

You gave her arm a squeeze. “I will. Let’s find this guy.”

The ride to Red Onion Supermax was a short and quiet one. Hotch filled you in on the particulars of Arnold’s case, making sure you knew it inside and out. This was a team effort after all. 

You couldn’t get a clean read on Hotch, however, on the ride over. He’d yet to crack a true smile or laugh in the weeks he’d been back, which normally wouldn’t be so out of character for him. But Reid had been trying to get him to crack with every magic trick he knew, even agreeing to let Derek joke about his lack of childhood and understanding of pop culture. But nothing worked. 

It worried you to see the regression he’s made since coming back. You knew how happy he was at home with Jack, that a smile crossed his face most of the day when he was playing legos with his son. You hoped he was here because he wanted to be, not because he felt like he had an obligation to the team or the Bureau. 

“Karl has a big ego. He’s going to answer every question with a question. He’ll try to gain the advantage with me by asking why I’m not wearing my wedding ring.” You looked down at his left hand, the gold band that you noticed on your first day, now gone, along with the woman he loved. “And then he will turn his attention to you.”

“So that’s why you brought me along.”

“Your presence will throw him off guard. And he’s going to want to describe to you in graphic detail every sexual act he committed with the families.”

“To freak me out?” Because you haven’t even met this sick bastard and you were certainly already freaked out. 

Hotch met your eye, and you knew this was only going to get worse. “To pull you into his fantasy.”

The guard radioed for the gate to open, and you tried to contain the tremors in your hands. This was a wing of psychotic sexual sadists, they would pick up on your nervous ticks.

You looked to Hotch once the gate opened, and he nodded for you to go in. 

“Go ahead.” You followed the guard in, surprised at the lack of noise you were welcomed with. “Keep your eyes forward. More than anything he’s going to want to see images of the children.”

“We can’t give him that.” You argued, as you started to hear the men from their cells. 

“We have to give him something or we’ll get nothing from him.” 

You’d kept your breathing under control the entire walk down the hallway, until a man crashed against the glass, causing you to flinch and spare a glance.

“Isn’t that, uh,-” 

“Derek Payne.” He finished for you, his eyes still straight ahead. 

“It’s reinforced glass.” You scoffed. Of course he wasn’t worried about another man ripping him apart.

“Easy for you to say, he tore apart fourteen women.”

The door opened to the interrogation room, and this time Hotch entered first. You were met with Karl Arnold, red bushy hair and a beard to match. He was average height, and a little stocky, not what you pictured him to look like.

“Hello Karl,” Hotch greeted him as we settled in on the other side of the table.

“Agent Hotchner,” He stood. “I wasn’t informed you were bringing a, uh,” He glanced at you, looking you up and down before turning back to Hotch. You really regretted wearing a white silk top with your dress pants today. “They just said two agents.”

“This is Agent-” 

“Y/n, l/n.” You tried to control the dilation of your eyes as he looked right through you. “I know all about you.”

Now you understood why Emily asked you if you were sure about this. He kept his eyes on Hotch as he started the interrogation, never looking you in the eyes longer than a second. Even if you directed a question toward him, he would only answer to Hotch. He was a misogynist. You don’t know why you’re so surprised at this discovery, he tortured wives and families.

When he offered up his book of dialogue between him and his fans, he smelled your perfume as you reached across the table to grab it. Hotch quickly took it for you, letting you sit back down in your seat. Your gut was no longer in your stomach, it was lodged in your throat. 

“How’d you lose your ring, Agent Hotchner?” It was beyond your level of profiling to understand how Hotch could just sit there and take the assault on his personal life from a man who ruined families, especially with what he’d just been through. You’d never mastered the art of compartmentalization quite like Hotch. But right now, you were thankful for your uncontrollable emotions.

“I can look past your refusal to answer my question, if you let me see the children. It’s the only way I can truly help you.” You gripped the files harder at the mention of the victims and looked at Hotch. 

“Can I speak with you for a second?” He nodded and the two of you stood. 

“Is there something wrong, y/n?” You bit back the sarcasm that was threatening to fall from your mouth. 

“Nothing’s wrong, Karl.”

You exited the interrogation room, still clutching the files close to your chest. 

“We cannot show him these.”

 He looked at Arnold, who seemed to find your eyes, even through the reflective mirror. “These images will be his undoing and will lead us to the killer.”

“These are not just images.” 

“That’s exactly what they are.” 

“Hotch, I am not about to parade a dead twelve year old girl in a bathing suit in front of a serial killer who gets off on it.” You raised your voice, not willing to compromise any respect you had left for these victims. 

“Then show him the others. It’ll gain his trust and get him talking. He won’t talk to me, he knows I know everything that gets him off. But he’ll want to tell you just what he would do to them. I told you, he wants to pull you in.”

You shook your head. “These are children! Helpless children whose fathers have to live with what this animal did to their families! These strangers do not get to see the torture and humiliation that they went through.”

“If you can’t stomach showing him what he desires, then I’ll do it. Because we’re not leaving until we get a name out of him. You’re either with the team or you’re not.” 

You scoffed. “You’re not the unit chief anymore. I do what Morgan says if we can’t come to an agreement.”

It was bold of you to remind him of his subordinate place. But you were equals now, despite the decade between you two. You didn’t have to listen to his orders if you felt they were wrong. 

He reached for the files, but you turned away from him. “I’m going in there. Not you. But I’m going to run the interrogation my way, not exposing these children. If you have a problem with that, you can call Morgan.”

You motioned for the guard to let you back in. You took your seat across from Karl, a smirk still evident on his face. 

“What, no Agent Hotchner?”

“You know, yours was one of the first cases I studied,” You started, trying to loosen up the muscles in your face. Going against every natural instinct in your body was making it hard to relax. “I’ve been fascinated ever since. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was embarrassed with him in the room.”

“You’re embarrassed because you want to know what I did, don’t you.” You pushed out a smile, a little giggle behind it to entice him.

And of course it did. “Yes.”

“I can show you exactly what I did to them.” 

“Tell me.” You tilted your head to the side, pushing some hair behind your ear. You were fighting the bile rising in your throat with every word you exchanged with him.

“Children are so precious, so clean. But they need guidance, especially the girls.” 

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

“Girls have much more to lose than boys. It’s a fact, the female body can handle pain much better.” If this wasn’t a serial killer across from you, you’d agree with him and make some jokes about the female anatomy. But he was enjoying this, just like Hotch said. He was pulling you in.

“What did you do to them?” 

He smiled. “I showed them, what men, their fathers, and brothers, are capable of.” 

“And what is that?”

“Once I killed the children, It always amazed me how little the father fought the inevitable, the dying.”

“I never thought I would get these answers, let alone from the man himself.” You pushed out another smile, because you knew he was holding back. He was almost willing to trust you, he just needed to be groomed a little more.

“It takes a good woman, to make an honest man. And you’re prettier than Agent Hotchner.” 

He was dancing around the information now, knowing that he had your time and attention. “Karl, do you know why you killed all those families?” 

“I already told you why.”

You dropped the sweet tone, and pushed up on your elbows. “No, you told me how. And your motivations were all driven by sex, motivations you learned from your father.”

You saw him flinch, and you knew you were getting somewhere. 

“You assert your dominance by making the father, the head of the household, watch you torture, assault, and take anything you wanted from the people he’s supposed to protect. Now your admirer, they don’t have the same ambitions as you do. And normally, that would bother a man like you. You want to be adored for every single part of your mess. But like you said, they’re an admirer, not a fan. So I’m guessing it’s a woman, who you’ve really come to care for.”

He tugged on his shackled wrists, you clearly got what you were looking for.

 “Those women, those girls, they needed to be taught a lesson. How to obey who’s in charge. And you,” he laughed as he inched as far across the table as he could. “The things I would do to you if I weren’t nailed to this table. You’d be done before I could call your name.”

Before you could respond, Hotch came into the room, demanding a name. You stood up, no longer needing to play a role. 

“It must be distracting, working with such a beautiful woman everyday.” You didn’t spare him another glance as you heard him mumble out a name to Hotch, finally getting what he wanted: power over you.

“Morgan, we’ve got a name. It’s a female guard in intake. Get everybody here ASAP.” The guard led you and Hotch back down the hallway, through the lion's den, and back to the elevator. Once inside, you let out a breath. Hotch turned to look at you, but you spoke up before he had the chance. 

“Don’t ask me to do that ever again.”

You would’ve yelled at him, tore him to pieces in the elevator ride from the fourth floor to the exit, but there was a guard escorting you out. You didn’t want him to have the privilege of watching two FBI agents battle it out. And honestly, you weren’t sure if you had the heart to yell at him after all he’d been through.

But once you were escorted through the exterior gates, your team in sight, you regained the nerve to give Hotch a piece of your mind.

Not before he spoke first though. 

“You did exactly what needed to be done. I didn’t ask you to act that way toward him, and I’m sorry you feel that that was your only way in. But I’m not going to apologize for getting the name of the killer.”

“So you would have acted in the same degrading way if the roles were reversed?”

He scoffed. “Yes, I would have. Because unlike you, my feelings don’t impair my judgement or ability to do this job. You’re an asset to this team, you need to find a way to get your emotions in check.”

You stopped walking, turning around to face him. You were in the middle of the driveway now, SWAT and BAU canvassing the scene. But you were going to do this here and now.

“The only reason you brought me here was to appeal to that sick son of a bitch. The only thing that makes me an asset to you is the fact that I have a vagina and you don’t. You turned me from a Supervisory Special Agent into a fighting fuck toy! You watched as I drained every ounce of respect I had for myself to turn into what that psychopath desired, all because I wouldn’t show him pictures of innocent children.” He looked over your shoulder to the team, embarrassed that they were hearing this. “At least have the respect to look at me while I’m talking to you!”

Hotch had never heard you yell like this. You were the calm one, the baby, as Derek called you. No one ever pushed you so far over the edge to get a reaction out of you. At least, not until he did. 

“The next time you ask me, JJ, Prentiss, or Garcia to flirt our way into a serial killer's mind, to expect us to degrade ourselves in order to save another woman, I will not hesitate to report you to Strauss.” You could hear footsteps behind you, but you continued on as tears started to form in your eyes. “You used to say that my empathy was what made me an amazing agent. That my ability to connect with victims and families was the reason I’m here. So do not try and make me feel worthless for possessing something that you wish you could have. Because the way you act, with no capability for empathy, is a depressing way to live.” 

“Y/n,” Spencer rested a hand on your shoulder, but you shook it off.

“Figure out the man you want to be.”

Before you could say anything else, Spencer dragged you away from Hotch and towards the cars. You could feel the tears freely falling down your cheeks, but you made no effort to remove them. You ignored the stares from the rest of your team, not giving them the satisfaction of knowing what went down in that interrogation room. Instead, you got into the passenger seat of the suburban, and Spencer started the drive back to the office. 

Rationally, you knew you went off too hard at him. He never deliberately asked you to flirt with Arnold. He asked you to show him the pictures of Lucy, to get him to crack under the fantasy. But you refused. You would rather make yourself go through that pain than any young child. It’s what you’d always done.

Spencer tried to convince you they hadn’t heard the conversation. That they were all too focused on SWAT’s apprehending of the guard to pay attention.

“Spence,” You started and looked over at him. “We all had our earpieces in. You heard every word.”

And he was silent the rest of the ride back. You were exhausted, and you wanted nothing more than to go home and fall asleep on your couch with reruns playing in the background. But you had a mountain of paperwork to finish, and still needed to debrief when the team got back.

Halfway through your stack, the team came back to the bullpen. Prentiss gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze as she passed by, heading for her desk. Derek had agreed to let everyone go home without debriefing. This was the earliest we’d been done with a case so close to home. We needed to capitalize on our rest. 

JJ was the first to go home, excited to be home in time for dinner with Will and Henry. Prentiss and Rossi followed shortly after, going to celebrate the win of this case at an expensive restaurant, at Dave’s expense. 

“Come on you two, don’t make me drag you out of here kicking and screaming.” Derek addressed you and Reid as he pulled his coat on. 

“We’re right behind you boss man.” Spencer said and turned his desk light off, grabbing his cane. He should be able to ditch all mobility aids soon.

You swung your backpack over a shoulder and turned off your own light. You didn’t even make it out of your four foot space before Hotch called out to you.

“Y/n, could I see you before you leave?” He was standing in front of his office, on higher ground than the rest of us. Power move, you thought to yourself. But he wouldn’t be that petty.

You looked back to Reid and Moran, the former nodding to you before seeing himself to the elevator. Now it was just Spencer, his eyes begging for you to leave. 

“I don’t need to remind you how deeply you care for all of us. But if you keep putting yourself out there to comfort him, you’re going to get destroyed.” This was the first time Spencer had mentioned this to you. Sure, you’d been helping Hotch out at home, a little more than normal, but everybody was pitching in. His wife died for god's sake. 

“Spence, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He let out a sigh and fidgeted with his cane. You found it at a consignment shop on one of your weekends off, and bought it for him without hesitation. It had an eagle engraved in it’s clutch, something regal, medieval, and screamed Spencer Reid. You ignored the price, a forty dollars more than you would’ve liked to spend on a walking stick, but the look on his face when you gave it to him was priceless.

“You need to stand up for yourself. Nothing excuses the way he treated you today. Regardless of your decision to play a character.” 

God, could he read you. 

“No pair of rose colored glasses could cloud that. Not even yours.” He gave you one last shadow of a smile before limping his way to the elevator.

Once you regained your composure, you turned to make your way up to Hotch’s office. He was sitting in his chair, staring at the paperwork waiting to be filled out before him. You knocked on the open door, and he stood up without even looking at you. You were going to take Spencer’s advice and stick up for yourself, so you had to set the pace.

“Can this be quick? I wanted to get home before traffic started up.” He rounded the front of his desk, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he leaned against it. 

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you back at the prison.” You nodded, not wanting to verbally accept the apology that was due to you hours ago. “I was out of line and completely blinded by the case. I should’ve listened to you and taken your reservations into consideration. It was narcissistic of me to think I was the only one capable of making the right decision.”

“Thank you.” You stuttered out, still absorbing the tone of his voice. His word choice was self deprecating, a cry for help if you didn’t know any better. 

“Y/n,” He started but was interrupted by a shaky breath. “I hate that I made you feel like all you’re good for is to romance your way into their heads. You deserve to be treated with respect, to be valued because of your empathy and your psychological understanding of victims and their families. If I’ve ever made you feel like you were worthless before this afternoon, please tell me.”

“No, you’ve never made me feel that way.” 

He nodded before turning to grab a piece of paper from his desk. 

“Good. Because I’ve written up a complaint for Strauss, describing my behavior and language directed toward you today. You shouldn’t have to wait for a next time to file it.”

He extended the paper to you, and you walked until you were standing in front of him, accepting the complaint into your hands. But you didn’t even read it before tearing it in two. 

“What are you doing?”

“Hotch, I’m not filing a complaint against you. Everything that I did today was my choice. You didn’t force me into anything.” 

He ran a hand through his hair, the first time you’ve seen it tousled in the office.  

“I was uncomfortable showing Arnold those pictures. So I made the choice to play a character, to appeal to his fantasy. You weren’t in the room, and you didn’t suggest that. If anything, you tried more than anything to get me to stick to the script. Did you have some choice words for me that weren’t necessarily appropriate? Yes. But we all have our moments. After we got out of there, I felt sick that I had to do that to get a name out of him. It wasn’t the first time I’ve camouflaged myself for the greater good, and it won’t be the last. I took out the self hatred I had on you, because you were there. Because if I did it your way, I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror again without feeling ashamed. But you didn’t deserve it.”

“Yes, I do. I deserve to be ridiculed for telling you that your empathy is a weakness. I deserve to be ridiculed for yelling at Garcia for missing something on a search. I deserve,” 

His voice broke, and you froze in place. You were about to see Aaron Hotchner cry for the first time in four years. “I deserve to be punished for Haley’s death.”

Your own eyes started to water as you saw a single tear roll down his cheek. Without thinking, you reached forward and held his hands in your own. They were shaking, and he tried to pull them away from you. But you held on tight, you weren’t going anywhere.

“Hotch, look at me.” He kept his gaze on the windows, looking out onto the concrete roof. 

“Hotch, please.” You were quieter the second time, and that’s what got him to meet your eyes. 

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you that you could’ve prevented Haley’s death if you did one thing instead of the other. Because no matter what you did, Foyet would’ve found her, and done this all over again.” He tried to look away from you, but you tugged on his hands, begging him to stay. “But what you did prevent, was Foyet taking away the greatest thing you and Haley ever made. You saved your son, Hotch. And you ended Foyet’s reign of terror. You get to spend every day reminding Jack how amazing his mother was. How strong, resilient, and fierce she was. How she looked death in the eye and didn’t even flinch. You get to live the rest of your life for your son.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, letting the few remaining tears fall down his face. You let your own fall with the reprieve of no longer being under his stare, not wanting to fall apart when he needed you.

“I love her. I never stopped loving her. The divorce, it wasn’t because of that. It was because of this job.” 

You squeezed his hands before letting them go, letting him wipe off his face. 

“I know. And I know she never stopped loving you.”

You never thought you would get to this moment when you first met Haley. You let out a small laugh while remembering your first encounter, how pregnant and angry she was at Hotch.

“What?” You smiled and shook your head. 

“I’m just remembering the first time I met her. She was pregnant, she called you a robot, and was cracking jokes left and right to try and get you to crack.”

That got him to smile. “I could always make her laugh when we were younger. She had the funniest, most embarrassing laugh. But it was Haley. And it was addicting.” 

You wanted him to remember her like this, with a smile on her face and the loving soul she was. 

“I truly am sorry for what I said to you, but you have to know I didn’t mean it.”

You nodded. “I know you didn’t. Just apologize to Garcia in the morning, and get home to Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He gave you a small smile as you picked up your backpack.

Spencer’s words stung in your ears while you were holding Hotch’s hands. You loved everyone on this team as your family. And Hotch needed you to be there for him a lot more over the last two months. Sure, you’d brushed off some harsh conversations with him considering the circumstances, but you knew when it went too far, like today.

“Y/n,” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, stopping you at the door. “Thank you.”

You nodded. “Of course.” 

Maybe you did care too much for people. But if it helped them get back to normal, you’ll continue wearing those rose colored glasses a little while longer.

***

March 2010

“I’m grocery shopping. Because I have no food in my apartment and I never thought I’d say this, but I’m sick of eating pizza.” You threw a box of cheerios in your cart, careful not to hit the eggs on their way in. 

“That’s how you’re spending your saturday? Our first saturday off in a month?” 

“Well, unless I want to spend another twenty bucks on one meal, I’ve gotta do my grown up chores.” “You need to get your butt back home so we can go out and drink.”

Emily was relentless, to say the least. Every single weekend you had off, her number popped up on your phone the minute you got home. She hated resting in her own solitude, and tried to drag you along for any activity she could think of. Shopping, drinking, walking around the national mall, and, in desperate cases, running. But her record wasn’t stellar in getting you to attend.

“I’m spending the afternoon with my couch, a book that has taken me too long to read, and probably eat an entire bag of smartfood.” You chucked a box of granola bars in your cart too when you heard a kid cry. You turned to the end of the aisle, but the parent was blocking the child. “Besides, it’s dinner tonight at Hotch’s.”

“He canceled this morning. Rossi was supposed to call and let you know.” You rolled your eyes. Of course Dave forgot. 

“Daddy! I want the poptarts!” You heard the kid yell out again. But you knew that voice, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Em, I’ll see you on Monday. Have a shot for me.” 

“I’ll have two.”

You laughed as you hung up the phone, pushing the cart over to your favorite little boy on the planet. You didn’t think to give the father another glance when you didn’t recognize him, but that’s because Aaron Hotchner is never without a suit at the office. He was dressed in jeans now and a quarter zip, looking like a normal dad.

When you approached the two boys, Jack was leaning against the shelf, tears streaming down his cheeks as he kicked his feet against the ground. 

“It looks like SSA Hotchner could use some help profiling his son.”

Hotch was quick to stand up, meeting your eye. You only smiled while crouching down to Jack’s level. 

“Hey little man, what’s the problem here?” He wiped the tears from his cheeks, and your heart broke at the redness in his eyes.

“Daddy won’t let me get any pop tarts.” 

“That’s because you ate the whole box in one day without my permission.” Aaron argued back. 

You hid your laugh in your shoulder, not wanting to upset Jack any more. But Hotch had already caused him to spiral into a meltdown again. 

“Jack, have you ever had ants on a log?” He shook his head, tears continuing down his chubby cheeks. “Well, they were my favorite snack when I was little. It’s celery, peanut butter, and raisins all set up on a plate. And the best part is, you get to make it yourself! Now, I know how much you love peanut butter, and I bet if you ate this snack, Daddy will let you get poptarts the next time you go grocery shopping.”

“Okay.” He said and nodded his little head. “But I’m sick of grocery shopping.”

“Me too buddy.” I sat down next to him. “I do not like having to walk up and down these aisles searching for food. So, why don’t we sit here while daddy finishes his list?”

You spared a glance at Hotch and his practically full basket. You knew he would be done in ten minutes if you stayed here with Jack. 

“Are you sure?” Aaron asked and you nodded. 

“‘Course. I don’t need food that bad anyway.” He sighed and made his way back to his carriage.

You pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of your purse and handed it to Jack. 

“Aunt Jessica told me that you know how to write your name now. Can you show me?”

He sat up straight, laying the paper down on the floor. You watched as he made a loopy uppercase J, followed with big and small letters to spell out the rest of his name. 

“That’s awesome buddy. What about your last name?” 

“Hotchner!” He yelled out and you laughed. 

“Yeah, let me spell it out for you.” You wrote it out on the paper and it took him a few minutes to copy down.

“You’re turn now, y/n.” He handed you the pen and you wrote your name down, saying the letters as you wrote them. Jack repeated you, and it made you laugh. You forgot that kids were such sponges. 

By the time you finished writing Aaron and Haley’s names for Jack, Hotch was back with his cart. “Alright buddy, it’s time for us to go. We gotta let y/n finish her grocery shopping.” 

“No! I want y/n to come home with us for dinner. She was helping me spell everyone's names!”

You smiled as you stood up, giving Jack a hand. “Maybe next time buddy. But you gotta get home to try those ants on a log.”

“Actually, we’re making pizzas for dinner, Jack’s saturday choice. You can come over, if you don’t have any plans already.” You’d never heard Hotch this nervous before. It made you laugh a little. 

“I’d love to. Only if I get to put extra cheese on my pizza though.” 

“Of course!” Jack exclaimed and you matched his smile. 

“Awesome! I’ll let you two pay for all this food and I’ll meet you at your house okay?” Jack nodded before running to the front of the cart.

“You sure you don’t have any plans? I don’t want you to give up another saturday night at my expense,” 

“Hotch there is nothing more exciting than spending my weekends with the cutest four year old on the planet.” He smiled, but you knew he still wasn’t convinced. “Besides, every other twenty-nine year old I know is in a stuffy club in uncomfortable clothes. This is much more my pace.”

He nodded, a small smile on his face. “Okay. We’ll meet you at the apartment in a half an hour.” 

“Sounds good. See you soon Jack!” You waved to the little boy and quickly tried to finish buying the staples that could get you through a few days at home. 

You got home and quickly put your food away, making sure everything that needed to be refrigerated was chilled. You switched your t-shirt for a long sleeve tee, opting for sneakers instead of boots. Comfort was the utmost importance on days off.

It took you twenty minutes to get to Hotch’s apartment from yours, arriving at five on the dot. You were known for, and proud of your punctuality. Hotch answered the door after two knocks, and you couldn’t help but focus on the noise of three different locks unlocking. 

He greeted you with a slight nod of the head, button down replacing his quarter zip. 

“Do you even own comfortable clothes?” “This is comfortable.” You rolled your eyes, as he took the poptarts from your hands, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Didn’t I just have this fight with my four year old son about not buying these?” He asked as he let you in the house. 

“Yes, but I’m the fun dinner guest. I bring the treats for the children.” 

He tried to hide the small huff of a laugh that escaped his lips, but you still caught it. “You will be the death of me.”

You let out a laugh as he led you into the kitchen, putting them away on the top cabinet. I reached for my hip and pulled my holster off, putting it on the counter. 

“Do you have somewhere I can put this? Last thing I need is to drop it while I throw up my pizza dough.” He unlocked the drawer in his desk, placing it in there before locking it back up.

You heard tiny footsteps running down the hall. “Y/n! It’s pizza time!” 

You smiled as he tugged at your legs. “I know! I’m so excited!”

“Alright buddy, you’re up first. Show y/n how we properly throw our pizza dough in the air.” Hotch pushed a step stool over to the counter, waiting for Jack to step up. The grin on the little boy's face was ginormous as he powdered his hands with flour, taking the small ball of dough Hotch separated for him.

The two of you were on either side of Jack, each ready to follow his lead in the process. “Ok, on the count of three. One, two, three!” 

You spun the dough in your hands before throwing it in the air, watching it separate the slightest bit. Jack’s giggles filled the apartment as he let his dough fall onto the counter. Aaron shook his head, you could tell this part of the meal was always a struggle for the little boy.

You watched as Jack spread out the miniscule amount of sauce he wanted along his crust, topping it off with a mountain of cheese. You taught him the more cheese, the better, and he clearly still believed you. You added some pepperoni to your own oval shaped pie, unsuccessful in making a perfect circle crust. But, not everyone could be the perfect Italian chef like David Rossi.

While the pizza’s were in the oven, the three of you sat down to play a few rounds of Candyland. You hadn’t played since your time at DCFS, and you forgot how there was no real objective to the game. It certainly wasn’t your game of choice, but Jack was still a little young to be able to contend with you in a game of monopoly. A few more years, you thought.

Once the pizza’s were done, Jack helped you set the table as Hotch cut the pies. You felt a little out of place, crossing some very important boundaries by having dinner with just the two Hotchner boys. This saturday was much different than the ones you spent when the whole team was over, Henry and Jack putting on dance parties for the guests. 

You started to become more aware of your actions around the apartment; how you knew where the placemats were kept, that Jack used his purple cup for milk at dinner, and the strict no electronics rule at the table. However, that had been established by Haley years ago. The thought of her had a shot of guilt running through your stomach, sitting down with her family for dinner, just three and a half months after she’d passed. 

You’d been thinking a lot about what Spencer had said that night at the BAU. He was vague, too vague for the doctor that could tell you how long he’d been alive down to the second. After a few sleepless nights, you called the doctor in question and demanded he explain himself. But after his admission, you quickly regretted having all the information.

Spencer Reid has known you for almost five years now, and has seen you through the moments that have shaped your adult life. Killing Stephanie Moore, testifying in the fisher king case, being your excusing phone call from multiple dates, and holding your hand as you took in one of your former foster siblings from a bad relationship. There was absolutely nothing in your life that could be hidden from him.

So when he told you he noticed your feelings for Hotch ‘about two years ago’, you nearly stopped dead in your pacing tracks. Not because you didn’t know your own feelings for the man, but because you didn’t realize it had been that long. That he had been married to Haley, albeit only for a month longer, that you started to notice how handsome your boss was. Upon hearing the truth out loud, and from another person, you ran to the bathroom and threw up a few times. 

You were so embarrassed, so ashamed of caring for someone that couldn’t be yours. For caring for someone who’s wife you truly adored. After the third round of puking, Spencer reassured you through the phone that it wasn’t your fault. We can’t control who we love. And yes, he said love.

“Are you okay y/n?” Jack’s little voice pulled you from your thoughts. You smiled at his sauce covered face and nodded. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. How’s your pizza, Jack?”

“Awesome! Daddy is the best pizza cooker ever!”

“You sure you’re okay? You look a little pale,” Aaron commented and referenced your plate. You hadn’t taken a bite. 

“I’m good, really. Just thinking about how I’m going to make a bigger lego tower than Jack after dinner.”

That got the little boy to laugh, successfully switching the conversation to Jack’s favorite toys. But you noticed the glaces Hotch snuck your way, not believing you for a second. You were an awful liar. 

The longer the three of you sat at the table, the larger your smile grew around these boys. Seeing Hotch being able to relax and really enjoy his time with Jack always brought a smile to your face. He was a natural father, sliding into the role of playmate and swaddler, cuddler and soother. You even remember him helping JJ out with Henry’s swaddle at work one day.

But you knew he felt guilty, not being able to be present in his son’s life everyday. You saw it in the hundred’s of views of the video of Jack’s first steps, the late night phone calls while away on a case just to say goodnight to his little boy. He missed out on a lot of the baby years, and he would be making it up to Jack for the rest of his life, with nights like these. With the whole weekend devoted to Jack Hotchner’s favorite things, minus the sugary pop tarts. Hotch had mastered the duality of being a Supervisory Special Agent for the FBI, and the loving father to Jack Hotchner. It was one of the reasons why you started caring so much for him. 

“Alright Jack, you can build one tower with y/n, then it’s bath time and off to bed.” You saw the pout on Jack’s face as Hotch cleared our plates, and you helped him off the chair. 

“Come on, maybe if we’re quick enough we can make two.”

He giggled as he led you to his room, stuffed animals and toys galore. This boy won’t want for a thing.

“Okay, you make a big blue one, I’ll do purple.” 

You finished much quicker than the four year old, but under no circumstances would he let you sit and watch him make his masterpiece. Instead, since you had nearly two and a half feet on him, you stacked your tower on top of his and continued adding pieces to make it bigger. He cheered you on as it started to reach your head, and you were getting excited yourself. Until, it came to a crashing fall with the last green piece on top. 

“Noo!” Jack yelled out, trying to catch the falling pieces. 

“It’s okay Buddy, you can always make another one.” Aaron’s voice trying to soothe his son caught both you and the little guy’s attention.

The two of you turned to see Hotch leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. You wondered how long he’d been standing there. 

“And maybe next time, we can make one as big as daddy.”

 Hotch let out a laugh as Jack smiled at you in amazement. He liked how your brain worked. 

“Bath time, bud. We gotta get your face cleaned up from all that pizza sauce, and ship you off to bed.” 

“But y/n’s here,” He whined, not wanting the lego fun to end.

“Well I have to get home and take a shower too, bud. Don’t worry, there’s plenty more playdates in your future.” You said and stood up, giving the little boy a high five. 

“Go wait for me in the bathroom okay, I’m gonna walk y/n out.” 

“Okay. Bye bobo.” He said and ran off to the bathroom, leaving you speechless in his bedroom. 

“You let him be around Derek Morgan way too much.”

“Probably. But you can’t compete with the guy who brings over a new lego set every weekend.” Hotch got your gun for you, walking you back to the front door. 

“Are you kidding? You’re his hero, Hotch. He asked me last week if I was a superhero like daddy.” He cracked a smile, but his eyes were glued to the floor, unable to meet your own.

“Why did you cancel dinner tonight?” He sighed and lifted his head. You’d been wanting to ask him since you were at the grocery store. The team had been coming over for three months now, and it was something we all started to look forward to.

“I was sick of feeling like a burden to you all. I mean, asking you all to give up your Saturday nights, sometimes our only free night of the week to spend in my depressing apartment, it had been enough.” If only you could show this man how much the team cared for him through your eyes, he would never doubt his worth another day in his life. 

“Hotch, the highlight of my week is coming here to be with you all. My family. Watching Henry and Jack play with each other, listening to Spencer and Penelope fight over who the true godparent is, and getting to be on the receiving end of Rossi’s awesome cooking?” 

He nodded, mumbling an ‘I know’ a few times under his breath. But he needed to know that as much as you all come here for Jack, you guys care for Aaron and his well being just as much. 

“I come here every saturday to make sure that Aaron Hotchner has not dressed in a suit for the sixth day in a row, and to make sure he knows that he’s doing such an amazing job with Jack. That he is being the best father, friend, and boss, that he can be.”

This time, his eyes were locked on yours as you got a real Aaron Hotchner smile out of him, dimples and all. You couldn’t help but make a check mark in the air, the team tally still going strong. He playfully rolled his eyes as you swung your bag across your shoulder. 

“So who’s in the lead now?” 

“Me, for the last six months. I can’t be dethroned.” You felt your cheeks grow warm, hoping he wouldn’t think too much into your stat keeping. 

“Well, that seems like a pretty accurate tally.”

You made sure it was. And selfishly, you hoped no one else could get that beautiful smile to cross his face like you could. 

“Thank you for coming over. We both had a lot of fun.” 

“I did too. I’m around anytime, my tower building skills are not occupied for many other people.” He let out a laugh as he opened the door for you.

“Goodnight y/n. Let me know when you get home.” 

“I will. Night, Hotch.”

You got home in twenty minutes, texting Aaron as you walked through your door. Quickly changing into pajamas and throwing Legally Blonde into the DVD player, your phone dinged at a new message.

It was from Hotch, a picture attached to the message. It was of Jack, towel wrapped around his head, eyes shut from grinning so wide. ‘He wanted me to send this to you. He said, ‘this is how happy I am that y/n was here tonight.’ Thanks again for everything. Goodnight.”

You couldn’t help the tears that pooled in your eyes at the sweet little boy in the picture, and his amazing dad behind the camera.

****

tags: @simplyprentiss @michaelahah @ssahotchner99 @svrgicalhands @hotchtopic @unionjackpillow @philcoolson @tommhollandzxhaz @kathleenjasmine @canimarrypizzaornah @reaperwalking @inlovewithaaronhotchner @shelbymm11 @mrshotchner23 @tropicalwrites

#aaron hotchner x female! reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner

[giftofshewbread]

Why God HAD to Create the Universe

: By David Cogburn     Published on: September 29, 2021

We live in an amazing universe created by God. Its vastness seems infinite and almost more than we can comprehend. But here is a good question: Why did God even create a universe in the first place? God is eternal and lives inside eternity, so why go to the trouble of creating something like our universe? The truth is God “had to.” This article will explain why, but first, let me digress a moment.

As we all know, God is a Trinity God existing as Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Just as water can be a solid, liquid and gas helps explain how God can be one God with three essences. We also all know God is a God of love, and this occurs because God “IS” a “Relationship” through the Trinity, and relationship is what brings God His greatest joy. You can only have love if there is free will, which means you cannot have love unless you have the ability not to love.

He enjoys it so much that He decided to create more of it by creating angels to have a personal relationship with Him and with each other. Each angel was created perfect, sinless and holy in heaven. God loves them, and they love Him back, and each one is receiving the “best” God has to offer.

But then the unthinkable happened. Lucifer, God’s greatest angel, decided he, too, wanted to be worshipped like God. He took his eyes off God, put them onto himself, and committed the first sin in the Bible – pride. He rejected what God had to offer. Love is putting others first. Pride is putting yourself first, and Lucifer was powerful enough that his influence with the other angels caused one-third of the angels to also reject what God had to offer. They, too, fell from God’s grace.

God, knowing all things, obviously knew this would occur. It certainly saddened Him to know that His best was not good enough for one-third of His angels, and this appears to be about the time God may have decided to do something ���incredibly different.” It’s easy for sinless, holy angels living in heaven with God to know Him and enjoy everything He offers. What would happen if God created a different kind of being to have a relationship with – human beings – whom He knew would sin from the beginning and would not be holy, sinless beings living in His presence and receiving the best He had to offer?

There is a saying in Las Vegas that applies to eternity. What happens in eternity STAYS in eternity. Once one-third of God’s angels fell from His grace inside eternity, there is “no way” for them to ever receive redemption and have their sin forgiven. God’s eternity is a perfect, holy, sinless eternity, and no sin can dwell there. Thus, God had to create a place inside eternity that was separate from where He dwells; this is why He created hell.

The Bible seems to show that once God creates a sentient being like an angel or a human being that He does not allow an eternal “annihilation” type of death to occur where you die and don’t exist anymore. It is an eternal “separation” type of death, which is actually far worse than an annihilation type of death. And since there is no physical death in eternity, there is no way to have “someone” die and pay the price for your sins, like in the case of angels. This is why Jesus said it is better never to have been born than to be born and end up not being saved.

The name of the game for everything is ETERNITY, period. Everything revolves around God, and life is not about some temporary 100-year life span on earth; it is about eternity with God or separated from God. How important is everything we do while alive for one second on earth compared to infinite trillions of years in eternity, and especially WHERE we live in eternity?

So now we get to the question of why God “had to” create a physical universe.

The answer is as simple as the nose on our faces. He had to create TIME, and that’s what the universe does. It creates TIME, which is temporary. Obviously, God does not need time, but when He decided to create human beings –knowing they would fall from His grace at the beginning and that all of humanity from that point forward would be born spiritually dead with a sin nature – God HAD to make sure we were not created and born with a sin nature INSIDE ETERNITY. What happens inside eternity “stays” inside eternity, so He had to provide us “time” to come to know Him and have a personal relationship with Him through Jesus Christ so that when we “do” enter eternity at our physical death, we enter “eternity” either saved through Jesus or not saved without Jesus.

Now, let’s sit back for a moment and try to contemplate what God has actually done. We know from His word that His plan has always been to spend eternity on earth with us human beings, so it appears He creates this incredible infinite-type universe for one main reason – to give us “time” to know Him and be saved, and that would mean this WHOLE UNIVERSE was created for one MAIN reason – for US and just us.

Just about everyone, it seems, believes in extra-terrestrial aliens, and most of them think of them as aliens from other planets. But the best answer is they are demonic and come from another dimension vs other planets. We know from Genesis that at one point, some of God’s fallen angels were allowed to become visible and have relations with human women to produce the Nephilim, the giants of the Old Testament. The Bible says the end times will be as they were in the days of Noah, so demonic beings becoming more and more active these past few decades could easily explain what is going on.

But surely, God would not create a universe as vast as ours for only us, would He? Why not? We know from His word that His plan is for His saved children to spend eternity on “earth” with Him forever, and we also know from His word that not only is this what happens but also when that happens.

After Jesus comes back and rules our planet for His millennial 1,000-year reign, Satan will be released to gather up his great multitude of people who have rejected Christ with their sin nature during His millennial reign. They are destroyed, and then we have God’s great White Throne judgment in which all unbelievers of all ages will be judged and be separated from God forever in hell. It is THEN that the sinful human race is over with. God ends up creating new heavens and a new earth in which the New Jerusalem in heaven comes down onto the new earth. There is no more sin due to no more mortal human beings, and we spend eternity with God just like He planned all along.

But here is another good question: God created perfect, sinless, holy angels inside eternity where there is no sin. Why would God now want to create a whole different kind of being in His image that “is” sinful, cannot live in His presence, will have to live our lives in this sinful universe, and have to fend for ourselves due to sin?

In heaven, God takes care of “everything” for us. We will want for “nothing.” On earth, WE have to provide everything for ourselves. We don’t live in God’s presence, but He’s still here, watches everything we do, and has given us His word, which explains His plan from the beginning to the end. It explains everything we need to know about how to live our lives from every perspective. Best of all, how to come to know Him and have a personal relationship with Him through Jesus and go from being spiritually dead for all eternity to being spiritually alive for all eternity.

Time is a paradox. It is the greatest blessing God ever gave us and also the greatest curse God ever gave us at the same time. With “time,” the greatest blessing is that we can become saved for eternity through Christ. And it’s the greatest curse because “time” destroys “everything.” Nothing in the whole universe can survive time, including the sun, moon and stars, as well as ourselves when we physically die.

What is the greatest difference between us sinful human beings and God’s holy angels? The difference is the GREATEST thing that God has ever done, and this appears to be the MAIN reason why God created us in the first place. It certainly pleases God when His angels serve Him, but angels do not have to have “faith.” You don’t need faith in heaven. There is symmetry in the Bible, and we know that one-third of the “saved” angels fell from God’s grace. And the symmetry is that it also appears from the Bible that approximately one-third of the “lost” human beings will be “saved.”

ALL human beings are born LOST and are spiritually DEAD. It appears all religions think you are saved if you do enough good works. However, you could be a Mother Theresa 1,000 times over, and you are still spiritually DEAD without Jesus, who paid the price to remove ALL of our sins. The name of the game on entering eternity is sin or no sin. It’s as simple as that when it comes to heaven and hell, and ONLY God could remove our sins by sacrificing His Son Jesus on a cross to pay for our sins.

So, what is it that God really wants from us sinful human beings? He wants to get MARRIED. He wants a BRIDE for His Son. God has set up marriage to be the most INTIMATE relationship there is when TWO become ONE in every aspect. Soul mates, as we like to say. This is why the church is called the bride of Christ. God did something far, far greater than most people, including born-again Christians, even have a clue about. It is such a big deal to God when an eternally lost human being comes to know Him through faith in Christ that He decided to share HIMSELF with us.

In John 14, Jesus tells us, “I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you.” God the Holy Spirit comes to indwell all born-again believers. We literally become CONNECTED to God in a small way. Think of God as Windows and angels as Mac. Mac is separate from Windows but serves Windows. We are a Windows upgrade or update. We are a part of God now; chew on that a bit. WE ARE A PART OF GOD NOW! As in marriage, we are now TWO become ONE, and this also helps to understand why the Bible says we shall rule over angels in eternity. We have more “rank,” if you will.

We are heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ. God did not share Himself with His angels. It took eternally lost human beings, who never see God visibly and who are not now receiving the best He has to offer, to still come to have faith and love Him through His Son Jesus and become His bride for now and forever. WOW!!! How incredible is that? Of course, we will not truly know what all of this means until we enter heaven.

I used to be concerned that since some angels used their free will and goofed up and sinned, does that mean there’s a chance that I, too, might goof up and sin somehow inside eternity? The answer is that would be impossible for one simple reason: We are connected to God, and just as God would never sin, we will never sin. We will be able to love like God loves, and a myriad of other things too incredible to even know right now. As the Bible says, there is no way we can grasp all of the incredible, wonderful things God has in store for us in eternity. And this is why God wants us to be His ambassadors and share Jesus with others. He wants us to live our lives in a way that shows Jesus to others so that they, too, might desire to come to know Him as Lord and Savior.

One final thought: Let’s look at how God views things from a color perspective. Everything with God represents the color white, which is associated with Holiness, goodness, joy, pleasure, and ALL things good because they come from God, and this is what you have in heaven. God is Light, and white light is a “combination” of ALL colors in the color spectrum, which you would expect with God. In hell, where God does not dwell, everything is the total opposite of what you get with God in heaven, such as darkness because there is no light without God, unholiness, no joy, pain, suffering and torment, and all things bad. Black is the “absence” of ALL colors in the color spectrum. Thus, inside eternity “everything is ALL good with God or ALL bad without God, and it is impossible to combine any part of good with any part of bad.

BUT the universe is Gray. It is the ONLY place located inside “time” that God allows good and evil to co-exist together. Why would God do this? Because the universe with “time” is a sinful universe due to Adam’s sin and our sin natures. And God, knowing He would be invisible to us, does manage to make Himself “visible” in a different way through ALL of His incredible creation and through His holy word in the Bible. “Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth” is the perfect acronym because God tells us everything we need to know about Him and about everything else.

As I mentioned a moment ago, God wants to get married and have a bride for His Son. But why would God pick as His bride the sinful human race over His holy angels? The answer is simple – opposites ATTRACT. We humans are one hundred percent the opposite of God in every aspect. Angels are too much like God and thus not a good match for a bride.

God, being a God of love, loves and is attracted to ALL human beings as marriage material. But just like us humans, He, too, is only interested in a soul mate who also loves Him back. Opposite attraction works both ways. God is 100 percent the opposite of us, and you would think we would be attracted to Him for that. But the huge problem is that humans have a sin nature that prevents us from being naturally attracted to God.

But because God has revealed Himself through ALL of His creation and through His word in the Bible, many humans DO see Him and fall in love with Him and want to get married to Him since He has made that possible.

As humans, most all of us desire to grow up, find our soul mate to marry, and hopefully have a wonderful and perfect, loving marriage relationship for the rest of our lives with each other. Our sin nature makes it less than perfect, but it seems that marriages between couples who love the Lord and are connected to Him do much better than those couples who do not know Him. Here is the best news: Our marriage to God “IS” the ONLY perfect, intimate loving relationship that is even possible, and it lasts forever. There is no divorce with God.

I am guessing that many of us have never even thought of our relationship with the Lord in these terms, but we will be officially married to Jesus when He comes for His bride at the rapture, which could be super soon. We will go back to celebrate with Him our 7-day/year wedding feast, and then we come back with Him for His 1,000-year millennial reign. If all of this doesn’t get us excited big time, I don’t know what will.

I hope this article has helped to not only show why God created the universe but also to show why He created us, which is to be a perfect, holy, loving bride to His Son and be joined to Him now and forever. There are simply no words to describe how truly GREAT He is, and the good news for us is that Jesus is coming SOON!

Maranatha, Lord Jesus.

David Cogburn

#crafts #art #guns #news #fall #bread #of #life #universe #create #humans #aliens #demonic #feasts #marriage #bride #groom #desire #7 #cocky #time #food #beefy #sweet #pumpkins #harvest #vids #memes

[j0hn-deacons-perm]

I’ve been reading Is This the Real Life: the Untold Story of Queen and some things in this...

-Brian and Roger got into it after a show one time and Roger just went in with hairspray in Bri’s face

-Freddie met with a group of people in tight satin pants and couldn’t sit down so he looked around and tried to not attract attention to himself while undoing them

-Freddie was also so exhausted during their US tour at one point he just completely passed out, face in his breakfast

-Roger chose the shirt Fred wanted to wear for their first Rainbow show so he stormed off during soundcheck and brian begged for him to come back

-Also during their first US tour, Brian got himself a love affair in New Orleans and had to be rushed back to the UK after waking up in New York with full blown hepatitis due to a vaccine he received earlier in the year.. Freddie got herpes apparently? Icons.

-Freddie kept up with visiting Brian in the hospital while they worked on Sheer Heart Attack since homeboy had an operation after he was cleared for his hepatitis bed rest then had an ulcer shortly after.

-Roger didn’t like his hair in the cover photo for Sheer Heart Attack so they added extensions in the final photo. 

-Years after them leaving Trident, John was met with a former employee who recognized him at an airport and just completely shut him down. We love a king who knows his worth.

Edit #1 since I’ve read a bit more...

-Brian would somewhat irritate the person making coffee and tea. “...and then I’d ask Brian what he wanted. Then there’d be this pause and then he’d ask ‘How many teas are you making? How many coffees?...Two?...Three? Is it easier for you to make another coffee or another tea?’ You could spend 10 minutes just doing this. He was trying to make it easier for me, but in the end I’d be like, ‘Brian! Just tell me what you want!’”

-Bri thought Death on Two Legs was too mean and felt bad singing it.

-Freddie shutting down homophobes in the audience by shining the spot light on them and asking them to repeat what they said.

-Freddie didn’t believe the gold disc for a Night at the Opera was the album so he broke it open to play it and it was indeed their album. He was suspicious of EMI after everything at Trident which, I mean, valid.

-Mary out here recognizing her and Fred’s relationship was crumbling, accepted it and hugged him when he came out. We love a good support system.

-When in Australia, they had to go on foot to their venue due to a festival taking place. No cars could pass. But Freddie being extra, he was driven through in a limo while drinking champagne.

Edit #2

-Fred was being driven to the studio and they crashed so he went to a nearby house to use their phone...in a silk kimono with Queen written on the back...almost dressed in full stage attire. They let him in, made him tea and chatted.

-During their show at Maple Leaf Gardens in Toronto, Brian’s amp exploded and he ran over to tell Freddie but it was in his mic pretty much so everyone heard him panicing. Fred waved Bri away saying “Oh, just jump around a bit and the silly bastards won’t know the difference!”

-If Fred walked somewhere, a car would follow him with the door open in case he got tired. This boy is so extra I swear to god....

-I ALMOST FORGOT!! They had clocks as promo items for News of the World and they sounded kind of fancy so I looked it up and.....

Bitch...I low-key want one.

Edit #3

-That feeling when Roger could not confirm but didn’t doubt there being dwarves with cocaine at the Jazz debut party.

-In Munich recording the Game, the boys would split off to do their own thing after recording for the day. Freddie would explore the gay club scene while the others got drinks, dinner and a club then would meet back up with Freddie at the hotel. Taylor’s suite (not sure if it’s Roger or Crystal tbh) was the HH....the hetero hangout and Freddie’s was the PPP...the Presidential Pouff Parlour.

-John was nicknamed Ostrich because ‘He’s was like a bird who stays quiet until it finally lays a perfect egg.’ Kinda wish there was more about John in this book tbh

-the author really out here typing Deakey....unbelievable. Either Deacy or Deaky, binch. Come on.

-According to Crystal, Roger had his drum case be a close up of his face in case he had amnesia and needed to know what he looked like but we all know the truth, Rog 👀

-During a late night drinking sesh, one of the crew put on the Flash Gordon soundtrack and John, shit faced, asked who it was.

Edit #4

-Apprently Cool Cat was the first song written for/on Hot Space and Brian wasn’t a huge fan of it or Back Chat because it wasn’t heavy enough. Adding onto that, Staying Power and Body Language were thought to be too gay and Bri wanted things to be for everyone of different persuasions. Brian....let the gays have something.

-With the Works and Hot Space being my top two Queen albums...I was disappointed how much was just blown over with the recording process tbh.

-Paul Prenter was a massive cunt but everyone knows that.

-John was busted after a Phil Collins concert because he was drunk driving. He was driving his new Porsche but then got his license suspended for a year. Brian was a guest DJ for a radio show where he played Stevie Wonder’s Don’t Drive Drunk and dedicated the song to “John, whom some of you may know has had a little problem with his car recently.’

-Freddie’s pick up line for Jim was ‘how big is your dick’....I mean, in a way, it worked??? Iconic.

-Roger owned up to having their sound guy set false sound limits for the groups before them during Live Aid so when Queen went on, they were the loudest.

Edit #5, the last one since I finished the book

-Paul Prenter should have had someone kick him in the shins tbh fuck that guy

-Brian met Anita through a Eastenders event and he was gushing about how much he loved the show since Chrissie had him watch it then invited her to Wembley which she turned him down.

-Also fast forward to the later half of the 90′s, Anita helped Brian get into therapy for his depression and other emotional matters. We love a supportive queen.

-When the book finally talks more about John and it’s him saying the We Will Rock You musical sucked and he having an affair with a 25 year old erotic dancer like come on my dude....why couldn’t I be her??? But for real, I looked into it and found an article and wowza. When sd!Deaky be an actual thing????

-The press’ harassment of Freddie and his inner circle during his last years is absolutely horrendous to read about tbh. I think it was Roger (feel free to correct me on that if I’m wrong) who crashed his car because the camera flashes temporarily blinded him when he was trying to visit Freddie.

-Also Freddie was able to see the Bohemian Rhapsody clip from Wanye’s World since Mike Myers sent him a tape. Bri and Fred watched it and according to Brian, Freddie loved it and sent his seal of approval.

There’s the things I found interesting reading this biography. If you’ve read it or have any other fun facts, add them on my dudes!

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #john deacon #freddie mercury #brian may #damn this post got a bit long huh

[mantra4ia]

Debris: speculation and what we know so far about...

Bryan

The character is from Texas, has no siblings, and his parents are both alive.

He served in MARSOC (Marine Special Forces) in Afghanistan, where he was in a military prison in some capacity (officer or detainee unclear, but an alternate reality he's called a war criminal, so he's likely detained).

FWIW, I'm a little surprised that in an alternative reality Bryan wasn't a part of Influx. He shares a similar kind of backstory with Anson Ash.

He carries a baseball on the plane like a momento stress ball (1x03).

He eats...a lot, literally thinks with his stomach, seemingly indiscriminately (#you could just pull up a chair to the buffet). Stale Peeps, weeks old sandwiches, rewarmed burritos, anything from the minibar, etc. Maybe he was a smoker in the time before and it killed his sense of taste. Or he just has an iron stomach from his time on active duty. In any case, food seems to be his unconditional OTP. I request a GIF supercut.

He seems to know a bunch of field operatives (Lester, Sharon, John the ME, Muntz, Beck from containment) from various Orbital teams, perhaps even worked cases with a few, along with everyone in Maddox's office. He's very cordial so presumably he likes them, but in stark contrast at least half seem to decidedly dislike him with baiting antagonism, some openly hostile. Sharon: "why are you smirking at me Bryan?" Muntz, the Laghari lab tech: "I've come across plenty like you...men who play by their own rules." Beck: "They only send in the A-team when they want the agents to survive...easy for you to say, I'm the one who had to tell his wife". No wonder he feels a bit ostracized. Perhaps his reputation (impulsive?) proceeds him or perhaps he's been labeled an "unlucky" partner that misfortune follows so he gets kept at a distance?

The exception to the above seems to be Gary Garcia, the former scientist that helps hide George. May be former partners if the audio during credit rolls is any indication, and knows about Bryan's health / injections. They appear close. Perhaps because they share a mentality: both presumably injured in their line of work at Orbital, and they know what it means to have to rely on yourself.

When we meet Finola and Bryan, it seems like they've been working together for a few weeks, stateside at least (Finola's quote 1x02: Been here 3 weeks, feels like 3 years) and that he's had at least two Orbital partners prior, one (Julian / Jules) that died on duty, and the other creepy Dutch guy still living, Niels. How many more partners has he been through? Is it protocol that they get reassigned/shuffled so often to follow the debris, or so as not to form attachments "This job is about being alone, it's supposed to be...we're a blip in other people's lives", or does his personality not play well with others, like from the pilot when he tells Finola "it's been a long time since I've worked with somebody who's looked at me like another human being."

Also in 1x01 when Bryan says, "So are we now saying the debris pulled [Kieran] from the ground and added meat to his bones" and Finola says no, he was cremated, Bryan looks almost disappointed like he was momentarily more hopeful than pragmatic. At first I thought this was just a lead up to introducing the fact that George Jones was alive, but maybe another plot point is that Bryan has lost someone in duty he wants back.

He carries a picture in his front pocket of a woman with some Persian/ Farsi(?) or Urdu(?) written on the back. It's hard to tell by the script, it could be neither. When confronted by that, his clone says "I can't let it go." Old flame that was lost? Or a partner of a fallen service member killed in action —I've lost brothers— that he couldn't save (is that part of Bryan's dark guilt / grief)? Civilian casualty of a Marine mission? In the pilot when he tells Isla "you have to tell her how much you need her, I know from experience...You will not be able to forgive yourself if you don't" is Bryan thinking of this woman?

EDIT: considering the next episode is called "Asalah," which could be a woman's name, maybe that's part of the text on the back of the photo. Pure speculation.

He counts on himself to be level and composed when it comes to his emotions and apologizes when he isn't. He loses that composure in the pilot when Isla talks about family therapy and fighting with her mother after Kieran's death: "I knew someone like her once." Was Bryan referring to himself, has he been through post-service therapy? Perhaps he developed a rift with his family or left home at an early age like she did?

Bryan would be great at pub trivia night. He always seems to have an odd fact ready about NASA tech, native legends, an article about a historical building that he read, Fleetwood PA, etc. He doesn't seem the type to keep facts on standby to impress, so perhaps he's a secret bibliophile even though Finola hassles him for not reading case files.

"Fin: Maybe we should run some more tests before we continue/ Bryan: I will cut bait if you want to / Fin; let's just look out for each other" 1x02 Bryan seems more cautious than impulsive, he does a good job of listening to Finola's concerns. Is that from experience? Did he get overconfident, mishandle debris, and get permanently injured, hence the frequent blood work and injections?

"This man saved my life." Why does Bryan trust Maddox implicitly? And when Maddox says in 1x07 "Investigate quietly. I want to keep the lights off. I don't want to lose anymore lives, Bryan, okay?" is that a word of warning specially for him? Does he have a body count? (see afforementioned question of frequent work partners turnover and having an unlucky reputation)

Bryan in protective of Finola when the CIA taps her apartment. It's the straw that turns his allegiance from his agency to his partner.

I still can't place why Bryan carries a baseball — it seems like it could be a red herring, but I can't get over the visual of Maddox playing catch with Dario and reading into it as some sort of surrogate bond — or why he has a chain around his neck (1x05). It's not service tags and probably not a ring, it's some kind of pendant: a large loop encircling a dull, perhaps tarnished, gray metallic disc. A patron saint? A piece of shrapnel? A piece of debris? Unclear, but it definitely has texture or an etching.

Top Bryan Quotes

"That's the job. Impossible." 1x01 Pilot

"We are supposed to be blips in these people's lives, not memories." 1x04 In Universe

"It's been a long time since I've worked with somebody who's looked at me like another human being." 1x01

"Zippo lighters, Pyrex glassware, Crayola crayons, and of course Peeps. Insane for peeps, cracklike...we owe the people of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania a great deal of gratitude and I am not afraid to say it." 1x02 You Are Not Alone

"I've been thinking, [about] Finola.. if MI6 knew her father was still alive they would take her out of here. We need to get home before this becomes an issue...this is going to affect her." 1x03 Solar Winds, when he's not sure how her father will affect her empathetic-based decision-making

Craig: "You hated the creepy Dutch guy." / Bryan: "He was adorable."

"Well, one of my tips for survival, Muntz, is always let the other guy touch the debris first." 1x03 So is that what happened to Garcia?

To Finola "I realize I tend to forget that there's still magic to discover in the world. But not you." 1x03

"There are things that you understand about life that I don't, and I respect that. But there are things that I know that you will not find very palatable...I am going to focus on the people that we're saving and not the ones that we can't." 1x04

"If we don't act, we might not be able to stop the terraforming. There's no way we're going to be able to win all these, and I know that every cell in your body right now is screaming for you to do what you think is right. I need you to go against that. I need you to trust me." 1x04

"Finola's capable. I trust her instincts." 1x08 Spaceman

"I'm running on sugar and coffee for the rest of the day" 1x07 You Can Call Her Caroline, but really isn't that Bryan everyday?

"When I tell you that I understand, it's not empty...I lost brothers. It destroys families. There are people who can help you with what you're going through right now...There is a way to get back from this pain. I was where you were, and the darkness almost ended me. And somebody put out his hand... I want to be there for you." 1x07

"I'm trying to get back to someone. It's very important to me." 1x09 Do You Know Icarus?

#nbc debris #bryan beneventi #character study #finola jones #craig maddox #sci fi #also shout-out to his Jay Kulina Elvis glasses in 1x04 #can somebody read that photo? #renew Debris

[godlymvmi]

Donald Trumps racism through the years

Since there's always Trump supporters arguing on my post, I thought I’d make a nice post they'd be able to understand :)

1973: The US department of Justice sued the Trump Management Corporation for violating the Fair Housing act. Evidence was found that Trump had lied to black tenants about available apartments and refused to rent to black tenants.

1980s: According to a former employee, Trump would have all the black people in the casino ordered off the floor when Ivana and himself came to visit.These black employees would be moved to the back. In 1992 a $200,000 fine was issued towards the Trump Plaza Hotel and Casino for moving black men and women off tables. This was to accommodate a gamblers views and prejudices.

1989: During the infamous Central Park Five case, Trump ran an ad in a local paper stating they needed to “bring the death penalty back.” Even after the release of all five males, a settlement of $41 million paid by the city and DNA evidence proving they could not be guilty of this crime, Trump still believed they were guilty as late as October 2016. Oh, did I mention? Four of these teenagers were black and the fifth was latino. 

1991: A former president of Trump Plaza Hotel and Casino in Atlantic City, John O’Donnell, quoted Trumps comments on a black accountant. “Black guys counting my money! I hate it. The only kind of people I want counting my money are short guys that wear yarmulkes every day. … I think that the guy is lazy. And it’s probably not his fault, because laziness is a trait in blacks. It really is, I believe that. It’s not anything they can control.” Later on, Trump claimed “the stuff O’Donnell wrote about me is probably true,” while doing an interview for Playboy in 1977. 

1993: In a confessional testimony, Trump stated he didn't think some Native American reservations should be allowed to operate casinos as “they don't look like Indians to me.” In 2000, Trump secretly ran a series of ads after the St. Regis Mohawk tribe proposed a casino that he deemed to be a direct financial threat to his own establishments in Atlantic City. In these ads, Trump suggested the tribe had a “record of criminal activity (that) is well documented.” 

2005: After season two of Apprentice where Trump famously fired Kevin Allen, a black man, for seemingly being too educated, Trump publicly pitched the idea for what was essentially The Apprentice: White people vs black people.

2010: “Ground Zero Mosque” caused a lot of controversy during the year of 2010. This was a plan to build a Muslim community centre in Lower Manhattan, this being near the area of the 9/11 attacks in 2001. Trump offered to buy out one of the investors, claiming that this plan was insensitive and publicly opposed to the project. Later, on The Late Show with David Letterman, Trump argued his point further and said, “Well, somebody’s blowing us up. Somebody’s blowing up buildings, and somebody’s doing lots of bad stuff.”

2011: Trump, among others, played a huge role in pushing the false rumours that Obama, the first black president, was not born in the United States and still reportedly continues to push and believe this theory in private despite Obama releasing his birth certificate. In the same year, Trump also argued that Obama wasn't a good enough student for Columbia or Harvard Law school to accept him. “I heard he was a terrible student. Terrible. How does a bad student go to Columbia and then to Harvard?”

2015: When Trump started his campaign in 2015, it was largely focused around his desire and promise to build a wall to keep Mexican immigrants out of the United States and he called Mexican immigrants “rapists” and that they were “bringing drugs” and “bringing crime” to the United States. 

Also in 2015: During his time as a candidate 2015, Trump called for a ban on all Muslims coming into the US. Eventually, his administration did implement a watered down version of this policy. 

2016: Judge Gonzalo Curiel was overseeing the Trump University lawsuit in 2016 when Trump argued he should step down from the case. This was due to his Mexican heritage and his membership in a Latino lawyers association. 

Also in 2016: “You’re living in poverty, your schools are no good, you have no jobs, 58 percent of your youth is unemployed. What the hell do you have to lose?” Trump said as he tried to get black voters on his side. 

During this year, he also tweeted a picture of Hillary Clinton in front of a pile of money and a Jewish Star of David that said “Most corrupt candidate ever!” Despite the obviously anti-semitic imagery, Trump insisted the star was a sheriffs badge and maintained his campaign should not have deleted it.

He has repeatedly referred to Elizabeth Warren as “Pocahontas;” using her controversial and then walked back claims that she had Native American heritage as a punchline. 

2017: Trump attacked NFL players who chose to take the knee during the national anthem numerous times.

Also in 2017: Following the white supremacist protests in Charlottesville, Virginia, Trump claimed “both sides” were to blame for the violence and chaos that occurred. This suggests that the counter protestors protesting against racism and white supremacy were morally equivalent to the white supremacist protestors. He also claimed there were “some very fine people” among the white supremacists. White nationalist, Richard Spencer praised Trump for defending the truth.

Also in 2017: Trump reportedly claimed everyone who came to the US from Haiti “all have AIDS” and that people who came from Nigeria to the US “would never go back to their huts.” The following year (2018), Trump reportedly asked “Why are we having all these people from shithole countries come here?” He has since denied these comments but some senators attending the same meeting did claim this happened. 

2019: Trump mocked Elizabeth Warren and her presidential campaign, calling her Pocahontas again in a 2019 tweet before adding “See you on the campaign TRAIL, Liz!” The capitalisation of “Trail” is seemingly a reference to the Trail of Tears. This was a horrific ethnic cleansing of the Native Americans where they were forcibly relocated. This caused thousands of deaths.

Also in 2019: Trump took to twitter to tweet that several black and brown members of Congress: Reps. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-NY), Ayanna Pressley (D-MA), Ilhan Omar (D-MN), and Rashida Tlaib (D-MI), are from countries whose governments are a complete and total catastrophe” and that they should “go back” to said countries. Three of the four members of Congress targeted by Trump were, in fact, born in the US. 

2020: Trump has referred to COVID-19 as the “Chinese virus” and “kung flu.” This is highly offensive and large numbers of Asian Americans have reported hateful incidents targeting them due to the virus.

Also in 2020: Trump suggested that Kamala Harris, a black and south asian woman, “doesn't meet the requirements” to be Vice President. 

Trump has always been slow to condemn white supremacists who endorse him and during his 2016 campaign he retweeted multiple tweets from Neo-Nazis and white supremacists.

This is not even the full list and the article itself states its not a comprehensive list. But it does speak to his pattern of racism and bigotry. The article this list is from is linked below, I’d recommend everyone to read it and educate yourself using other resources as well. This isn't even the tip of the iceberg. I will also be making a post of his inappropriate, problematic and vile behaviour towards women. 

The article: https://www.vox.com/2016/7/25/12270880/donald-trump-racist-racism-history

#lets educate and be more aware #this is the man you voted for. #and you can't deny this u mings #donald trump #election 2020 #blm

[solitaria-fantasma]

Um for the Super Ghost AU I am just imagining that The Question managed to figure out basically everything about Gawain and the Mystery Skulls, but instead of it being his paranoia getting to him it's because he accidentally learned Gawain was a ghost, wanted to learn why he's a ghost and then he was going down the rabbit hole and by the time he climbed out of it he's just wondering what is Gawain's life, unlife, whatever and the life of his brother. Just, this came to me and refused to leave.

((*cracks knuckles*))

Question hadn't seen sunlight for nearly six days, and it had finally paid off.

He leaned over his hands on the edge of the desk, staring at the pin board before him. It was crisscrossed with color coded strands of yarn, and little push pins that held up photographs, newspaper and magazine clippings, and printed Internet screenshots. It wasn't the most complicated web he'd ever built, but it tied up neatly, and that was enough. Not every mystery had a a million twists to unwind.

The trail started in London, England, and stretched all the way across the Atlantic to a tiny town in Texas, USA, barely large enough to be a speck on a map. He had birth records, school enrollment records, science fair awards, promotions, Visa applications, mortgages, home appliance purchases, swing dance trophies, company picnic photos, a missing person's report, and an obituary, all leading to a giant question mark scribbled over a photo of a young blond man, with the word 'whereabouts?' written beneath it.

This photo connected to the next item in the chain with a quick arrow of blue, and another long, arching arrow connected a birth record from earlier in this leg to the same thing - a newspaper article from that small Texas town, talking about the mysterious case of a young boy with amnesia being found on the steps of a local restaurant. There was an article about the boy's adoption just a few months later, and then another article congratulating three local kids and their dog for solving a small time mystery.

The chain ran through several articles like this one, and the kids grew older as their mysteries evolved from misplaced mail and lost pets to package theft, poltergeist activity, and cryptid sightings. More and more, the articles talked about ghosts, creatures of urban legend, and even sightings of demons and occult activity. Around 2008, the newspaper articles became printed blog posts, and seemed to be written by the kids themselves.

Question laughed quietly to himself. Kids after his own paranoid heart, all three.

The articles came to an abrupt halt in 2014, with a missing persons report for the amnesiac boy (now an adult), and a series of articles about a groundbreaking prosthetic limb, developed by a genius young man who tested his prototype on himself after tragically loosing his own arm. There were a few more articles about the prosthetic, and a few photos to go along with them that showed the blond man from previous articles, and then there were a few clippings of local tabloids from a truck driver who swore he'd been carjacked by 'a flaming skeleton with great fashion sense'.

There was silence for a month or two, and then concurrent newspaper articles and blog posts about the miraculous return of one Lewis Pepper, thought to be dead from the same tragic caving accident that cost his best friend his arm. The blog posts about the supernatural returned, and the prosthesis research seemed to slow down. Coincidentally, a young man named 'Merlin Knight' with an eerily familiar face was hired at the local auto shop.

Question wondered if the entire town was playing dumb, or just stupid. The only real change was the clothing, and that long blond hair being braided.

This employment record connected all the way back to the obituary from the first leg of the chain, and proceeded on to connect with screenshots from a social media account of a robotic body, and the building of what would be, within a few month's time, the town's own local hero.

Question breathed out through his nose. A local hero who would go on to help save the world, and found the Justice League itself. Had that been part of the plan?

The web wrapped itself up quickly from there. Supernatural skills and abilities not possible by modern science, knowledge of other realms and creatures only known to mythology, and the tiny little clues he'd been hoarding and observing for a full year all pointed to the same conclusion. It wasn't as fantastical as it sounded, in all honesty, though Green Arrow had looked at him stranger than usual when he'd first said his conclusion out loud.

There were legitimate aliens, sorcerers, and demons in this reality - why not ghosts, too?

There was one final piece missing from the web, however, and he was out of clues to tie in. There was a near twenty year gap between the last known sighting of Gawain Kingsmen, and the appearance of 'Merlin Knight'. What had the man been doing for all that time? There had been no sightings of anyone even remotely matching the appearance of Gawain or 'Merlin' anywhere in that time, and without even the slightest whisper of a rumor on an Internet forum or library archive, there wasn't much more he could do to find out.

Question straightened up from the desk, and rolled his shoulders to try and stretch them out. There was no way around it.

He was going to have to get more...direct from here on out.

.......

"What does a dead man do for twenty years?" Gawain froze with a potato wedge half-raised to his shoulder at the question, and Bran - unwilling to wait for her snack - leaned her head down to snatch it up anyway. Gawain turned his yellow LED eyes over to Question, who had planted himself in the chair across the table without so much of a 'hello', and tilted his head.

"...I'm sorry," He apologized. "But I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"I know you do." Question leaned one elbow on the table. Bran nudged Gawain's still-raised hand, hoping for more potatoes, and the hero absently picked up another wedge to feed to her. "I know most people believe the 'advanced AI' cover story, but I'm not most people. I know you're a ghost possessing an armored suit like that old anime." The potato wedge vanished, and Question wondered if the little ghost was actually eating it, or just storing it for later.

That was a mystery for another time, regardless.

Gawain had turned to face him fully, now, and his two other ghostly companions were now peeking out of hiding from behind his shoulders. They weren't hostile, but their stares were, nonetheless, intense, and Question smiled behind his mask. He knew he had their full attention, now.

"How did you find out?" Gawain asked, keeping his voice low.

"I saw you from the ground in that fight with Mr. Sorcerer Superior, Magnus Creed." Question replied. "You ran into that warding slip like a bird into a clean window. A robot wouldn't have been stopped by mere paper and superstition." Gawain tilted his head slightly to one side.

"Some superstitions hurt." He argued, just the slightest bit defensive. "...what was your question, again?"

"What does a dead man do for twenty years?" Question asked. "There's a two decade gap between your presumed death and your reappearance. You could stand to work on that secret identity, by the way." He advised. "Someone's going to notice your resemblance to a dead guy from twenty years ago, if you ever let down your hair." Gawain's LED eyes narrowed, and one of the spirits - Chopper, the one with the upright spines - hissed in response.

Vixen walked by with John Stewart at her side, and both Chopper and Gawain made a visible effort to drop any outward signs of irritation. Question remained where he was. People were used to seeing him tense and suspicious, by now. It wouldn't raise a single eyebrow.

"...I was lost." Gawain spoke up quietly once Vixen and John had passed out of earshot. "I woke up in the middle of an unfamiliar forest, and I just couldn't get out. Not for a while."

"You were lost in a forest for twenty years?" Even Question sounded skeptical. "I've seen what you're capable of. You should have been able to handle a little thing like being lost."

"It was ten years," Gawain retorted sharply. Bran raided his plate for the remaining potato wedges. "And I wasn't just...born being able to do that stuff. I had to grow into it. I had to learn." A strange gust of air blew past the table, scattering someone's forgotten paper plate and napkin to the floor, before Gawain unclenched his fists, and visibly calmed down. Question still didn't move.

"Death...does things to you." Gawain lowered his voice again. "To your mind. You can't think straight for...a long time - and that's if you're lucky." He lowered his hands to the table, and Bran automatically wound herself around one arm with a pleased sound. "I found my way out of the forest after ten yes, and then I went...home. To Tempo."

"Your parents had moved away by then." Question knew. He knew how the story of the living family had played out, from there. "Your brother was living with your uncle, and your friends were off at college." Gawain's shoulders drooped, and the third spirit - Griflet, if he remembered right - patted at the side of his helmet sympathetically. Chopper was still glaring at him.

"They had." Gawain made no effort to hide the disappointment in his voice. "I guess I couldn't fault them for not wanting to stay in town after all they went through, but back then, I didn't know it had been ten years. It only felt like a few days, to me."

"That must have been difficult." Question said, and he meant it. Sympathy wasn't really his thing, but Gawain was being cooperative, so it was the least he could do. "And the other ten?"

"I was hiding." Gawain laughed humorlessly. "I somehow convinced myself that my family-...that my brother, and my uncle, would be afraid of me, if they saw me like that, and I just...never came forward." He shrugged. "I just sort of watched, and listened, and followed them for another ten years, and I thought that was pretty good, you know?

"I couldn't interact with them, sure, but at least I could still see them. It was...better than nothing." The hero fell silent, for a few moments, and then looked Question in the eye. Or...as close as he could get. The featureless mask tended to throw off people's frame of reference for facial features. "What are you going to do now?"

"Absolutely nothing." Question casually leaned back in his own chair. "I've already put the pieces together. This was just the last piece I needed to finish the story." He stood up, and pushed the chair in under the table. "This time, I just wanted to satisfy my own curiosity." Gawain seemed surprised, and remained sitting as Question walked out of the cafeteria.

He could feel four pairs of eyes burning into his back, but for once, being watched didn't bother him. Curiosity killed the cat, they said, but satisfaction brought it back, and Question was very much satisfied with this answer.

Now, he could focus on more important matters...like the long-ignored connection between Girl Scout cookie sales and the appearance of crop circles in Midwest America.

#mun's writings #ask #Anon #Gawain #Reptilitones #AU: Super Ghost #((I haven't written with Question before so pls forgive me if he's a little out of character)) #((thank you for the prompt!!)) #((I know your original prompt involved the Skulls a lot more but this was getting long)) #((I'll see if I can do a part 2))

[ljones41]

"THE DARK KNIGHT RISES" (2012) Review

"THE DARK KNIGHT RISES" (2012) Review Seven years after it had begun, Christopher Nolan's three-movie saga about the D.C. Comics character, Batman, finally came to an end. The saga that began with 2005's "BATMAN BEGINS", ended with 2012's "THE DARK KNIGHT RISES".

The trilogy’s third film, set seven years after 2008's "THE DARK KNIGHT", began with the aerial kidnapping of a nuclear scientist by an escaped terrorist named Bane. The scene shifted to Gotham City, where a fund-raiser was being held at Wayne Manor. The only person missing was millionaire Bruce Wayne, who had given up his vigilante activities as Batman after claiming he had murdered former District Attorney Harvey Dent. During the fundraiser, Bruce caught a maid breaking into his private safe. She turned out to be a resourceful cat burglar named Selina Kyle. Aside from a necklace that once belonged to Bruce's late mother, Selina did not steal any other object from the safe. Curious over Selina's actions, Bruce resumed his Batman alter ego and tracked down Selina. He discovered that she had been hired by a rival corporate CEO named John Daggett to lift and steal his fingerprints. Bruce also learned that Daggett had hired the terrorist Bane to attack Gotham's stock exchange and bankrupt Wayne Enterprises. And along with Police Commissioner James Gordon and Wayne Enterprises executive Lucius Fox, Bruce also discovered that Bane was a former member of the League of Shadows and planned to continue Henri Ducard's (aka Ra's al Ghul) goal of Gotham City's destruction. Bruce asked fellow millionaire Miranda Tate to take control of Wayne Enterprises to ensure that Daggett and Bane will not gain control of their clean energy project, a device designed to harness fusion power. Re-reading the above made me realize that Christopher and Jonathan Nolan had created a very complicated plot. For me, the plot became even more complicated two-thirds into the movie. "THE DARK KNIGHT RISES" obviously exists under the shadow of its two predecessors - "BATMAN BEGINS" and "THE DARK KNIGHT". I would say that this especially seemed to be the case for the 2005 movie. Batman and James Gordon's decision to lie about the circumstances behind Harvey Dent's death in the second movie had a minor impact upon this third movie. But Bruce's relationship and later conflict with Ra's al Ghul seemed to be the driving force behind his conflict with Bane in this third film. I had heard rumors that Christopher Nolan was initially reluctant to make a third BATMAN movie. Personally, I found that rumor a bit hard to believe, considering how "THE DARK KNIGHT" ended with Batman accepting the blame for Harvey Dent's crimes and death. But there were certain aspects of the script he wrote with his brother Jonathan that made me wonder if he had truly been reluctant. There were certain aspects of "THE DARK KNIGHT RISES" that I found troubling. It seemed a pity that the second movie ended with Batman and Jim Gordon's decision to lie about the circumstances behind Dent's death. I found their decision annoying back in 2008 and I still do. The impact behind their lie proved to be hollow. It merely kept Batman off Gotham City's streets and led Mayor Anthony Garcia and the city to pass a strong anti-criminal law that proved to be hollow following Bane's arrival in Gotham City. I also found Bane's mid-air kidnapping of a nuclear scientist and escape from a U.S. marshal (portrayed by Aidan Gillen) rather somewhat idiotic. I understood that Bane needed that scientist to weaponize the Wayne Enterprise device.  But I never understood why that U.S. marshal failed to take the trouble to identify the hooded prisoner (Bane) before boarding the plane.  In the end, the movie's opening sequence struck struck me as unnecessarily showy. Was this the Nolan brothers' way of conveying Bane's role as a badass to the audience? If so, I was too busy trying to comprehend the villain's dialogue to care. I understood why Batman had not been seen in Gotham for so long. But what was the reason behind Bruce Wayne's disappearance from the public eye?  His physical state was not really that severe.  Rachel Dawes' death? Rachel's death did not stop him from going after the Joker and Harvey Dent in the last movie's half hour. Was it an injured leg? How did he injured it? And why did Gotham's citizens failed to put two-and-two together, when both Bruce and Batman finally appeared in the public eye a day or two apart after many years? The only person who managed to discover Bruce's alter ego - namely Officer John Blake - did so through a contrived reason. For me, the movie's real misstep proved to be Bane's three-month control over Gotham City. As a former member of Henri Ducard's League of Shadows, he planned to achieve his former leader's goal of destroying Gotham City. And he planned to use Wayne Enterprise's energy device to achieve this. One - why not simply build or snatch his own nuclear device? Why go through so much trouble to get his hands on the energy device? Why did Wayne Enterprises create a device that not only saved energy, but could be used as a bomb, as well? And why did it take three months before the device could become an effective bomb? The Nolans' script could have frustrated Bane's attempts to acquire the bomb during that three-month period . . . or anything to spare the audiences of that second-rate version of the French Resistance. The latter scenario seemed so riddled with bad writing that it would take another article to discuss it. And what was the point of the presence of Juno Temple's character Jen? What was she there for, other than being Selina's useless and cloying girlfriend? And Wayne Enterprises executive Lucius Fox was last seen declaring his intentions to leave the corporation for good, following Batman's misuse of cell phones in "THE DARK KNIGHT". In this movie, he is back, working for Wayne Enterprises. What made him change his mind? But not all was lost. I found Bruce's introduction to Selina Kyle very entertaining and sexy. Even better, the incident served as Batman's re-introduction to Gotham City and allowed him to discover Bane's plans regarding Wayne Enterprises and the energy device. One of the more interesting consequences of "THE DARK KNIGHT" proved to be Rachel Dawes' last letter to Bruce. Its revelation by Alfred Pennyworth after seven years led to an emotional quarrel between the millionaire and the manservant and their estrangement. At first, I had balked at the idea of Bane carrying out Ra's al Ghul's original goal to destroy Gotham. After all, why would he continue the plans of the very person who had him kicked out of the League of Shadows? But a surprising plot twist made Bane's plan plausible . . . even when I continue to have problems with his three-month occupation of Gotham. Many critics had lamented the lack of Heath Ledger's Joker in the movie. As much as I had appreciated and enjoyed Ledger's performance in the 2008 movie, I did not need or wanted him in "THE DARK KNIGHT RISES". Tom Hardy's performance as the terrorist Bane was good enough for me. Mind you, I found it difficult to understand some of his dialogue. And when I did, he sounded like the late Sean Connery. But I cannot deny that Bane made one scary villain, thanks to Hardy's performance and intimidating presence. Before I saw the movie, I never understood the need for Marion Cotillard's presence in the film. I thought her character, Miranda Tate, would merely be a bland love interest for Bruce. Not only did Cotillard ended up providing a subtle and intelligent performance from the actress, her Miranda Tate proved to be important to the story as the co-investor in the energy device and for the plot twist in the end. "THE DARK KNIGHT RISES" provided some solid performances from other members of the cast. Matthew Modine shined as the ambitious and arrogant Assistant Police Commissioner Peter Foley, who proved to be capable of character development. Another solid performance came from Brett Cullen, who portrayed a lustful congressman that had the bad luck to cross paths with Selina Kyle. Both Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman continued their excellent performances as Bruce Wayne's "heart" and "mind", manservant Alfred Pennyworth and Wayne Enterprises executive Lucius Fox. In the end, the movie was fortunate to benefit from four outstanding performances. One came from Gary Oldman's excellent portrayal of the now weary, yet determined police commissioner, James Gordon. His guilt over the Harvey Dent lie and discovery of Batman's true identity provided Oldman with some of his best moments in the trilogy. Another came from Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who was superb as Gotham City beat cop John Blake. The actor did a wonderful job of balancing Officer Blake's intelligence, passion for justice and disgust toward the bureaucracy. When I learned that Anne Hathaway would end up being the fifth actress to portray Selina Kyle aka Catwoman, I must admit that I had my doubts. Then I remembered that Hathaway was an Oscar nominee, who has also done action before. Watching her sexy, yet complicated performance as the complex cat burglar removed all of my doubts. She was superb and her sizzling screen chemistry with star Christian Bale made me wish Selina had been Bruce's love interest throughout the movie. Speaking of Bruce Wayne, Bale returned to portray the Caped Crusader for the third and final time. I must admit that I found his performance more subtle and complex than his performances in the previous two movies. Bale did an excellent job in re-creating a slightly aging Bruce Wayne/Batman, who found himself faced with a more formidable opponent. I was a little disappointed to see that "THE DARK KNIGHT RISES" lacked the Chicago exteriors of the 2008 movie. In the end, Gotham City resembled a collection of American and British cities. But I cannot deny that I found Wally Pfister's photography very eye catching. And Hans Zimmer's entertaining score brought back memories of his earlier work in both the 2005 and 2008 movies. I have a good deal of complaints about "THE DARK KNIGHT RISES". It is probably my least favorite entry in Christopher Nolan's Batman trilogy. For me, the movie's main problem centered around the script written by Nolan and his brother Jonathan. But despite its flaws, the movie still managed to be both entertaining and intriguing. It also has an excellent cast led by the always superb Christian Bale. It was not perfect, but "THE DARK KNIGHT RISES" did entertain me.

#the dark knight trilogy #the dark knight rises #batman #bruce wayne #christopher nolan #jonathan nolan #christian bale #anne hathaway #tom hardy #marion cotillard #morgan freeman #Michael Caine #joseph gordon-levitt #league of shadows #ben mendelsohn #burn gorman #matthew modine #brett cullen #juno temple #tom conti #catwoman #daniel sunjata #chris ellis #cillian murphy #nestor carbonell #aidan gillen #rob brown #desmond harrington #william devane #noel gugliemi

[txylorwrjtes]

(1.7) Hook Man: Part one

“Funerals and flashbacks”

Pairing: Dean x reader, eventual Sam x reader

Warning(s): Violence, angst, language, mentions of death, smidge of fluff

Summary: Y/N and the brothers investigate a series of supernatural deaths that appear to be morally driven. During the case, Y/N finds herself remembering her grief over the death of her parents.

Word count: 3723

Previous part || Supernatural rewrite S01 masterlist

While likes are appreciated, feedback is what keeps me writing.

You sipped away at your favorite beverage as you looked around the outside of the café, people were coming in and out of the place as a few others sat at the tables around yours, either catching up on some reading as they enjoyed their meal or chatting with friends they met up with. It’s been a while since you’ve been to a place like this. And when you did, it was always with the Halliwell sisters every Saturday so all of you could have the chance to relax and talk about your week and all that you’ve done. It wasn’t much, just simple chit chat with one another about the things that bugged you and all of you bursting into a fit of laughter after one of you had said something funny. You know, like best friends would do.

Being at a café with the brothers was completely different. There was a long silence between you and the older Winchester as his brother was wrapping up a conversation with someone he managed to get a hold of using the payphone. You were weirded out to see that Dean was on the laptop, doing some research and trying to find a case for the three of you. It’s not something that he normally liked to do. He was always the one to talk to people, while Sam worked the computer and read through the articles. It was almost as though they had switched bodies.

But Dean didn’t seem as obsessed with finding his dad like his brother had thought. Sure, it would’ve been nice to know if the man was okay, but he couldn’t stop telling himself that John just didn’t want to be found.

"Your half-caff venti vanilla latte is getting cold over here, Francis." Dean spoke up for the first time in a few minutes, breaking you from your thoughts and causing you to glance up to see that his brother was walking back over to the table.

"Bite me." Sam muttered in annoyance, before sitting back in his seat next to Dean.

"So, anything?" You asked in a curious tone after taking another sip of your drink.

He put his card back into his jacket pocket and let out a frustrated sigh from the lack of answers he was getting. "I had them check the FBI's missing-person's databank. No 'John Does' fitting that description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations."

"I'm telling you, I don't think Dad wants to be found." Dean said, staring at his little brother. You bit down on your bottom lip when you took notice that the younger Winchester’s expression changed into a completely different one. He turned his head away from his brother and let out a quiet sigh as Dean changed the subject, turning the laptop over to him. "Check this out. News Item out of Plains Courier Ankeny, Iowa. It's about a hundred miles from here."

You got up from your seat and made your way around to where Sam sat, standing over him so that you could take a look at the news article for yourself. "'Mutilated body was found near the victim's car parked on nine mile road.'" Sam read off of the article, before looking over at his brother, wondering what was so special about this.

Dean picked up his coffee cup and gestured to the screen. "Keep reading."

"'Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, who's name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible.'"

"Could be something interesting." You said, continuing to read the article a bit more.

"It could be nothing." Sam remarked. "One eyewitness who didn't see anything doesn't mean it's the invisible man."

"But what if it is?" Dean asked. "Dad would check it out."

~~~

It took a while to talk the younger Winchester into checking this possible case out. But he finally agreed to letting you and Dean drag him down to the location of where the victim lived. You were sitting in the backseat and staring out the window as the Impala pulled up towards the sidewalk, parking in front of a house that looked a bit too familiar to you. Not that you’ve been here before, but the vibe of the place had you believing that it was a frat house.

Not to mention, there were a group of boys that had to be just a few years or so younger than you roaming around the outside. A couple of them stood over one of the cars parked in the driveway as they worked on the engine with the hood popped up.

You’ve been to a place like this before, an old college friend of yours dragged you to a party that was located at a frat house. You didn’t want to go, you even begged her not to make you, but you still went. And it didn’t turn out to be as great as she promised you that it’d be. The majority of the boys were rude, and thought that you would’ve been an easy lay. Boy, were they wrong. You swore to yourself that you’d never step into a place like this ever again.

“Uh,” You leaned forward in your seat, looking over at Dean like he was insane for what he was about to make the two of you do. “I’m not going in there.”

You could see the way that the older Winchester furrowed his brows, as if he wasn’t getting what you were saying. “What do you mean?”

“First of all, I’m a girl .” You reminded him, “And this place is full of guys, who would probably go wild if I went in there, making that the second reason.”

Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes at your reasonings, as they didn’t seem to make any sense. But his little brother just so happened to agree with the fact it would’ve been a little too awkward for you to go inside of a place like this, especially when there wasn’t a party being thrown. He glanced between the two of you for a moment as a silence lingered between all of you for a few seconds, before speaking up on the matter himself.

“She’s right, Dean.” Sam said. You couldn’t help but let a smile stretch across your lips at the way he was agreeing with you. “I’m not saying girls aren’t allowed in places like this, but it’ll be extremely uncomfortable. Maybe you should just go in by yourself, I’ll stay here with Y/N.”

You watched as Dean arched a brow up at his brother, “Why don’t I stay out here with her?” He questioned him. You bit down onto your bottom lip, refraining yourself from rolling your own eyes from what he said next. “After all, she’s my girlfriend.”

He more than likely didn’t mean for it to happen, but the way he said it sounded a little too possessive, and you were growing nervous that the younger Winchester was just going to give in and get out of the car. But he knew better with how tense you were feeling around his brother the last few days, he wasn’t going to leave the two of you alone. “You’re better at talking to people than I am.” He gave an excuse that seemed like a good enough reason as to why he wouldn’t want to go in. “It’s part of the reason why I’m almost always doing the research.”

For a moment, you thought Dean wasn’t going to find that reason good enough. But after thinking it over, you had to keep yourself from letting out a sigh of relief when he got out of the car, shutting the door behind him before walking up to the young men standing around the front lawn. He said something to catch their attention and you scooted forward in your seat as he began to come up with a bogus lie in order to get inside of the house. You rested your arms onto the front seats, watching as in just a few moments, your boyfriend headed inside.

“Thank you for that.” You spoke up in a soft tone towards Sam. He furrowed his brows and looked back at you, wondering what you were thanking him for. “You know, for agreeing with me.. And not leaving me behind with him.”

Sam let out a chuckle at your words. “Hey, it’s the least I could do.” He said. “I’ve been feeling the tension you have with him since the day you decided you wanted to sleep in a different motel room.”

“Can you blame me, though?” You asked, watching as he just shook his head to answer your question. “Honestly, I’d rather go into a frat house again than to be alone with him right now.”

“Wait a min-” Sam’s brows slowly started to furrow together as he took a moment to process what you were saying. “You went to one of these before?”

“I did.” You said with a nod of your head, before deciding to go into a little more detail as to how you ended up in a place like this. “I was in college for a couple of years, and my best friend at the time wanted me to come to a party with her. You know, so I could end up being a little more social after meeting new people.” You explained to the man, who was listening to each word you were saying. “I was way too shy to go to places like these. Besides, I was the type of person who liked to study on a Saturday night. But she insisted until I finally gave in and went with her to this frat house. And let me just say- it was not a pleasant experience.”

With the expression on Sam’s face as he stared at you, it was almost like you were speaking in a language he had a hard time understanding. But you had it all wrong- he wasn’t confused, or weirded out by the fact that you had gone to college. He was intrigued. He knew that you’ve always been a smart girl, but he never knew that you wanted to go anywhere outside of high school. “What college did you go to?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“San Francisco university- I lived in that area, too.” You gave him an answer that had him inhaling a deep breath. All that time, you were less than an hour from where he had lived and he didn’t even know it.

“I was at Stanford,” He told you, and your eyes widened at the short amount of distance there had been between the two of you. You travelled all throughout the state of California, and you most definitely had gone to Palo Alto before, now you wished you would’ve bumped into him. “I was studying for a law degree, you know, until Jessica died. Now I-.. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t even know if college is a good idea anymore, now that I’m back on the road and hunting.”

A frown fell upon your lips at what you were hearing. You were in that position once before, too. When your parents died, you didn’t know if you wanted to go back to college, but you did. The second time, you went to the one Phoebe had suggested to you quite a couple of times- Berkeley. You managed to finish it, and got your degree to become an advice columnist, knowing that it was something you’ve wanted to be your whole life. Because helping others was your passion. Now, you were helping others in a much different way.

You reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder, in a way to comfort him. “I know what you mean.” You said, deciding to bring the columnist part of you back for a moment. “Believe me, I do. But you can’t give up on your dreams, when you find your dad you should definitely go back.”

Sam said, he reached his own hand up and placed it on top of yours, giving it a gentle squeeze as he gave you a small smile, as if to say thank you for the small piece of advice. For some reason, the touch sent a tingling sensation down your spine, and you had a feeling that your hand would’ve fit perfectly into his if you just held onto it.

Silence lingered in the air between the two of you again as you just kept your hands like this. Yours placed upon his shoulder, and his placed upon your own. But after what like minutes, you pulled your hand away when you heard the driver’s side door open up.

The car shook a bit as the older Winchester settled himself back into his seat, finally coming back from talking to one of the boys about their friend’s death. He didn’t seem to notice what had happened with you and his brother, and you gave him a look, wondering what went down in that house. But all he did, was turn to you and ask a question that didn’t leave you with a good feeling.

“Who’s up to crashing a funeral?”

~~~

It's been a couple of weeks since your parents were killed. Your mother's body was never found after they managed to put out the fire. But they did find your dad's. Darryl Morris was the one to give you the news, considering how he was good friends with the Halliwell's. Your dad's body was back at the morgue, and they were all waiting on you to decide where and when the funeral was going to be held. You were putting it off for days, not only because your mother wasn't found, but because you knew that if it happened, it'd mean that your dad was really gone. And you couldn't bring yourself to say goodbye. But Leo managed to convince you that it was best to let him go. And if your mother was dead, it would also be a way of saying that you were letting her go as well.

And that's how you were now standing in front of the church, the same church that Prue's funeral was held in. All of the people you sent invitations to, the friends you had back in your old home town, your parent's friends, family members that you haven't seen in ages, along with a couple people you recently made friends with.. they were there. The majority of them were inside already, a few were just heading inside.

But you just stood there, with tear stained cheeks as you stared at the building in front of you. The Halliwell's were surrounding you, letting you know that they were there for you, and will continue to be whenever you decide that you are ready.

At this point, you've grown close to Paige. Perhaps it was because she was in the same boat as you. She was adopted, just like you. She treated her parents poorly, just like you. And she lost them in a tragic accident, just like you. Or perhaps, you didn't know why. But she was the one who took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze out of comfort and told you that you could do this.

After inhaling a deep breath, you were ready to go. Everybody was waiting for you to get this started. And that's what you were going to do, because you knew it's what your dad would've wanted.

~~~

You stepped inside the church the boy back at the frat house told Dean about as the reverend spoke right after brothers. You flinched slightly when you heard the front door slam shut roughly behind you as the sound echoed off the walls. You watched as the room became silent as a few pairs of eyes jumped on you for a moment. You smiled, letting out a quiet laugh as you tried your hardest to hide your embarrassment. You followed behind Dean to the bench in the very back of the church, settling yourself down in between the brothers as the reverend continued with his speech.

"The loss of a young person is particularly tragic. A life unlived is the saddest of passing..."

You tried your best to listen to what he had to say, you found yourself zoning out from what was going on around you when memories of your dad's funeral flooded through the back of your mind again. Instead of a reverend, it was you who stood up where the microphone was.

~~~

"Uh.. I just wanted to thank everybody for coming today." You nearly stuttered out, you've been up at the stand for a couple of minutes. It took awhile for you to speak, every time you opened up your mouth, more tears started running down your face and you had to wipe them away. But after taking a deep breath, you continued. "I know that for some of you it was a long plane ride out here."

Everyone in the building was silent, and you had studied each and every person to realize you weren't the only one that was a wreck over your mom and dad's death. Some were clutching onto the tissues they had brought, not wanting to look up at the coffin that was right behind you. Others had eyes that were red and puffy from all of the crying they had done just after stepping inside of the church. And a few people broke into sobs just from the few words you spoke. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying your best to keep yourself composed.

"My mom's wasn't found, but there's no doubt that she's gone, too. And maybe that's not such a negative thing. My parents are together in heaven, and they're happy." You said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, your vision blurring with tears. You gave a weak smile. "Some of you are people who worked with my dad, and a couple of you are neighbors that my mom became friendly with over the years.. If there was one thing that I knew about them, it's that they cared for each and everyone of you standing in this room today."

Your voice cracked, but that didn't matter anymore. Your dad was gone, and crying while you spoke was bound to happen. You reached a hand up to wipe a few more tears away, letting out a shaky breath before continuing with what you had to say. "They'd both be really happy that you came here." You said. "I know that goodbyes are tough, but my dad wouldn't want us to think of this as a goodbye, more as a 'see you later'."

~~~

The feel of someone nudging you in the side brought you back to the present. You looked over to your right to see that Sam was giving you a look of concern from seeing the tears that were streaming down your face. He mouthed the question, "Are you okay?" to you. You gave him a small smile and nodded your head yes. It was a lie, but you knew that you'd be fine eventually.

You let out a quiet sigh and turned your attention forward, before ducking your head down and closing your eyes after taking notice that everyone seemed to have been in the middle of a prayer.

~~~

Soon after the funeral ended, everyone exited the church. You and the boys stepped outside and waited until you could find Lori. You watched two girls exit as they mumbled something about plans, but the one in the green shirt was making up an excuse as to why she couldn't go. You walked up to her after she said goodbye to her friend, the boys following behind.

"Are you Lori?" You asked from behind. She turned around and made eye contact with you, she smiled and nodded her head. "My name is Y/N. This is Sam and Dean, my best friend and...my boyfriend." You pointed to the boys as Dean waved at her while Sam smiled. "They just transferred to the University. I'm just here to be with them for a few days until they get settled into their new place."

She nodded her head again. "I saw you inside."

"We don't want to bother you. But we heard about what happened." Sam explained, moving his hands around as he talked.

"We just wanted to say how sorry we were." Dean added.

"I kind of know what you're going through." Sam confessed with a small smile. "I-I saw someone get hurt once. It's something that you don't forget."

You could say the exact same thing, but you decided to stay quiet. Because it was years ago. The death of Jessica and Lori’s boyfriend were recent, you already had your time to grieve. At least, that’s what you wanted to keep telling yourself. Sure, you didn’t get out of bed for weeks after your parents died, but a couple of things today brought back memories of the time you utterly broken. And those feelings were beginning to bubble back up to the surface.

Lori nodded her head as if she understood where the younger Winchester was coming from. She felt silent for a few moments, and you found your attention slowly drifting over to the man coming up behind her, who you presumed to be her father. The young girl turned to look at him when he had rested a hand on her shoulder, flashing a smile at the four of you. "Dad, this is Sam and Dean. They're new students." Lori pointed at the brothers, before introducing you. "And this is Y/N."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." Dean flashed a smile as he put out his hand for the reverend to shake. "I must say that was an inspiring sermon."

"Thank you very much." The reverend said while dropping his hands to his side. "It's so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord's message."

Dean chuckled as the three of you looked at one another. You smiled at the reverend. "Listen we're new in town, actually." You explained, walking away from Sam and Lori so that you and Dean could talk to the reverend.

~~~

Next part

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[alleiradayne]

Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this story…

THE MIDNIGHT RIDE

Long is our list of ghost stories laid to rest. But when the dark rider returns thirty years after his exorcism at the hands of the Winchesters, Sam, Dean, and I are faced with the possibility that we’ve been wrong about one thing.

Some urban legends never die.

Part II - Tales From the Crypt

Summary: In Sleepy Hollow, New York, Sam, Dean, and the reader begin their investigation. Warnings/Tags: A dead body, talk of bodily harm, language, alcohol consumption, and some flirting. Characters/Pairings: First Person Female!Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Word Count: 3,103

“We were able to identify most of the bodies, but a few are still John or Jane Does.”

The coroner led us around a table where a cadaver lay covered by a thick white sheet. She continued talking as she drew the sheet to the corpse’s waist, but I heard little and less of what she said. I barely stifled a yawn before sipping from my thermos. Coffee scalded my tongue but I’d rather deal with that than pass out on my own two feet at four o'clock in the afternoon.

Sam and Dean had insisted on driving through the night. Every time I had managed to fall asleep in the Impala, I had woken up sore and aching ten minutes later. So instead of risking another chiropractor bill, I had researched what I could of The Headless Horseman. Unfortunately, I had learned next to nothing besides boring variations on the same bullshit story from the urban legend.

Another yawn scattered my thoughts, and my vision finally focused on the exposed body before me. Headless as expected, no surprise there. Lacerations crisscrossed all over the torso and what remained of the neck, also expected. But something about those lacerations piqued my interest and so I leaned closer.

Thin black crusting outlined every cut, no matter how deep or superficial. The coroner and Dean were chatting amicably when I prodded Sam in the rib. He regarded me with a raised brow as I pointed at the lashes and said, “Look.”

Sam bowed in beside me, and the scent of his freshly washed hair filled my nose. So close, I eased into his warmth and leaned closer. “That,” I muttered as I pointed. “Aren’t those burns?”

He eyed me with a suspicious sideways glance before his smile spread across his lips, and he nodded. “Good catch, Y/N,” he started. “But the lashes alone are confusing. Since when does the Headles—”

“We’ll get back to you if we learn anything else,” Dean said loud enough to drown out Sam. “Thank you for your time, miss.”

Sam and I followed Dean’s lead and thanked the coroner for her time as well. She thanked us in return—flashing a warmer than casual smile at Dean, who blushed—and covered the cadaver as we headed for the door.

In the hallway, Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “Christ, she’s too smart.”

“What, did she reject you before you even asked?” Sam jested.

Dean tossed a tentative glance my way. “Nah, I got her number. But after that, she started asking about the decapitations and the lashes looking strange…” He trailed off as we stepped out into the cool fall breeze and pale October sun. “I don’t think she knows more, but I’ll have to be on my toes later.”

“And by later you mean after we finish this hunt, right?” I asked across Sam.

At the car, Dean popped the driver’s door open, then said, “She asked me out tonight.”

As they slid into the front seat, I eased into the back. “And you said what?”

He shot me a dark glare in the rearview mirror. “I asked her for a rain check until this weekend.”

Wow. “Okay, I’m impressed,” I replied.

“I’m… not surprised,” Sam replied. “Considering what’s going on.”

The Impala roared to life as Dean twisted the key in the ignition. When he pulled away from the curb, I leaned over the backrest and asked, “What is going on?”

Sam shot a nervous look at Dean before he took a deep breath. “Can we solve the case first?”

When he turned to look at me, I glared back. Earnest. Honest, even. But I wasn’t about to let my feelings for him cloud my judgment. “No. I need to know what we’re up against and...” I paused, my attention snared by the houses we passed. Every yard displayed a scene from the urban legend that had put Sleepy Hollow on the map. Various iterations on The Headless Horseman stood in every yard, myriad pumpkins and overly detailed horses impressively crafted. But each and every rider had a jack-o-lantern for a head or held one aloft. Not a single display had armed him with a whip or a cannonball. “Seriously, those lashes were burned into that victim. Since when does he wield a whip? And what kind of whip can do that?”

“One made from the spinal bones of human corpses,” Dean strained under his breath.

I blinked several times before I responded. “Excuse me?”

“Alright, here’s the deal,” Dean started. The Impala followed his command as it lumbered over the driveway into a diner’s parking lot. “We’re gonna eat dinner here. But we can’t talk about work. Once we’re in there, we’re FBI agents, and on-going investigations are off-limits. Got it?”

Better than nothing. “Once we get back to the motel?”

Dean pulled into a spot and slid the shifter into park. “We’ll tell you everything.”

Everything. So foreboding. As if all of their skeletons had been buried in an urban legend. Both of them turned over the backrest when I remained quiet too long. Weighed and measured, their expectant glares demanded an answer.

So I agreed.

“Deal.”

“I haven’t had a pot roast sandwich like that in ages.”

Dean covered his mouth with his fist as he held back a deep belch. “The pecan pie was damn near the best I’ve ever had.”

“And that hot cider!” I added. “That was definitely homemade.”

“Uh, you’re damn right it was homemade. Everything there was homemade,” Dean replied. “Well, except for maybe Sam’s salad.” He turned to Sam and his face fell. “Sammy?”

I followed Dean’s concerned glare and found Sam near the motel room door, eyes glazed over and staring into the middle distance. I knew that look. I’d felt it before, and I’d seen it on both of them too many times over the years. The severity of the situation sank in then, and reality returned in a rush. Forgotten was the pot roast, the pecan pie, and the hot cider. Abandoned was the lighthearted banter, and our carefree dinner.

Death stalked us in the shadows, no longer a friendly face.

“I think we should sit down,” Sam suggested as he crossed the room. When he slumped onto the bed, he said, “This story gets dark in a hurry.”

I shed my suit jacket and boots at the small table under the singular hanging lamp. “I get the feeling something pretty awful happened,” I said as I crossed the room and sat beside him.

Dean withdrew a bottle of scotch from his duffel bag. “Normally I’d save this for after we waste this asshole, but,” he paused as he popped the cork free of the bottle. “I have some doubts that’ll ever come to pass.” He pulled three short plastic cups from his bag then and poured two-finger pours into each. He handed a cup to Sam, who passed it on to me, and handed another to Sam before seating himself at the table with the third. A sip and a hum preceded his thoughts. “You got that picture handy, Y/N?”

I dug through my backpack at my feet and withdrew the article. “Right here. I saw The Headle—”

“Yeah,” Dean interjected. “He’s back there, in the field. Anything else jump out at you?”

Confused, my brow knotted as I focused on the article once more. “I mean, there’s this family standing in front of what is clearly the Sleepy Hollow museum. I recognized the building when we got into town,” I said. Another yawn reminded me I had not slept more than a couple of hours over the last twenty-four. "But I don't see anything else. No aberrations, no distortion, no orbs… other than Tits McGee up in the field there, I got nothing."

Sam pointed to the father. "Look a little closer here. You might recognize someone."

Recognize? The picture was thirty years old. Hell, I'd have been a kid back then. Probably just shy of seven years old.

Seven.

My focus snapped to the caption.

Thomas (7).

Something instinctual snapped my attention to Sam, and I saw it then. My jaw dropped as recognition crept along my spine. Boyish charm had grown ruggedly handsome, but the fear behind his wide stare had remained the same. I returned to the photograph, focusing on the older brother, and the truth settled in the pit of my stomach. A suave sense of confidence radiated from John (11). And he was the spitting image of his father, Richard Phillips (36).

He still is.

The image blurred as tears burned my eyes. I looked up to find Dean glassy-eyed and well into his cup. The start of so many thoughts stuttered on my clumsy tongue. How had I missed it back at the Bunker? Of course John Winchester would give an alias to a reporter. When I returned to the photograph one last time, I stared at their father, and the tears rolled down my cheeks.

"Every few months, John grew out his beard," Dean started. "He had this laser-like focus on hunting down the thing that killed Mary, and a time or two every year, he'd get a wild hair up his ass so bad, he'd forget to shave."

"That year," Sam said as he pointed to the photograph, "the wild hair was Sleepy Hollow. He was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that we would learn something important here."

Dean finished his pour of scotch and refreshed his glass. "He found nothing except for a bunch of busted pumpkins and a vengeful spirit."

I wiped at my eyes with the cuff of my shirtsleeve. When I turned to Sam, I asked, "How did he exorcise it?"

He shifted closer on the bed as he looked at the photograph. "We don't know. I was too young yet."

Dean grunted as he sat up in his seat and stood, caught his balance, then shuffled across the room to sit on the opposite bed. "Dad had just started filling me in on what he was doing about a year before we came here. But he did his best to ease me into it. Sam had hardly a clue until that day," he said as he pointed at the photograph.

"What happened?" I asked as I turned back to Sam.

A deep breath allowed him space to stall, but that same fear in his eyes returned. "I saw something." His stare glazed as it drifted off into the middle distance once more. "Bodies. Headless bodies," he stuttered. "A headless rider on a dark horse." He continued through a stream of consciousness, as though he were somewhere else. Sometime else. "Cannonballs and a whip of human spinal bones engulfed in flames."

My heart railed against my ribs as if to escape. Numb with dread, my fingers and toes burned, and fresh tears blurred my vision. "You were so young. That must have been terrifying."

He nodded and sipped from his drink. "At the time, yeah. I had nightmares for months. Over the years, I must have forgotten about it or blocked it out. But then you found this case. However you ended up with that article, it was no coincidence."

I looked to Dean then, and he clarified. "Something wanted us to come back. I think. To actually finish the job Dad didn't."

Something about that statement sparked a thought I had not yet considered. "How do you know this isn't something leftover from Chuck?"

A thoughtful look twisted his face. "We took care of Chuck and his mess. It's definitely a hunch but, I'd wager this isn't related. No, I think Dad just got this one wrong. He thought he did the job and we skipped town. But he screwed up and now The Headless Hessian is back again."

Hessian.

"What did you just call him?" I asked.

Dean regarded Sam, and they shared an equally confused look. "The Headless Hessian."

"I thought Hessians were German soldiers that fought for the Brits in the Revolution," I said.

When Sam nodded in agreement, he said, "You would be correct. And that was the original story until more retellings of the urban legend were printed."

Retellings. Talk about wild hairs. I dove for my backpack then and tore out my tablet. As it booted, I said, "I tried doing some research on The Headless Horseman on our way out here, but all I found was bullshit about the urban legend. Pumpkins and horses and heads and Ichabod Crane and crap like that. Nothing about cannonballs and whips made out of human spinal columns."

Sam propped one leg up on the bed as he turned to face me. "Regardless of what I saw as a kid, that story sounds familiar, too. I know the Hessian angle but I know I've also heard a version with a whip and a cannonball."

"Those," I started, then paused to type furiously, "I never knew. I always thought the myth was Ichabod Crane. But yesterday when I was searching for information, I think I found a website that mentioned a Hessian soldier as a part of the myth." Once I had found what I searched for, I turned the tablet to face them. "I thought it was a mistake. I know way too much about American history and its bullshit colonialism, so I wrote it off as a discrepancy. But when Dean referred to him as the Headless Hessian, it clicked."

The image on the tablet flipped through several iterations of a headless rider. The first carried a jack-o-lantern high over his head, then a headless horse with a headless rider appeared on the screen. Next, a rider carrying his own head, followed by a headless rider brandishing a sword. Then another hefting a muzzleloader, and finally a headless rider wielding a vicious whip made out of bone.

"Wait, which legend is that one?" Sam asked as he pointed.

The image of a man carrying his head under his arm while astride a horse froze on the page. "According to the website, that appears to be the dulachan. Irish folklore. The whip is a part of that legend, too."

"But our guy doesn't have his dome on him at all," Dean clarified.

"Exactly," I said, "Which was why I basically wrote this website off. Came to the same conclusion."

Sam pointed to the screen as the image changed to a giant man astride his horse brandishing his own head high above his shoulders. "That's the Gawain myth. Gawain beheaded the Green Knight."

Excitement flooded my senses as I exclaimed, "Yes! The Green Knight returns to challenge Gawain to a duel every year." The image changed again to that of a headless rider and horse. "And that's the Scottish story of the would-be chieftain, Ewen, who was decapitated at the battle at Glen Cainnir."

"And the headless man on a carriage?" Dean asked as the image changed once more.

"The Coiste Bodhar. Sometimes referred to as the gan ceann," I explained. “Damn, this website has everything…”

"But what does it all mean?" Sam asked.

I opened my mouth to reply but found I had nothing to say. A sudden silence filled the tiny motel room, all the wind sucked from our sails. It had to mean something. So many stories with their variations. Then again, they all shared a singular consistency.

“Maybe they’re all correct,” Dean mumbled.

Confusion scattered my rambling thoughts, and my focus snapped to Dean. “What are you saying?”

“Every story has the same headless dude in it, right?” he asked, echoing my idea. “Even the Hessian myth isn’t the original story. Irish, Scottish, English. They all have their own versions that are way older than the American story.”

“But a lot of Americans are the Irish, Scots, and English,” Sam added.

“Son of a bitch, we are English. I bet our forefathers fought in the Revolution,” Dean concluded and Sam agreed with a confident nod.

With the pattern weaving before my mind’s eye, I found a thread, a singular frayed end, and tugged on it. “So it’s not surprising at all that the stories are so similar. Immigrants made up the Headless Hessian based on their own urban legends from the motherland.”

“Exactly!” Dean declared.

Elation filled me for a brief moment before Sam ruined it again. “But then what is it?! A fae? A spirit? A curse? It could be anything with that theory!”

“You’re a real party pooper, you know that?” I said as I flopped back on the bed. “We were so close to something, I know it!”

Dean stood in a rush, then quickly returned to the bed. “Okay, that’s enough of the hooch,” he said as he crushed his empty cup and tossed it into the bin. “Let’s pick something and go after it. We’re never going to figure out what it actually is in a reasonable amount of time.”

“That’s a terrible plan!” Sam barked. “We’ll waste more time just trying random shit.”

Both of them fell quiet at that. My brain, on the other hand, was anything but. We had everything to handle a fairy, a vengeful spirit, even a curse. But how? How could we blindly choose? I agreed with Dean; we needed to do something and fast. And yet, Sam had a very valid point. I gritted my teeth against the frustration that supplanted my hope. What kind of spirit manifested once a year to kill a bunch of people? How, if all the stories are true, could we put down a fae-curse-spirit?

Then it dawned on me.

I bolted upright on the bed and blurted, “It’s all three.”

“What?”

Between Sam and Dean’s incredulous faces, I forced myself to grasp the last shred of confidence before it fled. “It’s all three. A spirit cursed by the fae.”

They regarded one another again, then turned away, silently considering my theory. Even I struggled to believe it. But then Dean snapped his fingers and said, “If it’s ultimately just a cursed spirit, all we need to do is roast his bones.” He pointed at the tablet as he jumped to his feet, steady as a rock. “The Headless Hessian was buried in an unmarked grave of the Old Dutch Church!”

I turned to Sam then, tense as a drawn bowstring. When his crooked, knowing grin spread across his lips, my stomach jumped into my throat. I hadn’t seen that smile in what felt like a century. And when he spoke, my heart nearly burst with relief.

“Looks like we’re doing some digging tonight.”

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#alleiradayne writes #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester fanfiction

[curiousconch]

Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Series Synopsis: Dr. Heather Song, Edenbrook’s newest diagnostician, gets embroiled in a plot of revenge against Boston’s top politician. Together with FBI Special Agent Rafael Aveiro and rising star prosecutor, Bryce Lahela, they try to uncover a web of conspiracies far greater than their imagination. Can they stop the attack in time? Or will their entangled hearts eventually become caught up in the crossfire?

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) x Bryce Lahela 

Words: 1.3k+ | Genre: Crime, Mystery, Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / implied violence

Author's notes: I'd like to thank the following for inspiring me to do this series:

@eleanorbloom​ - her awesome works made me see that there’s so much more to Bryce Lahela than being a meathead and a scalpel jockey

@kat-tia801 - for the captivating AU worlds she built with her TRR series, please check her works here. 

Finally, @alwaysmychoices​ - the same emotion you put into the stories of Charlie & Ethan is something I aspire to achieve with the characters of this fanfic series. 

Without these talented writers, I wouldn't be able to get this work out to the world.

PROLOGUE

"Here's the copy of the MRI you requested for Room 502, doctor," a blonde nurse dropped an envelope on the pile already in front of her.

"Thanks Kaley," she smiled and nodded briefly from the patient charts she was finishing in the nurse's station, her brunette bangs slightly rustling at the sudden movement.

She went back to the mountain of paper work she was trying to finish, her Johns Hopkins Montblanc pen squiqqling as she went. On the bottom of the last page, she wrote her full name: Dr. Heather Song, along with her medical license number. 

She opened the envelope containing the scan results, and examined the writings on the sheet of paper. No tumors - meaning that the patient's headaches were probably caused by a genetic, albeit irritating migraine. She prescribed a relaxant, and handed it to Danny, along with the rest of the clipboards. 

She bit her lower lip as she tapped on her fitbit: 8:39 pm - another 14 hour shift. It was another day at work in the diagnostics team. Thankfully, she loved her job, so she has no complaints for the long hours.

Scrolling, she checked the rest of her messages. Her frown turned into a smile as she read out a text from her boyfriend:

I'm done for the day. Pick you up in 20 minutes?

She took out her phone from the pocket of her white coat and texted him back, agreeing to the said rendezvous.

With a friendly nod to the night shift nurses, she stood up and walked towards the Diagnostics office, her white sneakers squeaking along with her steps. With the door behind her hissing closed, she went to her table and retrieved her sling bag. She shoved her ID badge and her phone inside, while she shutdown her PC. She retouched her lip gloss before shrugging off her coat, revealing a blue crew neck shirt, neatly tucked into her dark jeans.

She freed her shoulder length hair from the tight bun that she usually wears at work and brushed off the few loose strands. Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she grabbed her belongings and stepped out of the empty room, making her way towards the elevator bay. 

As she walked through Edenbrook's ground floor hallways, her pale skin glowed against the fluorescent lights. She crossed the atrium and bid her goodbye to Bobby, the hospital's security guard, then went outside, into the cold night air.

A green bomber jacket caught her sight, and her heart immediately skipped a beat. The tall, dark figure had a backpack slung on his left shoulder, his right foot tapping along a mental beat.

"Hey, handsome," Heather slung her arm around Rafael's, tiptoeing to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Missed me?"

Rafael chuckled, as his eyes glistened in the dark, humming in agreement. He returned the compliment with a quick peck on her lips.

He gazed down at her, "Hungry, Dr. Song?"

Heather nodded in excitement. She loved his cooking, but she missed the gelateria near his place.

Fond memories flooded her, making her smile. 

A year ago, Rafael first whisked her away to the same Italian ice cream shop to decompress, seeing how stressed she was with the investigation. It was the night after she called in Travis Perry to the authorities. 

Ed Farrugia was just one of those patients her team took in to increase Edenbrook's struggling funds. He was Massachusetts' most popular Senator, and the media mileage he gave the hospital prevented it from going under. 

But what they first thought as just another day in the job took a turn when Heather diagnosed the politician's illness as lead poisoning. By midday, she was able to confirm that the chemical element was not coming from his newly-purchased house. A quick search engine lookup returned a suspicious article about Travis, his aide. Not wanting to make conclusions without concrete evidence, she raised her own suspicions with her mentors, Dr. Ramsey and Chief Banerji. Collectively, they decided that the best course of action was to quietly alert the authorities. 

That day was the first time Rafael walked into the hospital's hallways.  He got assigned to the case once Dr. Naveen called the FBI Boston field office. Rafael's discreet but valiant efforts foiled the perpetrator's sinister plans - of releasing a deadly airborne poison into the hospital room of the unknowing Senator. 

He was able to stop the attack and prevented deaths, including Heather's. They later found out that the attacker wanted to take revenge on her due to her earlier attempts to treat the senator. Travis Perry admitted to sprinkling lead in the politician's assorted drinks over the years. 

With the criminal charges filed and the case handed over to the district attorney's office, they were able to focus on the budding attraction between them. Several dates and a couple of samba lessons later, it bloomed into a full-on romance. 

Heather easily fell for him. He was an easy guy to love. His ways are simple, uncomplicated. 

He was a welcome reverie from the chaos of her first  year as a junior fellow of Edenbrook's premier Diagnostics Team. It was Rafael's sweet charms that made the unbearable, bearable. His tenacity to crack the cases he was assigned to matched her own. But his motive - of always being more than willing to serve others and his community, regardless of danger, never failed to amaze her. 

When they became an item, his whole community took her in. It was a sincere group of people consisted of his grandmother, his colleagues, and the elderly at the senior center where he volunteered. Rafael also frequently hung out with Heather's friends. Sienna, Elijah, Aurora and even Jackie were nothing but supportive of their relationship. 

Snapping out of her head space with a gentle nudge from Rafael, they began to leave the front steps of Edenbrook. They hadn't walked far when a familiar voice calling her name stopped them in their tracks. 

'Heather. Dr. Heather Song!"

Both turning around, they saw a tall man approaching them hurriedly. She had to raise her head to gaze at him as he neared.

"ADA Lahela," she saluted him in a greeting. She gave him a polite smile, letting Rafael go briefly to shake the hand of the man in the gray suit. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Something very urgent. I wouldn't spoil your RnR, but this really can't wait until tomorrow." Bryce Lahela, the rising star of the Boston's District Attorney's office, nodded back at Raf, catching his breathe.  "Ah, Agent Aveiro, hi. I believe this also very much concerns you." he also waved at Rafael, a hint of unsteadiness in his voice. 

She tried to recall the last time she saw Bryce. It was 3 months ago, on the last day of the trial of Travis Perry. The fierce young lawyer eagerly took on the case of Senator Farrugia, who single-handedly put Perry behind bars for the rest of his life. 

Her head perked a little, sensing the quick falter in the young prosecutor's greeting. She waved off his apology, expressing she didn't mind the intrusion. She trusted him enough to make the judgment that this couldn't wait. They were friends after all. 

"There's been a new development in the Ed Farrugia case," the assistant district attorney clutched his leather shoulder bag and pulled out a peculiar looking paper.  "Someone sent a blank message to my office email address an hour ago, it included this file attachment," he handed the page to Heather, a look of concern crossing his face. 

Beside her, Raf tensed.

The black and white printout, with words spelled from cutouts of magazines, knotted Heather's stomach in a million ways. 

It's not over, Dr. Song.

The sinister note made her skin crawl, unleashing a wave of terror within her. 

She immediately knew right then that the mirage of her quiet life threatened to crumble. She just didn't know how much. 

Tagging also @choicesficwriterscreations for #fics of the week.

Chapter 1 to be posted tomorrow.

#open heart #open heart 2 #choices fic writers creations #choices fanfiction #open heart fanfiction #rafael aveiro #Rafael x MC #bryce lahela #bryce x mc #rafael aveiro x mc #bryce lahela x mc #fics of the week