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randomshyperson · 3 years

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Sorry for your loss - “I will move on” #04

Read on AO3 || Serie Masterlist here

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction pining, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, domestic Wanda, hurtful behaviors.

Tag list: @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia / @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5

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Chapter Four - I will move on

"And I guess that's about it." You say as you finish telling Agatha about your last few weeks. She smiles as she shakes her head.

"I have to say I am proud of you." She comments gesturing briefly with her hands. "Are you sure you don't want to add anything else?"

You shrug, unable to remember anything relevant that you haven't mentioned.

You told her about writing again, about trying to drive again. About helping Wanda to stay home without having panic attacks, and to go back to work. You had only managed to drive in the supermarket parking lot, but it was still progress, and Stephen was very happy to hear it about too. The only thing missing to get your life back to normal was your apartment. And you had already arranged with Wanda to visit later that week.

"I have two questions for you then." Agatha says when you confirm that you have nothing to add. "Don't you think it's time to try to reconnect with your friends?"

You hesitate, thoughtfully.

"I don't know." You said slightly uncomfortable. "My friends weren't just mine. They were Nat's friends too. And then she died, and I isolated myself. And well, I guess they were in their own grief too, because none of them tried to look for me anymore."

"You took your time to heal." She says. "Maybe they took theirs too. And now might be the time to reconnect."

You sigh, looking away.

"Yeah, I'll think about it." You speak. You look back at Agatha a moment later. "What was the other question?"

Agatha hides a small smile.

"A sensitive topic for patients who lose their beloved lovers." She says and you frown in confusion. "Well, dear, I need to ask if you are trying to date again?"

You gasp in surprise, feeling your face heat up.

"W-what?"

Agatha lets out a giggle.

"I know this may seem insensitive at first, and that's more because of the sexist socioeconomic construct that treats widowed women as violated property that must belong to their lover for the rest of their lives than anything else but I need you to understand that it's perfectly natural to move on." She narrates and you just stand there with a shocked expression and your heart racing. "You are a single woman now, and you have sexual and emotional human needs. I'm going to help you work through any kind of guilt, because judging your progress, you seem ready to be in a relationship again."

"I...I don't..."

"Don't worry, honey." Agatha interrupts with a giggle. "I'm not telling you to go around fornicating." She jokes. "Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course. But I don't think it's really your style at all."

You feel your face heat up, frowning at Agatha, but she continues to speak.

"Anyway, I'm saying that it will be good if you get back into romantic relationships with other people. Casual encounters, that sort of thing. You are allowed to love someone again, there's nothing wrong with that." She explains getting up toward her own desk, and then gives a mischievous little smile in your direction. "Not to mention that orgasms are great stress relievers."

You choke in surprise, but Agatha just smiles, turning to write the appointment report.

Your face is still very red when you leave her office.

//-//

"I'm going to make a gardener out of you yet, huh?" Monica joked as you finished composting, making you laugh lightly.

"Well, I had a good teacher." You joked back as you stood up.

You were at Wanda's flower shop again. It became routine for you to help Monica with the garden and the flowers. And as the days went by, you got used to being in the greenhouses while she was attending to customers and Wanda was working in the office. It took two weeks for Monica to start joking that you had become a staff member at the flower shop. You don't really mind helping out. Botany has turned out to be something surprisingly relaxing for you. The hours of Wanda's shift passed by quickly when you keep your hands busy with the plants and flowers, your anxiety long forgotten.

"Are you hungry?" Monica asks as soon as you return to the store's front desk, and she pulls out the " break" sign tucked under the counter.

"Sure."

"Let's take a lunch break. See if Wanda wants to join us while I attend that boy." Monica says looking forward toward the window display. There is a boy clearly unsure about whether or not to enter the store and you exchange a chuckle with her before heading towards Wanda's office.

She is on the phone when she answers the door for you, and signals with her finger in her mouth for you not to say anything as she makes room for you to enter. As she mumbles in agreement on the call, you look around. She seems to be working on the organization of some big event judging by the whiteboard in the corner filled with notes, and you figure it's a party or some wedding, because you and Monica have been growing more flowers for this kind of thing lately.

"That sounds pretty good, actually." You listen to her speak as she jots down a few things in an agenda. " Don't worry, we have enough for the engagement party and the ceremony."

The shelf on the side in front of the whiteboard catches your attention, and you walk over to the furniture next.

Wanda moves a little behind you, adding some stickers to the whiteboard. You keep looking at the bookshelf, distracted by the objects on it. There is a picture of the twins that makes you smile, some books, and other small pots of plants. You lightly caress the bonsai before looking down.

You run your fingers over the red flower on Wanda's bookshelf, trying to remember the name. Monica has taught you many things, but you don't know many as well.

"Anthurium" Wanda whispers behind you, as she turns off her cell phone and realizes that you are looking at the flower with curiosity. You murmur in understanding, turning to make comment that it is very beautiful, but your speech dies in your throat when you realize how close Wanda is. "What did you want?" She asks curiously and you are almost leaning your body against the bookshelf, trying to think clearly.

"I-I came to ask if you want to have lunch with us." You say while mentally telling yourself not to look at Wanda's lips.

Wanda murmurs in understanding, and you can barely breathe when she stands even closer, her hand outstretched to something above your head. She pulls out a small stick caught in your hair, and all you can do is stare at her with a racing heart as she bites back a smile, and tosses the stick into one of the vases on the shelf behind you.

"I'd like to join you, but I'm busy." She says and her gaze falls to your lips for a second before she turns her head away and walks off. You let out a breath, wiping your sweaty hands on your pants as Wanda walks toward the table in search of the notepad and pen she was using before hanging up her cell phone. "Can you please bring me something to eat? I'm starving. I just don't know exactly what I want..."

You smile as you see Wanda's thoughtful expression with pen and notebook in hand. You approach, putting the notebook down with your hand gently.

"Don't worry, I know what you like." You say simply, and Wanda blinks in surprise, smiling awkwardly. "I'll stop by that confectionery shop you like and also bring you a dessert, okay? You look stressed."

Wanda laughs lightly, her cheeks flushed.

"Thanks, love."

The nickname slips so naturally from her lips that it takes a moment for both of you to realize what has just been said. Your gaze falls to Wanda's mouth the same minute that her pupils dilate. You are almost breaking the distance when Monica opens the door, not noticing the closeness of the two of you because she has her gaze on a piece of paper in her own hands.

You and Wanda immediately turn away, embarrassed.

"We have a big order, girls." She announces excitedly, raising her eyes to you. Monica frowns slightly at the guilty expressions and reddened faces. "Sorry, did I interrupt something?"

"No." You answer in unison quickly, surprising Monica again, who acquires an expression of suspicion and humor. You clear your throat and Wanda lets out a short laugh.

"We were just talking about lunch." You say. "And well, Wanda has a big order too. I guess you guys will need my help then."

Wanda turns to you again with this statement.

"What? No, I can't make you work for me..."

You interrupt with a laugh.

"Wanda, don't even start." You say. "I love staying here. And I'm happy to help, really. Don't worry about it."

"You sure make my shifts more fun." Adds Monica with a smile, making you laugh. Wanda looks at you intently.

"Are you sure?" She asks, and you smile as you nod in agreement. "We'll talk about it later. You can't work for free, and if you're going to help you need a schedule, and breaks and chores."

You laugh, nodding.

"Yes, boss." You murmur playfully and Wanda pats your arm, making you and Monica laugh.

"Let's get our lunch now, I'm starving." Monica orders as she turns to walk out the door. You murmur in agreement, and quickly kiss Wanda on the cheek before following the other woman. Wanda has a foolish smile on her face until you return with her lunch many minutes later.

//-//

You call Carol Danvers the day before you return to your apartment.

Things go much better than you expected, but it's not surprising, because you usually expect the worst case scenario.

Carol is very happy to hear from you, and you are happy to know that she doesn't hate you for not calling before. You talk for a few minutes, but she can't talk much on the phone because her shift is about to start. You are surprised to learn that she is working in a nightclub downtown now, unlike months ago when she worked in a rock bar in Queens.

She tells you that Bruce was traveling because of his internship, but that he would be in town for the weekend, and invites you to visit her at work. You hesitate because you are not sure if you are ready to go to a club, but you accept as you think of Agatha's words about reconnecting with your friends again.

You are the one who drives to your apartment the next day, after you and Wanda leave the flower shop. Your heart is racing the whole time, but Wanda rests her hand on your thigh to calm you down, and as the minutes go by, you can no longer tell whether you are nervous about the trauma or something else.

Parking in the small condo cluster, you take a deep breath. Wanda gives your thigh one last squeeze before she pulls her hand away and gets out of the car, completely oblivious to the way your entire body trembles at her touch. Shaking your head slightly to push that kind of thought away, you step out of the car.

Your hands are shaking wildly as you take your keys out of your pockets, just as you reach the second floor, after you have politely waved to the people who recognized you on the way to your apartment.

"Hey, breathe." Wanda asks softly beside you. And you take a deep breath, and it helps. And then you turn the key, and go inside.

It is exactly the same as the last time you were here, many months ago, on the day of the accident.

Your mother cleaned it up, of course, but it is still the same. Everything is in the exact same place, even the shoes that Nat left lying in the corner of the bookshelf. And you felt your chest tighten when the flashes of memory began.

You walked around, looking at the surroundings while Wanda followed you. A few tears streamed down your face, but you said nothing.

You were in the kitchen when the first sob escaped your throat. Leaning your hands on the counter, you dropped your keys and tried to push away the memories that were clear in your head.

It was as if you could feel Nat in the room. Seeing her in the armchair, laughing at your jokes, or being a disaster in the kitchen on nights when you tried to eat something homemade. Her books mixed in with yours on the bookshelf, your wedding and graduation pictures on the mantelpiece.

You moved away from the counter quickly, however, as Wanda looked at you intently, unsure whether to approach or not. Walking down the hallway, you stopped in front of your bedroom door.

And you stood there. Long minutes staring at the wood. Unable to move.

Feeling arms around your waist, you sighed, your body relaxing considerably.

Wanda hugged you from behind, and waited. You were crying again, and you only stopped after a while. Taking a deep breath, and lightly stroking Wanda's hand to ask her to let go, you waited for her to let go of you to open the door.

Wanda waited for you outside. You just walked around the room, your face wet as you breathed with difficulty, your arms crossed as if you were afraid to touch anything.

When you came out, you took a deep breath once more. And then you said you needed to call your mother.

That's how you spent the rest of the day packing up your apartment together with Wanda, your mother, and Pietro and Monica, who came to help after Wanda said you needed more people.

You came back the other day too, until the only things left were larger pieces of furniture.

"Are you sure you're going to sell?" Your mother asked you in the parking lot as soon as you left there in the late afternoon. Wanda had just gone home with her brother and sister-in-law.

"That was her apartment, Mom." You say as you put the boxes in the trunk. "I could never live here without Natasha."

"It's a good property." She comments, making you chuckle lightly.

"I'm sure the next owners will love it."

"I don't mean to be disrespectful, dear. It's just a nice apartment, not the kind of thing you get every day and..."

"Are you wanting to keep it by any chance?" You interrupt, irritated at your mother's lack of sensitivity. She sighs, and you frown.

"No. But maybe someone else wants to."

It takes a moment for you to understand what she is implying.

"You know Nat didn't talk to her family."

Your mother looks away.

"Actually..." She begins and you close the trunk with a confused expression, "I've been seeing Melina since January."

You blink in surprise, and then let out a dry laugh.

"I am speechless." You say in shock. "You...are you serious? Wow, I...wow."

You lean back against the car, impressed and annoyed. Your mother sighs guiltily, stepping in front of you again.

"Look, I know I should have had something, but you were so..."

"Sad? Yeah mom, my wife died, I had a right to be."

"That's not what I meant."

You sighed, rolling your eyes.

"Yeah, I know." You grumble. "But it sucks that you kept it from me. What the hell does Melina want anyway?"

Your mother looks away for a moment.

"She wanted to see you actually." She says and you let out a wry laugh. "I know how ridiculous it sounds, but her daughter died and you were the only remaining connection to Natasha."

You push your fingers against your forehead lightly, thinking you are starting to get a migraine from this conversation.

"You know what, Mom?" You say. "Since you two have become such good friends lately, tell her that her chance to connect with me was lost the moment she didn't attend the funeral."

Your mother sighs, but you are already turning to get into the car. She follows you a moment later, sitting in the passenger seat.

You drive in silence back home.

//-//

Over the weekend, you almost canceled your plans with Carol.

Your mother was giving you the silent treatment for the way you refused to talk about Natasha and Melina, and you were very irritated by the whole situation.

Grumbling about how ridiculous it all was, you agreed to have coffee with the two women the following week, and your mother's mood changed considerably, the complete opposite of what happened to you.

But you forced yourself to smile, and got up from the couch to get ready.

Around seven-thirty at night, you arrived at the place, which was already very busy, neon lights peeking through the windows along with the loud music.

"My goodness, look at you!" Greeted Carol cheerfully as soon as you met her at the counter. She turned around to hug you tight, and you felt your chest swell with happiness. You had missed your friend so much.

"You got a haircut" You comment in the same excitement, smiling at her. "I missed you, Danvers."

She smiles, mumbling that she missed you too. She asked you to sit on one of the stools at the front of the bar, and you did so while she went back behind the counter.

You updated each other a bit as she served some customers, and a while later, Bruce arrived.

"Banner I can't believe you are wearing a suit in a nightclub." Carol teased as she greeted her friend, making you chuckle slightly as Bruce explained that he didn't have time to look more casual.

"It's good to see you." He said to you as he hugged you, you repeated the words, then sat at the bar.

A few drinks and laughs later, Carol's shift ended, and she sat at a table with you two.

Between telling your friends about your progress in therapy, and hearing how Carol had left her previous job after punching a slacker client in the face, and learning that Bruce was working as an aspiring scientist, and lecturing around the country, the three of you had enough beers for the direction of the conversation to make your cheeks flush.

"I swear to you, she was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen!" Carol told you, making you and Bruce laugh at her excitement.

"Now you're going to say that the next second you saw the next most beautiful woman in the world?" You teased wryly, and Carol laughed as she told you to shut up. "Are you even dating this Gamora girl?"

Carol hid a smirk, taking a sip of her beer.

"Actually." She began. "We're living together."

You widened your eyes in surprise, and then laughed.

"My god, Carol Danvers in love!" You teased making her laugh as she flashed you her middle finger. "No, but seriously, that's amazing! I'm happy for you, Carol."

"Yes, yes." She says smiling, "But what about you? I know you and Nat were like, madly in love or whatever cheesy stuff you put in your books, but it's been months. It would be nice if you met someone new."

The topic is quite sensitive, and the mood at the table changes because of it. But you are far more embarrassed than upset, and you lower your gaze to your bottle before answering.

" Oh, well, i..." You begin half-heartedly. Your stomach does a flip-flop, because you are thinking of a person. "There is someone, I think. But I don't know if we're both ready to take that on yet."

Carol makes an agreeing noise with her mouth, and then has an insinuating little smile on her face.

"Do you still remember how to be with a girl, champ?" your friend teases, and you nudge her shoulder shyly as she and Bruce laugh.

"Aren't those things like riding a bike?" The other man asked timidly, getting a wry look from Carol.

"You know, Bruce, your innocence is admirable." Carol teases making you laugh.

"Don't be mean." You say poking her lightly in the ribs, but Bruce doesn't really care. It's been that way since college when he told you guys he was asexual. The whole thing was funny because Carol has always been very, very sexual. And they have been teasing each other about it for years.

"Ah but I won't be, I promise." She assures. "Actually, I'm much more interested in hearing about your new girlfriend."

You laugh shyly, drinking some of your beer.

"I don't have a girlfriend."

Carol laughed, her gaze running around the room before returning to you.

"Well, that blonde girl has been looking over here for a few moments. I have a girlfriend, and Bruce doesn't like sex. I guess you're the one who's going to have to talk to her."

You widened your eyes at your friend's words, looking forward quickly.

A blond woman was indeed staring at your table.

"I don't think that's a good idea." You mumble clumsily, and Carol gives a little laugh.

"That's too bad, because now that you've looked, she's going to come here." Your friend warns, and you choke on your beer when you see the girl actually getting up from the countertop.

"Carol, help me." You awkwardly whisper but your friend just laughs, and then the stranger catches up with you all.

"Hi." She greets sensually, looking up at you. You swallow dryly as your friend holds back a giggle. "Would you like to dance?"

"I-I..."

"Use your words." Carol teased lowly next to you, making the girl laugh at your clumsiness.

"Don't be shy, I don't bite." The girl added maliciously. " Unless you ask me to."

You feel your face heat up with embarrassment, and you spread your mouth open, not knowing what to say next. Carol murmurs impressed.

"Sorry, sweetie, she used to function better than that." Carol interrupts the interaction, taking pity on your distress. "I think she's taken. But if it's just a dance, we can all enjoy it together."

The girl bites her lips, seeming to consider. She takes one last look at you, and then accepts the invitation.

This is how you end up on a dance floor, trying to escape the hands of a stranger.

You remember how to dance, and the drink helps a lot. But there are hands running over your body before the woman turns around and starts rubbing against you in rhythm with the music. You feel your breath catch, the excitement of having so much intimate contact after so long reaching you completely.

"Are you sure you're taken?" She whispers against your ear, and you give a short laugh, feeling your head spin.

"Yes." You half-heartedly assure her, using all the rest of your drunken control to push her hands away from you.

The woman didn't mind, stealing a short kiss on your cheek before dancing away, swaying her hips.

Carol threw her arms around you next.

"Wow, you really are in love!" She enthusiastically shouts to be heard between the beats of the music. You laugh with flushed cheeks, saying you need to take some air.

Your friend continues to dance, pulling Bruce close, and the man laughs awkwardly as he puts his arms around the blonde. You chuckle at the scene before turning to go outdoors.

It is easier to breathe outside.

Your first action is to take your cell phone out of your pocket, and check your notifications. Your heart melts when you open a message from Wanda. It is a picture of her and the boys, lying together between a comforter. The caption reads "movie night, doesn't even look like they were jumping on the couch two minutes ago".

You stare at the picture for a few seconds after sending a heart emoji to Wanda. And then you gasp softly, realizing. You really are in love with her. Like in romance movies, and fairy tale books. But also like the real thing. Because you love Wanda's company, her sharp jokes, the way she talks and behaves and cares for everyone. You don't want to be in a bar, or meet another girl. You want to be wrapped in a comforter with Wanda and the kids.

Trying not to panic at this conclusion, you put your cell phone back in your pocket, deciding to go back inside to say goodbye to your friends.

//-//

You are trying to find a way to tell Wanda how you feel. The problem is that you are insecure, because you have no idea if she is ready for a relationship again. You don't even know if she likes women.

With so much suffering in the past months, you also don't want to face a broken heart. So you decide to wait and see how things will turn out.

It is something about the way your life is completely intertwined in Wanda's now, in the same way that she has wrapped herself around your heart that makes you sigh when you think about it everything.

You are distracted while you work, and Monica smiles because you have a smirk while tinkering in the gardens, which is clearly not related to the plants. She doesn't say anything, because it's the same way Wanda smiles when you bring her coffee, or when you two come back from lunch. She can only be excited to think how it will be to organize your wedding.

It is at lunch after group therapy that Wanda invites you to her father's wedding anniversary party. You hadn't met him yet, and a party was a good thing, because you wouldn't have all his attention on you, and it lessens your anxiety considerably.

The party will be at Wanda's father's country house, and you will be able to cross the "take a trip" goal off your therapy to-do list.

In the meantime, you prepare to see Natasha's mother.

It is a Thursday, and you set aside your lunch period for this, because you really don't want this meeting to last more than an hour.

Your mother and Melina are already in the restaurant when you arrive, and you nod politely to the woman when you sit down at the table, signaling that she doesn't need to get up.

"So, what did you want?" you ask snidely, earning a scolding from your mother. Melina doesn't seem to mind your aggressiveness however.

"Let's order something to eat first please." Your mother says before the other woman can respond. You roll your eyes, not disagreeing.

After the waitress takes your orders and leaves, you cross your arms impatiently.

"Look, I know it's hard for you to hear from me after all this time..." The woman begins.

"Hard for me?" You cut her off with irony. "No, Melina. I was not the daughter you abandoned. It was just hard for Nat not to have you around. I simply don't like you myself."

"Honey" Your mother warns, but you let out a dry laugh.

"No, really." You continue firmly. "What do you really want with me?"

Melina sighs, straightening herself in her chair.

"Your mother told me that you intend to sell Natasha's apartment." She says. "I don't approve of such a decision."

You stare at her for a moment, and then let out a laugh.

"I should have known you'd only show up for the money." You say feeling your stomach turn with anger. Melina rolls her eyes, but doesn't deny it. Your mother looks surprised that you are right.

"I gave that apartment to Natasha..."

" I beg your pardon?" you interrupt angrily, your loud tone attracting the attention of the next table. "You gave her the apartment? Are you listening to yourself now?"

"We don't need to get carried away." She asked with irritation in her eyes, drawing a nasal laugh of indignation from you. "You know I'm right."

"No, Melina." You retort seriously, lowering your tone. "Clarify for me how you can possibly think that putting an apartment full of debt in your daughter's name to escape the state, making her work two shifts to pay for everything, sets up like giving an apartment to someone?"

"You are manipulating the facts." She hits back and you nod in disbelief, closing your eyes momentarily. "I had financial problems, and Nat didn't object when I suggested..."

"She was 15." You cut in. "You forgot that little detail right? You also forgot about going to the guardianship board to emancipate your 15 year old daughter just so she could take on a debt of yours?" You asked angrily. "Oh, did you forget about Nat working in a diner throughout her teenage years to pay for everything?"

Melina clenched her jaw, glaring at you angrily. You really weren't in the least bit of patience for this conversation, and it was a good thing the waitress arrived with your orders, because you were about to turn the table.

"I am not hungry anymore." You grumble as soon as the waitress leaves and you look down at your food, your stomach turning. Then you look forward. "When I sell the apartment, I will talk to your lawyer and if you are entitled to anything, you can rest assured that it will come in the mail. Now do me a favor, and never look for me again."

After saying these words to Melina, you exchange a quick glance with your mother and get up, walking to the exit.

//-//

You are pretty upset about the whole Melina thing, but your mood improves almost immediately when Wanda invites you to visit her.

Actually, she needs help with the kids, because she's busy with a rich lady's wedding that required priority on the flower project, and the summer vacation started that week.

Monica was helping Wanda with the whole design, so you and Pietro would take care of the kids.

It was quite fun to do it, because you loved children. Pietro even had the bright idea of setting up a little lemonade stand outside Wanda's house, and while the other women were working, you and he took the kids outdoors.

"Don't you think a million dollars is a lot of money for a glass of lemonade, Billy?" you ask the boy as you watch him put several zeros on the price cardboard. Pietro laughs as he helps his daughter pin up her hair.

"I don't know." The kid tells you without stopping drawing. "I'm a kid, I've never paid anything."

You laugh, looking forward. You and Pietro are sitting on chairs placed on the grass while the children play around the lemonade stand.

When some of the neighbors buy the lemonade, you tell Billy that a gold coin is worth a million, and he doesn't argue.

The temperature rises considerably throughout the day, and around two in the afternoon you and Pietro decide that it would be good to take the kids swimming.

"Call the wives please." Pietro says to you as you stand in the living room after you two walk back in and put everything away, and he is helping the children put on bathing suits. You feel your face heat up at the innocent insinuation of Wanda being your wife, but you say nothing and he doesn't even seem to notice.

You knock on the door, then enter the office, and smile at the two women inside, who seemed to be concentrating on their own papers.

"Let's go for a quick swim girls?" You ask, ignoring the way your stomach gets butterflies when Wanda looks up at you.

Monica lets out an excited exclamation.

"Yes, please!" She says. "This room feels like an oven!"

You and Wanda laugh, and you make room for Monica to walk past you.

"Any chance you have a bathing suit in my size?" You ask Wanda next, and she bites back a smile, thoughtful.

"Let 's find out."

//-//

It is only upstairs that you realize that you have never been in Wanda's bedroom before.

All the times you have been here, you were reserved for the living room, the kitchen and the office. Except for the times you were in the twins' bedroom, and well, when you used the bathroom.

You stood still a bit past the entrance, not knowing exactly what to do with your hands as Wanda searched the closets for a bathing suit for you.

"You know you can look around right?" Wanda commented with playfulness in her speech, making you chuckle shyly.

Stepping forward, you twiddled your fingers together nervously as you looked around. You smiled at the decorations, and especially at the pictures on the dresser.

"Damn, I think I only have one pair." Wanda grumbled as she closed the closet, turning to you next, a swimsuit in her hands. "Do you want to wear it?"

You smiled wryly.

"Not if it's the only one you have." You say. "Don't worry, I'll keep my T-shirt on."

"Don't be silly, it's really hot outside. I'll lend you a bra."

Wanda leaves her swimsuit on the bed and walks over to the dresser behind you. You step aside to give her room to open the drawers.

You look quickly away from the underwear drawer, feeling your heart race at the intimacy of this moment. It only gets worse when Wanda hands you a black sports top, which she is glad to have found.

"Thank you, Wands." You mutter as you accept the garment.

You widen your eyes as Wanda begins to unbutton the shirt she is wearing, but before you have a heart attack, she flashes you a small smile and picks up the swimsuit from the bed, turning toward the bathroom as she uses her free hand to keep the shirt closed.

You take advantage of Wanda's exit to quickly take your shirt off, put on the top and then the T-shirt over it.

A moment later she returns, and your breath catches in your throat.

"This swimsuit has a tie in the back, can you help me with that?" Wanda asks distractedly as she tucks her hair into a bun. You swallow dryly, trying to keep your gaze off her exposed legs.

Wanda stands facing the dresser, watching you approach through the mirror. You ignore your uncompensated heartbeat as you stare back at her, and let out a shy smile as you lower your gaze when you notice her flushed cheeks as you stand right behind her.

Raising your fingers to the height of her back, you gently touch the skin exposed by the opening of her swimsuit. The contact makes every inch of the woman's skin shiver in front of you, and she sighs softly, the sound making your stomach turn.

You risk looking forward again, at your reflection, only to find Wanda's mouth ajar, her eyes dark. You risk dragging your fingers further inside the fabric, making her choke lightly.

Completely mesmerized by the way Wanda's body responds to your touch, you raise your other hand, trailing a finger up from the length of her coccyx to the opening of her swimsuit, watching Wanda close her fists as her cheeks redden.

You can hear the sounds of her uncompensated breathing, but you can also hear the muffled laughter from the distance downstairs, and that motivates you enough to ignore the trembling of your fingers as you zip up Wanda's swimsuit.

"W-we should go downstairs." You whisper in a hoarse voice, ignoring the urge to rip off Wanda's swimsuit.

The redhead swallows dryly before slowly turning toward you. Your faces are so close that you can feel her breath on your cheek.

"I..."

"Mommy why are you taking so long?" Billy's muffled scream coming from the backyard through the window makes you and Wanda jump in fright.

Pietro and Tommy repeat the same sentence next, and you clear your throat, taking a step back. Wanda can't keep her gaze on you as you both walk down to the pool outside.

You can only distract yourself from the feel of Wanda's skin on your fingers because you play in the pool with everyone, and these thoughts are pushed to the back of your mind for the rest of the afternoon.

It is only when you have to leave, after the children have had a bath, and are dressed in comfortable clothes in front of the television, and you have hugged Monica and Pietro goodbye that these thoughts come flooding back when you have to repeat the gesture with Wanda.

You disguise yourself, smiling politely at the couple standing behind the redhead as you let your arms circle her waist as you hug her. Resisting the urge to close your eyes and sink your face into Wanda's neck, who has her hands on your shoulders, you hold back a sigh as you pull away.

"See you on Monday." You murmur in a husky voice, and the redhead nods, her gaze falling quickly to your lips.

You think you'd better get in the car before you lose control of your body.

//-//

Startled slightly, you opened your eyes with difficulty. Someone was calling you, but it must have been very late, because you couldn't see anything in the room but the blinking light on your dresser.

Grumbling, you stretched your arm out to reach for your vibrating cell phone and answer the call.

"Hello?" you asked in a voice hoarse from sleep, closing your eyes again.

"Hey, sorry to wake you." It was Wanda, and her whiny voice made you open your eyes quickly, worried.

"Wanda? Did something happen?"

"Yeah." She agrees, sniffling softly. "I just... I'm so sad. The whole fucking time. Then Tony came over and started saying these things and now I'm crying and I can't stop. I'm sorry, it's not your problem, I shouldn't have called and..."

"I'm coming."

You think Wanda tried to say something to stop you, but you ended the call as you stood up.

"Where are you going?" Your mother asked as soon as you came downstairs, and you were startled to find her awake, but you didn't ask as you noticed the laptop in your lap.

"Wanda." You mumble simply, looking for your keys.

"Kitchen countertop." She informed and you muttered a thank you as you picked up the item from the mentioned spot. "You know, if you're going to start leaving the house at dawn to see her, it might be best to move in with her."

You chuckled awkwardly at the comment as you put on your shoes.

"Try to get some sleep, work will still be there in the morning." You tell her to change the subject, and your mother sighs, turning her attention back to the screen. "You don't have to wait up for me."

"Oh, I figured." She teases last making you roll your eyes in embarrassment before opening the door to leave.

//-//

You didn't have to knock on the door, because as soon as you parked the car and got out, you had a view of the outside garden porch, and you could see Wanda sitting on the rocking bench, looking at the ground.

You sighed, opening the garden gate to enter the backyard.

Making a noise with your feet so as not to startle her, you felt your heart squeeze as she wiped her tears away quickly, turning her head to the side. You sighed, taking a seat on the bench in front of her, rocking it slightly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked a moment later, and from the redhead's silence, you figured not. But she nodded next, looking down at her own feet. "Tell me what happened then."

It takes a moment, but Wanda speaks. She tells how Tony Stark showed up at her door at three in the morning, saying that he blamed himself for his brother death but that this was a good thing now because it was exactly what he needed to change his life and stop drinking, and that she punched him in the nose, saying that this was always his problem, everything was always about him. Tony promised that he would be someone decent now, that he was going to change, and Wanda just pushed him away, telling him to go change somewhere else.

"I feel like the worst person in the world right now." She grumbles as soon as she finishes narrating.

"Why?"

"Tony has been an alcoholic since he was fifteen, and he's finally getting better. I think he was in need of someone to help him."

You shook your head, letting out a short laugh.

"And why is that your problem?" you retorted, surprising her. "Wanda you are under no obligation to suppress your feelings to make others feel better. You have every right to feel angry with Tony. And to not want him in your life again."

Wanda takes a deep breath, burying her face in her hands for a moment, as if trying to believe your words.

You bit the inside of your cheek, deciding whether to speak what you wanted to.

"Wands?" You called after her, and she looked at you. "You said you were sad. Do you want to talk about that too?"

The redhead looks away from you, a weak smile on her lips.

"I don't know how to talk about it really." She starts by looking down at her feet. "I never did."

You wait, stretching your leg out and lightly tapping your feet together with her on the floor. Wanda smiles at the movement, and then bites her lips.

"I think it started when I was a kid." She counters thoughtfully, her gaze straying to the yard around her. "Ever since mama died, or maybe before. There's this sadness, stuck in my chest. And no matter what I do, it won't go away."

You listen intently, waiting for Wanda to finish.

"When I was younger, Papa worked all day and Mama took care of me and Pietro. But she got sick, and granny came to live with us to help. I was ten when she died, and Pietro's anxiety got worse." She swallows dryly, as if the memories are choking her. "Granny didn't know how to help my brother, so I took care of him myself. And when we were in high school, she got sick too. And well, Dad didn't know what to do really, so I took care of her at home while he and Pietro worked to pay for the medications." She adds, and sniffles lightly. "I just remember being tired. All the damn time. I'd go to school, and come home, and I'd eat, and play, and watch TV, but I wasn't really there. I started to think that's how everybody else felt, because I had a normal life, and I had no reason to feel sad."

You frown slightly, but bite your tongue to keep from interrupting.

"Grandma died just before I graduated, and I barely had time to miss her, busy with college applications, and taking care of the funeral at the same time." She counters with a wry laugh, as if realizing how unfair it was that she was left to take care of everything by herself. "And then I met Vis, and he was sweet and kind and he was everything anyone could want. The perfect boyfriend, perfect friend, and brother and husband. So I choked down that sadness, because it wasn't fair that I was with someone so amazing, and I wasn't satisfied." She recounts as she lets the tears flow. "When the twins came, everyone told me that my life was complete. That children were exactly what everyone wanted, and that I had the perfect life. So I kept that image."

Wanda raises her hand to wipe away a tear that ran down her cheek, but others kept falling next.

"With Vis's death, everything started to fall apart on me." She says after a pause, biting her lips slightly to hold back the crying. She lets out a nasal laugh next. "But I wasn't going to let that happen, so I gathered the pieces together. I put a smile on my face and continued to be the mother my children needed. And then I met you."

You frown in confusion, but Wanda does not look at you. She runs her hands through her hair, shaking her head slightly.

"You came into my life at its worst possible moment. And all you did was make me feel better again." Wanda declared with a sigh, and you felt your cheeks heat up, looking away to your feet. "You don't expect me to be happy, or polite, or sociable. You don't care that I get cranky and irritable, that I wanted to skip work or eat junk food." She counters, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I feel like I can breathe again, because when you look at me you don't judge me like everyone else. You just listen, and observe. And take care of me."

You sigh, impacted by the intensity of the confessions. You think that if you keep quiet long enough, Wanda can hear your heart beating fast.

The redhead takes a deep breath, twisting her fingers slightly before speaking again.

"That's why I called." She counters in a sigh. Her eyes fill with tears again, but she doesn't let them fall. "You've been the only person who makes me feel this way. And when Tony came along I felt I was drowning into those terrible thoughts again. I needed you to pull me back up."

You raise your head to Wanda, but she is looking down at the floor, her cheeks flushed. You smile, rising to sit beside her.

"I will." You whisper as you interlace your fingers, looking forward. Wanda stares at your entwined hands before leaning her head on your shoulder.

"Thank you." She murmurs a moment later.

"Don't mention it." You reply in the same tone.

You stand like this for many minutes, Wanda wiggling your fingers together. You are about to close your eyes when a childish voice startles you a little.

"Mommy?" it's Billy, dressed in adorable teddy bear pajamas, scratching his eyes sleepily. "Why are you out here?"

Wanda looks at him in surprise.

"Come here dear." Wanda asks signaling with her free hand for Billy to approach. The boy yawns, walking over to you two. You mess up his hair as Wanda releases her hand to sit her son on her own lap.

"Why are you here, Y/N?" The boy asks sleepily, making you and Wanda smile at how cute he looks.

"I am a friend of your mother's, Billy, I come whenever she needs me." You reply with a smile, trying not to be affected by the way Wanda looks at you.

"You should come more often, y/n. Mom is happy when you are around." Billy declares causing Wanda to let out a surprised exclamation, and you feel your heart race.

"Oh, really?" You tease with a little smile, and Wanda pushes her shoulder against yours lightly. "I promise I'll visit more often then."

"You can live here!" Billy exclaims excitedly next, making you laugh in surprise.

"Don't be silly, Billy." Wanda adds embarrassed. "We don't have a room."

"She can sleep with you mommy." Billy retorts as if it's obvious, "Daddy's not here anymore, and your bed is too big, because it fits Tommy and me together!"

You swallow dryly, surprised and embarrassed at the way Billy is casual above all, but mostly worried that this comparison might have hurt Wanda. But she lets out a little laugh, shaking her head.

"It's time for bed, enough of this talk" Wanda warns the boy next, getting up with him on her lap.

You accompany the two of them into the house, waiting until Wanda comes downstairs after putting Billy to bed.

Billy's words in your head were still echoing when Wanda suggested that you sleep in her bed after she came downstairs, and part of you wanted to, but you figured that night wasn't the best time. So you slept on the couch, and left after breakfast, ignoring how warm your chest felt at the image of the table with Wanda and the twins having coffee.

//-//

Your first stop after leaving Wanda's house was the cemetery.

Taking a deep breath, you stared at the memorial stone in the ground. The small photograph of Natasha carved into the stone.

"I miss you, pchelka" You whispered softly, leaving your hands in your pockets as you looked down. Your chest hurt less than the first time you came here, but the pain was still there. You imagined that it always would be. "I won't ever stop. But I want to live again. I hope you won’t be mad at me, from wherever you are, and understand that."

Part of you knew that Natasha would be happy for you. It was one of the reasons you loved her so much.

Kneeling down, you pulled out of your pocket the items you had left in the car's glove box a few days ago, planning to do this since the day of the bar.

" This belongs to you." You whispered, after digging in the grass next to the headstone, and pulling out of the small wrapping your wedding rings. You placed the metal in the dirt, along with the daffodil seeds you brought with you. Using some of the water from the bottle you had in your hands, you watered after burying the items. "Rest in peace, my love."

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wandaxyou #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda x yn #wanda maximoff x you #marvel imagines #sorry for your loss

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theoreticslut · 3 years

Text

5, 4, 3, 2, 1 // s.r.

spencer reid x reader

requested: for @anxiousblanketqueen ‘s bday writing challenge!!

word count: 1.2k

warnings: anxiety, anxiety/panic attack, vague mentions of abuse to children (I needed a case & I couldn’t remember any specific ones from the show I’m sorry!)

A/N: ahhh hi! I know this isn’t what I normally write, but I’ve been debating whether or not I wanted to write for more fandoms since I first started this blog and I’m finally giving it a try!! Hopefully this doesn’t completely flop but we’ll see. Don’t worry; Harry Potter will still be the focus of my fics, but every now and then I’d like to try and do something for a different fandom.

Taglist: I’m just going to tag my general taglist, hoping some of you will like it and will reblog it. If criminal minds isn’t your thing, no worries, just ignore this!! Actually if you do see this, please head over and fill out my new taglist form! I’m trying to reorganize it and make sure I’ve got active people on it. Thanks!

@loveboyhalo @anxiousblanketqueen @justmesadgirl @xuckduck @yikesyikesyikes95 @filipi-yes @aestheticwh0r3 @siredkai @matsuno-nadeshiko @msmarklee1213 @immajustreadwritereblog @msmimimerton @perfectlysane24 @mischievous-queen @bunnyboo7 @grandeoptimist @daddystevee @slytherinxhunter @streetfighterrichie @softlyqoos @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @isthereanymorejello @karushinekomiya @p0gue420 @hogwartslut @sebby-staan @darthwheezely @slytherin-7 @callmelilone @teenagesublimefan @hufflrpuffforfred @hopefullhearts @fredshmeasley @youralternantpersonality @stoopidwithtwohoes @sightiff @captaincactusjuice @concepcion @hufflepuffflowers @impulse-anchor @loverslane99 @fleurho @eternallyvenus @lemongrasshoney @watermelonsugar2810 @hpotterwhore @harrypotterwifey @onyourgoddamnleft @littlemisswitt @princessofmice @harleigh110 @accioalix @teenwolfbitches2 @sammy-the-gay

You try your best not to clench your jaw as you know it’ll only make your mouth sore, but you can’t help it as everything starts to become too much. The ringing of the phones. The chatter of officers that seem to only increase in volume. The clacking of keyboard keys. The worried sobs of a missing kid’s parents.

This case is stressful, and terrifying, and you can’t help but let it get to you even though you’re normally good at separating your emotions from cases. These little kids, both boys and girls ages 6-9, had been coming up missing, and then shortly after coming up dead with bruises all over their bodies.

Currently, there’s a young boy, only about eight years old, missing and the team is trying to save him by locating the unsub - the task that you and Spencer were tasked with as you two worked the best at narrowing down patterns and predicting where a person might be hiding.

You couldn’t focus though. You try, but your mind is too preoccupied with the thought that this could be your little girl at home, the one you were left to raise after her parents - your best friends - died in a car crash just a few years ago.

She was six and so adventurous. You loved how excited and curious she was about the world, but because of your line of work and what you see on a daily basis, you constantly worry that her curiosity will get her in trouble someday. This case was only furthering your worries. Your girl could be the one you’re trying to locate, and that terrifies you.

“Y/n? How are you coming along?” You hear spencer ask, drawing your focus back to the present, mostly.

“Yeah, thinking. Close.” You mumble out, trying to work on your part of the task.

Without even realizing it, though, you’ve slipped back into a mindset of worry. All the noise only seems to intensify as you start feeling like you can’t breath and the room gets smaller.

You can feel your hands start shaking and your leg start bouncing but you can’t seem to stop it no matter how deep of a breath you attempt to take.

“I think I’ve got it. The unsub’s been between these two regions, right Y/n? Y/n?”

Tears spring to your eyes and you quickly shut your eyes, pulling your shaky hands to your ears to try to quiet the noise.

It’s all far too much.

“Hey, y/n. Look at me. Watch me, please.” Spencer commands, kneeling in front of you, making sure you have eye contact with him.

You feel yourself starting to hyperventilate, and your just begging for this to be over. You don’t like this feeling. You’ve never liked this feeling. You don’t want to feel this any longer.

“Just listen to me, yeah? Follow my lead, okay. Breathe in.”

You try to breath in but it doesn’t get far as the air seems to get caught in your throat.

Spencer carefully grabs one of your hands and rubs soothing circles over the back of it.

“Breathe out. Again, breathe in.”

You try to take another breath but it still seems too hard.

“What are five things you can see right now?”

“Y-you.” You stutter out, still feeling like there’s a weight on your chest which makes it hard to breath.

“There’s one. What else?”

“A-a pen. The w-whiteboard.”

“You’re doing good, we need two more things. What else can you see right now.”

“Files, a-and a c-offee cup.”

He smiles reassuringly, still rubbing at your hand as he mimics the deep breathing he wants you to do.

“Alright. Now four things you can hear. What are they?”

“The phones, C-clacking k-eyboards, A-a clock, A-and birds...outside.” You manage to get out, feeling your chest begin to lighten just a bit.

Spencer nods, a smile still on his face as he tells you to tell him three things you can feel.

As your breathing starts to level out, you feel yourself shaking less and less.

“Doing good, y/n. Now two things you can smell are?”

“Coffee a-and your cologne”

He smiles, heart warming at the mention of his cologne. He knows there’s probably nothing romantic about it, he probably just put a lot on this morning, but the fact you can smell it and know it’s him is endearing to him.

To the side his phone starts ringing. He quickly answers it, although he never stops rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

“Yeah, hotch?”

“Yeah-huh. I’ve got it down to one area, we’re trying to get it more specific. Yes, sir. As soon as we’ve got it. Yes, we know. We’re on it, hotch.”

You watch as he hangs up, tossing the small device onto the table as he turns his full attention back to you.

“W-what did hotch say?” You ask a bit shakily, still shook up from your breakdown.

“Had more information for the profile. Do you get panic attacks often?”

“Sometimes. H-haven’t had one in awhile though.” You admit.

“What triggered it?”

“The case. I-Lyla could be the one we’re trying to find, Spence. I-I know what the parents are feeling. I can only imagine what it’d be like to...you know,” you sigh.

Watching him nod, you frown, chewing on your bottom lip as all the possibilities run rampant in your mind.

“I’m sure, y/n. But we’re not. Lyla’s safe and will be waiting for your call as soon as you get on the jet.” Spencer reassures, squeezing your hand lightly.

“It’s okay to be worried. Just think, though, you’re not the one going through it all right now. Those parents out there are. It’s up to us to find their kid, just like we would do if it were yours. Right?”

“Right. I’m sorry, Spence. I’m focused now, I promise.”

“Don’t apologize. Panic is a natural reaction to a fearful situation. You couldn’t control it, few can unless they have practice with it. Let’s just put our heads together to find this little boy, yeah? The sooner we do, the sooner you can be back with lyla.”

You nod, thanking him as you finally get back to work, looking over the case files of the last few kids to see if there’s any pattern or anything to tell you more about where this unsub may be heading

~.~

You sigh, having just hung up the phone with your girl. She was happy as could be and perfectly safe in her own bed.

“How’s lyla?” Spencer asks, sitting down beside you on the couch.

“Safe, and happy that I’ll be home soon. Thank you, Spence. For earlier.”

“Of course, y/n. What are friends for?”

You chuckle lightly and nod, a soft smile laying on your lips.

“Still. I’ve always had to just ride them out and it’s never been fun. You...you made it a lot easier to handle.”

“You’re welcome.” He mumbles, trying to hide the smile that takes over his face.

You both sit in silence for a few minutes, just happy to be in each other’s presence during the calm.

“Hey Spence? Do you think...would you like to stay the night with lyla and I? You know...in case I have another panic attack?”

He chuckles but nods and sends you a soft smile.

“I think I could do that.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader

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timelordthirteen · 5 years

Text

Killing Time 10/?

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Flashback: Weaver and Belle make a major discovery in the case.

Notes: So I hope this clears up some of the confusion with the plot of this story. This is majorly late and unbeta'd and barely read over. I'm so sorry for this being a total hot mess and probably riddled with typos. For the Writer's Month prompt#20: weird.

Warnings: Please see AO3 for complete warnings and tags. No additional warnings for this chapter.

[AO3] Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

9 weeks and 3 days ago...

Belle sighed heavily and sat back in her chair, tossing her pen on the table.

Four days ago she’d fucked her ex-husband on the sofa just behind her. She expected it to cause some fracture in their working relationship, for him to come in the next day or even show up at her apartment to start some huge argument, but things went on as if it never even happened. That unnerved her more than the shouting would have.

At least three different times, she’d almost brought it up, but chickened out at the last second. Things had been too good between them these last few weeks. It was - nice. They’d become some kind of friends again, a bit like it was after they first met, when it was sarcastic, flirty remarks after testimony, or over drinks at Roni’s, and she could admit to herself that she was loathing messing any of that up. Except of course it had escalated from there, just as it had when they finally started dating. One dinner and she let him push her up against the door to her apartment and kiss her senseless, and a minute later she was dragging him into her apartment.

That first time they didn’t even make it to her bed, and she was left with an amusing pattern of lines on her back from the exposed brick wall of her living room. He stayed the night, and by morning she ached like she’d done back to back yoga classes at the gym. She had never had a lover that attentive, who found every button she had and pushed them over and over, or who seemed to like everything she did; hard and rough one time, and soft and intimate the next. Sex was the one thing they never got wrong.

She shouldn’t have let things go that far with Ian, but for a moment while they were dancing it felt like old times, like none of the shit between them had happened, like there wasn’t a murder board behind them and autopsy reports on the table. It was always so damn good with him, and the case overwhelmed her so much that she needed something to push all of it away. Except when it was over everything came rushing back.

A tingling shiver crept over her, and she abruptly pushed back from the table and stood up, silently chastising herself for getting lost in such thoughts. Again. She rubbed at her tired eyes and wiggled her feet back into her shoes before moving across the room to the whiteboard.

The board was completely covered now with photos, reports, and scribbled notes in marker, all comprising a full timeline of some of the most heinous murders she’d ever seen. Her eyes scanned the top where they had taped pictures of the victims, then sectioned off the board between each of them to group the case elements together. Their names were burned into her brain, their smiling faces - faces that would never smile again - permanent fixtures when she closed her eyes.

She sighed again and the office door opened.

“Well, that was a bloody waste of time.”

Belle turned and watched as Weaver strode quickly across the room, dropping the folder he’d taken with him and his notebook on the table.

“What was?” she asked, almost grateful that they could talk about the case and pull her mind away from other things.

“Trying to find Eloise Gardner,” he said, giving her a flat smile. “As near as I can tell, she doesn’t fucking exist.”

Belle made a face. “What?”

He huffed and sat on the edge of the table. “Her last known address is an empty lot that up until a year ago was a community garden. She doesn’t have a driver’s license in this state. She hasn’t paid taxes, apparently ever. I can’t find a Social Security Number, state ID, W-2, forwarding address, employer, or any official piece of paper to prove she existed.”

Belle sank onto the sofa and dropped her head to her hands as she breathed. She looked up at Weaver feeling more tired and drained than she had in days. “So why did Branson say she could prove he was innocent?”

Weaver shrugged. “No clue. Though he did murder five people, so I’m not sure he’s making the best life choices.”

She snorted at that and shook her head. “Did you have any luck with any of the others?”

He turned and picked up the notebook, opening it and flipping passed a few pages. “I found Mr. Porter, the garbage man, at work, but Mrs. Emery was not at her apartment, and no one had seen her in days.”

Belle blinked. “You’re joking…”

He pressed his lips together and shook his head.

Her head dropped again in defeat. “So, our eye witness to the disposal of the last victim, just up and disappeared? Fucking great.”

Weaver started to smile. “Not exactly.” She lifted her head slowly, eyebrows raised. “I tracked down the building manager, and he said she moved out. I went to the post office and they have a forwarding address of a nursing home. I went there and found out she’d had a stroke. Her daughter…” He paused and flipped another page in his notebook. “Laura, arrived from Cambridge last week and has been helping to get her settled in.”

“Cambridge...Massachusetts?”

His lips twitched. “No.”

Her eyes narrowed and then she made a face. “England?”

“Her daughter teaches at the university,” he said, crossing to the sofa and sitting down beside Belle.

“Nice…” she muttered. “So, is she still with it enough to testify?”

“Seems so from talking to her.” He flipped his notebook closed. “She repeated everything the same as in her official statement. The doctor I spoke to said she should be fine now that she’s on medication, and that he’ll provide whatever documentation of her mental faculties is needed.

Belle flopped back against the sofa and slumped. “Thank god.”

“So,” he said, smiling. “That was the last six hours of my life. How was yours?”

“Lousy.” Her eyes rolled up to the ceiling and then she pushed herself up, crossing to the table to pick up a few photos. “I got copies of the crime scene photos we were missing from Crenshaw and Hughes, the last two. Nothing all that enlightening or helpful, though.”

She flipped through them as she walked back towards the sofa. “It’s all mostly background stuff that got left out, like the cars that were in the area, some random plant material, uh, shoe prints from Branson’s boots, and this which I thought you would ”

Weaver’s eyebrows lifted both at her tone and the smirking look she had on her face. She held out one photo and he leaned forward, holding the edge of it between his fingers as he looked at it. After a long moment, he groaned.

“Shit.”

Belle let out a snorting laugh. “Exactly.”

He shook his head as she set the rest of the pictures down on the coffee table. “Some crime scene tech actually took a picture of dog shit.”

She shrugged. “I guess they were being thorough?”

“Thoroughly fucking stupid, maybe,” he said absently, and she laughed.

She turned to grab something else, and as she pivoted on her right foot, her toes pulled back inside her shoe. A curse slipped out and she stumbled, the cramping pain contorting her foot and making it impossible to walk.

“Are you okay?” Weaver asked, sitting forward on the sofa. “What’s wrong?”

She bent and took off her shoe, grabbing at her toes to try to relieve the tension. “It’s just a cramp. I think I’ve been pacing this office too much today.” She wobbled as she tried to walk wearing only one shoe and pressing the toes of her cramped foot against the floor. “Fuck.”

He rolled his eyes. “Come here.”

Her look was dubious, but she hobbled over to the sofa and dropped down with a hiss. He reached for her leg, pulling it up and tipping her back on the couch. She let out a pained noise, as she struggled to point her toes and make the cramp stop.

“Relax,” he said softly, wrapping his warm hand over her toes.

Slowly, he worked her foot until the muscles stopped contracting, and she leaned back, resting her head on the arm of the sofa as she let him pull her foot completely into his lap. Under previous circumstances, this would have been more than welcome, and a possible prelude to other activities as his hand naturally crept higher and higher on her legs. Anytime she had to be in court all day, pacing and walking around, her feet would rebel and start cramping painfully by the end of the day. She blamed it on all the damage she’d done to them in dance and ballet in her younger days, followed by too many years of shoving them into heels constructed by masochists who thought all women had dainty, narrow feet that never went over a size seven.

After a few minutes, she was biting back moans as he worked his thumb against her arch, stroking the muscle up and down before making a sweep over the ball of her foot. Part of her wanted to let him do this for the next hour to both of her feet, followed immediately by her shoulders and neck. But a greater part of her knew she needed to stop things before they went to far. While those two factions warred within her, she rolled her head to the side and stared at the miscellaneous photographs.

A shoe print stared back at her from the top of the pile, the ones found at the last scene when Branson had been arrested, and she frowned. Something was poking at the back of her brain, something that was unsettled and curious at the same time. Abruptly, she yanked her foot away from Weaver, and pushed up.

Weaver let out a light grunt as Belle shoved against him. “What is it?”

“Hold on,” she said, scrambling to sit up. "Something's...weird."

She picked up the photo of Branson’s boot print, and stared at it for a few seconds, noting the size and the markers that had been placed around it. Then she set it to the side and shuffled through the rest of the photos.

Weaver frowned at her and then picked up the photo she’d set down. “What are you looking for?”

“The other print.” She was getting frustrated and wondering if she’d imagined it, when he reached out and snatched up the picture she’d been looking for.

“This one?” he asked, holding it out.

She grabbed both photos from him, and laid them on the table. Her eyes darted back and forth between them, as her eyes widened. She wasn’t crazy, but this case sure was. “Look.”

She pointed at the pictures, and he looked back and forth between them. There was nothing jumping out at him, but it had been a long day of driving around and making calls.

“Okay?”

Belle huffed and pointed at the marker on the first photo. “See the measurement on the one from his arrest?” Weaver nodded. “And now the one from the second crime scene.”

His head tilted slightly, and then it hit him. “They’re different.”

“Yeah,” she said, starting to smile. “Branson’s boot was a size eleven. But the first one is a ten.”

He shook his head. “They can’t both be his shoe can they?”

She shrugged. “They aren’t marked as elimination prints from any of the officers or techs. What’s his shoe size from his booking?”

Weaver got up and crossed to the table, sorting through the stacks of folders until he found the report of vital statistics from Nick Branson’s booking at the station. He scanned the page, his eyes going wide as he turned around.

“He’s an eleven.”

Belle stood up, her body practically vibrating with new energy. “There’s no way someone is going to wear a different size boot like that. A half size maybe, but not a whole size.”

He nodded and took a breath. “You know what that might mean then, right?”

She swallowed hard, her excitement waning in light of the new reality of the case. “We have two killers.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #woven beauty #woven beauty fic #fic #my woven beauty fic #lemon fic #killing time

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vorcotec · 5 years

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41, 33, 21 and 1 for the character development meme !

1. How do they move and carry themselves? Pace, rhythm, gestures, energy?

jane is always Something. she’s got this janeniness. i rbed this post about virginia woolf into my ‘about jane’ tag a while back:

…In his autobiography, Leonard Woolf writes with pain and some bewilderment about the way in which complete strangers would react to his wife: ‘ … to the crowd in the street there was something in her appearance which struck them as strange and laughable … people would stare or stop and stare at Virginia. And not only in foreign towns; they would stop and stare and nudge one another – “look at her” – even in England, in Piccadilly or Lewes …’

Leonard makes the observation that these incidents tended to happen at moments when Virginia was lost in thought – when she had, in a sense, forgotten herself. There was something in her expression or comportment in those moments, which, taken with her unusual mode of dress, made her appear anomalous to people.

with jane, in particular, this sense of anomaly comes bc she is autistic, and there’s always been something in her carriage that sets her apart, since childhood. it’s all over her comportment and how she moves and acts.

first, no matter what she does, jane has this... aura of internality. she seems not to be paying attention to what’s happening around her and to be focused on anything but what one would expect her to focus on. if she’s moving through a room around you, you might get the impression she’s carrying out a task she thinks of as WAY more important than you. this comes about because she doesn’t make eye contact, her head is usually down, and she almost always needs her hands to be engaged in some form of stimming--playing with her phone, her bag, her journal; she’s usually seeking textures and shapes to trace, rather than pursuing any activity involving actual Braining, although she’s been known to draw while people talk to her. again--she seems not to be paying attention. but she is. virtually always.

jane’s posture is also unique. she has a pronounced slouch and will off-and-on stand pigeon-toed. if her hands aren’t in motion, they’re usually visibly Held at her sides, with her fingers curled in, and in general if her hands are still you get the impression she doesn’t know what to do with them. there is usually a sense of tension to her posture, especially if she’s around other people and feels observed--jane’s quite conscious that she’s weird/strange/off in various ways and she knows that other people know it, she just doesn’t know how to be different; hence tension. but because of a general lack of connection to her body she also isn’t so hot at perceiving how tense or relaxed she is at a given moment.

jane’s gestures are also Janey. she almost never gestures when she talks; this is one of the elements of allistic body language she simply doesn’t have. she will gesture if she needs to indicate something specific--such as pointing out the specific part of a painting or invention or equation written on a whiteboard or whatever--but otherwise, if she’s not stimming, her hands are at her sides or in her pockets.

broadly speaking in terms of how quickly she moves, jane’s slow until she’s suddenly fast; when she has a goal she fires off toward her goal, often without communicating that goal to whoever she’s with. you just kinda have to chase after her, or if ur short and happen to be wearing rollerskates, grab onto her sleeve and let her pull you.

overall, jane’s energy is... Jane™™™™™™™. that’s it. u either plug into it or u don’t.

21. What kind of relationships do they tend to intentionally seek out versus actually cultivate? What kind of social contact do they prefer, and why?

jane prefers social contact on Her Terms, not because she’s antisocial, but because she has... very, very, very little tolerance for most of the social contracts the allistic world takes for granted. she does NOT fuck with small talk, “saying hello just to be polite”, being civil to people she doesn’t like, etc. at this stage in her life she’s just over it all. generally speaking, she wants social contact with people one-on-one or, at most, in a group of three (3) total; she wants that to happen in semi-public or private spaces where they won’t be bothered; she wants it to be interesting, respectful, and if she’s talking to a pretty lady... fruitful ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (but it also doesn’t have to be because jane is a gentleman).

apart from the romantic, jane rarely seeks types of relationships; in general she’s just looking for people she can actually connect with--easier said than done as an autistic in an allistic world, not to mention a woman in STEM. so it’s possible for jane to cultivate relationships that seem sort of... wildly unconnected to each other? she’s able to forge connections w people from all over a range of personality types because what she’s after is that connection between her and them, the ability to experience something meaningful with them. when you compare e.g. margot @sapphiism‘s passionate intensity with the low-key thoughtfulness of dorothy’s father, roberto, they seem very different from each other, and it might seem unusual for jane to have forged such closeness w/ both of them.

33. How do they learn about the world–what is their preferred learning style?

jane learns by Touching All the Things; also by Doing, usually by a method that’s significantly weirder than how other people do it; to a lesser extent, also, research, which definitely plays a role, but is a strong second to her need to stick her hands in whatever’s going on and mess around with it. you can imagine how difficult it was to transition to biomedical engineering and not be allowed to just shove her hands into people goop. GOD DAMN IT LET HER TOUCH YOUR ORGANS.

41. What associations do they bring to mind? Words or phrases, images, metaphors or motifs? Why?

don’t u hate it when ur bopping along writing and u encounter something and ur like “damn i write about this a lot this is def a motif” and then u actually get asked this question and u can’t focking remember... let me try to think of some bhsfmsldkghdgkslm

ok, i associate jane STRONGLY with birds. i’m always thinking of her as birdlike in particular because of her habit of looking at people from angles, out of the corners of her eyes and/or w her head tilted, as a bird will cock its head to look at you. not to be discursive but if u wanna be Valid™ u should have ur character think of jane as being like a lorge bird.

an image that i often write about when jane is happy is bubbles. that’s how she experiences happiness--big, fizzy, effervescent bubbles of light and color lifting her up--and it shows in how she bounces, rocks, and sways when she’s very happy. like fizzy lifting drink but emotional.

in terms of words, phrases, metaphors... i think i’m always trying to find new ways of describing jane’s sensitivity, her engagement w/ the world around her. i think i was genuinely successful when i wrote this:

If she could thrust her hands into the colors of things the way she might thrust them into pools of paint, she would.

and i honestly might never top it.

character development questions. ∴ @marblecarved.

#marblecarved #∴ headcanon tag.#thank you so much for sending these in!

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swimmingwolf59 · 6 years

Text

Vines and Ravens

(A/N) Just so you guys know, there is a scene with self-harm in this, so please proceed with caution!! ;w;

When Ronan was ten, he ran into his soulmate. Literally.

His family had been picnicking at the local park, spread out in the grass near a playground. It was a summer weekend afternoon so the park was packed; children ran every which way screaming and laughing and adults covered almost the entire area with blankets and umbrellas. After Aurora had wrestled sunscreen onto the boys, she set them loose playing tag with the other children and throwing a football with Niall.

Ronan was running his hardest to catch up to a ball that Niall had accidentally chucked too high when it happened. He hadn’t been paying attention, looking up for the ball instead of watching where he was going, and it surprised him when he solidly collided with another body. They tumbled to the ground, Ronan falling on top of the other person and rolling painfully into the dirt.

“Ow…” someone groaned, and Ronan blinked his eyes open to stare at them.

He was another boy about Ronan’s age with dirt blonde hair and eyes as blue as the ocean when he met Ronan’s gaze. Ronan found himself memorized for reasons he hadn’t understood then as he stared at the boy gingerly sitting up beside him. He almost said something to him, but just then his arms started tingling.

When he looked down, dark green vines had emerged on his fingers and were slowly crawling their way up his hands and to his wrists. He was wearing a tank-top, so he was able to watch as the vines spread up and up and up his arms until they curled into leaves on his shoulders and stopped. The other boy stared at the growing tattoos with wide eyes. He was wearing a long-sleeve shirt and pants so Ronan couldn’t tell if his marks were growing too but they had to be. There was no such thing as one-sided soulmate marks.

At ten, Ronan didn’t fully understand the implications of what had just happened. He barely understood concepts like ‘true love’ and ‘soulmates’. He did understand, though, that he was supposed to like the person who made his marks emerge.

But before he could say anything, his soulmate hurriedly stood and fled in the opposite direction.

Later, Declan told him he had a whole forest on his back. Normally, soulmate marks were small, only encompassing a wrist or a shoulder blade. But Ronan’s spanned the entire length of his back, his shoulders, and both of his arms. Aurora said that it was because the love he would share with his soulmate was larger than most people’s.

She didn’t have an answer for why, if that was true, his soulmate had turned and bolted the other way.

As Ronan grew, he gradually began to understand what had happened that day. He’d supposedly met the love of his life, who had been another boy. This meant that he was a boy that liked boys. In church, Ronan learned that this was something weird: soulmates were always between a man and a woman. But his family never said anything. They never said he was a sinner or tried to change him. Instead, they had speculated about who the boy could be and if it would be possible to find him. When Ronan entered Aglionby, they hopefully believed that Ronan might meet his soulmate there.

But Ronan had a feeling he wouldn’t. Because the other thing he had come to understand was that he had supposedly met the love of his life and, instead of wanting to get to know him, his soulmate had ran. Why? Had he found Ronan repulsive, in some way? Had he scared him? Declan always told him he had a scary face.

At first, it didn’t bother him. It wasn’t like he’d ever see the guy again.

Then he found his father beaten to death in the driveway. Then he learned that the opposite of love was hate and that it was so, so easy to hate yourself and twist everything that ever happened into another reason to hate yourself. Then he realized that if even his soulmate, who was supposed to love him more than anyone else on earth, didn’t love him, then who would? Was everyone in this world destined to leave him behind?

He soon learned to hate the marks. He’d once thought them beautiful and intricate and as a child he’d sometimes stay up late and imagine the person who would have such beautiful marks in their soul. Now he only saw it as a reminder that everything was shit and that Ronan Lynch was meant to walk the path of pain and suffering.

It hurt so goddamn much.

Throwing himself out of bed, Ronan slipped into the bathroom. He’d moved out by then, as being at home had been too agonizing, so he pulled out a beer from Gansey’s fridge and sat heavily on the toilet. From the counter, he grabbed his razor.

He stared at his arms until the vines and leaves blurred and he could no longer see their details. Where one stem dangled down the slender skin of his wrist, he slashed into it with the razor. Then he did the same with the other one. Ronan watched the blood red run down his hands and cover the green vines on his fingers.

There. Now it was all over.

Or so he’d thought.

He woke up in the hospital, his mother and Matthew crying by his bedside and his wrists pulsing with pain. Declan was talking to someone on the phone in the doorway and Gansey leaned on the wall, staring at him. He wasn’t crying, but the red rim around his eyes made it obvious that he had been, and he stared at Ronan with such fear that Ronan had to close his eyes again.

That day, he learned that he only knew how to hurt the people he cared about.

No wonder his soulmate hadn’t wanted to stick around.

Adam had been lucky with his soulmate marks.

They were large—flocks of ravens covered his chest, wrapping their wings around his heart, claws and beaks sharp against his skin—but they were confined entirely to his chest and easily covered by a shirt. This was lucky, because Adam’s father had never found his own soulmate, and Adam had known instinctively, as he watched those marks crawl up that boy’s arms, that he’d get in trouble. If his father had seen that he’d accomplished something like that when he hadn’t there would be hell to pay.

He was also lucky in the fact that his soulmate hadn’t run after him when their marks had emerged. If his father had seen that his soulmate was male…he couldn’t even bear to think about it.

But his father hadn’t seen, and so Adam went on with his life only removing his shirt when he was sure neither of his parents could see. Sometimes, at night, he stared at the ravens on his chest and wondered what his soulmate was like. He knew it was likely that he would never run into him again—and even if he did it was unlikely his soulmate would actually love him after knowing who he was—but he couldn’t help but wonder.

Part of him regretted that he hadn’t stuck around to at least learn his name.

Adam grew and worked his ass off and made it into Aglionby, despite his dad blocking him every step of the way. On the first day of class, Adam got to first period early, not wanting to seem anything less than perfect, and to his surprise found someone already there. He was standing at the whiteboard, writing something on it so fiercely that it made the marker squeak horrendously with each stroke. He was wearing a leather jacket, dark, tight skinny jeans, and combat boots and he had a completely shaved head; that on top of his behavior convinced Adam that he was a delinquent.

But he was early to class.

And he was writing in nearly fluent Latin.

And he was dangerously attractive.

Standing directly behind him, Adam observed his sentences. He couldn’t parse together all of it, but it seemed to be a crude joke of some kind. He found himself smirking, despite everything.

“You know, if you hide the eraser when you’re done your joke will be up there forever.”

The boy startled so badly he dropped the marker. Whirling around, he fixed a glare on Adam that was so deadly it could keel gods. Adam wasn’t a god, but he also wasn’t easily intimidated. He didn’t sense any danger underneath the glare.

The boy stared at him for an unsettling minute before whipping back around to the board. “I should’ve thought of that.”

Adam hid a smile in his shoulder. “Obviously you need to brush up on your delinquent tactics.”

Adam didn’t know where this was all coming from. Adam Parrish did not flirt with people who looked like they belonged in a motorcycle gang.

“Fuck off, man,” the boy said, but his posture was relaxed. “I’m not done with my masterpiece yet, though. Can I trust you with the honors…?”

It took Adam a ridiculously long time to realize that he was asking for his name. “Adam. Parrish.”

“Alright. Think fast, Parrish.” Before he was even done speaking, the boy tossed the eraser at Adam who somehow managed to catch it with only minimal fumbling.

While Adam poked around for the perfect place to hide the eraser, the boy continued his scribbling on the board, both of them silently engaged in their tasks. Adam was removing a book from the bookshelf to test if the eraser could hide behind it without giving away the fact that something was behind it when the boy suddenly spat out, “You’re not gonna ask me for my name?”

Deeming that it was pretty much unnoticeable unless someone knew to look for it, Adam carefully placed the eraser at the back of the bookshelf and put the book back in. “I figured you would tell me if you wanted me to know.”

“It’s Ronan. Ronan Lynch,” the boy said so quickly the words nearly tumbled over themselves.

Adam didn’t know what to think about the fact that Ronan had basically just admitted he’d wanted Adam to know his name.

“Okay, Lynch, then tell me this—” Adam leaned back on the bookshelf, smirking as Ronan immediately adopted a defensive posture, “—do you do this often?”

It was weird, how quickly Ronan relaxed. A savage grin even started to tug on his lips, apparently unaware that Adam was in a position where he could see it. “Only on Mondays.”

Adam laughed. “It’s Wednesday.”

“Well shit, Parrish, school just started – it’s essentially a Monday,” Ronan quipped before stepping back to admire his work. “How’s it look?”

“Like chicken scratch,” Adam admitted honestly.

“Fuck you,” Ronan replied, but his tone almost sounded playful. “Bet you don’t even know what it says.”

“Yeah, because I literally can’t read it.”

Ronan barked out a loud laugh, apparently startling them both if Ronan’s wide-eyed look was anything to go by. Abruptly, Ronan strode to a desk in the back and threw himself down into it, tossing his legs up on the table as he did so in one violent, fluid motion. He seemed incapable of moving any other way. As Adam watched him, Ronan roughly shrugged out of his jacket, not seeming to care as it fell to the floor.

Unabashedly, Adam’s eyes trailed to his arms and his heart stopped beating.

Because underneath his jacket he wore a black tank-top so that his arms and shoulders, and the marks that were on them, were on complete and total display. And Adam could never forget those marks. They reflected everything he felt inside, everything he was.

Ronan caught him looking, and for a second it felt like time itself had stopped. “Yeah, they’re fucking everywhere, I know. My mom always said it was because of some ‘true love’ bullshit, but my asshole of a soulmate ran off without a second glance. Didn’t even get the fucker’s name.”

Adam didn’t know what to say. The bitterness in Ronan’s tone was throwing him off, and he felt like a fish out of water every time his eyes scanned over those marks. He hadn’t been prepared for a scenario where he ran into his soulmate again. He hadn’t thought it was possible, and his brain still couldn’t seem to figure out that it was happening.

Ronan sucked in a breath. “…It was you, wasn’t it.”

It wasn’t a question.

Adam stared down at his shoes, angry with himself. All of those times he’d dreamed of running into his soulmate again and he couldn’t even figure out a damn word to say to him.

Ronan’s boots eventually stomped into his line of sight until he was standing toe to toe with Adam. For an insane, wild moment Adam thought he was going to kiss him. But Ronan just growled, “Fuck all the way off.”

And then left, slamming the door behind him.

Ronan felt explosive.

He couldn’t believe he ran into his soulmate again, and here of all places. He couldn’t believe that he’d been starting to like that fucker and his stupid witty remarks and his stupid freckles and his stupid gorgeous hands—

“Ronan, wait—” And there he was now, taunting Ronan at every step, just as he always had.

Ronan had nothing to say to him. He’d spent years getting over the hurt and self-loathing that Adam had helped cause and had finally gotten to a place where he felt relatively at peace with himself. He still hated himself, but the hatred didn’t run so deep that he felt like taking a knife to his skin again.

So of course Adam had to show up again now.

“Oh, now you chase after me, huh?” Ronan snarled, hastening his pace.

But somehow Adam managed to catch up to him anyway. “Just shut up and come in here with me for a sec.” Adam grabbed his arm and dragged him into the nearby bathroom.

“I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses!” Ronan growled, yanking his arm out of Adam’s grasp.

Adam turned his blue eyes on him. Honestly, Ronan should’ve guessed it right away – how could he ever forget those eyes? “I’m not giving you an excuse. I’m trying to show you why I did what I did that day.”

“So, you’re giving me an excuse.” Ronan rolled his eyes but settled back on one of the sinks and waited.

Just because he was in a better place didn’t mean he was any less self-destructive.

But instead of talking, Adam turned on a different sink and started roughly washing his face. Ronan almost snarled at him—seriously, this asshole was making him wait so he could wash his goddamn face?—but then something caught his eye and he froze.

As the water rinsed down Adam’s face, so too did a concealer of some sort, slowly revealing an ugly bruise that spanned nearly the entire half of his face around his eye. It was harsh and purple and throbbing and Ronan sucked in a hard breath at the sight of it. The anger in his gut bled into his veins and he wanted to punch the wall until his skin broke.

“…Who the fuck did this?”

Adam didn’t reply for a long time, instead staring at his reflection in the mirror. Ronan realized suddenly that this was a secret, something that he wasn’t supposed to know but was being trusted with anyway.

“My dad,” Adam eventually said, his voice so quiet Ronan barely heard him.

Ronan exhaled. He understood now. It hadn’t been about him at all; it had been about what it would’ve looked like. He understood, but he didn’t know what to do with the information. He both wanted to ask and didn’t want to know how long this had been going on; he wanted to ask where he lived so he could go beat the shit out of that bastard—

But he didn’t ask any of that.

“Can I see your marks?” Ronan asked instead, softer than he’d intended.

Adam turned and stared at him for a long time. For a second, Ronan thought he would refuse him. But then he gave a miniscule nod and started unbuttoning his uniform. Ronan watched with apt attention as he turned off the sink and draped his uniform carefully over it before shucking off his t-shirt in one smooth motion.

When there was only bare skin left, Ronan felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Ravens flooded Adam’s chest, their wings a feathered frenzy as they crossed over each other and fought each other to fly. Most of the ravens seemed to be fighting to get to Adam’s heart, and the only one at peace was the one that had its wings over Adam’s heart, but there were some ravens that were flying downwards too, their claws and tails leaving a clear trail right down to—

Ronan snapped his eyes up. He felt like he was blushing but couldn’t seem to stop.

He wondered if this was why Adam had been so speechless earlier – to see himself so clearly in art on someone else’s body…

Ronan felt weak in the knees.

Before he even knew it he was stepping forward, gently pressing his hands to the ravens on Adam’s ribs. Adam stiffened but didn’t push him away, so Ronan took it as a sign to let his fingers roam, carefully exploring over skin and ink. Adam let out a shaky breath as Ronan traced one of the raven’s beaks over his heart. His long fingers skittered up Ronan’s arms, following both his veins and the veins of the leaves. “Do you have them just on your arms?”

“No, I’ve got a whole fucking forest.” Ronan took off his tank top and turned around so that Adam could see his back.

Adam didn’t say anything for so long that Ronan almost looked back to see what his expression was. But then he felt Adam’s fingers splay out gently across his back, his hands startingly cool. Ronan barely suppressed a shiver.

“I’m sorry I hurt you by running away,” Adam said. “I regretted doing it every day since then.”

“You had your reasons.” Ronan firmly believed that now. The hurt wouldn’t heal as quickly—that shit was ingrained—but he didn’t feel so angry at Adam anymore. How could he, when he’d just been acting out of self-preservation? “Besides, I would have been fucked up these last few years anyway even if you hadn’t.”

“Yeah, but maybe I could’ve been there for you,” Adam said and suddenly started mouthing at his back.

Ronan jumped and whirled around, startled. He was definitely blushing now.

Adam was smirking, the bastard. “Too soon?”

Ronan swallowed. “No…it just, uh, tickled.”

Adam stared at him for two seconds before he burst out laughing. Ronan found himself fighting back a grin as he stepped forward and grabbed Adam’s cheeks gently in his hands.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, and kissed him.

Adam kissed him back hungrily, his hands gripping at Ronan’s forearms. Their marks hummed between them, warmth searing up Ronan’s arms and down his back. It was almost scary how much Ronan wanted to kiss him, how much he wanted to erase the space between them. The emotions he felt for him were like a tsunami, drowning him and knocking down the few pillars of defense that he had left.

But he never wanted it to stop. It was too exhilarating.

…Hell, maybe his mom had been right about what his marks meant.

“You better not run away this time,” Ronan murmured when they parted, both gasping for air. He’d meant it as a joke, but it didn’t come out that way.

Adam touched his cheek. “I won’t.”

#pynch #pynch week 2018 #pynch week #trc #ronan lynch #adam parrish #self-harm #mention of abuse #soulmate mark au #my writing

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eyedelater · 7 years

Text

post about the rest of the ajin anime (seasons 1 and 2)

(nothing special, just a liveblog post)

ajin episode 6

i see that the animation budget saved by doing CGI was instead spent on the fluttery shifty effects of the black ghosts

so satou's ghost is also anvil-headed

right, nagai doesn't have much empathy... hmm... hmm... that doesn't excuse his being an asshole at times

tosaki sure is eager to jump to conclusions as to why satou didn't bring out his ghost

ohh, ghost-to-ghost head collisions can bump some memories back and forth, interesting, i forgot about that...

huh, what is eriko calling kei "onii-chan" for at a time like this? she called him "nii-san" to his face and i think in front of everyone who talked to her about him, right? was that her way of expressing worry about him...?

episode 7

tosaki's gotta get that dekai kane

right, of course he's motivated by comatose fiance. doesn't excuse any of the shit he's done

episode 8

nakano kou. do we seriously have a kei, a kai, and a kou? sounds like a bit of a natural OT3 tbh

episode 9

there we go, nagai kei finally being an indisputable asshole

oh, right, big pharma makes an appearance as an antagonist

sokabe has a very silly face.

i already forgot what IBM stands for and can only come up with IBM he company or ICBM (intercontinental ballistic missile) without the C

right, ogura's distinguishing feature was not only smoking cigarettes, but being unreasonably dedicated to his brand of smokes in particular. so dumb

episode 10

ogura says a black ghost can only be used once or twice a day, but didn't nagai kei whip em out one after another like it was no thing? is that his special protagonist power that makes him differentiated enough to be the protagonist?

kei's ghost learned how to fell a tree from minecraft

do they really have huge screens up in cities complete with booming audio? the screens are nothing new, but the audio seems unusual to me

episode 11

oh, tosaki finally learned satou's name. from satou's video.

yamanaka-san bought him an oPhone8

"life and money are synonymous" sounds like your typical CEO

omfg satou rode the sinking tower and had a great time

sokabe is still calling satou "hat guy." get with the picture

episode 12

this just in: does satou sometimes substitute a "sh" sound in for an "s" sound?

episode 13

kei demonstrates his shittiness by holding a knife to yamanaka-san's neck after getting sniped. what a dick. oh wait he made it work. well whatever

tosaki says nagai kei is not a fool and as such he probably already scouted out the area, but tosaki immediately also says nagai kei has probably exhausted his black ghost uses for the day, something a fool would do because only a fool doesn't know their own limits and try to use them tactically in such a situation

time for season 2 i guess, episode 2-1

this OP isn't bad i guess

these subs having sokabe say "it's normal for a subordinate to greet his senpai." listen, if you use "senpai," you gotta also use "kohai," and if you use "subordinate," you also gotta use "superior" you can't just pick and choose which words you want to translate

this ending song is horrible

ep 2-2

sakurai emerging from the airplane toilet clearly zipping up his fly out of frame and seeing satou and his eyebrows just turn on a fulcrum and then turn backward like they're pinball flippers

ep 2-3

ah. i was musing over what must be the most popular ship for ajin, thinking maybe kei/kai or kei/kou or tosaki/ogura, but i've had a bit of a realization, and if i know the hearts of the BL community at all, their favorite ship is probably some sinful shit like tosaki/kei. i’ll find out soon enough whether i’m right (haven’t looked at any ajin pixiv tags yet)

ep 2-4

kotobuki, eh. seems like a charming character. oh, this bandanna delinquent is pulling the ol' pee-and-chat

kaito, everyone's favorite punching bag

for the record, i know i've read beyond this point in the manga, but i don't remember shit except that i left off around a chapter where we see shimomura's history.

kotobuki has a small head, maybe he just squeezed through some bars to escape

ah, i just realized the other anime this kinda reminds me of: zankyou no terror. it's got the police/government and the american government trying to intervene aspect to it.

carly meyers doesn't have any kind of american accent... i was kinda hoping she would

neither does doug here. i guess they didn't have voice actors who would have some fun doing a bad accent... or maybe they didn't see it as appropriate

holy FUCK, kaito executed a flying dropkick even though he wasn't on higher ground or anything, what the fuck

kotobuki asks kai what nagai kei is like and i earnestly half-expected him to reply "he's scum" like everyone else does

oh, so kotobuki's got a winged kuro-chan. lucky...

i forgot to write about this in the episode where it was said, but that iowan ajin whose ghost was driving a tractor is such a perfect image i can't stop thinking about it

ep 2-5

so i guess satou's catchphrase is "sssshate" (bc he kinda does a "sha" instead of a "sa") (meaning "now, then.")

the first OP wasn't skippable but i find myself needing to skip this one

there's lots of "pulling up live television broadcasts via a non-television device" in this anime

kou calling shimomura "izumi-san" pls

i like how whoever is nearest the whiteboard is the one to cross the latest victim off the target list

ok, if tosaki is about to be fired (which, hasn't he been for a while now?), that made me think, why is he concerned about his job when he's doing this conspiring with ogura and nagai etc hidden from his superiors? is he concerned about stopping satou, or is he still only concerned about money for his fiancee...? is he getting hella paid for this even though he's less involved in the torture (the real moneymaking activity) than before?

i don't like this dynamic btwn american guy and carly meyers where he keeps correcting her gruffly and she keeps backing off and looking afraid/ashamed.

they had nakano put on a satou hat to be satou ;w;

did shimomura just plug a flash drive into her phone? what kind of compatibility we got in this time period?

how long do neck-stab sedatives take to kick in in real life?

carly meyers's kuro-chan has a gem-shaped head

why don't all ajins just keep a knife or something on them to cut their own throat whenever they get hurt

ep 2-6

tainaka yoko. yup, this is about where i left off in the manga, i believe

whoa there, tosaki just got tased right in the nib nob. that's dirty, american doug

i can't say i feel bad for tosaki getting tortured.

ep 2-7

shut your ungrateful mouth, tosaki, shimomura was LITERALLY just doing her job, which you TOLD HER WAS HER JOB: PROTECTING YOU

how in the fuck did satou get away with playing dead when the other side KNOWS it's ajins they're fighting

why isn't ogura, a native english speaker, the one writing an email to the defense department

ep 2-8

this new OP is ok

ep 2-10

(i spent all of 2-9 doing origami instead of typing)

tosaki don't relapse on your smoking habit :( that's not gonna do anyone any good.

ep 2-11

kai busts in with his signature move and saves the day and he's started calling kotobuki "senpai"

so kei's signature line to kai is "i really have to pee"

kai's like "you're wrong. he (kei) isn't an idiot." that's right, he's actually trash, ask anyone

i can't emphasize enough how bad this ending theme is

ep 2-12

well okuyama-kun has been kind of lovable so far, so if he and others decide to join tosaki's side, that would probably be good

isn't burying someone alive the worst way to try to contain them? because you can't see them directly. they could escape without you noticing

ep 2-13

no kabedonning shimomura >:(

wait wait is tanaka also wearing a satou hat? oh, it's just a baseball cap.

fuck off tanaka don't impale shimomura in the same way twice

oh, one of nagai's new ghost army said the thing that nagai said at the scene where he first saw a ghost :0 about the sick puppy. i like all these ghosts spouting quotes

oh, he cut off satou's head. well, that's the first head we've seen cut off. is he facing the right direction to meet his new self? he closed his eyes too soon for us to find out :\

helicopters are raining in bullets from above like in ghost in the shell (1995) (unless i’m completely misremembering. there were other things that were raining bullets in various directions in that scene so i’m not sure)

so now satou's in custody for the first time.

so satou had an exposition dream

honestly i’m no longer sure where i even left off when i read the manga x years ago, i feel like i may have dropped it because i didn’t care for the boring military shit going on for quite a while, but i feel like i even distantly remember satou being beheaded in the manga...? but anyway i’m gonna (re?)read the whole manga now i guess. overall manga verdict: it had a distant, clammy feel to it, but not bad; the voice for nagai’s ghost was real good; they did a good job with the cgi animation, but it definitely lacks something compared to the art in the manga; the only good OP was the first one; and yeah idk my feeling toward this anime is pretty neutral.

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terabitweb · 5 years

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Original Post from SC Magazine Author: stephenlawton

The future of SIEM is cloudy, literally and figuratively, as companies strive to keep up with potentially billions of events.

It has become an industry cliché to say that SIEM (security information and event management) is dead. Some SIEM vendors love those pronouncements because it drives wavering customers to make purchases before their SIEM systems of choice disappear. But here is food for thought: What if it is not that SIEM is too slow for the modern enterprise, but rather that today’s modern enterprise has become too slow for the SIEM?

Add to that changes in how companies create their homegrown software using DevSecOps (software development security operations), often referred to, correctly or not, simply as DevOps. So, with that in mind, would one still make the argument SIEM is dead or that it is more important than ever before?

One more consideration: The “death” of SIEM might simply come to pass when all the functionality of the technology is simply renamed something else for marketing purposes to differentiate the next-generation SIEM from legacy products. Sometimes “death” is evolution.

The concerns about SIEM, however, do not end with legacy-weighted-down slowness. A SIEM is not designed to work on its own and it never was. Many experts argue that it needs custom-crafted software from each enterprise to supplement the SIEM, along with a healthy dose of machine learning capabilities — two things that a lot of enterprises have not yet bothered to add.

Billions of events

Also, the number of attacks that a SIEM system has to deal with in the 2018 enterprise is massive and overwhelming. Umesh Yerram is the chief data protection officer at AmerisourceBergen, a $150 billion company ranked twelfth on the 2018 Fortune 500 list. He reports that his SIEM generates more than one billion events a week, a thoroughly unmanageable number. Using machine learning software that sits atop the company’s SIEM, Yerram say that the “more than one billion” number is reduced to “less than a thousand” incidents that ML deems worthy of further investigation. That amount, he notes, is a manageable number for the AmerisourceBergen security team to probe.

Sammy Migues, co-founder, BSIMM

Although many have questioned how accurate and precise ML screening is — it typically depends on what the system is programmed to seek — the counter-argument is that there is no viable alternative given the massive number of attacks that are being launched. For better or worse, machine learning is the only option today for whittling down that number materially to something manageable.

This does raise the question of how much IT leaders trust ML and the answer is typically “not that much. But what choice do we have?” he says.

“Having automation making security decisions for you, that is a very hard thing for a lot of large organizations to swallow,” says Sammy Migues, co-founder of BSIMM in Mountain View, Calif. While the company is called BSIMM, the name actually is an acronym for “building security in maturity model.”

Lock-in or replace

Allan Alford, CISO for Mitel, a $1.4 billion telecommunications firm headquartered in Ottawa, agrees. “Yes, [automation] requires more trust in the analytics, but you kind of have to trust it, as you need the fast response capabilities,” he says.

That said, Migues argues, the future will be an IT world filled with far more automation and fewer humans. Security management might have emotional and intellectual qualms about it, but the pragmatics of the growth of attacks — coupled with a serious shortage of appropriately trained and experienced security professionals — will give them little choice, he says.

“The future of SIEM software is tracking every piece of software everywhere, monitoring every connection between every piece of software, helping Ops tell Dev that something is awry, and enabling Sec to make decisions about its small piece of the software pie and react at that cadence,” Migues says.

“Some 90 percent of this will be with bots — no humans in the loop. Without good SIEM-like software, there is no real DevSecOps. Forward thinking DevOps shops are finding ways to fuse the configuration of their orchestration and other continuous delivery tools with intentional tagging and synthesis of SIEM alerts before humans receive them,” he continues. “And, because this information is drawn from delivery and production logs, it reflects actual design rather than the best intentions scrawled on a whiteboard.”

Allan Alford, CISO, Mitel

Migues also points out an organizational structure issue can create a SIEM problem. Any technology deeply embedded in the typical Fortune 1000 company — and it is hard to describe a SIEM implementation as anything other than deeply embedded — can take a long time to replace given the massive number of systems it touches and the potential disruption from a major change. That is a form of proprietary lock-in: It is far easier for IT to take update after update and even upgrade after upgrade than to go through the bidding and purchase paperwork — and delays — of purchasing a different SIEM system from a different company.

The idea of doing a major overhaul — a complete rip-and-replace — can strike fear into even the stoutest CISO. Sometimes, however, the stars align and such a major overhaul is appropriate.

Michael Simmons, CISO for $21 billion Southwest Airlines in Dallas, is a bit ambivalent about the SIEM future. “SIEMs still have a place today, but that may dwindle over time,” Simmons says. “They’re not easy to manage. Can they adapt and can their technology capabilities morph [into the future] easily? Will there be disruptive new players who come” and brand their SIEM-efforts something other than SIEM? This concerns Simmons.

The topic of SIEM is close to Simmons’ thinking as his airline just replaced its SIEM with a SIEM that was entirely cloud-based SIEM leveraging infrastructure as a service.

Normally a full replacement of a SIEM would be unthinkable for a system that is integrated into so many parts of a network, but Simmons says it just so happened that an earlier security and IT effort to integrate the prior SIEM never quite worked right. “We never got it effectively implemented so I had a much cleaner rip-and-replace,” Simmons says.

The reason why Simmons did such a radical upgrade is clear. “The magnitude of (security event) numbers is what was forcing the conversation, a rapidly changing and evolving threat landscape,” Simmons says.

Pricing, as always, is another consideration — not necessarily the price itself, but rather the mechanism by which the price is determined.

Alford says that, of the many SIEM products he has worked with — he has held CISO or related security titles with several companies — he has seen only three, distinct SIEM pricing approaches. He identifies them as: the raw size of data gathered and the log size, the IP addresses to be monitored, and the number of sensors and aggregators/processors purchased/deployed.

“Regarding the pricing model question, I don’t really think pricing models per se determine higher or lower cost. It’s been my experience that [sensors and processors are] cheaper overall, but I think that’s because the companies using that model are deliberately pricing under the guys who still do [log size]. So it’s not the model per se,” Alford says.

Regarding the log size and IP addresses options, he says “the migration of applications to Software-as-a-Service (SaaS) and the rigorous purging of legacy systems mean a theoretical reduction in cost of ownership. However, business growth and acquisitions outweigh this. Note that more users equals more traffic equals more logs, even if the total IP address count goes down.

“In reality,” he continues, “regardless of model, you are going up, not down, on usage of your SIEM year over year. And the SOC (security operations center) manager wants more feeds anyway, as the more data points he gets, the more accurate he is.”

Feeding the beast

In general, Alford sees the SIEM battle as being a race against changing threat vectors, network environment changes and matching software capabilities with enterprise needs and wants. And he is not seeing IT typically winning that race. “We’re fighting an uphill battle. The [increasing number of] feeds into the SOC [means that IT is] fighting a signal-to-noise ratio” battle, with signal meaning real security events and noise referring to false positives.

“We’ve hit a plateau and are making no further progress,” Alford says. “If you don’t have UEBA (user and entity behavior analytics) and ML, some shops just hit the wall.”

Alford’s top SIEM concern is that too many companies treat SIEMs as though they were standalone, shrink-wrapped software with no need for customized code while being focused on the user’s specific situations and needs. That is an untenable move.

“You still have to have the care and feeding of your SIEM. Somebody on your team must be dedicated to constantly tweaking your SIEM, training and teaching it and feeding it,” Alford says. “The idea that a SIEM out of the box is sufficient is ludicrous. A SIEM is nothing more than an aggregator and an incomplete aggregator at that. SIEM without automation is incomplete. You have to fine tune what to ignore and what to look for.”

Dennis Chow, director of penetration testing, KPMG

Migues opines that “As we get smarter, we develop different expectations of technology. Soon, the organization’s expectations will have exceeded its grasp. SIEM is in the troth of disillusionment. What we needed and what we wanted could not be met.”

Dennis Chow, the director of penetration testing at KPMG, agrees with Alford. “Everyone keeps claiming SIEM is ‘dead.’ It really isn’t. It’s just evolving. All the new buzzwords like orchestration, IMS (IP Multimedia Subsystem), UBA (user behavioral analytics) and threat intelligence were always supposed to be part of what a true SIEM was. What we saw was first generation vendors doing a [release to manufacturing] and realistically releasing what I deem a half-baked product. The same is true for most of these orchestration and ‘threat intelligence’ tools. SIEM is going to be more of this loose term in the future, like AI is today,” Chow says.

“I’m former military and have had opportunities to observe how three-letter agencies deal with cyberintelligence-related needs,” he continues. “SIEM was supposed to have solid use-case correlation and be complete enough to automate response actions. To be honest, I don’t really call anything a SIEM unless it can also integrate ML functions, post-alert/script execution, and also be able to communicate in standard protocols to other security program components/pieces.”

But Chow is not quite finished. “Don’t forget to include common SSH and SSL termination to decrypt which is mostly encrypted traffic now. If you aren’t decrypting traffic, you’re missing out on so much. To much of the industry’s dismay, first [generation] SIEM is also failing because of a gross lack of talent to properly deploy, tune, and extend their existing tools.”

Customization Challenge

AmerisourceBergen’s Yerram says that customization is desirable, but, depending on the SIEM being used, is not always do-able. “The product are sometimes limited in how much customization you can do,” Yerram says.

Either way, customization takes resources, both for staffing levels and configuring the SIEM. For example, let us assume a SIEM saw a security incident and confirmed, to a limited extent, that it appears to be real, meaningful and dangerous. Once all that happens, it is critical for someone or something to alert all of the key players right away. Has someone alerted the VPN team, the Windows team, or a threat hunter? While appropriate staffing levels are essential simply to support basic SIEM maintenance, the company needs to ensure that it balances funding for maintenance and management with that of improving with providing the requisite staff for all the necessary security teams.

Alford recalls that the earliest days of SIEM marketing suggested that companies could purchase a SIEM and replace some tier-one analysts, a claim that some EUBA vendors are making today. The claims were not true in the past nor are they accurate today, Alford says.

Like everything in IT and security, the cloud is changing many of the rules and the realities. As more data gets poured into the cloud, the type of cloud structure becomes critical, especially for SIEM security issues, Alford says.

Mitch Thomas, CSO, Encompass Health

“The more you offload to the cloud, the more you offload everything to the cloud, including security awareness,” Alford says. SaaS is especially problematic. With SaaS, “you’re handing over a good bit of trust. What you’re going to be able to monitor are the ins and outs. You’ll have no visibility inside,” Alford says, adding that it is essential to structure cloud deals that allow for users to have full visibility — and even better control — over all elements of the cloud infrastructure.

Mitch Thomas, CSO for Birmingham, Ala-based Encompass Health, a $3.9 billion healthcare company, agrees that SIEM should automate the analysts’ works. “SIEM platforms should automate the work of tier one analysts to allow teams to focus on the tier two and tier three work of threat hunting, incident response, closing the OODA loop faster, which also helps with the skills shortage problem,” he opines. (The OODA loop — observe, orient, decide, and act — was developed by the US military for combat operations processes.)

KPMG’s Chow also expresses concerns about the cloud and security. “Cloud testing is a pain…. There’s so much complexity and you have to test all of these components,” Chow says, adding that CISOs must deal with “all of this stuff that is proprietary to that cloud.”

Chow agrees with Alford that an agreement, including architectural access and control, is critical. “You need to have an architectural use case of the cloud to know what you’re doing. The cloud has limitations on how you manage it. You don’t have the rights like you do with on-prem.”

Trillions of lines of code

Still, cloud is not going to be easy to avoid. Swapnil Deshmukh, the security evangelist leading DevSecOps at Visa in Foster City, Calif., says that because of the nature of the Visa network and the fact that it transfers money around the planet, it gets attacked continually. He estimates that the Visa SIEM sees 115 million events per second “and those are staggering numbers. We have an explosion of data.”

(Due to the payments nature of its business, Deshmukh notes, Visa defines events much more broadly than many other companies. For Visa, an event is any transaction anywhere in the world. That is because it must analyze every transaction to see if there are any red flags. Others view an event as a security event and each event already reflects some pattern deviation worthy of further exploration.)

That explosion of events is especially true for a company like Visa that is so heavily regulated, Deshmukh says. “You need to store this data somewhere, which adds to the hardware costs” so that necessitates employing the cloud, he says. “With these trillions of lines of code, how do you identify if there is any personally identifiable data?” he asks. That forces an awful lot of data sanitization.

“These events are growing exponentially, due to programmable infrastructure and hyperconnected workplace and user can now access sensitive information from mobile phone, from software-defined WANs or even on various cloud offerings,” Deshmukh says. “This explosion of event logging is causing scalability issue for many SIEM storage. In near future, SIEM must solve the scalability problem.

“Currently, organizations with deeper pockets are solving this problem by adding expensive infrastructure to SIEM storage or leveraging cloud storage options such as Amazon S3 buckets or Google cloud storage,” he continues. “As these events are sensitive in nature, organizations storing information on cloud might have to jump additional hops of managing keys that tokenize these events. From budgeting standpoint, adding storage to support SIEM may add huge overhead and in many cases it can be a deal breaker for organizations with limited budget.”

The cost of SIEM support is not limited only to small or mid-size businesses with shallow pockets. Thompson says that his team is also seeing “an exponential growth of data collection and I can’t keep pace with that from a cost standpoint.”

Responding to every SIEM alert can be daunting if filters to weed out false positives are not in place. “Every alarm, every indicator is some kind of event. How can you manage all of that?” Thomas says rhetorically.

Although some enterprises have worked with AI’s machine learning, such as AmerisourceBergen, Deshmukh says Visa hasn’t and he blames the extensive use of proprietary code used by many SIEM vendors, including the one that Visa uses. “The vendors have it in a proprietary format. Because of that, we can’t create our own models, due to the vendor’s lock-in. The proprietary format makes ML nonviable right now. That’s the reason why the adoption of machine learning in SIEM is not there yet,” Deshmukh says.

Unstructured data

Another SIEM concern that several experts touched on were challenges inherent in scanning unstructured data such as images and video.

Deshmukh says Visa does not look currently at unstructured data because, in his view, Visa’s SIEM “can’t make any sense of it” giving it “very limited visibility” into a place where cyberthieves can try and hide malware. But he expects that to change in the next few years. “In the future, we expect new techniques to convert unstructured data into structured. At this point in time, we don’t have those techniques.”

Migues agrees and he adds that even email can be baffling for analytics. “Understanding context from unstructured data is really, really hard,” Migues says. A big part of the problem is that, with unstructured data, so many enterprises, as well as vendors, use different terminology and structure to achieve similar results. “Different companies use different words, different ways,” he says.

Swapnil Deshmukh, security evangelist, Visa

For example, an email might include the words “Employee Salaries. Do Not Release” but it “doesn’t necessarily mean that it really has employee salaries,” Migues says.

Ray McKenzie, the founder and managing director for Red Beach Advisors, agrees that unstructured data is a problem, but argues that some vendors have addressed it quietly — too quietly.

“SIEMs are behind the curve, for the most part, in terms of dealing with unstructured data. You always have to add packages or add content. The SIEMs don’t recognize it upfront” and out-of-the-box, McKenzie says. “Vendors and CISOs are not talking about the unstructured data problem. Threats are a much easier discussion.”

But McKenzie maintains that he knows of some unspecified SIEM vendors who have mastered the unstructured data problem, but they are not marketing that fact. “Unstructured data is still a problem. The people who have solutions to the problem haven’t promoted it. There are platforms that can (handle unstructured data) today.”

AmerisourceBergan’s Yerram disagrees with McKenzie, at least as it impacts the major SIEM players. “No, the leading products out there — as identified [by the major analyst firms] — cannot handle unstructured data,” Yerram says.

Yerram has other practical concerns about SIEM usage. “Correlating the information and triaging takes a long time right now. I want one single pane of glass,” Yerram says, referring to one screen to handle all needed activity, rather than “having to go to multiple different consoles” so that his team can have “integration with multiple different intelligence sources. I don’t believe that a lot of the traditional SIEM devices do that. It doesn’t happen in a single screen.”

Ray McKenzie, founder and managing director, Red Beach Advisors

Yerram offered an example of the SIEM detecting suspicious activity on an IP address. “To look up who owns that address, I have to go to multiple different sources [on different screens] to collect that information,” Yerram says.

Machine learning analysis can be used to recommend actions by the security staff or the ML can be instructed to take specific actions automatically when it encounters certain conditions. Yerram says his team does a little ML automation, but they are being cautious.

ML automation “is a good idea once you teach the system the right things” to justify an automatic reaction, Yerram says. “Our automation is limited right now. We are still taking our time to make sure that we are getting it right. There can be significant impact on the brand [due to the automatic ML action] causing an outage of some fashion. It comes down to what you teach and what the comfort level is.”

So what is the future of SIEM? That can be difficult to determine, short of assuming increased integration with AI and machine learning. As noted, the next generation of SIEM might distinguish itself by not even using the term “SIEM.” Whatever the future of SIEM will be, it is a given that it will still be big, complex, embedded into every corner of the network, and more than likely, still expensive. What it likely will not be is plug-and-play.

The post SIEMple evolution: The future for a cloud-based SIEM appeared first on SC Media.

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Go to Source Author: stephenlawton SIEMple evolution: The future for a cloud-based SIEM Original Post from SC Magazine Author: stephenlawton The future of SIEM is cloudy, literally and figuratively, as companies strive to keep up with potentially billions of events.

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luxuryltdcars · 7 years

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Simply the Best: 2016's Top Content from the Moz Blog

Simply the Best: 2016's Top Content from the Moz Blog http://ift.tt/2ifDbdI

Posted by FeliciaCrawford

Now that we've comfortably settled into the first two weeks of 2017, it's time to revive an annual Moz Blog tradition: the Best of 2016 is here!

I've carefully collected data on all the posts, comments, and commenters you remarkable readers liked the most this past year, compiling it all into one big, beautiful blog post. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll rue the day you ever downloaded Pocket. But as we commence our journey into the insights and revelations of yesteryear, my sincere hope is that you'll feel inspired. That you'll learn something new, or reflect on what's changed. That you'll tack a new task onto your bucket list ("Become a Moz Top Commenter" is way more hip than traveling to all 7 continents, people).

Flip on some classic Tina Turner to set the mood and join me as we sift through what you decided was simply the best of 2016.

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