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scnteria · 3 years

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( alex wolff, cis male, he/him, muse b ) oh snap! is that THEODORE “TEDDY” WELLS ? they work over at high volume where some of the other employees have labeled them as THE MISCREANT. that’s probably because they can be a bit ( affable ) but also pretty ( misguided ). they’re 22 and they’ve been living in woodstock for FOUR YEARS. it must be their shift because i totally hear RADIOHEAD blasting from the record store.

( @volumeupdates )

hi everyone !! phew i’m so hype to be here... hello... you can call me wren ! i’m in the est timezone and use she/her pronouns. a lil bit about me: i love making playlists and my silly little lattes every morning, i have two puppies at home that i love more than anything, and i’m currently watching ted lasso and falling in l*ve with jason sudeikis and no i do not think i named teddy after ted lasso but it might’ve been an unconscious thing idk

anyway, i’m going to try not to ramble too much about my boi teddy but you’ve been warned:

sweet boy theodore ! he mostly goes by teddy. i don’t think he minds being called theodore but he DOES hate the nickname ted. sorry to mr. sudeikis

he was born and raised in chicago but his father is from woodstock. he has some distant family here but growing up, it was teddy, his mom, dad, and older brother mccartney ( mick !! )

( alcoholism, hoarding disorder tw ) teddy’s older brother was like a refuge for him in a household that was pretty tough to live in. his mother is an extreme hoarder so teddy felt pretty trapped in his own home. on top of that, his father is a functioning alcoholic who had a tendency to pick fights when really wasted. ( end tw )

teddy shared a room with mick, so that was like their little escape from it all ! but mick left for college because he’s a Smart, Good Boy when teddy was fifteen ! so he took it super hard to be living alone in this environment

( depression tw ) naturally, at that age ( and with evident mental health issues running in the family ), teddy started to show signs of depression. in an attempt to alleviate that, his fam fulfilled a lifelong dream and adopted a lil border collie pup ! ( end tw )

he realized his home wasn’t suitable for him, his mental health, or his dog winnie. he saved up money by working odd jobs throughout high school and on his eighteenth birthday, he and his pup moved to woodstock.

his dog winnie is named after his celebrity crush, winona ryder ! he absolutely carries a polaroid photo of her in his wallet because truly that is his child and god bless you if you even mention dogs around him

he got the job at high volume four years ago so he’s been around for a bit ! jerry was actually really good friends with teddy’s father, so he’s known jerry pretty much his entire life.

( drug use and alcoholism tw ) teddy has a chronic intestinal disease that basically attacks his immune system and can be preeeetty painful ! it’s manageable ofc and although teddy would say: “kurt cobain had it too so it’s fine,” it still Sucks to deal with. he is on medication for it, though another prescription works wonders for pain too...... and that ‘prescription’ is just Weed. he smokes a lot lol and also likes to drink, both as a source of self-medication and just because ! ( end tw )

( violence and ptsd tw ) oh haha also he saw jerry get shot in an alley but i imagine he is currently going through the many phases of ptsd at this moment. very much trying to keep it together but in reality, he’s a ball of pure anxiety and could crack at any given moment. definitely going through some bouts of denial and doubt ? jerry is not only his boss but he’s a family friend and someone he kind of looked up to, so it’s safe to say he’s not Doing Well ( end tw )

ok now more about his CHARACTER:

teddy is a sweetheart. he’s got golden retriever tendencies, i’d say ! verrrry sociable, loves to be around people.

he’s pretty independent and self-sufficient for someone who makes dumb decisions and doesn’t vibe with being alone ! he has learned to look out for himself but at the same time, he’s one of those people that make you wonder how he got this far ??

overall, a pretty great friend to have. he’s a man of his word and basically likes to make people around him feel comfortable and happy !

kinda charming, an accidental flirt at times. like i don’t think he realizes when he’s flirting ? he’s a little oblivious and definitely does better with people who are direct with him. like if you’re dropping hints that you like him or need him to do something, he won’t pick up on it at all lol the boy is stuck in his own little world that has karma police playing on a constant loop

walking into a shift with him means you’ll either be: entertained, annoyed, distracted, or high lol

( drugs tw ) like he has shown up to work high before and probably has smoked outside during a slow shift i’m SORRY ( end tw )

messy, messy boy makes questionable decisions because he doesn’t quite think them through. he’s SO responsible with his dog, but himself ? a hot mess

perhaps he’s not ... wise when it comes to money... i’ll leave it at that for now :)

perpetually running late and rambles a good amount

weak-willed and self-destructive ! he’s easily swayed to do pretty much anything bc he’s kind of a happy-go-lucky kind of dude. pretty much does Not say no to plans and maybe he pushes his alcohol tolerance from time to time

CONNECTION ideas !!

he moved to woodstock four years ago and i wanna say he lives alone but tbh a roommate would be Cost Effective ( must like dogs tho )

that being said, if your character happened to grow up in chicago let’s do some childhood connections ! maybe an old friend, previous unrequited crush, etc.

pls give me a favorite coworker that just doesn’t get anything done when they’re working together

he absolutely will get on people’s nerves. he gets on MY nerves. so give me enemies of any sort lol

i don’t think he’s much of a relationship guy. i could see one longterm relationship in his past so an ex is a possibility !

a previous one-night stand is pretty accurate for him too, but i don’t see him thinking it’s weird or anything. i see him being pretty casual with hook-ups in general, so... do with that as you will

friends ! teddy is a talker and really likes to get to know people, so i can see him having friends of varying levels lol whether you’ve spoken twice but he’s like That’s My Guy ! or you regularly see him walking his dog or you just vibe at work... truly this man will talk to a wall. the possibilities are endless

a BEST friend ! i would very much like someone that teddy spews mostly everything to. he will indeed lay his life on the line for this person lol

party-goers, fellow druggies ! this is a scene teddy OFTEN dabbles in, whether you indulge yourself or provide. >:)

could definitely see him on the receiving end of a mom/dad/parent friend kind of relationship. like that john mulaney quote GET SOME REST, TALL CHILD

okay i seriously need to stop this got so long please end me anyway hit me up here or on discord for all of the plots. i really like to get into the nitty gritty of plots so if that’s your jam, let’s make some toast, baby ! i’m SO excited to get things going !

#volumeintro #i added a few tws within this ok

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daydream-believin · 3 years

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Recipe For Disaster 2: Electric Boogaloo

Summary: Jim is NOT happy about his sister’s boyfie. (not a part two despite the confusing name)

Warnings: swearing, a gilmore girls reference, divorce kids got daddy issues

Word Count: 5560, my longest yet woohoo

A/N: here it is im finally done with this. i- im tired. i love jim he was my favorite until doux came along but he can be a little bitch boy sometimes. and the word of the day is giggle im so sorry

tags: @alovesongshewrote hope i can deliver now that you have expectations lmao

It was a good Saturday. The trollhunters trio had gotten an early start on training, and thus Blinky had released them for an early lunch. It was a particularly successful day, with Claire really getting the hang of the shadow staff, so they decided to not make poor Jim cook for once and go out for a treat. And Toby really wanted a sandwich from Benoit’s.

They opted to walk to downtown instead of biking, as a way to cool down. Plus, it would give them time to digest their food on the walk back, before they returned to training once again. Although that was more of a problem for Jim and Toby, since Blinky wanted Claire to start reading a certain book this afternoon. She’d be in the library, quietly sitting while the boys go back to running around and fighting. The spring flowers had just started returning to Arcadia Oaks. The flowerbeds that decorated town added a cheery air to the day. Happily, Jim ran up in front to kick a pebble as they came up towards the bistro around the corner. He stopped in his tracks.

“Is Y/n’s boss flirting with her?”

The other two teens came around Jim to see. Y/n laughed at Douxie’s dumb joke and put her hand on his shoulder.

“And is she flirting back?” Jim asked incredulously.

Claire didn’t take this the same way Jim did. “Aww, that’s so cute.”

“No it’s not. It’s weird. And wrong.” Jim asserted.

“What are you talking about,” Claire lowered her brows with an annoyed tone.

“No, no. he’s right. Y/n doesn’t flirt. Or date. I’m not even sure she crushes.”

Claire shook her head, “That can’t be true, TP. She’s like, old. You two just didn’t notice it.”

“Oh, no, we noticed it. She went to every school dance alone, even senior prom.” Toby added. “It was kind of sad to be honest.”

“Remember that time that big movie star came into town? He was the prettiest guy I’d ever seen, and Y/n was just like ‘eh he’s okay, I guess’. We literally had a fight over that one.” Jim chuckled.

“I literally can’t imagine Y/n in a relationship. She’s just too all over the place.”

Claire rolled her eyes and gestured her hands towards the scene in front of them. “Well, she seems to be doing just fine now.”

Jim didn’t know why, but this made him a little huffy. “Whatever. It’s just a crush, anyways. She’ll get over it soon enough.”

Douxie leaned over to give Y/n a quick peck goodbye before he headed into Mr. Benoit’s to start his shift. He had swapped shifts with one of his coworkers for the day, so he could have the evening off. Y/n headed back to the bookstore. She tucked her hair behind her ear as she left, smiling to herself. The three trollhunters still stood right where they were, staring.

“I don’t think it’s just a crush, Jimbo.”

Jim was outraged. How. How was this happening. He could understand her not telling her family, their mother could be a bit nosy sometimes when it came to her daughter’s personal affairs. But his sister had often said she didn’t have enough time to pursue a love life whenever their mother probed her. There was no way she just started having said time. Right? It was curious, too, that out of all the people she could have chosen in Arcadia, she chose Douchey. That guy had girls fawning over him wherever he went. There was no way Y/n was into that.

Come to think of it, Y/n had been acting really strange ever since she had gotten that job at the bookstore. It was so easy to make her laugh now. She was actually wearing her hair in different styles instead of her signature. She actually enjoyed Barbara’s cooking. Or at least complimented it a lot now. Still a baffling action nonetheless. It was if she was experiencing the side effects of something. And that bookstore reeked of magic. Magic had the power to drive people out of their minds. He’d had plenty of first-hand experience with that. This whole situation was fishy.

“Well, I think it’s so cute they’re together now.” Claire said cheerily. He loved her but she wasn’t exactly the best when it came to making judgement calls. Hell, the fact that she was dating him after all he’s put her through was enough proof of that.

“Well, I think its magic.” Jim deadpanned.

“What.” Claire snapped.

“He’s got a spell on her! Some sort of enchantment. A charm!”

Toby was too tired from training today to deal with this. “I’ll agree, he does have charm, have you had him as a waiter? But not the kind of charm you’re implying here, Jim.”

“Douxie is my magic teacher, Jim. I promise, he’s a really nice guy.”

“Nope. There’s no way my sister would be into a guy, let alone a guy like,” He tried to find the right words but just sputtered, “Like that!” he motioned to poor Doux, who was changing the specials sign out front. Douxie was one of those bistro employees who always got asked to draw up the sign because his calligraphy was so good. Doux had to admit, his handwriting was messy compared to Merlin’s standards, but to Mr. Benoit’s he was a calligraphy god.

Toby looked Doux up and down. “I don’t know man, Y/n is kind of alternative.”

“Yeah, who do you think helps me dye my hair all the time? And sneaks me into concerts?” Claire added.

“Okay. I get that. But he’s just not good enough for her.” Jim said through gritted teeth.

Toby sighed. “Then who is?” he asked wearily.

Jim got defensive. “I don’t know! A prince, maybe. One that’s in line to be king. Not one of those waiting-for-a-brother-to-die ones, but a real one.” He nodded his head like any of that was realistic. “Definitely not just some wizard who works in a bookstore.”

“She’s just some wizard who works in a bookstore, though.”

There was no getting through to Jim. “Think about it guys, my sister, suddenly getting cozy with a magic man? Bushigal. She’s under a spell. I’m going to fight him.”

“No, no you’re not,” Claire asserted, “You’re going to have lunch like we planned AND you’re going to be civil.” Claire and Toby both grabbed one of his arms and dragged him towards the bistro.

***

The hostess guided them to the table. Claire sat across from Jim and Toby. They were handed the menus. Claire showed interest in the lunch specials while Toby flipped to the sandwiches. Jim just brooded while he stared unblinking into the first page. And by chance, and by the fact that this scene would be boring and or pointless if not, Douxie was the waiter for said table. After handing off the check to one of his other tables, he waltzed over to the trio, happy to see his protégé.

“Ello lads, how’s it going? How’d that test go today, Claire?” Douxie ruffled her hair. Jim narrowed his eyes at the sight.

“Horrible! I bombed it for sure!”

Toby rolled his eyes, “You say that about every test, Claire, and then it turns out you aced them.”

“No I mean it this time, TP. I didn’t even finish the last three questions. It was so bad!”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Douxie chuckled. Oh to have the problems of these youngsters. Claire and Toby got into some sort of glare match where they both just made more and more aggressive funny faces at each other. Both finally conceded and they fell into giggles. Douxie was glad to see Claire having so much fun, but he noticed someone else at the table who was not having said fun. His apprentice Claire’s boyfriend, his master’s champion, and his darling Y/n’s brother, looking like his dog ate his homework, or whatever teenagers got angry about these days.

“Cheer up, lad.” Doux grinned at Jim, “Hangry? I get that. You look like you could use a good meal.”

“Well strangely I am in a cafe”

Claire kicked Jim under the table. He tried his best to stifle the grunt of pain. “Don’t mind Jim, he’s a tad grumpy from a bad training session. And we’ll take waters all around.” She smiled. Doux hurried off to go get their glasses.

In the end, Toby couldn’t pick a sandwich. He had three favorites and couldn’t decide between them yet. Jim and Claire had his back. They both got one of them and he got the third. Then they would all share the halves. A good plan. And it was a delicious one. Toby was thankful for his partners.

***

After finishing up training and walking Claire home, Jim and Toby went their separate ways. Toby had promised his Nana he’d go with her and her boyfriend to see a play in the next town over. Jim had promised his mother he’d be home for a family dinner. He wasn’t able to be home in time to cook, so this was going to be a roulette wheel when it came to food. He was betting on Y/n. As he came to the front door, he cracked it first and smelled the air before going inside as to make sure his candid reaction wouldn’t be bad. The aroma coming from the house was heavenly. Alright, Y/n. Jackpot.

Jim swung the door open wide as he strutted in. Everyone was in the kitchen, it looked like. He put his bag up and called to his family that he was home. Which was met with the two voices he had expected, but one he hadn’t. And it was a voice he didn’t want to hear right now. Douxie. Hisirdoux fucking Casperan. In his house. In his kitchen. In his territory.

Jim immediately felt his muscles tense up. He took a deep breath and put on his best fake smile before heading into the kitchen. Y/n was sautéing something over the stove. Barbara was stirring something which meant that she had insisted on helping and Y/n had done the equivalent of giving your younger sibling a game controller that wasn’t plugged in. The offending wizard was leaning over the bar counter from the other side, chatting away as if he had any reason to be here.

Once Y/n caught sight of Jim, she bubbled. “Jim! How was hiking? You three have fun?” she knew where he actually spent his Saturdays but they had to keep up the rouse for their mom. While Y/n particularly didn’t care for the lying, she also agreed with Jim that some things are best kept from worrisome mothers. Barbara gave her enough shit already for her frequent homecomings from bars and shows in the wee hours of the morning with scrapes and bruises. If their mother knew about Jim’s marginally more dangerous late-night escapades, she might actually have a nervous breakdown.

“Oh yeah, it was great. We saw a deer. It had a baby with it.”

“Majestic.” She turned and gestured to the man at the counter, “You remember Douxie, right?”

“Of course,” Jim said through gritted teeth forced into a smile. “In fact we just saw each other at the bistro earlier today.”

A timer went off. Y/n expressed her delight that something in the oven was done. Barb got some plates out of the cabinet, while Y/n pulled the main course out of the oven. She handed Jim the plates and silverware and sent him to go set the table. Jim supposed this was better than having to talk to Douxie. Until Douxie insisted on helping him. Great.

“So, Jim, I’ve heard a lot about you-”

“I’m sure you have.” Jim cut him off. Douxie was a bit confused, but figured he was still grumpy like he was earlier at the bistro. He’d leave the moody teen alone then. Perhaps he be in a better mood after getting some food in him and spending time with his family. Doux would try for conversation again then.

Jim did not get any less grumpy, to Douxie’s dismay. And Y/n’s. Y/n really needed both her family members to like her boyfriend. They were all each other had, and any strife would put a strain on their tiny closely-knit family unit. Y/n loved Douxie, and she wanted Jim and Barbara to love him to. To accept him. It would help put a validity to her feelings. If they liked him then she had made the right choice. She could never be with someone her loved ones hated. And as a bonus, it would be nice if she could give Douxie the family he never had. He deserved as much.

Luckily, Barbara had taken quite a liking to Arcadia’s most charming waiter. Jim however, was subtly hostile. Or at least he thought he was being subtle. It was very apparent to the other three at the table. As Douxie was animatedly telling Barb some story that she was laughing very hard at, Y/n turned to glare at her brother. Jim tried to feign innocence. Y/n rolled her eyes and put some more salad on her plate. Jim noticed the bracelet on her wrist. Funny, she had never been one for jewelry before. But she started wearing this one everyday right around the time she started working at the bookstore. Interesting.

Douxie finished up his story and turned his attention to Jim. He’d try once again to engage the trollhunter. He knew how important this was to Y/n. Douxie was going to make this little man like him if it was the last thing he did.

“I saw the school play you were in a couple weeks ago, Jim. You were quite the actor, and I know Shakespeare’s tough. Have you ever thought of going into it professionally? Claire’s told me she wants to. You two could be one of those celebrity power couples.”

Jim just offered a short thanks that was less hostile but not exactly enthusiastic either. Well, at least Doux was getting somewhere. It’s a start. Y/n was content with this. Jim would warm up to Douxie eventually. It didn’t have to be right away, even if she would have liked that.

After the dinner conversation had died down and the food long gone, Y/n set out to clear the table and clean the kitchen. Barbara also went to help her, but Douxie assured her he’d take care of it. He was a world class waiter after all. He stacked up the plates as Y/n grabbed the dinner dishes. And so the two set off to the world behind the wall, to clean or canoodle or whatever. Jim wasn’t too keen on thinking about it. His mother pulled him into the living room to sit on the couch and preceded to ask him twenty questions about Claire. He was almost happy when the lovebirds came back.

And then his mother made them all play some card game for three hours straight. All while the lovebirds flirted away right in front of them. It was like they had no shame. This guy just had to have Y/n under a spell or something, Jim was sure of it. There was no other explanation. As she giggled at another one of Douxie’s stupid jokes that weren’t even funny, Jim felt sick.

Finally it came time for that douchebag to leave. Jim rolled his eyes at his mother and sister fawning over Doux as he made his way to the door. He slinked over behind them to watch the guy leave and make sure that he left. As Douxie went through the door he gave Y/n a quick peck and said the stupidest line Jim had ever heard. Who does this guy think he is. Once the door was shut and Doux had indeed walked away, Jim scoffed.

“Bet that guy has a bank of pickup lines he’s memorized. There’s no way he came up with that on the fly.”

***

Jim was furious. He fought like a madman during training. Draal was just making it worse by encouraging it; he really liked the kid’s fire today. Draal had no idea what was up with him right now, but Jim was giving it his all. The trollhunter was rarely this aggressive. Blinky looked on as Jim growled and shouted with every strike. He hadn’t seen his son frothing at the mouth like this before. It was glorious. Keep this up and Angor Rot won’t know what hit him.

Claire and Toby were also training, with Arrggh, albeit with not even half as much gusto as Jimbo. They were also a wee bit distracted, trying to wind Jim down from said gusto. He came over to where they were to get some water. Taking this opportunity, Toby tried appealing to him once again.

“Dude, give it a rest, this is just like how you got all pissy about your mom dating Strickler.” Toby was exasperated.

“Y/n can’t date guys, my mother can’t date guys, no men should be frequently invited into our household! No boys allowed! Me and Toby are the only boys allowed!” Jim growled. He stormed off across the keep to go land another hit on Draal.

Blinky blinked. He was taken aback at the hostility from his charge. “So, do either of you have any idea as to what that was about.”

“Right now the winning theory is that this is like, about how heartbroken his mother was when his dad left, so now he doesn’t want that to happen again or something,” Claire sighed. Her teacher really was a good guy. Lonely too. Just like Y/n. They were going to be good for each other. Her boyfriend should be happy for them. Jim took a particularly dirty swipe at Draal. Toby grunted in sympathy. “Or maybe Douxie just poked Arcadia’s most possessive bear.”

***

Jim and Toby were walking downtown, enjoying their free time after a trollhunting mission on this fine Sunday afternoon. That is, until they came in sight of the bookstore. Jim felt that bitter feeling in his stomach again. He knew Y/n wasn’t working today. Douchey would be all alone. Now was his chance to confront this and end it before it got any worse. Toby noticed the malice in his eyes as he stomped towards the bookstore.

“Woah dude, what’re you doing?”

“I’m just going to have a little chat with Mr. Casperan that’s all.”

Toby threw his head back in exasperation. “There no talking you out of this is there?”

“Nope”

The bell jingled as they walked in. The bookshop smelled like Christmas. And Jim was about to try and talk politics with his racist uncle at the dinner table. Douxie came over and greeted them cheerily.

“Good afternoon, lads. Looking for any book in particular?”

“I’m not a part of this. I just happen to be with him physically.” Toby quickly asserted. Douxie quirked a brow at the odd statement. Jim pushed forward aggressively. Doux had the sense to back away from the boy.

“I’m onto you, wizard. Just what did you do to my sister? Did you slip her a love potion? Is that bracelet she’s been wearing charmed?” Jim growled. Toby cringed on the sidelines.

Douxie blinked. “Excuse me?”

“There’s no other explanation for your ‘relationship’. You’ve got to be magicking her. And I won’t just sit here and let it happen. That’s my sister and it’s my job to protect her from creeps like you.”

Douxie took in the boys words, and a deep breath. He tried his best not to sound too defensive and provoke the kid further, “Okay, wow. That’s quite an accusation there, friend.” He moved away from where the boy had backed him into a bookshelf. “You know, out of all that you just implied, the part I think I’m most offended by is the fact that you’d think I’d mess with Y/n’s free will like that.”

Douxie straightened some books on a nearby display. “You know Jim, when it comes to love-” Jim stormed out of the bookstore before Doux could take his lecture any further, grabbing Toby by the arm so he’d follow. Toby mouthed a big ‘I’m sorry’ to Doux as he was pulled out of the store.

***

Jim’s pencil felt abused. He was furiously scribbling the answers to his homework with a heavy hand. He still had a lot of pent up rage, even after accosting poor Doux. After snapping his lead for the seventh time in the hour, Jim decided that switching subjects to Spanish instead of math for a bit might help him calm down. He moved to his bed to start the assigned reading. He laid on his stomach, propping up his head in his hands to see his textbook. His blue eyes perused the paragraphs punctuated by cheesy cartoons. He was halfway through the third page when a knock came at his door. Taking a deep breath, he called for whoever it was to let themselves in. His sister stepped into view.

Jim ran a hand through his dark hair. Here comes the scolding. He didn’t even have to ask if Y/n had heard about what he’d done today. If Douxie himself hadn’t told her then Tobes certainly did. Jim wasn’t proud of it, now that it was all said and done. He knew he deserved whatever Y/n was about to dish out. He sat up and crisscrossed his legs. She pulled his desk chair over and sat backwards in it so that she was facing him on the bed.

That’s it. No scolding came. She just sat and looked at him, neutral faced. He squirmed at the nothing. She lifted up the coffee mug in her hands and took a slow sip, not breaking eye contact with him. Jim began to sweat. He tried to avoid her gaze by looking down at the floor, but he could still feel her eyes upon him. Sighing, he had to admit defeat.

“Okay, so I do feel bad about what I said to Douxie today.” He looked back up to meet Y/n’s eyes. She raised a brow. “It was wrong of me to jump to conclusions like that, I’m sorry.”

Y/n appeared to be satisfied by that. A smile spread across her face and she nodded to him. She stood up, and ruffled his hair on her way out. Still refusing to break her silence, she motioned for him to follow her downstairs.

***

Y/n set her coffee cup down on the table. She pulled another mug out of the cabinet for Jim. Grabbing the coffee pot from its nest under the coffeemaker, she filled Jim’s mug and topped off her own. Sliding the mug across the table to Jim, she sat down. Jim could smell the aromas of the several colorful dishes baking that he could see through the screen of the oven door. Strange, it was already half past nine. There was cinnamon in the air, so at least one of those dishes contained dessert. Jim’s stomach growled at the thought.

“You know I’m not the one you should have to apologize to, Jimbo.”

“I know, I know,” He looked at the ground, “I’ll go talk to him tomorrow after school.”

Silence filled the kitchen again. Y/n took a sip of coffee. This conversation was going to be hard. She wasn’t particularly looking forward to it. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. She took yet another long sip of coffee to figure out a good enough way to word this. She took a breath.

“So, uh- listen Jimbo. I- I know it’s tough, ya know, with it just being us. And our family’s tight because of it. But you can’t get so protective that new people can’t join it. Or even try.”

Jim took a breath, “I know it’s just, I-, what happens when we, when you, get so attached to him, and he decides that he doesn’t care for you anymore. When he turns out to be bad. When he just disappears. Like- like they do.”

“Oh, Jim,” She reached across the table for his hand. “That’s my risk to take, Jim. I fully recognize that what I’m doing is hazardous and I could get hurt really bad. But I still chose to do it. I choose it every day. We all do, when we fall in love.”

Jim took a sip and lingered, staring into his cup. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” He chuckled, “I know I’d be devastated if Claire ever wizened up and left me.”

“Look, you gotta trust me okay? Douxie isn’t dad or Strickler. I promise. He’s kind. I trust him. After you apologize, I think you really should start to make an effort to get to know him. If not for me, for Claire dude. And I think you’ll really like him. Promise you’ll give him a chance?”

Jim sighed in defeat. “Alright. I promise.”

She stood up and stretched out her back, making those stretching noises that people do. She checked the food in the oven. The buns were ready, but the quiche still needed a few minutes. She took out the pans and put them on the cooling rack. After fanning them for a few seconds, she turned to Jim, “So you want a spinach bun or a cinnamon bun?”

“How is that a question?” Jim laughed.

“Spinach bun it is then,” She teased as she tossed him the cinnamon one.

“What’s all this for anyway?” He gestured to the oven and the buns.

“Oh, uh, its actually for a date tonight?” She looked warry of how he’d react.

“Okay,” He guessed now would be as good a time as ever to start letting this go, “You crazy kids have fun.” Y/n laughed, relived.

Douxie had just finished up the sweeping and was ready to close up. As he headed to towards the front doors, he took one last look around the place to make sure he didn’t miss anything. All clean and tidy. Whoever opened tomorrow would appreciate it. He flipped the neon sign from open to nope and started locking up. Which is when his girlfriend pounced on him and almost gave him a heart attack. She just appeared out of thin air to tackle him into a hug. Scared the living daylights out of him. Y/n apologized profusely when she noticed him freak out but was still snickering between sorries so she probably didn’t mean it. He asked her just what the hell she was doing here and she picked up a picnic basket that was on the ground to show him.

“I just knew a certain wizard hadn’t eaten yet tonight.”

***

Y/n felt the ground beneath her back through the picnic blanket. The new spring growth had made them a cushion of sorts. Her head rested in the crook of Douxie’s shoulder as his arm was wrapped around her. It was nice here. Comfy. She could smell his hair and feel his chest move as he breathed. Their heartbeats made a nice rhythm to accompany the cricket song and the noise of the trees swaying. The stars were so lovely tonight. Stellar.

Douxie broke the quiet. “So I brushed up on my astrology.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/n quirked her brow. Astrology was one of her biggest interests. She’d loved it since her grandmother had given her a book about it when she was small. It was a well-worn, well-loved book. Her grandmother had handwritten things in the margins too. She’d been talking Douxie’s ears off about it during work earlier that week. Something was just so fascinating about how there were gorgeous balls of light in the sky that could tell you the future. There really was magic embedded in the fabric of the universe. It was sweet that he would care enough to learn about her interests. Very sweet indeed. The fact that he went out of his way just so he could talk to her about something she loved? Tooth-rotting. She wasn’t sure if her heart sped up because she was excited to talk about astrology or because of the sugar rush he just gave her.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve needed to look at constellations, we do have GPS now, but I think I remember enough,” He pointed to the sky, “That’s Pisces, right?”

“Yes!” Y/n couldn’t stop herself from smiling so wide her cheeks hurt.

“And that’s Aries, which marks the beginning of spring,” He looked back at Y/n who nodded to him, “oh, and look! We can see Venus tonight.”

“Hey Douxie, I love you. And You’re really making me want to kiss you right now.”

He chuckled and wiggled his eyes brows teasingly, “Ah, yes, I am aware of the effect I have.” She rolled her eyes and put her hand on his face to push him away. If he saw the blush creeping up on her, he’d just get flirtier. She wasn’t sure she could handle that. Something caught her eye and instantly stole her attention.

“Look! A shooting star! Make a wish Doux.” She pointed to the streak of light that flashed.

“I don’t need wishes when I’m here with you, Love.” If her face was pink before it was bright red now.

Y/n hid her face in her hands, “No! You were supposed to say something silly,” She came back up to look him in the eyes, “not something that makes me want to kiss you even more.”

He leaned his head in closer, “Well, what’s stopping you, Y/n”

Well, that was obviously a dare. She couldn’t not kiss him now. So she did. They melted into it instantly. At first it was sweet and slow, but they got a bit hungrier, and the kiss got a bit sloppier. Douxie smelled like the bookstore, Y/n loved the smell of the bookstore. It was everything safe in her life. He was everything safe in her life. Her best friend. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek. He loved how her lips just fit together with his perfectly. Y/n Lake was everything he’d been waiting for all these years. Soft and kind, with such a beautiful heart. Not to mention, a badass. Yet, even with all his ancient baggage, she still cared for him. Made him feel like new again. Out of all the wizards of Arcadia Oaks, she chose him. He still couldn’t believe it. They pulled apart way sooner than either of them wanted, but they did have to breathe, so it had to be done. Locked in Douxie’s gaze, Y/n broke the intensity to giggle.

“But really, I was setting you up for a joke. You know what you could have done with that, Doux?” She teased.

“I’ll remember that for next time, Love.”

“Ah, they’re super rare. This is the first time I’ve ever seen one in all my stargazing years.”

“Well, we’ve got plenty of time to see the next one. And the next one. All the shooting stars you want. Only seeing them every few decades could make them a special little thing for us.” He said so nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just implied that he expected their love to last for countless decades. As if it were a given. Suddenly it hit her. She could live thousands of years by his side. She would live thousands of years by his side. This was it. She wasn’t even sure humans could turn this vivid a shade of red. Y/n’s heart was gonna pop if it beat any harder.

“Stars, are you just hellbent on making me combust tonight? It too hot out here for this.” Douxie just laughed, a twinkle in his eye. She focused on her beloved stars to calm her down. She sighed, “The stars really are beautiful tonight.”

“You know what else is beautiful?”

“Me?”

“You- aww, you’ve heard that one.”

Y/n’s snort rung in the air. So, he does just have a bank of pick-up lines he’s pulling from. Interesting. Guess it must be tough having to be Arcadia’s most charming waiter. They stilled again. The comfortable silence embraced them. And they could have basked in it all night, if Douxie had not a burning question he had been waiting to ask his beloved.

“So- uh,” She looked to him expectedly, “Do you think there’s life out there?”

Y/n tried not to laugh too hard with Douxie’s very serious tone, “Yeah, yeah I do.”

Now it was Douxie’s turn to smile so wide his cheeks hurt. “Really?”

“Yeah,” She said, “I think it’d be kinda arrogant to assume that with all that vastness up there that we’re the only ones who exist.”

“That’s a really good point.” Douxie said excitedly. He pulled her tighter into his embrace and snuggled. “I think I’m going to use that on Zoe next time she tries to tell me that I’m crazy and aliens aren’t real.”

“Yeah Babe! Win that argument!” Y/n encouraged.

She peppered his face with kisses. That big smile stayed on his face as he closed his eyes in delight. He repaid her with a nose kiss. And she repaid that by starting another snogging session.

***

Little did they know that shoot star was really aliens akiriddion spaceship crash 3below wait shit the akiriddions landed in like season two and ive set this in one ugh just pretend like this makes sense hfhadhiufs

#douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #douxie imagine #douxie casperan x reader #hisirdoux casperan imagine #hisirdoux casperan #douxie casperan imagine #lake!reader #toa douxie #douxie #douxie casperan #my writing

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orangerosebush · 4 years

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“How does one describe Artemis Fowl?” Artemis Fowl, Book 1, Page 1.

Although this quote from the first series sets the tone of Artemis being a character who is loath to be understood, what with how he “delights in not talking” about how it is he perceives himself to truly be, I want to attempt to answer this rhetorical question. After all, the quote serves as a bookend for the series — both the first and final book contain it.

In answering this question, I want to not answer “how does one describe Artemis Fowl?” but rather, “what is Artemis Fowl?” — the series, that is. I think now is a good time to answer this question, what with the first cycle of the series, the Artemis Fowl saga, being complete and the second cycle, the Fowl twins saga, beginning. In short, I want to ask: what context surrounds the book series being published? What are some important themes to the series? And what gives the book series its spark?

I first have to start this video essay by admitting that I was wrong in another essay: “A look into the role of Irish mythology as inspiration for Colfer's depiction of the People: an essay”. You can find this on fanfiction.net or on archive of our own under works by mentosmorii, by the way. The synopsis I provided for the essay is as follows: “Although Colfer has stated before that he has drawn from his knowledge of Irish mythology, he has never stated specifically which myths informed his writing. As someone with a bit of a background in Irish mythology, I have made a guess at some of the sources of inspiration, explained a couple of references within the series, and analyzed a few characters as having connections to Irish history/mythology.”

A lot of the content in that essay is correct, I feel I should say. However, an area where I misstep is here: “ Eoin Colfer has been asked about the influence of Irish mythology on his writing during various interviews, and his response is usually a sort of permutation of the above answer — ‘I grew up reading Irish myths and legends, [and] I… put… a spin on them’ (Colfer). He admits that he was influenced by Irish mythology, and this admission of influence is usually enough to get interviewers to move along to the next question. I’ve looked through many of the interviews that he’s done, and I think I can say with confidence that there is not currently any interview available in which an interviewer presses him to be more specific and point to the myths and legends in question by which he was influenced. In all likelihood, I think that this is because once Colfer confirms that he did, in fact, take inspiration from Irish mythology, the interviewers think of pop culture Celtic mythology and move on”.

The assertion that I made that was incorrect is about the interviewer moving on due to a lack of visibility of Irish myths. However, you also have to look at when the first book was published, which was in 2001. During the 90s to the early 2000s, Ireland was going through something called the “Celtic tiger”, which essentially means that there was an international market that was becoming quite interested in Irish culture, leading to the development of a new, commercially successful Celticism. Cormac MacRaois (pronounced: cormick Mccreesh) estimated, at the time of writing in 1997, that there were at least thirty books dedicated to the retellings of mythological tales on the children’s shelves of Irish bookshops, alongside a burgeoning quantity of contemporary fantasy drawing upon mythological sources for its characters and themes” (Irish Children’s Literature and Culture: New perspectives). Furthermore, in Mary Donohue’s unpublished 2003 MA thesis entitled “From Wexford to the arctic circle, a cultural journey”, she remarks that in a video interview, Colfer mentions that he had initially planned to publish a collection of Irish myths and legends, but that he abandoned this plan when he realized how many good collections were already in print (Donohoe, 2003, p. 24).

What I want to point out is that although the series was published at a time when there was increased interest in Irish mythology, it is interesting that Colfer deviates from the fairy tale and leans into the futuristic. What do I mean by this?

In many ways, the Artemis Fowl series, at least up until book 8, is more of a sci-fi than it is a fantasy. Which is a bold claim for me to make, I know!

However, a quote from book one in which Root is talking to Foaly as the LEP tries to plan how to get Holly back summarizes this seemingly paradoxical analysis of the series quite nicely: Science is taking the magic out of everything.

As Anna Bugajska (pronounced: ah-na boo-guy-ska) states in her essay "Human Magic", "Fairy Technology" : The Place of the Supernatural in the Age of Cyberculture, which is about the Artemis Fowl series: “Fairies deprived of natural wings use their artificial counterparts. Dwarves are practically walking machines. Invisibility is achieved by ‘shielding’. Artemis uses ‘human magic’ to heal a fairy [the sprite in Ho Chi Minh whom he gives a serum to help her alcohol dependence], but must rack his brains to escape ‘fairy technology’. The convergence point comes at the search for a Booke of Magick and at a failed Ritual performance… In the world where fairies rely on blasters and bio-bombs to take out their enemies, is there any place for good ol’ magic? Or is it by any chance homogenous with “man-made magic”, that is technology?”.

The fact that the people seem to rely more on technology than on magic is important to the parallels that the series establishes between humanity and the fae — in many ways, the two societies are two sides of the same coin. In many ways, you could even take Root’s comment about “Science taking the magic out of everything” as the same sort of thing your boss, or teacher, or any older person, really, might say when presented with new technology that they don’t quite yet understand. It seems like their society also suffers from the same anxieties older humans have about technology progressing and leaving previous generations in the dust.

The fact that the book series seems to be more of a sci-fi than a fantasy is important for two reasons, the first one of which is discussed in Elizabeth Parsons’ essay “Fowl Play: Artemis Fowl, Sitting Ducks, and politics for children” and the second of which is discussed in Patricia Kennan’s essay “Contemplating Otherness, imagining the future” . The first perspective, Parsons’, which I do agree with, is that the book brings up parallels between the People and humanity that suggest that the fairies are just as guilty of the environmental issues and social injustice that they like to critique humans for. The second perspective, which I do not necessarily fully agree with but that I find interesting, Kennan’s perspective, is on whether or not Artemis Fowl series “feels” Irish because of this emphasis on the sci-fi over the myth.

Let’s first address Parsons’ argument. Parsons argues that there is no real, discernible difference between the two worlds that share the planet — “Technological advances drive humanity’s destruction of the earth’s surface as much as they [drive] the spread of fairy civilization underground” (Parsons). In fact, Parsons points to the enormous sum of gold at the center of the conflict in book one as evidence that the People are not as innocent of this kind of environmental destruction as they would like to think. After all, you cannot mine gold from the earth without having some kind of negative impact on the planet. Whether it’s from how you might destabilize the ground as you mine, or the pollutants you may release, or even the effect that comes with removing the gold from its natural place in the earth, you cannot escape the fact that Faeries likely also have a history of troubling environmental impacts to answer for. There is also the fact that fairy society is *extremely* developed and industrialized. Just as how the presence of gold presents the question of how the People acquired that wealth, the technology the people have presents the question of how did they develop said tech. You can’t go from a building the wheel to building a neutrino gun — there was likely an industrial revolution in which the People engaged in unclean energy practices as they developed their understanding of how to engineer. And this concern is supported by the text!

In book one, Holly is talking about two mechanical wing types that the LEP uses — the older models called the Dragonflies and the newer models called the Hummingbirds. The book says the following: “Holly unhooked a set of wings from their bracket... Dragonflies. She hated that model. Gas engine, if you believe it... Now the Hummingbird Z7, that was transport. Whisper silent, with a satellite-bounced solar battery that would fly you twice around the world. But there were budget cuts again.” (pp. 50-51).

Perhaps the People may like to argue that they are more environmentally evolved than humanity, and sure, they are, but they’re far from being as innocent in the exploitation of earth than they’d like to think — they still use gas engines, after all!

But that’s just from an environmental point of view. Socially, there is also little difference between the progress of the People and humanity. Honestly, in some aspects, the people are farther behind, what with how Holly mentions being the first woman to be hired to her position even though the book opens at the start of the 21st century. And although Holly understands that others assuming she is less capable on the basis of her gender is both illogical and prejudiced, she herself falls into similar lines of thinking in books 1 and 2. She certainly makes some unkind assumptions regarding how she thinks her coworker Lilli, an attractive woman, was hired because the recruiter fancied Lili. Which, knowing the rather old-fashioned beliefs the LEP higher-ups have regarding women, could be the case! Yet the way she specifically talks about Lili makes it clear she does not see a potential ally against mistreatment in the office — Lili is someone who, in unkind moments, Holly privately kind of sees as an acceptable target of workplace gossip. And Holly, to be fair, grows out of this mindset by the final book — she still doesn’t like Lili, but she’s matured past the point of engaging in making harmful assumptions about her coworker.

And beyond this, Holly also in book one falls into patterns of making assumptions about the various different groups of fairies in Haven. For example, she implies in her first encounter with Mulch that his rapscallion behavior and petty crimes are kind of linked to the fact he’s dwarf. And she certainly doesn’t treat him well in book 1 — she zaps him when he makes a move to pick-pocket despite the fact the situation could have been de-escalated with initial action other than violence. Again, she moves beyond this way thinking by the final book. Yet the society the society she lived in, no matter how much she values things like justice and equality, still influenced her to make judgment calls that either are solely about another person’s identity, such as her comments about Lili, or that tie someone’s behavior to their identity, such as how she links Mulch’s behavior to the fact he is a dwarf. Holly isn’t the problem — the society is.

This is why you have Mulch’s later quote that “I’d rather trust a bunch of humans not to hunt a species to extinction than trust an LEP consultant” (177). Here, the first book kind of hits you over the head with the message: both of the societies, human and fairy, have issues of inequality and environmental abuse built into them. They both suck!

Holly, I think wakes up to this fact at the end of book 4 following the fact that Sool and the council valued money and power over bringing Opal to justice for her murder of Root. After this, she has a more nuanced perspective on ideas of justice and what means to want justice. A line that sticks out to me is from book 8 when she’s thinking about what she wants for Opal. She brings up the fact that at one point, she would have wanted Opal to suffer as she had. However, what Holly wants by the 8th book is for the suffering to stop, period. She doesn’t want to seek justice by humiliating or hurting Opal, what she wants is Opal to no longer be capable of hurting others. And this doesn’t mean that Holly no longer hates Opal, because she unequivocally does. But the cycle of Opal hurting others, the LEP hurting Opal, and then Opal coming back to enact vengeance again, and again, and again, is something that Holly wants to end. She no longer wants to engage in this cycle.

To circle back to my original point, this is why the series relying on sci-fi more than the more magical elements of fairy society is important: by showing us fairies that evolved past the role they would fill in myths, which is more nature-based, Colfer is able to talk about technology in human society, both good and bad, and human society itself, both good and bad. This different depiction of fairies and a more sci-fi plot was what made the story stand when it was being marketed, but it is also interestingly a point of criticism that is invoked when talking about whether or not the story “feel” Irish.

This is the second point of criticism that I discussed earlier is in Patricia Kennan’s essay “Contemplating Otherness, imagining the future”. She doesn’t think blending sci-fi and fantasy is negative — that would be an uncharitable reading of her essay. She even states in the essay that, “the most successful writers of science fantasy, however, have been able to stretch the parameters of both kinds of minds [the fantasy and technological], a feat to be admired”.

She talks about the blending of both mythic and realistic narratives, as well as that mixture’s popularity in recent Irish children’s science fiction. This idea of hybrid forces, the fantasy and the realistic, is attractive, she suggests, because of the chaos contained in their tension in the narrative. It’s for the same reason, perhaps, that fiction containing elements like vampires, that straddle the boundary between night and day, alive and dead, animal and human, is popular, as they contain interesting and allure characteristics while also being horrifying and repulsive.

(Side note: the idea of “otherness” and the human and the magical intersecting is very interesting as an aesthetic when one considers that one of the most influential vampire novels, Dracula, was written by an Irish author and that many of the aesthetics associated with Dracula also fit neatly with Artemis — this further underlines that he straddles the line between good and bad, human and magical, technology and fantasy in the way he seems to be a hybrid of gothic literature aesthetics dressed up in a modern, sci-fi package. I’m gonna end my sidenote here).

However, Kennan points to the plot and setting of the story as perhaps being why the series does feel very grounded in its Irish roots. The essay quotes Celia Keenan, saying: “all sense of the national and local have been eradicated [from the series]. Speech rhythms are entirely mid-Atlantic. No Hiberno-English or Wexford uses are evident. Landscape has become virtual”.

In some ways, I can see her point. Artemis Fowl is a very James Bond-type series in that it tries to invent settings rather than borrowing from existing reference points to place itself. A good example of this would be the fact that Fowl manor and Artemis’ school, Saint Bartleby’s, never are placed concretely within specific locations in Ireland. There might be a sense that Saint Bartleby’s is near Wexford or that the manor is near Dublin, but what proximity might mean (such as showing neighbors, classmates, and descriptions of the setting) is often avoided: the main characters and settings that are explored are often more international, such as Minerva and Spiro being French and American respectively, and the series often taking place in Haven or locations related to it. However, I think that there are at least some references that make the book still feel grounded as being Irish — I go into this in my other essay, but I can recap. There are specific references to Irish mythology and history, even if things like modern Irish history, side characters beyond the Butlers and Fowls that are Irish, and slang or dialect specific to different parts of Ireland aren’t referenced frequently.

So to summarize this point, the series does play with the trappings of a James Bond series in the sense that the setting bounces around enough that perhaps Ireland isn’t at the center always, and I think that this is a function of how Colfer writes sci-fi instead of something that destabilizes the sense of the where and when of the series. For instance, a big example of pop culture that Colfer references is the Matrix, albeit in a sneaky way. Celia Keenan (who is also quoted Kennon’s essay) wrote the article “Who’s afraid of the bad little Fowl?” which serves as a book review and a look into whether or not one could call the series ‘art’. When talking about references the book makes to pop culture, she writes: “It is possible that the film which has most influenced the ‘‘Fowl’’ books is The Matrix (1999). It depicts two worlds, the computer-controlled world of the matrix itself in which humans function as duped slaves, and the world of human resistance fighters who, like Colfer’s fairies, have been forced to create an alternative home called Zion, in the bowels of the earth. The term ‘‘recon unit’’, echoed in Colfer’s LEPrecon, figures in the Matrix. Colfer actually parodies quotations from The Matrix on a few occasions. For example, in The Matrix one of the characters says to the hero, ‘‘Buckle your seat belt, Dorothy, because Kansas is going ‘bye bye’’’; likewise, Root says to Artemis, ‘‘Hate to tell you this, Dorothy, but you ain’t in Kansas anymore’, in Artemis Fowl: the Arctic Incident (p. 63). Another Matrix quip—‘‘never send a human to do a machine’s job’’ (Wachowski, 1999), is parodied by Mulch: ‘‘Tell Foaly not to send a Mud Man to do a fairy’s job’’. In this instance, the narrator emphasizes the cinematic origins of the quotation: ‘‘‘Oh dear,’ thought Artemis, rubbing his brow, ‘Hollywood had a lot to answer for’’’(Colfer, 2002, p. 208).”

The creators of the Matrix, the Wachowski sisters, were pretty influenced by a philosopher named Jean Baudrillard (pronounced: Bow-dree-ard), even if Baudrillard didn’t particularly think their work was grounded in his theory. Baudrillard was undeniably a smart man, but he was also kind of a prick. Make of that what you will. But for those who aren’t familiar with his work or the Matrix itself, these works deal with themes of technology, reality, and the future of our society. To go back to Artemis Fowl, I think the series engages with these themes through both the allusion to Matrix and through the themes of the series itself. Although the series of Artemis Fowl many not engage specifically with many of Baudrillard’s theories, it does engage with similar philosophical concepts about sci-fi and the self.

One particular example of this is how the series (maybe unintentionally) engages with Gilbert Ryle, who was a British philosopher, and his concept of ‘mind-body-dualism’; Ryle came up with the idea of human existence being the tale of ‘a ghost within a machine’, or our sense of self-existing in a separate, physical shell. To simplify, this essentially points out the fact that what we view as being our “us”, our personalities, our inner thoughts, our perception of ourselves, is often separate from our bodies — when I think of who “I” am, I think of my “mind” rather than “body”, and this is exactly what the dualism Ryle pointed out gets at. Often, sci-fi seeks to explore what if this barrier dissolved — such as what if with the evolution of the mind, there was also an evolution of the body, and whether this could be achieved through things like AI, cyborgs, and so on. To go back to Anna Bugajska’s work, she wrote an essay entitled “Artemis Fowl: Posthumanism for teens” that tackles this within the series.

Which admittedly is a bit of a mouthful of a title! It sounds complicated — and it is, it definitely is.

But it is interesting. To go back to the idea of transformation and Artemis Fowl, the series deals with this theme quite a bit. To quote Bugajska: “What naturally could develop into a coming-of-age cycle, swerves into the direction of a transformation, calling into question human nature and individual identity in the age of the morphological freedom, mind uploads, bioengineering, and hybronauts…[the series explores ideas of transformation as a result of a desire to seek previously unaccessible power, but it also explores the idea in the context of the mind and body becoming one in how an impact one must result in an impact of the other].

A prominent example of those who went too far in their quest for [transformative] perfection are Briar Cudgeon, an LEP officer, and Opal Koboi, a genius pixie inventor. Cudgeon, embittered by professional conflict, sought the cognitive enhancement through the use of drugs. As a result, “the tranquilizer had reacted badly with some banned mind- accelerating substances the former acting-commander had been experimenting with. Cudgeon was left with a forehead like melted tar... Ugly and demoted, not a great combination” (Colfer 2003a: 77). [In this case, his desire for power causes his downfall, such as how he tried to enhance his abilities past his limit with the mind-accelerating drug that ended up reacting with the tranquilizer. However, this is also an example of the barrier between the body and the mind dissolving, as Cudgeon’s internal ‘ugliness’, such as his hunger for power, deceitfulness, and disregard for others’, is reflected in his physical form through his overindulgence in substances he uses to try to get around his natural limits.]

In the case of Opal Koboi, we can observe a conscious attempt to transform from one being to another. She has her pointy ears operated upon to give them human shape. What is more, she implants in her brain a human pituitary gland to provoke the secretion of the growth hormone (Colfer 2005: 173–174). She even goes as far as extracting substances from various animals to enhance her magic (Colfer 2011a: 263, 270). All these attempts in the end cost her her sanity (Colfer 2012: 36) and her magic powers, which is especially well visible in the fourth book of the cycle, Opal Deception (Colfer 2005: 329).

On the other hand, the changes in identity must necessarily be reflected in the alterations of at least some parts of the body. Thus, Artemis’s father, a former criminal boss, loses his leg [as he undergoes a sort of transformation after the deal Artemis holds in order to rescue his father from a hostage situation. Beforehand, he might have been a cruel, distant father, but now he has changed. He has become a new man, and in doing so, his body has been altered as well in the loss of a leg and the gaining of a prosthesis] (Colfer 2003b: 80–81). Artemis himself, as he grows from a calculating rationalist to a globally-responsible, empathic man, earns a few body modifications. And although he does not seek them, he does not attempt to get rid of them, instinctively hoarding as much of the “fairness” as he can get. For instance, in The Lost Colony, where Artemis and his friend Holly Short of the LEP travel through a time-tunnel, first his fingers are switched, then he swaps an eye with Holly, and finally he steals some of the fairy magic, which grants him limited healing and regeneration powers. He also gains three years during the travel: in his own time he has to pose as a seventeen-year-old (Colfer 2007: 371)”.

In essence, you have both people seeking to perfect the body in order to match the goals of mind, such as Opal trying to steal new types of magic, and then you have Artemis switching eyes with Holly, representing a more benign example of the body changing to match the mind, as switching eyes represents that he has literally switched perspectives and can see things through her eyes as a result of their friendship. And in the end of the series, you also have Artemis being reborn into a clone — he has changed so much from his self at the beginning of the series, it is like his past self is dead, and his moral rebirth is reflected literally in him being given a new body free of the constraints of the mistakes he made before his passing, such as kidnapping Holly or endangering Butler on multiple occasions.

This I suppose covers most of the grounds that I wanted to in this essay. I talked about the context of the book series being published, the themes, the characters, and the philosophical questions posed by the text.

I don’t know if answered my original question of “what is Artemis Fowl?” — I think I’ll always have something to say about the series. But this puts words to a lot of thoughts I’ve had, and it’s nice to at least have it all there, I suppose. Thanks for listening, and if you have questions, leave me a comment here on on the ao3 version of the essay [x]-- or send me an ask!

#artemis fowl #my writing #my post #hi im zoe and i love making poorly conceived essays abt my interests

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haifengg · 3 years

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The Dutch Room - Chapter 2

Find all chapters here!

“May I get you some tea?” Doyoung asked kindly but weirdly nervously as he held the door open for her.

“Err … sure. Thank you.” She answered taking a seat in the one guest office chair the room had to offer. She sat down at the very edge of it.

“Mr. Jung will be here shortly.” With those words he closed the door behind him and went to the small kitchen the entire office shared. He shoved away the half empty take-out boxes one of his nasty coworkers had left there from the night before and filled water into the electric kettle. By far the most used gadget in this kitchen.

On the way back to his boss’ office he ran into Johnny. A wide grin forming on his face the closer they got to each other.

“You’re making her tea?”

Doyoung huffed. “I was told to offer her tea.” Holding the fragile blue tea cup with both hands he tried to ignore the tall brunette and just walk past him.

“Who told you to? Jaehyun?” He asked excitedly and followed him, making sure not to be get rid of.

Doyoung sighed. Johnny was getting on his nerves a lot lately. It actually seemed to him as if making his time at work as unbearable as possible. The way he just walked around the office and never seemed to be working on anything was making Doyoung develop a certain type of headache that now always kicked in when he saw his coworker.

“Don’t you have work to do?” He asked grumpily, still trying to get rid of him.

“Nah, not right now. Besides this is much more interesting and she is sort of my work, no?”

Doyoung rolled his eyes at that question. “She is one of the candidates you selected after the incident.”

“She is the top candidate.” Johnny said proudly as if that was somehow his doing.

“That’s honestly something I can’t imagine.”

“Why not?”

They walked the last bits to the office together and Johnny now looked through the shutters, trying to get a glimpse of the woman inside.

“She is kind of missing the edge? Weirdly normal. It’s hard to imagine she is supposed to be the best in her field. And" Doyoung paused. "... so different from June.”

“You mean she’s not freaking scary?”

Doyoung shuddered. “Exactly. It’s weird.”

Johnny chuckled sneerily. “You should know not all women are as cray-cray as our dear June. Something you would have noticed by now if you would be interested in women.”

The headache got worse.

“Please just get lost already.”

“Just one more thing.”

Doyoung was close to tears. “What is it?”

“Where did you get that mug from?”

“Pardon me?”

“That cup you’re holding. It’s not one of the few I brought for everyone.”

“You mean the filthy ones you never wash up and that slowly start to reek of coffee?”

Johnny blinked offendedly. “They are supposed to do that! It’s a patina!”

“Coffee is not supposed to have a patina that’s just utter bullshit and besides, you never wash them or put them in the dishwasher so how or why are we going to use them even if we wanted to?”

“Are you saying no-one is using them?”

"Of course not! Everyone has their own."

"Their own cups??"

“Of course.” Doyoung knocked on the door to Jaehyun’s office. “We’re grown up people. We have our own mugs.”

***

The way this man looked at her gave her chills. For a few minutes he was sitting across the room behind the desk, monitoring her breath or god knows what.

To be honest: She had no idea what she was doing here. This was a job interview but she didn’t know what position for or how they heard of her. She just moved to the city a few months ago and since then she laid pretty low for quite a handful of reasons.

And then a few days ago there was this letter between the usual junk mail, inviting her for this interview.

A knock on the door teared her from her thoughts and the man didn’t even look up as he commanded: “Come in.”

The other employee from before walked in and handed her the tea he promised and left the room as quiet and quick as he entered it.

Now holding the cup in her hands she took a sip and nervously rubbed her thumb against the rim.

“Your name is Song, right? At least that is your alias if I am not mistaken.”

Song choked on her tea. How does he know? She coughed. “Excuse me?”

“It says here”, he pointed with an expensive looking pen at the open file in front of him. “your alias is Song. Is that not correct?”

“No.” Her voice was shaking just ever so slightly. “That’s correct.”

The man smiled softly. “Great. I am Jung Jaehyun. Nice to meet you.”

Song honestly doubted how nice it was to meet her but she kindly replied to the phrase.

Jaehyun relaxed a little in his chair and kept eyeing her. “What is the alias for? What do you do?”

She frowned confusedly. “You invited me for a job interview and don’t know what I do?”

He chuckled. “I know what you do. I just want to hear it from you. How you would describe it.”

Looking down at the cup and the tea’s surface she took two seconds to think. “I am an illustrator. After graduating from the Academy of Fine Arts I became a self-employed illustrator.”

“What are you drawing for?”

“Children’s books.”

“Righ, right. A decent occupation of a respectable young woman. How nice.” He had a look at the file in front of him and turned a few pages. Just now Song wondered why he had such a huge file with information about her.

She once again looked down at her reflection on the tea and noticed how striking the resemblance was between the cup she was holding in her hands right now and the one in the cupboard at home. “I have to say, excuse me for putting it this way, for a young lady of more or less stable income you have a quiet expensive taste.”

“Expensive taste?” What was he saying? Of course she did break out the formal wear for this occasion but the turtleneck and the checkered straight leg pants she was wearing were far away from being considered expensive. Yes, she had a certain wardrobe that would leave her dear late-parents shocked but what she did with their financial legacy was her very private business, right? So what the hell was he saying?

“In art. The apartment you’re living in isn't the highest in rent and not the best in location either but the paintings hanging on those very walls certainly have me wondering why you didn’t choose a better place? One who can collect such delicate pieces of art must be well off financially. Though I can’t see anything of it in your financial records.”

A small red light lit up inside of her head which let her know it was high time to leave. But something about this man and the way he was talking to her made her stay. Jaehyun obviously knew a shit ton about her but yet he asked her about her job as if he didn’t already know.

“I am sorry but, I’m a bit confused.” Song decided it was time to drop the mask of the young respectable illustrator. She sat up a bit straighter and leaned forward, putting the cup down on the small table beside her.

“I know what I do for a living and you know what I do for a living. You know my alias and you know where I live. So would you please just tell me why I am here? Is this about the national historic museum three months ago?”

Jaehyun smiled as if he finally got what he wanted. “I heard about that but no, I am not involved in it so it’s not the reason you’re here. If I understand correctly you paint commissions?”

“I do.”

“Wrong.” He said, now leaning forward as well, elbows on the table top. “You forge art and have people pay you to do it. And you’re good.”

Song looked him directly into the eyes.

“So good in fact, that you sometimes produce two copies. One with the purpose to replace the original in the museum. The other one with the purpose to fool your customers and make them pay your horrend commission fees.”

“So you ordered me here to … do what exactly? If you want me to forge something for you or paint you something nice for your office you could have contacted me in the official way. Well, as official as it gets.”

He laughed once again and by this time Song began to ask again what was so funny about her. Or did he just not take her seriously?

“To be quite frankly: I want you to work for me.”

“Fine.” She answered brusquely and got up. “I’m sure if you were able to find out so many things about me one could write a novel about it, you will be able to contact me the way my clients usually do.”

Before she made the first step towards the door he said just as calm as he has been the entire time: “I want you to work for me exclusively as part of the company. Not as a one time thing but permanently.”

She stopped.

“I have been looking for someone like you for quite some time now but you’re the first suitable candidate.”

It’s a lie. She thought to herself. That can’t be the truth.

“So your way of asking me to work for you is to order me here and serve me tea in my own cup you got as a souvenir from breaking into my apartment?”

“It’s very effective, is it not? Also, one can only imagine what it feels like to fool the feds instead of a wealthy dentist or lawyer. To forge a real old master instead of some small 600 bucks wannabe fine artist.”

Song walked up to the door and already had one hand on the handle but his next sentence made her stay.

“Maybe it’s just me but something like the heist we’re going for would certainly gain you a" He paused to choose his words wisely. "properreputation. What feeling must it be to have someone look at the pieces in your flat and not just think ‘this one must be financially well off’ but verywell off?”

She kept staring at the heavy wooden door, had him talking to her back.

“And just for the record: All of my employees have their own mugs.”

She took a deep breath and turned around. Her initial anger was gone.

“Well I guess then you can keep it right where it is.”

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#nct127 scenario #nct127 imagines #nct127 scenarios

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kenzie-ann27 · 4 years

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My Obnoxiously Long Analysis of Danny Torrance and Richie Tozier

I have thought about this particular analysis for a while, and this has been a really fun thing to write, but at the same time, I feel like I am missing a large part of the story because I am struggling to figure out why? I know these characters are connected in some way, that part is obvious, but I am unsure of the significance. Why are these two characters so similar yet so different? This isn’t a case of the Stephen King self-insert where every male lead is an author but grew up in a weird place and lost a family member that causes him great distress even in his adult life (looking at you, Bill Denbrough and Gordie LaChance). The case of these two characters is different, as their personalities and lives are so different as to not have them be carbon-copies of each other, but at the same time they share so many traits and they have this connection that is interesting to me (though not as interesting anymore, thank you so much, Mike Flanagan).

First, I will talk about the gifs, since I think that’s probably the best place to begin. That quote by Dick Hallorann is so, so interesting to me because it directly relates back to It. Towards the end of the book, Richie recalls a very distinct moment when Bill killed a mosquito that was on the back of Richie’s neck, and he talks a bit about it and how bugs were often drawn to them (though he uses pheromones as an example). Leeches are also mentioned quite descriptively in It as well, them being Patrick Hockstetter’s fear and what kills him in the book. The other gifs are mainly a visual comparison, as I think that the way those two moments were carried out was pretty interesting. I was going to make another visual comparison with the weird cloudy eye effect that both films utilize very well, but that part in It: Chapter Two with Richie does make me pretty uncomfortable. In both movies, essentially, characters’ eyes get clouded over when they get into someone else’s head: Danny Torrance does this to Rose the Hat, while It does it to Richie.

To start off, both Richie and Danny grew up as only children in a family where they had close relationships with their parents despite them having a hard time understanding their children. They both felt closer to their mothers, as their fathers were often busy with work; both Maggie and Wendy seemed to ensure that Richie and Danny grew up with strong moral values, and both of the children were affected greatly when their mothers died. As children, they are forced into an environment where they deal with a supernatural evil, though they are not in any real danger unlike other characters until the end of the story (when Jack chases Danny and when Richie and the other Losers fight It for the first time); all other times, they mainly see things that make them aware of the danger that is present. Notice that with Richie, unlike the other Losers, is not physically affected by It really at any point. This is very different from how It works with the others because that danger is still there even after the event has passed. The blood in Beverly’s bathroom is still there even after she leaves and goes back. But with Richie, in the park, he is able to make the danger go away, he puts those glasses back on and everything goes back to normal (the others physically run away from the danger, but Richie is psychologically running away from it by telling himself it isn’t real). Anyway, this event stays with them long after they’ve grown up and moved far away from the place where the trauma occurred: Richie moved from Maine to California (Chicago in the film) while Danny moved from Colorado to Florida (later to New Hampshire). They then, turn to drugs and/or alcohol, which is said in Doctor Sleep to sort of repress the ability to shine and keep those negative past memories at bay; Richie seems to lean more towards drugs than alcohol, and vice versa for Danny. When they are 40, they are drawn back to the place where they were mainly abused as children and are able to use their abilities to destroy the evil thing finally before returning back home to their pets and their co-workers that they have weirdly close relationships with and all is good. That's essentially their main stories, but I'm also going to talk about a few specific connections that I think are cool to see.

Both Danny and Richie use their hands as the main source of their shining abilities. This is not obvious with Richie in the movie, but it is for Danny with him and Tony. However! In the book, Richie's main goal in life as a child is to become- of all things- a ventriloquist. You know, a person that uses their hands a lot like how Danny does to make it look like Tony is more than just a voice. Speaking of voices, that's Richie's main thing. Who is to say all those voices aren't like Tony in that they're a personification of the shining? (more on this below) This is also a connection between the two because neither of them is particularly good at doing voices, they essentially still just sound like themselves; this doesn't mean that those voices don't represent other people, though, even if they do come out of Danny's and Richie's mouths. The whole hands thing also works for the other members of the Losers Club, with each of the Losers relying on their hands for their jobs, just like Danny, who, in Doctor Sleep, is mentioned as being a janitor before becoming an orderly at a hospice (I would classify him more as an unregistered nurse, as he does say he’s had medical training). Hands and arms in general play huge roles in these two stories, which I think sort of puts the nail in the coffin of this argument. As a child, Danny Torrance gets his arm broken by his father, which is the moment when he starts talking to his imaginary friend/personification of the shining, Tony. While nothing huge happens to Richie’s arms in the book or movie, I would go as far to say (I am aware this goes off-topic, but bear with me here) that in the hierarchy of who shines the brightest of the Losers, Eddie is up there since not only does he get his arm broken twice in the book, it’s also what causes him to die because he gets his good arm bitten off and he bleeds to death. Eddie in his final moments is so strange to me, and I think the reason why that is is that he physically cannot shine. His only arm left is broken. Of course, It would want to take that away from him because it’s aware that Eddie has the ability to kill it.

Both Danny and Richie rely on the guidance of an old (dead) friend to keep them on the correct path. For Danny, this is Dick Hallorann, as he appears in Doctor Sleep to guide Danny to return back to the hotel. For Richie, this is Stanley, as a memory of Stan keeps Richie from going back home.

Both Danny and Richie are able to form a connection with the dead/dying. For Richie, he's mostly connected to those who have already died, while Danny seems to help more with people who are dying. I mostly noticed this in It after realizing the voices of people (rather than original characters) Richie seems to do more often- Humphrey Bogart, James Dean, and Pancho Vanilla (based on Pancho Villa, the Mexican general)- are all people who have died before 1958. I like to imagine that this is just Richie flexing with his shining ability and him being able to form those connections with those people by taking their voices and making them his own. Notice that in the book, “voices” is usually capitalized, as if it represents something a lot more important than just a kid doing an impression.

Both Danny and Richie have confusing relationships with others, specifically their bosses. This is more a personal thing rather than a fact, but I have realized that these characters do have rather strange relationships with others. With Danny, he meets Billy after taking a bus to New Hampshire, and Billy gives him a job and a place to stay. They become fast friends, though I mainly attribute this to their shared ability to shine (yes, of course, I’m going to mention that Danny often sings along to YMCA while working). Danny eventually tells Billy about what’s going on with the missing kids, and Billy is just unusually calm with the situation and agrees to go with him to Idaho to find Bradley’s glove. With Richie, however, I would say the strange coworker comes in the form of Steve, who is his manager in both the book and the movie. Obviously, if you have never been to my blog before, I really like Steve. He’s a fun character to look at not only because of the way he interacts with Richie but because I am willing to bet that that’s who Richie ends up with (at least, in the movie, since that was the plan in the 2010 script). Like Danny with Billy, Richie wants to tell Steve about the crazy stuff that’s happening, if he remembered what happened at all. I know this isn’t really a good explanation for the comparison between Danny and Richie, but I feel like their relationships with Billy and Steve are just really interesting and something that stuck out to me in the books and the movies.

Of course, now, I feel like I need to justify all of this. I need to come up with some reason why these two characters are connected and why I felt the need to write all of this garbage. And for the longest time, I didn’t know why. I didn’t know why these two characters stick out so much in this universe.

And then I rewatched It: Chapter Two.

Richie sticks out the most in that movie because of the way he acts is so different from the others. He feels distant, almost. From the minute I see him on screen I am able to look at him and say “that’s Richie”, but at the same time he feels so different to me, as someone who has looked at this character for a long time to try and dissect him. In his opening scene, for one, unlike all of the others, Richie gets a moment on stage where he stares out blankly and he hears these voices, memories from his past (I don’t remember the exact things they said, but essentially they were the voices of himself, Stanley, Eddie, and Henry). That sticks out to me so much because he is the only character that that happens to, even after he drank a glass of bourbon like a minute beforehand (of course, this also can sort of be explained as the shining is dulled by alcohol, not always taken away completely). To be honest, all of the Losers tend to turn to alcohol when faced with stressful memories throughout the movie. But it wasn’t until later that I realized that Richie was seen differently by the Losers. In the Neibolt House, I feel like the Losers tend to somewhat overreact when it comes to Richie after being attacked by the spider-Stanley (like… when Eddie broke his arm, most of them were focused more on Pennywise rather than helping Eddie). And later after Eddie got stabbed, he looks to Richie as if Richie is going to help him.

This goes back to my hierarchy statement before, but essentially, what I’m getting at is that Richie shines the most. Like… Danny Torrance levels of shine. That’s why they are connected. It’s shown in Doctor Sleep that those who shine the most tend to connect to each other, so who’s to say that Danny didn’t know about Richie? In my hierarchy, by the way, I would say that the order of who shines the most would be: Richie, Stanley, Eddie, Beverly, Bill, Mike, and then Ben. Of course, this would bring up the issue of “if Richie shined the most, then why didn’t the Turtle talk to him instead of Bill?”, and that can just simply be put down to the fact that Bill is the leader. That came to be not because of his shining, but rather simply because of the way he looked; the other Losers (I believe it was either Eddie or Richie) mention that they look up to Bill, mainly because he is taller and stronger and more handsome. Why would the Turtle go to Richie for help with this when Richie has been running away from himself his whole life? Bill was the logical reason because he could lead them in a way that Richie never did.

Overall, I feel like both Richie and Danny have these super similar qualities that are hard to ignore. I love both of these characters, so writing this long piece of garbage was a lot of fun. It was also fun to rewatch these movies and see that there is just this big connection that is there for fans of the books, so I am dying to see where it goes. It feels like they are waiting for The Dark Tower to bring them together with the mentions of the Turtle and Ka and space and all of that, but I feel like a whole new story would be really interesting as well. Plus, you know, I am dying to see a teenaged Abra trying to explain to shining to Richie.

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josephinelouiseobrien · 4 years

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High School Reunion (1)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Synopsis: Jada Hale was Penelope Garcia’s best friend. They’d been through everything together - high school, relationships, breakups, a stalker, college, getting arrested and then joining the FBI. So when there high school reunion rolls around Penelope refuses to let Jada skip it - even if that means forcing a certain doctor to be her date.

Trigger warnings: talk of stalking, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of panic attacks

Masterlist

——————————————————————————

“Where’d you find this?” Jada Hale questioned as she watched a video of a much younger version of herself twerk on a boy who she now couldn’t recall the name of. Slowly the brunettes gaze traveled to her blonde best friend who sat beside her, laughing quietly at the found high school memories.

Penelope Garcia couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she spoke, “remember Samantha Curtis?”

Jada begrudgingly nodded, “I wish I didn’t.”

“She found it when she was putting together the slideshow for the reunion.”

Jada froze, her eyes widening slightly before returning to a squint in belwilderment. ‘I had to have heard that wrong’. “Wait, like high school reunion?”

Penelope nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah. I cant believe it’s actually been ten years since we graduated.”

“Only ten?” The brunette mumbled, before an alarming thought came to her. Her entire body lurched forward, her hands grabbing onto penelopes arm. “Wait, Samantha didn’t add this to the slideshow did she?”

Penelope laughed, “no, there wasn’t enough room for videos anyways.”

“Thank god.” Jada let out a breathe of relief as she leaned back in her chair. “Nobody can see this video.”

“She what video?” Derek Morgan’s voice caught the girls attention and both, Penelope and Jada, attempted to exit out of the provocative video. But it seemed none of their frantic tapping could stop derek from seeing it. “Who’s that?”

The man leaned forward to get a better look as Jada sunk into her chair. She’d give anything for the floor to just swallow her whole at that moment. “Sorry.” Penelope winced as she glanced from Derek to her best friend.

“Wait, jay is this you?”

Her coworkers knew very little about what she was like before coming to work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. All they really knew was that her and Penelope got mixed up with some bad people - got arrested and then recruited by the FBI. Nothing more. “Yeah.”

Dereks eyes widened, “you had pink hair?”

“Can we just shut it off now?” Jada questioned leaning forward and effectively shutting the monitor off. “Before anyone else sees it.”

Derek chuckled, not seeming bothered by it in the least bit. Then again it wasn’t him who’s reaction she was nervous about - it was her bosses. Hotch could be pretty forgiving but she highly doubted she’d have a job if he ever saw that monstrosity of a video. “Why didn’t you tell me you were such a party animal, Hale?”

“Because I’m not.” Jada groaned her tan skin tinting a crimson shade in embarrassment.

Penelope raised her eyebrows in a suggestive manner, “well you better put your party girl pants back on because the reunions next week.”

Jada’s eyes widened as she rapidly shook her head, “No. No, I’m not going.”

“What? Why?” Penelope whined, grabbing onto Jada’s arm as she pouted. “Come on, everyone liked you in high school - it’ll be fun.”

Jada shot Penelope a knowing look hoping to god that she’d just drop it. “Pen.”

“Is this about-”

“It’s not about anyone-”

“So it is about him.”

“No!” Jada snapped, her body almost curling in on itself. “It’s not about him. I just - I just don’t want to go, okay?”

The brunette was quick to stand up, heading for the door with her head hung low in shame - she never exploded in Penelope. Ever. “I’m gonna go see if JJ needs help finding a case.” Her words were mumbled but neither Derek nor Garcia had time to question her as she practically raced out of penelopes office.

——————————————————————————

Jada was uncharacteristically quiet as she sat at her desk. Her knees were tucked under her chin as she scribbled onto the notepad in front of her. Sometimes writing down calming things helped her - it grounded her.

So she listed everything and everyone that made her safe. Starting with the two people she was the most comfortable around; Penelope and Spencer Reid.

“Hey, kid,” upon hearing dereks voice, Jada flipped her notebook over. She didn’t need anyone seeing her private list of safety.

Jada sighed, “listen if this is just gonna be an interrogation - I’m not in the mood.”

Derek shook his head, “no, it’s not. But, I think you should talk to someone-”

“Did Penelope tell you?” Jada questioned, her eyebrows raising a sigh leaving her lips. She loved her best friend but sometimes she could be such a big mouth. “I’m fine I’m telling you, I haven’t seen... him in years and-”

“Woah!” Derek was quick to stop her, “Garcia didn’t tell me anything. She said it was against girl code, but I still think you should talk to her about whatever it is that’s bothering you.”

Jada’s gaze cast down to her hands that rested on her desk in front of her. “I just feel like I’m letting her down. I know how much she wants me to go to this reunion but I - I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

The brunette ran a hand down her face in exhaustion. Quietly she shook her head - she wanted to tell him but she convinced herself it was nothing. He hadn’t bothered her in years - she had nothing to be scared of.

Yet she still found her palms growing sweaty at the thought of him. Her heart racing at the sound of his name. Her lungs giving out at the sight of a picture of him - why was her body giving out distress signals when, logically, she knew she was safe.

Jada sighed, “I just can’t.”

“Kid, if I’ve learned anything its that it’s better to let down those walls you hide behind.” Derek explained, “let the people who care about you help - if not me at least talk to Penelope.”

Jada sighed, nodding as she stood to her feet. Her fingers twisted in the sleeves of her sweater as she walked towards her friends ‘bat cave’ as they called it. Penelope was quick to pull her into a hug the minute the brunette walked in.

“I’m sorry.” Jada sniffled our sadly, her voice quivering. Suddenly it was all coming back to the surface and she couldn’t stop it.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

Jada shook her head, “no, it was my fault. I know you just want me to go and have a good time.”

Penelope sighed, “okay, but I know what he did to you. I shouldn’t have tried to push you into a situation where you aren’t comfortable.”

“But, I want to go.” Jada mumbled, “just everytime I think about seeing him I nearly work myself into a panic attack. We’ve done everything together I don’t want that to stop now.”

Penelope sighed simply pulling Jada into a hug. She didn’t have a solution at that very second but she’d come up with one. The blonde sighed as she pulled away, “well, I mean you haven’t seen him in years right?”

“That’s the weird part.” Jada mumbled as Penelope handed her a tissue. “Sometimes l be walking to my car, or just taking the trash out and I’ll think I see him - but it has to be some sort of figment of my imagination, right?”

Garcia nodded, “yeah, but I still think you should talk to Hotch or something. If he’s still following you-”

“He’s not.” Jada state’s firmly, “he can’t be, it’s been seven years.”

“Jay.” Garcia pleaded, her eyes begging her friend to tell someone besides herself. They made a promise that if he ever popped up again that they’d go to the cops.

“It’s not him.” Her tone of voice made it clear that the conversation was over. Still Penelope was giving her a look, one that screamed ‘stop lying to yourself’. “You know what, just to prove it to you, I’ll go.”

“To the reunion?” Penelope asked a smile coming over her face before she too grew to have doubts.

“What’s wrong?”

Penelope sighed, “well, now you have me getting all nervous. Maybe we should see if derek will go with us, that way just in case something goes wrong we’ll have him there.”

The idea alone out Jada at ease and she quickly nodded. “That would actually make me feel a lot better.”

So the two girls made their way towards where Derek was making a cup of coffee - Reid was with him. “I see you two made up.” Morgan commented smiling at Jada specifically.

The brunette rolled her eyes, “we were never fighting.”

“Whatever you say.” The man laughed, glancing between the two once more. “What do you guys need?”

Garcia glanced to Jada before looking back to Derek, “would you be our date to our high school reunion? Just in case anything happens?”

“What would happen?” Reid questioned, his eyebrows furrowing as he realized he was completely out of the loop. “On average only about twenty to thirty percent of your high school class even attends the reunion. And I doubt it’ll get rowdy, it’s a high school reunion - your all adults now.”

Garcia sighed, “it’s more complicated then that.” Her gaze was then returned to Derek, a pout set on her lips. “Please.”

“When is it, babygirl?” Derek asked giving in as he pulled out his phone to check his schedule.

“Next Saturday.”

Derek sighed, “I’m going to visit my mom that weekend, I’m sorry babygirl.”

Jada sighed her fingers fiddling with her sweatshirt sleeves again. She was actually looking forward to going now that she thought someone would be there to back her up. Not that she didn’t totally love penelopes back up but she just wanted someone who could pull the trigger on a gun if need be.

Upon realizing the change in Jada’s demeanor, Spencer realized that Garcia wasn’t the one who wanted backup at the reunion - it was her. “I’ll go.” Spencer found the words leaving his little before he had time to even think them through.

But as Jada’s head snapped up, her gaze landing on him as a smile lite up her face - he found it hard to regret his decision. “Really?” Spencer nodded and Jada jumped onto him, nearly tackling him to the floor in a hug. “Thank you!”

Derek chuckled at the gesture, patting Reid on the back. Only he realized they still didn’t know why Jada was so freaked out about seeing her old classmates again. “We still don’t know why your so freaked out about this reunion, jay. Maybe you should tell pretty boy here just so he knows what he’s walking into.”

All eyes were on the brunette and a sigh slipped past her lips as she nodded to Garcia. Jada still couldn’t speak about what had happened and so Penelope was usually the one to tell others what had happened for her.

“Then we have to start at the beginning.”

#criminal minds #mgg #spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #penelope garcia #derek morgan #shemar moore #mathew gray gubler #jennifer jareau

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yellowocaballero · 4 years

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written in 2 hours for $5

my friend: so, in your story, you say that Jon went to see a doctor who DIDN’T diagnose him with anything, despite him thinking all of his employees were trying to kill him...I will give you $5 to write this conversation

me: what’s your venmo.

under a readmore as to not traumatize Bukowski with sloppy depictions of therapy.

Okay, that ordeal was over with. Jon hated health services. He never went to the doctor if he could help it. It was easy to avoid it, since Elias gave as little healthcare as physically possible, and Jon was of the personal opinion that he never got sick, anyway. Sickness was a state of mind, and Jon’s mind was not in that state. What was a cold but your body temporarily acting funny before going back to normal? Absolutely nothing, no matter what Martin wrung his hands and insisted about. If Jon got the flu, he threw up in the toilet and then went back to work. RIP to the influenza virus but he was different.

Jon sat anxiously in the waiting room of the counseling clinic, struggling to recall if his mother was depressed or not.

Like, Jon would personally be very depressed, if he had given birth to Jon. He hesitantly wrote it in, then scratched it out, then scowled at the very nuclear family centric medical history section of the patient chart, then went through the usual rigamarole of feeling self-pity over being an orphan. Finally, he settled on just writing in a big question mark in the mother and father sections. He wrote into the side that his Grandfather and two of his Uncles had schizophrenia, which had to be useful in some sort of way.

The waiting room for the clinic wasn’t empty, even if that would have made Jon feel better. A tired looking Hispanic woman clutching her purse sat on one couch, an elderly man clutching a cane sitting in an armchair with his wife browsing a magazine beside him. Boring, banal, bothersome. Jon wasn’t like these losers. He wasn’t a weak-willed person who…accused all of his coworkers of murder plots…to the extent where one of his subordinates threatened him into going to a therapist. That hadn’t happened. To him.

For the record, it wouldn’t have worked if Martin hadn’t been so good at disguising what a manipulative bastard he was. Jon didn’t know people could make their eyes that big. Or that people could be so talented at gathering evidence of workplace harassment, enough that even Elias would be forced to exact some sort of disciplinary action against him. Had Martin always been so terrifying? His ranking on the ‘Possibly Wants To Kill Me’ scale jumped a few notches, but was forced to drop down a few notches due to Jon admitting that someone who wanted to kill him probably wouldn’t blackmail him into therapy.

Probably.

He briefly detailed his diagnostic history (none), detailed his list of previous surgeries and health conditions (none, save the anemia in uni), and briefly gave a list of childhood trauma (none that anyone would believe, although he found himself hesitantly writing down ‘Foster system, parental incarceration, orphaned’, as if that was a real trauma or something instead of stuff that just happened to him that had no effect on his brain whatsoever).

He finally got to the difficult section, the one that always tripped him up and made him sweat. He breezed through the demo questions (Black, male last time he checked, younger than he looked) but stared for an uncomfortably long time at the sexuality questions. His pen hovered over heterosexual, but his Mental Georgie (meaner than the actual Georgie) yelled at him until his pen hovered over bisexual instead. But that wasn’t quite right either, was it? Bad memories of scrolling desperately and shamefully through AVEN at 2am last year flashed through his mind, but asexual wasn’t on the list. He marked in bisexual, although he didn’t think it counted if he’d never had any…relations with male presenting people, although it didn’t quite fit.

Under alcohol use he very proudly put none, feeling both smug and embarrassed over being smug over it. Under drug use he also was proud to put none. Then it asked for his history and, like, whatever. He hated this list. It sucked. Jon didn’t like admitting to the coke he only did three times. Or was it four? That he could remember.

Under the ‘Have you ever been hospitalized’ question he put yes, then he remembered that they had technically diagnosed him with alcoholism and depression so he had to go back and put that down in his diagnoses, then he had to put down that he had attempted suicide a few times. Jon felt uncomfortable about nameless strangers knowing this, when he had never told anybody and had never been planning on it. It was a secret he would take to his grave, but he was telling this piece of paper, apparently. Hopefully nobody looked at this.

Under the section for ‘why he came in’, Jon decided honestly was the best policy. He wrote down carefully, in precise letters, ‘I do not need to come in but my subordinate (who may be plotting murder against me) blackmailed me into it’. There. Honesty was the best policy.

Finally the accursed intake form was over, Jon was able to hand it to the nurse he suddenly imagined looked very judgmental, and he was able to flip aimlessly through the three year old magazines on the glass tabletop flanking a piece of calming abstract art. He would never admit it to literally anybody in his life, but he enjoyed the voyeurism of celebrity gossip. He loved learning things about people that were supposed to be private, that nobody was supposed to know. It wasn’t a real secret if he learned it off TMZ, but it felt like one, and that was good enough. It was none of his business who was dating who or who had cheated on who, but that was part of the fun. Jon’s thirst for knowledge was absolute. But, still, nobody could ever know about this. Georgie had laughed at him for a week when she found out.

Still, the magazine was wrong. The pop star wasn’t cheating on her boyfriend with her bodyguard. She was cheating on her boyfriend with her college roommate. Jon didn’t remember exactly where he had read it, but he knew it was true. Must have caught it on a reddit thread or something. Jon snorted. They should really polish up on their fact checking.

After what felt like hours, but in fact was twenty-two minutes and forty seconds exactly, the nurse called Jon in. They took his height (still too tall), took his weight (ugh….), and took his blood pressure, which seemed to alarm the nurse, who asked him if he had a family history of hypertension. He just explained that his job was very high stress.

“Ah,” the nurse said, and made a note on his clipboard.

“The previous holder of my position was murdered,” Jon said helpfully, “and I think one of my employees did it. Either that or my boss. That, or various supernatural entities, but generally I’ve been doing a pretty good job of holding those off.”

“That’s so interesting,” the nurse said, making another note on the clipboard.

Then he was directed into the actual therapist’s office. Not his therapist, or at least he didn’t think so – the way they explained it to him, and the way the twenty internet sites he’d compulsively researched said it worked, was that he would get an intake with a trainee, who would then refer him to a therapist that worked for him in the building. It made sense, although very little about this entire process really did. Jon hated doctors. What were therapists, but doctors who made less sense, and did not respect science?

The intake therapist’s office was overly calming. There was an incense diffuser in the corner, a tea station set up in another corner, and a comfortable looking couch facing a chair. There was a coffee table in the center filled with fidget toys and candy, along with some stuffed animals and other comfort items with some books, and Jon awkwardly shook the hand of the young woman who opened the door for him and sat down on the far corner of the couch.

She introduced herself as Angela and had a bright white smile. Jon wondered if she had ever killed anybody. Her hair was glossy and black, she seemed to be Hispanic or thereabouts, and exuded a trustworthy and competent yet friendly air. Jon did not trust her.

“So, Jon,” Angela said, once they both settled down. “I’m just going to give you a quick run-down of this process. I’ll interview you based on your intake form, we’ll come up with a case formulation, and I’ll refer you to a therapist with our clinic who can help you out. You indicated that this is your first time seeing a counselor?”

“Uh, yes.” Jon clasped his hands, then his knees, then sat up very straight, then slouched. He now understood why the fidget toys were there. “But I really don’t want to see a therapist. I just told someone I’d come in here, so here I am. I can leave right after this.”

“Who asked you to come in?”

“Martin. Uh. My employee.”

She made a note in her notebook. “Does he only know you from work?”

“Yes.”

“So your employees have been noticing some behavior from you at work that lead them to ask you to come?” Angela asked delicately.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“What kind of behavior?”

Well, sure, make him think about it. Jon clenched his trousers a little. “I’ve been…well, according to Tim, I’ve been stalking them a bit. Which, perhaps, from a certain point of view, I’m willing to admit to. Also going through their desks. Some verbal accusations. Apparently, I’ve been difficult to work with lately.”

Scribble scribble scribble. “What sort of accusations?”

“Someone’s trying to kill me,” Jon said firmly. “I’m just trying to find out who. I’m exploring every option. Nobody is above suspicion. I know it seems…I know it doesn’t seem very usual, but that’s the situation.”

“Have you talked to the police?”

God, has he ever. “They’re willing to collaborate with me, but there’s only so much they can do,” Jon said seriously. Even if they had confidentiality, which they had explained to him as he came in, he could hardly admit to Basira doing something illegal for him. “But we are working on it together. At least some officers on the force take murder investigations seriously.”

“Alright. If you don’t mind, I’m going to refer back to some questions that we asked you on the sheet. Just a little more detail on them.” Angela looked down at what he had to assume was a print-out of his answers on the intake questionnaire. “It says here that you have a family history of schizophrenia?”

“Yeah,” Jon said blankly, “what does that have to do with anything?”

She looked further down the list. “And…a history of alcoholism and drug abuse?”

“Yes, technically.”

“Alright.” She leaned backwards and opened a file cabinet, rifling through it before withdrawing a piece of paper and passing it to Jon. Jon hesitantly took it, scanning the paper. “Can you fill this out for me quickly, please?”

Jon read the questions.

Do you ever hear or see things that others cannot?

Well, yes, Jon experienced many supernatural phenomena that others could not perceive. He checked off yes.

Do you ever struggle to trust that what you are thinking is real?

Frequently. He just knew his mind was being manipulated by the mysterious Watcher. Plus there was that business with Sasha. Something’s off about her.

Do you ever get the sense that others are controlling your thoughts and emotions?

That occurred in dozens of Statements, plus his own life. Yes.

Do you struggle to keep up with daily living tasks?

Tim did tell him that he didn’t shower enough…

Do you feel that you have powers that others cannot understand or appreciate?

Jon thought blankly of all those times that he asked people questions and they almost…had to answer. He checked yes for that too.

Etc, etc, etc.

Jon looked up from this test. “Are you under the impression I’m schizophrenic?”

“I can’t make a diagnosis yet,” the therapist said delicately. “Why don’t we talk after you finish the screening.”

Jon silently passed it back to her, after checking yes on almost everything. She scanned it quickly.

“Hm.”

“Look,” Jon said awkwardly, knowing that this probably looked bad, “I know that I may come off as a paranoid lunatic, but the supernatural is out there and is targeting me personally. I think I may work for it, honestly? Do you ever feel like an accountant for evil in your day to day life, or is that just me?” Jon paused a beat, and found that his hands were shaking. He was scared. Why was he scared? “I always feel something watching me. Something – something in the walls. I’m sitting at my desk, it’s late at night, and nobody’s around, but sometimes when I do my work…I feel something looking over my shoulder. It hates me. It wants to hurt me. I don’t know why I know it, I just do. Something invisible in the walls is looking at me, and nobody believes me when I say it’s there but I know it is.” He found himself speaking faster, almost as if he was begging her to understand. “When you look at a – at this couch, you know it’s there, right? How would you feel if everybody started telling you that it wasn’t there? That what your eyes and ears and body was telling you was fake? You’d feel like it was everybody else who was crazy, not you. Even if your eyes were closed, if you reached out your hand you could feel it. No matter what you might tell yourself, or what other people might tell you, it’s real. It’s there. You can’t deny it. I’m not crazy. It’s there. Something is watching me. You don’t – you don’t have to believe me. But I’m right. And you’re wrong, if you think it’s not.”

Angela stared at him.

Then she stood up, clutching her mobile. Jon realized for the first time that it was ringing. “I’ll be right back.”

She left the room, holding the phone to her ear. Jon felt it was somewhat unprofessional for a therapist to walk out in the middle of a session for a phone call. Maybe it was important? Her husband was in the hospital or something? It was none of his business.

Jon tapped his toes. Stared at the wall. There was a poster with a sloth on it that said ‘Hang In There!’. He was hanging in there, all right.

He wondered if he was crazy. If it even mattered.

Jon had always had nobody but himself to rely on. Well, maybe Georgie, once upon a time, but he had burned that bridge. At the end of the day, it had always been him. In that gutter where he had almost drowned in his own vomit, it had just been him.

If he couldn’t trust his own mind, who could he trust? If even his own faculties left him, he had nothing. No friends, no family, no support. Just him. If Jon lost his mind, if he went completely crazy, then there was nobody to pick up the pieces ever again. For the first time since coming in, Jon found himself scared. Would he have to take medication? Would it make him dumb? Jon would rather be crazy then dumb.

The door opened, and Angela returned. But there was something just a little different about her, something Jon picked up immediately. Her eyes were – almost glassy, almost not present. She had been such an attentive, active listener before, but now she seemed far away. Her gait was a little stiffer than it had been previously.

“Bad news?” Jon breached awkwardly.

“Nothing to worry about,” Angela smiled. But it didn’t reach her eyes. How strange. She sat back down in her chair, posture perfect and prim. “Well, I took a look at your sheet, and I have some good news for you.”

“You – you do?” Jon asked, thrown off. Doctors never had good news for him. They always seemed to think he was a medical freak of nature who was alive only through an act of spite against god.

“Of course. You don’t seem to have any kind of mental illness. Honestly, I just think your problem is that you’re stressed at work.”

“I – so you don’t think I’m schizophrenic? Despite answering yes to almost every question on that test? And having family members with schizophrenia? And being a black male in my late twenties, the highest risk group?”

“Yes.” Angela smiled prettily at him. “I think it’s just a matter of adjustment. You’re a transitionary phase in your life, Jon. You’re moving from one role to another. I think all you have to do is accept your new role in life, and your problems will sort themselves out.”

“I – yes. Yes, of course.” It was like a huge weight had been taken off his chest. Jon felt so relieved. Nothing was wrong with him. His mind was still his own. He wasn’t crazy! “You’re right. I’m just stressed. Thank you so much, doctor. I feel a lot better about this now. I knew Martin was just overreacting.”

“Martin’s always overreacting!” Angela laughed. She stood up from her chair, clearly signifying the interview was over despite him only being there for less than ten minutes. “Have a great day, Jon. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, doctor. I promise I’ll work on – just calming down a bit. Wow. What a relief.” Jon stood up too, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers before shaking her hand. “I knew I wasn’t crazy.”

“What’s crazy,” Angela said, “but a state of mind? The world is already so bizarre and usual, Jon, it’s strangest to be sane.”

“I – okay?”

Jon left the doctor’s appointment feeling very good about everything. Maybe the doctor’s had been a good idea. He would have to thank Martin.

Wow. Now that was a crazy thought. Thanking Martin! Hah!

Jon went home, feeling very good about his life and his trajectory in it.

For the very last time.

#takes place in bbc verse but can be read independently if you want #actually secretly contains spoilers for that story but you can't really tell #tma #the magnus archives fanfiction #my writing #the magnus archives

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jemelle · 4 years

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these are ties that bind (1/8)

you can also find this story on ao3!

fandom: criminal minds

rating: g

(chapter) word count: 1,976

summary: emily and hotch must pretend to be in a long-term relationship in order to foster carrie. shenanigans and serious conversations alike ensue.

masterlist

one.

Emily Prentiss stood in front of the hotel door, hand raised, wondering if she was making the biggest mistake of her life. All her self-preservation instincts, built up from a lifetime of looking over her shoulder, told her it would be better for all parties if she just walked away. But a small voice in the back of her head disagreed. There is someone who needs you, it said. Someone who you are not too late to save. That voice had gotten her into this situation, and it was determined to see it through.

She knocked once, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent hallway. When Hotch opened the door, he looked as if he rather expected to see someone else. It was late, but Reid and Morgan were still off flirting with women at a club somewhere. Or, probably more likely, Morgan was flirting while Reid sat alone at the bar. Emily found she could never begrudge either of them the comfort of a post-case routine, no matter how strange.

Hotch was wearing his pajamas, which consisted of plain grey sweatpants and a well-worn GW Law shirt. His outfit had the unsettling effect of reminding Emily that she and him were, in fact, almost the same age. He often seemed much more world-weary than his thirty-some years suggested, although she supposed it was her who had actually seen more of the world. He was holding a book in one hand and seemed poised to lecture Reid for forgetting his keycard again. Upon seeing Emily, the expression on his face slid from irritation into confusion.

“Prentiss?” he asked. The “what do you want?” went unsaid.

“Sir, if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you about something.” Hotch opened the door wider and motioned her inside. He sat down on one of the beds while Emily leaned uncomfortably on the desk and surveyed the room. What she assumed was Hotch’s side of the room was nothing short of meticulous, although Spencer, to his credit, had managed to keep his chaos contained to a two by four area at the foot of his bed.

Acutely aware of the importance of her next few sentences, she began. “Carrie Ortiz, the girl from the case, has an aunt and uncle in Phoenix, but they’re not able to care for her. She doesn’t have anyone else and especially after seeing what the foster system can do to kids, I don’t know if…” No, this wasn’t the way to do it. She was dancing around her point and both she and Hotch knew it. Time to regroup.

“Carrie came to me and asked if I would be willing to take her in for the time being.” Emily’s knee-jerk reaction had been no, but remembering what JJ told her earlier had given her pause. She had never been one of those children who dream of becoming a parent, not until it was no longer a dream. In the ensuing fallout, she became even more convinced that parenting was not for her. But Carrie wasn’t a helpless child. She was a young woman who had experienced a traumatic event and was voluntarily asking Emily to become her guardian. And so Emily found herself unable to say no.

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her that I would have to think about it but that I didn’t have the power to make that decision myself.” It was the truth. Emily knew that Hotch didn’t tolerate lying, especially not to victims. To give false hope to someone whose family had just been ripped away would be unspeakably cruel.

“Prentiss, with all due respect, I’m not sure why we’re having this conversation. I know you don’t need to be reminded of the dangers of our job, but I firmly believe that you will make the right decision.” Truthfully, it had taken Emily several hours to fully process Carrie’s request and several more before she could think rationally enough to decide. But she had made up her mind. If only that made it a reality.

Emily took a deep breath. For all the courage it had taken to get this far, the hardest part had yet to come. “I talked to Carrie’s social worker and she said that in the absence of family, they usually try to place in-area, but that given Carrie’s explicit request, she might be able to make an exception. However…” She trailed off. Maybe this was a mistake. It wasn’t too late to back out.

“However?” Hotch prompted. His tone was steady, and Emily forced herself to make eye contact. His face had smoothed itself into a neutral expression, which Emily took as a positive sign as she gathered her resolve.

“They don’t place children with single parents. No exceptions.” And definitely not gay couples, she mentally amended.

“I see,” he said. His face wrinkled in a way that told Emily he hadn’t quite figured out where she was going. “That’s a pity. Although, that still doesn’t solve the mystery of why you’re in my hotel room. I may be your boss, but even I don’t have sway over the foster care system of Denver.”

“Well… I sort of told Carrie’s caseworker that I would have to consult my husband.” She had run out of the room immediately after, wondering what on earth had just possessed her. She was a lesbian, for God's sake! There was no husband in her future. What scared her even more was realizing that she didn’t regret it. She wanted this for Carrie (and for herself, if she was being honest) and she was willing to do whatever it took, even if it meant hatching a hare-brained scheme like the one she currently found herself ensnared in.

Hotch raised his eyebrows at her. She suspected the pieces were starting to come together for him. “And you’re here to ask me to marry you?”

He was chuckling now, almost in disbelief. Although she half-expected to become defensive, Emily instead found herself wanting to crack a grin at the pure absurdity of the situation.

“Well, given my lack of a personal life, it was one of our coworkers or a random man on the street.” The last time she had been on a date was months ago. Liv had been nice, but Emily could tell she wanted more than a casual relationship. So that particular alley was a bust, notwithstanding the fact that her gender preference would disqualify any actual partner.

“Why me?” Hotch asked, bringing her out of her thoughts. His tone turned serious again. “I don’t exactly have the best track record with parenthood.”

His gaze was fixed at a blank spot on the wall above her head, and Emily imagined he was mentally scrolling through his worst hits as a constantly-working husband and father.

“Hotch, you’re the only man on this team with any parenting expertise.” Upon giving the decision some thought, Emily had realized that not only was Hotch the best choice, he was the only choice. She voiced her thought process to reassure him. “Morgan is the perpetual bachelor, Reid would eat cereal for every meal if we let him, and Rossi is old enough to be my father.”

“While I’m certainly flattered to have been picked by process of elimination, that doesn’t make this a good idea.” He was right. In fact, it was a bad idea for more reasons than Emily could count, chiefly that she and Hotch had only recently reached any sort of lasting truce; any person who wasn’t convinced of the validity of their relationship could turn them in and ruin the whole scheme.

“Sir, I recognize the ridiculousness of the situation, and if you say no I will never mention this conversation again, but I really believe that we have the chance to make someone’s life better. Our job is about always making wrong things right, giving people peace, but never more than that. Never making a good thing on its own.” Hotch looked as surprised as Emily felt at her impassioned speech. At some point, she had begun gesticulating, movements becoming more frantic as the volume of her voice rose.

“We’ve seen how the foster system changes kids,” she continued, suddenly feeling bold. “I don’t need Reid to quote statistics to know it’s usually not for the better. Carrie has so much potential and I don’t want to think her hopes were dashed because of a choice I made.” I see myself in her, Emily didn’t say. Young and hopeful and ready to take on the world.

They sat in silence as Hotch mulled her words over. Emily felt confident that no matter his decision, she had given it her all. It felt unnerving to have to place a decision this important in the hands of a man she had betrayed, but Emily knew he would put aside any feelings, positive or negative, that he might have for her. It was one of the things she admired most about Hotch; if he respected you, he valued your contributions, whether you were certified genius Spencer Reid or a local law enforcement officer assisting the team. With that conviction in mind, Emily did her best to steel herself for his decision as Hotch began to speak.

“Let’s pretend I said yes. What are we going to tell the team, not to mention Jack and my… Haley?” Emily pretended to ignore the way he choked on Haley’s name. It was the least she owed him. Still, she felt hope bubbling in her chest at the realization that he was actually considering it.

“I think we should tell the team as little as possible. I don’t doubt that they’ll figure out something is different, but we both know Reid and Garcia can’t lie to save their lives. It’ll be better to keep them in the dark for as long as possible.” Hotch nodded and Emily felt some of the tension leave her body. “As for Jack and Haley, you know them best, so I’ll defer to you.”

“We’ll have to convince them we’re really in a relationship,” he responded without pause. “Haley and I currently have equal custody, and I won’t do anything to jeopardize that.”

“Deal.” She briefly fought the ridiculous urge to offer him a handshake. “Although I am warning you that I’m not sure how long this arrangement will have to last.”

“Well, as you pointed out, I’m not exactly a youthful bachelor.” True to his words, Emily’s brain faltered when asked to conjure up an image of Hotch as a twenty-something playboy. He was, she thought, possibly the most monogamous man she had ever met. If he was as serious in his acquiescence to her plan as he was in every other endeavor, they would be an excellent team.

“You’re really sure?” She had hoped for this, of course, but now it hardly seemed real.

Hotch’s voice was warm. “Emily, speaking as a parent, every child deserves someone who is as passionate about them as you clearly are about Carrie. If I have the chance to make someone's life better and it doesn’t harm me or my family or the team in any way, then I don’t see how I could say no.”

“Thank you, sir. You don’t know how much this means to me.” Emily rarely cried, preferring to keep her rare bouts of melancholia and euphoria within the confines of her apartment, but she could feel herself tearing up, though she tried her best to conceal it. “We should be able to sign the necessary paperwork in the morning.”

“Of course,” he said. Emily stood and turned to leave the room, pausing in the door frame as she heard his voice again, colored by the return of his smile. “And Prentiss, if we’re going to pull this off, you probably shouldn’t call me sir.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #queerminal minds #*mine #*fic #these are ties that bind

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groovyzombiellama · 5 years

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Why Do You Care? 2

(I couldn’t wait to write about this that it took only one person asking for a part 2 for me to get right on it, can you see how in love I am with writing about Jax Teller by now hahah?)

Title: Why Do You Care? 2 Requested? Yes. Plot: Jax tracking you down in LA after breaking up with Tara and telling you he made a mistake. Word count: 1738

Part 1

---***---

It’s been about two weeks since you moved to LA, and you were still working out some stuff to start working for your family’s company there. However, something was a bit off. You missed Charming, the quiet small town where you feel like you can count on everyone. You missed Gemma, and all those girl talks the two of you would have. She was always there for you when you needed her, and you couldn’t help but feel that you were betraying her in a way by being far away from her in case she needed you for something. You missed the club, and all the of boys, Jax in paticular. You were still so hurt by what happened, but you just couldn’t forget all those feelings. People say that people might forget what you said to them, they might forget what you did to them, but they will never forget the feeling you caused in them. You still loved Jax with all of your heart and you couldn’t get him out of your head. You would find yourself at times wondering what his life is like now and does he even care that you are not with him. But then you would remember seeing him and Tara together again and you would just shake your head in disbelief and go back to sorting out youw new life, without Jax.

You had no idea how devastated he was, as much as you were. He broke things off with Tara and has been trying to find the best way to get you back, but he also wanted to give you some space to think about everything and let him know when he comes over if he can have his hopes up or not. But by the start of week three, he just had enough, and was on his way over to LA to find you. To you it was just another day at the office, dealing with clients and paperwork, and you had no idea about the biker on a mission. You had just come back from your lunch break, it always helps you destress and get your batteries charged enough to make it through the rest of the workday. You were going through some paperwork on your desk, trying to sort it all out and clean the mess that accumulated as the rest of your coworkers were just piling up their reports on your desk, and you were supposed to be the one to send them along to the boss.

And that was why you haddn’t noticed Jax walking through the door of your office, and thought it was just another client and told him you’d be right there, without even turning to look at the person. When he saw you, Jax let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. There you were, right in front of him, in arms reach, and he wanted nothing more then to hold you close, repeating how sorry he was for not seeing that he was making a mistake. But he had to pull himself together and he found that the only way he could calm his nerves down even a little would be to have a smoke. Jax noticed the sofas next to the door and took a seat in one of them, lighting his cigarette. The moment the smoke hit your nostrils you felt your breath hitch. You don’t smoke, and there is a written note on the wall and the door that state there is no smoking in the office. But you knew deep down that the only person who would not care about that rule would be Jax.

And as you turned around, not fully bracing yourself for the shock, you saw the one person that caused you so much pain and yet so much happiness too. You couldn’t just forget all the happy moments you two shared and you didn’t want to. You wanted to forget the bad, and just have him as a memory of the one time you were perfectly happy in your life, when you were around him. He kept his cool facade, but in reality, he was a nervours wreck. He looked over at his lit cigarette for a moment, before lifting his gaze, and your eyes finally met, after what felt like forever. On one hand, you wanted to jump into his arms and tell him how much you missed him, but on the other, your head was telling you that you probably shouldn’t do that, no matter how much your heart was screaming it at you. After a moment of silence, you asked Jax how did he find you and what he was doing here. “It took a while to find this place, but I asked a couple people on the street using the information you had told me once. So with their help, I managed to find you. And what I’m doing here? I came to see you. It’s been so long, I just wanted to see how you were doing. And also, to talk to you.“

Talk to you? Didn’t the fact that he chose Tara already establish that the two of you had nothing to talk about? You really weren’t in the mood to be someone’s second choice just because things didn’t work out with the first person and they are feeling lonely. But then again, Jax was not just a someone, he was your someone. “After everything that happened, you still want to talk to me? I thought you made it pretty clear when she-who-will-not-be-named moved back into your house. What changed, really?“ Jax’s eyes were burning into you and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and them truning a redish color. Why does this man still have this effect on you? Jax took a drag from his cigarette, and after letting the smoke from his mouth fill the air, he answered your question. “What changed was the fact that I realized I had made a mistake. If I had known that you had the same feelings for me that I do for you, I wouldn’t have chosen her. She does her best to keep me away from that life, my life, while you were there for me and everyone else in the club. Even my mother likes you, hell she loves you, and that never happens.“

He noticed that there was no ashtray in the office, his eyes just then registering the sign that said ’no smoking’, so he put his cigarette out on the insade of the lid of the pack, even though he only took one drag and threw it into the trash. Nex thing you know he’s up on two feet and he’s stepping closer to you. You start walking backwards until you hit the desk behind you and that stops him in his tracks, and he swallows hard before speaking again. “I know I hurt you, a lot, but I still dare to stand here, just like that girl in one of those romance crap movies that you made me watch that one time, with my heart in my hands, asking a girl to love me, no matter how big of a fuckup I am. It’s probably not gonna be the first mistake I make, but I know that not matter how much you try to deny it, there is a part of you that loves me, even now. And it took me a long while, but I realized I love you too. I need you, every inch of you.“

You heart was close to jumping out of your chest, and your head was swarming with if’s, maybe’s and but’s. You love him, he’s right about that one, and you need him too, more than you want to admit it, but are you really strong enough to handle what will be thrown at you if you start living this life? Just as you were thinking that, Jax came up to you, taking your hand in his, and putting it on his chest. “Can you feel that? My heart never beat that fast, for any girl, not even Tara. You are the puzzle piece I’m missing to get my life on the right track. Please, just at least consider coming back to me. I will do anything and everything to regain your trust, I promise.“ If someone were to hear Jax speak, they would think he was practically on is knees, begging you. But, in reality, he was more put together than you were. Both of your hearts beating at the same rhytm, and your eyes just showing love to each other, you didn’t even think you had to answer for Jax to see that you loved him. Ad you could see his bottom lip shake slightly, as if he was doing his best not to cry in front of you. In that moment you noticed that he was still holding your hand on his chest and pulled it out of his grip.

As soon as you turned your back to Jax he felt devastated, his heart breaking into a million pieces, and he felt like he had no other choice then to live his life without the woman he loves most. His hand was on the knob when he heard your voice call his name. He loved the way his name sounded coming from your mouth, and he would love to spend the rest of his life listening to that. He turned around to look at you again, and instead of saying anything, you ran towards him and wrapped your arms around him. He was taken aback at first, but soon realized that he was finally able to hold you again and he wasted no more time in doing so. The feeling of you in his arms made his heart skip a beat, and he felt like the happiest man alive. Once you parted, he placed his lips to yours gently, into a loving yet passionate kiss, full of love. He promised he was going to work his ass off to gain your trust again and let’s just say, he did. It took a while to finish the paperwork, but you managed to get back to Charming, and back to your man. You never regretted your decision to get back to Jax, and as he treated you like a queen, you treated him like a king.

---***---

I hope you guys like this second part to my original dedicated fic. I really wanted to write about the reader and Jax getting back together, just because I love him too much, and I somehow always imagine myslef as not just the writer, but as the reader too, so I just wanted a happy ending. I hope you guys agree :D

@innerpaperexpertcloud I just wanted to thank you so much on all the love you gave all of my Jax Teller fics, even the ones not many people like apparently :) Hope you like this one too :D <3

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rosecorcoranwrites · 5 years

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Video Games as Interactive Storytelling

As I previously established, video games are a worthwhile form of storytelling, combining the best aspects of books, movies, and comics. They are unique among mediums, however, for being a truly interactive form of media. They are games, after all, and thus incorporate aspects play and choice.

Environment

Because you, the player, control the character, you experience the world as if you were in it, much more than in any other medium. You explore the environment. You fight the boss, and experience the struggle of battle. You help various NPCs, or non-player characters, with tasks. You make friends and allies, and fight alongside them. Although I never like my favorite characters getting hurt in any medium, when people attack my allies in video games, it's personal.

And that's what video games do: offer an incredibly personal experience. Unlike books, movies and comics, where you have to read from start to finish, video games let you meander and spend time in the setting. In games like Zelda, Okami, or Dark Souls, you can discover secrets that aren't necessarily part of the main plot. These can include hidden areas or side quests. Sometimes these add to your understanding of the story or make the main plot more emotionally impactful. For instance, I actually did all those side quests for people in Okami, so the cutscene during the final boss fight was personal to me. I helped those people; they were lending their strength to me.

You can also gawk at the extra details of the world. One of my favorite examples of this is in Skyrim, where you can read books of short stories or admire intricately carved Nordic architecture, neither of which are important to the story or gameplay, but which make the experience more complete and immersive. I like to wonder at the fact that some person was paid to write those stories and design those carvings; they’re neat little details that someone at the studio thought were important enough to put into the game.

Even a game as linear and straightforward as the Ace Attorney series allows for a sort of exploration. Though you can only "move" through a series of set-like locations during the investigation stages, you can click on almost every object in order to hear banter between you and your assistant. While this doesn't generally offer much in the way of world or story building (unless the object turns out to be a crucial piece of evidence) it does let us experience more chemistry between the characters, endearing them to us even more.

Choice

Games in which the player’s choices effect the story obviously offer an interesting experience. Certain games have binary choices—send this character to the safety of the cathedral, or to be experimented on in a laboratory!—while others have branching trees and dozens or hundreds of possible endings. Many games incorporate a morality system, where the more bad choices one makes make for a darker ending, with the best result being the “Good ending” and the worst result, the “Bad ending”; many games opt for multiple bittersweet conclusions.

While some such games have fairly blank-slate, player-insert characters as protagonists (that is, they don’t have too much personality, because the player can fill that in), others have very specific motivations, while still offering choice. My sister was describing her initial frustration, in Red Dead Redemption 2, that she could only make not-so-good choices in some of the side quests. This makes sense, given that you are playing as an outlaw in a gang, but was still annoying in a game that claimed to give one choices. She was later delighted, though, after something important happens to the character (spoiler: they find out they have tuberculosis, which not only makes them sympathize with one of their former victims of the same condition, but also forces them to come to terms with their decisions, as time is running out), and good options start opening up. The way the game presented choices made sense for that individual character while still giving the player the freedom to reject certain choices if they want. Masterful!

Happenstance

I will say, however, that player choice is not totally unique to games, as Choose Your Own Adventure books were and occasionally still are a thing. Programmers can program in more possible choices than can be contained in a physical book, but the storytelling principal is the same. More interesting, I think, is video games’ ability to create random happenstance. What do I mean? Depending on what the player does when, they might stumble onto a part of a game in a different way than other players.

For example, in Legend of Zelda Ocarina of Time, musical themes for each location play during the day, while nighttime has only sound effects. As anyone who has played Ocarina can tell you, the Gerudo Valley theme is some of the coolest, most adventurous music in the franchise, and it starts playing in the canyon, before you arrive at the desert. In order to get to the desert the first time, you jump your horse over a broken bridge, which feels pretty awesome to a first time player. But for me, it was more. I arrived on horseback at the canyon at dawn, rode to the edge as the castanets of the Gerudo Valley theme started playing. Just as I jumped, the sun came over the horizon and the guitar began! I could have sworn there was even a lens flare, but that might have been my imagination reacting to the epicness of what was happening. It was a totally random, unrepeatable event, and I’ll never forget it.

In Okami, I never knew that going through some torii gates led into mystical areas while going around them led to ordinary shrines, because I always went a certain way. Thus, my mind was blown when I discovered, after following a little sparrow girl through a gate, that what had once been a solid wall was actually a pathway. It wasn't until my second play through that I went around the gate of the first shrine, which led to a glowing portal to a celestial world, and discovered nothing but an ordinary statue in a moss-covered cave. I never knew!

In another Zelda example, every player had a different experience of their first Blood Moon in Breath of the Wild. Blood Moons are events that serve to replenish the enemies in the area, but in-game are meant to be the malice of the main enemy infecting the environment and causing monsters to resurrect. They happen at random, and are preceded by the music changing, the light dimming, black wisps issuing out of the ground, and, of course, the full moon turning red. My brother first experienced it while looking at some goats in a pasture outside an inn, while my sister experienced it after climbing up a tower to reach a treasure chest. Never having heard that Blood Moons were a thing, their thoughts, respectively, were, “What the HECK is wrong with these goats!?” and “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry! I’ll put it back!” I’m sure others have their own fun stories of their initial horror at what was happening.

Social Interaction

Cast your mind back to when this whole diatribe of mine began (many weeks ago), when I mentioned a coworker of mine saying that video games don’t inspire social interaction. Just the opposite is true, and it always has been.

One of the first, if not the first video games was the two-player game, pong. Though not actually a story game, this led the way for more two player, and then multiplayer games. Kids used to go to each other's houses and play Mario Brothers or Bubble Bobble; now, they interact with friends and strangers across the country in online, multiplayer games. There are even games that have “emotes”, special moves you can do to communicate with other players without voice chat. Others let you vote for another player as the MVP of each round to show your appreciation. Lest you think it’s all online, Nintendo is keeping in-person multiplay alive and well with games like Mario Kart, Mario Party, and Smash Brothers.

Single player games, too, invite interaction. Pre-internet, people would spread hints and strategy and cheat codes by word of mouth. “How did we know how to do that move without reading the manual?” my sister asked, recalling some odd special move in an older game. “I think a friend must have told me, and they probably heard it from one of their friends.” Nowadays, internet forums and Let’s Play videos serve the same purpose: a community of gamers helping each other out and spreading information about games.

I myself have talked repeatedly about what my brothers and sister experienced in their playthroughs. Some of this is because some games are too hard for me (like, every game FromSoft will ever make), but a lot of it is just because there was one TV and not enough time for me to start my own game. I’ve never actually played Sekiro or Bloodborne or Last Guardian, but I’ve watched people play all of them from start to finish, so I still have that experience. My brother and I both gasped when we first encountered a Mist Noble and its enchantment in Sekiro (and my advice, “Kill it with fire!” worked like a charm). My sister and I squeed over the griffin-dog-thing’s cute antics in Last Guardian. Unlike books, comics, and movies, which are best enjoyed in silence, video games invite conversation during play.

Online streams offer a similar experience. Even here, choice rears its head. Some streamers play it straight, from start-to-finish, with little editorializing. Others derp around doing a lot of nonsense, or add hilarious commentary, often adding their own layer of storytelling to the mix. Viewers of said streams can type comments in real-time, so that the streamer interacts not only with the game but with his viewers, and the entire experience is like one big conversation. Who said video games don’t inspire social interaction?

Community

Right about now is when I connect this new form of storytelling to something ancient. Books are the new songs and poems, movies are the new plays, and comics are the new tapestries and hieroglyphics. What, then, are video games? As I said before, they take elements from all of these other mediums: video games are the new bard adding their own lyric to a song, or the actor playing a well-known role a different way, perhaps due to choice or happenstance.

But mostly, video games are the new play, that most primal and primordial of all human storytelling. We play as soon as we can think, and play act as soon as we can walk. Children assign themselves roles and act them out together. Humans are communal creatures, after all, who process narratives by interacting with other humans.

To some extent, all storytelling is like this, as it is one human telling something to another rather than keeping it in their head. Video games, though, bring back the communal aspect of storytelling. Wanting to take part in stories—whether as a child going on adventures with friends, or an adult participating in a narrative ceremony, or anyone telling a story around a fire to a group of rapt and responding listeners—is part of being human.

At some point, however, that part of life got chopped off and shunted to the corner, as if adults shouldn’t desire narrative play unless they are writers. Thus, video games are put down as childish, or geeky, or not as valid as books. Oddly, they are stereotyped as being something beloved by loners, which ignores the vibrant and vocal gaming community.

I’m not sure where the animus towards gaming comes from. Why is immersing oneself in an imaginary world while staring at a book is considered high-brow, but doing the same while staring at a screen considered low? I don’t know, nor do I want to. What I do know is that some of the most unique, innovative, and emotional, stories I’ve ever seen have been those in video games, and I hope that in the future, more people give them a chance.

And those, dear readers, gamers, viewers, and story lovers of all stripes, are my thoughts on video games.

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laur-rants · 5 years

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Fic Update -- Whale-Wolf Chronicles

Chapter 10: Thomas, Meet Geoff

One-shot, post Wolfbann. Thomas and Geoff start working together.

[Mild Thomas/Geoff, 1500 words]

*Note: The read more may not appear for mobile users. For this, I sincerely apologize. I suggest blacklisting #long post

AO3 Link

He smelled nervous.

That was what Thomas first noted, back when he met Geoff Curnow. On that initial meeting though, such an emotional reaction was warranted: meeting a pack of excessively huge whale-wolves of myth was a lot for anyone to take in, especially if it happened within the confines of the Hound Pits bar. Thomas had watched him then, had judged each human individual they had met: and he had been impressed with Geoff's ability to handle the pressure, as well as his ability to follow-through with Daud's overall plan-- a plan that eventually worked, and put Emily Kaldwin back on the throne.

That was months ago, though. Daud had been placed as the new Spymaster, with the Whalers grandfathered in as his network of guards and spies. This meant some of them got to spend the days with the Empress and Royal Protector. It also meant some of them spent time abroad. Others still got to work more closely with Curnow, who had been promoted to Commander of the City Watch.

This just happened to be one of Thomas’s first days to work closely with the man himself since they stormed the Tower together. And by the Void, did Geoff reek of nervousness.

Thomas, for the sake of not making the whole outing awkward, managed a smile. He hoped it didn't come off as creepy; he still wasn't used to not carrying a mask at all times, still wasn't used to people who weren't a part of his established mental network. It seemed to have its intended effect, however. The older man glanced over to Thomas, lips twitching at the edges.

It was going to be a long day for both of them.

“So,” Geoff started, inhaling deep as if to steady himself. Thomas’ eyes trained on each small movement, his head cocking and inclining lightly -- a learned motion from years spent behind one mask or another that he hoped communicated 'I’m here, I’m listening,’ but he couldn't always be too sure with normal humans.

And given how many years it had been since he had counted himself among folks who didn't use magic to turn into a giant beast, he was still woefully out of practice with human body language.

“So, Daud sent you here to basically scout and shadow, if I absorbed enough from the briefing,” Curnow finished. Thomas noted how he stood ramrod straight; the man was a soldier of the royalty, and held himself more stiff than a noble but more elegantly than a commoner. Only the bob of his throat away his insecurities.

“That would be correct,” Thomas followed up, doing his best not to come off as dry as he usually did. Inflection still felt odd on his tongue; his brother Connor is surely laughing at him from somewhere on the rooftops, watching this failed attempt at outward emotion. “It's best to know the usual routes around the city and how each precinct behaves and performs. Not that Daud doesn't already know, but…”

Geoff raised a surprised eyebrow at Thomas. Thomas trailed off, blinking awkwardly, before realizing exactly what he had implied.

“...but there have been a lot of changes, and it doesn't hurt to have a double or triple check,” Thomas added hastily with a nod of his head. “Competency in the Watch has certainly gone up in the last couple of months, and surely it's due to your superior command.”

Geoff rolled his eyes and for a split second, his elite soldier status fell with his shoulders before straightening back up again. Thomas watched the motion carefully, quietly cataloging the scent that followed it: no longer hanging pungent with anxiety, he now instead held the ease of seafoam and aged wood, of sunlight and steady rain.

“You know you don't have to flatter me, Thomas,” Curnow responded, sounding beleaguered. “I know the business you and your... employer are in, I know what you did before the young Empress brought you here to work for the Tower. Of course he knew all the old patterns of rotation for the guards of the City Watch.”

“I'm sorry, I meant no offense,” Thomas muttered out, looking away and scanning the rooftops out of habit. Next to him, Curnow let out a soft laugh. When a soft backhand landed on his arm, Thomas brought his attention back in time to see Geoff motioning for him to follow.

“I promise you, Thomas, there was no harm done. I've endured much worse than being told I'm bad at my job.” They walked down the main entrance to the Tower together, stopping just outside the main gates as Curnow fished for his keys. “Besides,” he said pointedly, “the truth of the matter is that I already think I'm bad at my position, which is how I'm constantly improving.”

There was a wry undercurrent to his tone, a sense of defeatism that was followed by quiet triumph: Thomas got the sense that Curnow thought lowly of his own abilities, but prided in beating the odds all the same.

“I can see why Corvo appointed you to this position,” Thomas reported back, watching as the taller man opened the door and led them outside. Curnow scoffed in response, but Thomas still caught how each guard smiled and waved, how each coworker was greeted by name, how Geoff took time for each of them, even with a guest in tow.

As soon as they were away from the station and moving towards their intended ride, Thomas couldn't help but voice his thoughts.

“They respect you,” he said plainly, and Geoff jerked to a stop, surprised by Thomas’s frankness. He turned to face Thomas, his eyes filled with a strange emotion -- as if he wasn't used to such open honesty.

“I mean-- of course they do, I'm their boss,” Geoff detracted, swiftly downgrading himself again. Thomas frowned. “They put on a face when I come in, they have to be on their best behavior, or--”

“No,” Thomas said, cutting him off not unkindly. “No, Geoff, I can smell that sort of deceit, it's part of-- you know what i mean,” Thomas shook his head and waved a hand dismissively. “Just know they were all truly happy to see you. You're part of their family. It's respect, yes, but it's bred out of interest, not job obligation.”

Geoff swallowed, fingers twitching around the keyring still in his hand.

“You know that just from that small interaction?” His voice was so much quieter now, so much smaller, as if such… such praise was uncharacteristic, even for a man of his position and caliber. Thomas’s frown deepened.

“Of course I do,” Thomas said flatly. “And you know it too, so there's no point in not accepting it.”

Geoff swallowed again, his face curiously flush as he looked away. “Thank you,” he said finally. “It's nice to know their respect is recognizable.”

“Your work so far has been nothing but commendable.”

Geoff wrinkled his nose, his tone suddenly sharp. “You're very intense, you know.”

Thomas blinked. He straightened: even at his full height, he was still a good three inches short of being at eye level with Curnow.

“I apologize. I can dial it back if you want. Or soften up, I don't always notice when I'm being too hard on someone and--”

“No, please I didn't mean it like that,” Geoff said, waving his hand impatiently. “I’m just stating an impression. To be frank, it's an enjoyable change of pace.”

Thomas’ eyes darted around again. The tingle at the back of his neck told him Connor was listening in and smirking like the bastard that he was, but Thomas ignored him.

What he couldn't ignore was the way Geoff was watching him.

“I feel like you must keep some odd company, Curnow.”

Geoff rolled his eyes and walked off to their carriage, his posture much more relaxed though still tight and alert.

“I have to deal with nobles, Thomas. A lot of nobles.”

“Well, I can assure you I will be nothing of the sort,” Thomas told him, following behind. Geoff let out a soft laugh.

“If that's true, this day is going to be a good deal more enjoyable than I originally imagined.”

Thomas watched him carefully climbing into the lift, reading every movement and motion with eased practice and a trained eye. He caught the fluid motion of Curnow’s hands, the swing of his hips as he pulled himself into the lift, the shine of his eye as he caught Thomas staring.

Something in Thomas’s chest shifted and suddenly he was the one feeling nervous and vulnerable.

He managed a smirk all the same. Geoff met it in kind.

“Indeed,” Thomas agreed. “I'm sure this will be an easy partnership today.”

#dishonored #thomas the whaler #geoff curnow #werewolf au #dishonored au #long post #fic #my fic #fanfic #my fanfic #wolfbann #wolfssegner #post wolfbann #it might help to read that shit before this lmao #but i dont really care

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quirkydahlias · 6 years

Note

I love your last post with Aizawa and Toshinori so much!! Is it okay to request something based off of that post even though that was not my request? I was hoping you could add on hcs about how well Aizawa and Toshinori could move on after losing their s/o like that? How long would it take for them to live normally again and if they could ever love someone else again?

;;; w ;; my heart swells up at the notion of people wanting a sequel! Of course, I can write that angsty goodness. I hope it’s what you wanted, sorry if it isnt ; - ;

Oh, for any new readers, it’s a continuation of this angsty piece

Shouta Aizawa and Yagi Toshinori Moving On

Aizawa Shouta

Being a pro-hero was a serious and dangerous profession.

Everyone who became one knew that.

You knew that… both of you did.

In a world where almost everyone has inhuman abilities, where villains and crime grew like weeds and where hundreds of thousands of heroes rose to the occasion-

It was only logical that there would be casualties.

That those shining heroes would eventually fizzle out, as All Might did.

Or they would drop like flies.

Like the way you died, bleeding out as you waited for death to take you underneath your own concrete mausoleum.

Ruled by logic and reason, Aizawa saw no choice but to move on.

But even his closest friend, Mic, was extremely concerned at the speed at which the tired pro transitioned into acceptance.

The truth of the matter was that he did grieve for you, just…in his own way.

As workers under the government, sacrificing your life for the public, many of your family members expected a visit from an empathetic official.

Many were surprised to see Shouta in their place, dressed cleanly and groomed for once.

And it was to each of your family members that Aizawa got on the ground and bowed to, giving his apologies for not only your passing.

But for his failure.

For letting you die.

Because while he was safe and sound, pinned by villains in some safe house- you lay bleeding in the darkness, chaos echoing from the outside of your rubble cage.

While the villain that held him captive gloated, your thoughts wandered, thinking about the people you would undoubtedly leave behind by the end of the day.

After that day, many of your family members wouldn’t be surprised to see Aizawa patrolling in their neighborhood or helping out where he could financially, as you were unable to do so yourself.

Taking all the blame on himself, Shouta suffered quietly, his thoughts twisting and turning in his mind as he mulled over what to do next over gin and tonics.

Whatever he did, he would have to decide soon. Time waited for no one and

By the time Izuku and the rest of the students that were caught up in the incident returned to school, Aizawa was ready to teach again.

Nothing seemed to change, but a keen eye could notice the more subtle differences in his teaching method.

Shouta was more methodical, more critical of his students than ever. Hell, he even threatened to expel Mineta once or twice.

In his mind, these kids-these students of his were the next generation. Where you and eventually, he, would fall, these new heroes would pick up where the good fight left off.

You gave your life to protect others and he wasn’t about to let that effort be wasted.

Not by any other villain, if he could help it, and certainly not by incompetent children trying to play at being pro heroes.

However, that wasn’t the only thing you gave your life for.

You died- so that Eri could live.

When he first met the girl, she looked to frightened…so scared of the world around her.

She needed to learn how to control her quirk, how to be a normal girl. What she needed was guidance.

She needed him.

And so, the pro hero adopted her.

Sort of.

She lived on the UA campus, and all the pro heroes had a hand in raising her, but no one was blind to the fact that the two were often found together, Eri finally being able to relax and touch someone without the fear of harming them.

Sometimes when his mind would drift while he lazily used his quirk on Eri, to give her the boost of confidence to shake a stranger’s hand or to go play with some of the UA students. He’d think of you.

Would you have wanted kids? Wanted Eri? He’s not too sure anymore.

But he couldn’t dwell on you for too long, it wasn’t healthy.

He needed to move on and to make sure that no one would ever have to feel the way he feels.

Or die the way you died that terrible night.

Yagi Toshinori

All Might was expected to retire, once everyone had seen his form.

Hell, even if he didn’t weaken in front of the entirety of Japan, All Might would have retired.

After all, he failed you.

He watched the one person he truly, dearly loved get torn open by some abomination of science.

Even when he was being pulled into the hospital for recuperation and recovery, all he could think about was that expression you had on your face the moment the nomu sunk its claws into you.

The fear, the type of fear everyone experiences before they die.

The exact same type of fear that Yagi works so hard to prevent.

So while the media’s fanfare celebrates his victory, while his students cheer from the comfort of their homes.

While his own protege panicked over his destiny of becoming the next #1 hero, All Might wallowed in his own failures.

The pro in him screamed to move on, to stay strong- a pillar for others to lean upon.

But he wasn’t a pillar anymore, was he?

During his recovery, he visited your family and gave his condolences, their anguish almost being too much for his bleeding heart.

Having loved you while you were still alive so passionately, All Might was at a standstill without you.

Unable to drink his darker woes away like Aizawa could, All Might instead sought comfort in the only other way he could.

His friends.

Due to having to keep his quirk and secret identity a secret, All Might didn’t have many friends to turn to. However, once your death was announced, he did notice that his coworkers stepped up to help where they could.

Mic gifted him some albums of soothing music that he fished out of his music library at home.

Aizawa took over grading papers for him, believing that his help was far more effective than giving him something that he might not even use.

Nezu allowed All Might to take some time off to grieve and even when the former pro declined the offer, he did appreciate the sentiment.

Sir Nighteye even sent a small letter of condolence to his former teacher, formal and to the point. But considering their relationship prior to your death, it was a gift that All Might treasured.

But all the gifts and assistance in the world didn’t seem to have much of an effect on the former pro, Yagi only smiling politely and maintaining his strong facade before leaving out of the room.

He didn’t need support.

Not this particular kind of support.

So one night, as school was closing, Nezu made a quick announcement for all students to remain indoors tonight. At all times. No exceptions.

It was a confusing demand, but none of the students questioned the request.

All Might decided to take the chance to leave work early and get some drinks with Naomasa, wanting to catch up with the old detective.

Sitting alone in one of his friend’s favorite dives, Yagi sat and occupied his time by watching the notifications on his phone.

A robbery five miles away.

A hostage situation a few cities away.

A hit and run, the next prefecture.

But as if he could do anything but watch and pray that help would arrive soon.

Then Naomasa arrived, just in time to save Yagi from his thoughts.

But he wasn’t alone.

Mic was dragging Aizawa long by his capture weapon, Nezu seated on the scruffy man’s shoulder.

Midnight was dressed in more casual attire, along with 13.

It seemed that all the hero teachers had arrived along with his closest friend.

And it didn’t take much for the former pro to realize…

They were here for him.

All squeezed together in their booths, with wider heroes like Vlad opting to sit at the bar stool across from the table, the conversation started off light.

How was your day? Did you see the new support items released yesterday? How are your students?

All Might cracked a small smile, a sincere one that the whole room appreciated it.

Mic snatched up Aizawa’s wallet, much to the irritation of the tired 30-year-old, as he paid off the bartender to ensure that they’d be the only ones in the shop for the time being.

And as the boss, Nezu happily paid for everyone’s drinks and food.

Once the small talk died down, Aizawa was the first to speak up, unafraid of telling the truth.

“All Might.”

“U-Uh, yes? What is it, Aizawa?”

“Don’t you want to talk about it?”

“About…what?”

“About them.”

Deciding to make up for how forward Aizawa was, Mic patted the fail skeleton-like man on his back

“It might make you feel better, you know! All that negative energy’s no good!”

The side chatter died down as everyone’s gaze softened a little at the broken man, twiddling with his thumbs.

Nemuri than spoke up, asking a rather small, inconsequential question.

“So…how did you meet?”

The soft laugh that escaped All Might was a big relief to everyone around him, everyone listening in as he retold stories of his love for you and the experiences you two had together.

Sure, it was difficult for him to imagine a life without you.

And while it was hell to live in a life without you…

Your memory would forever be cherished in the stories he told of you as for once, Toshinori leaned on others for support in his time of need.

#shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta #aizawa shouta x reader #angst #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #all might #eraserhead #yagi toshinori x reader #toshinori yagi #yagi toshinori #canon x reader #canon x reader hc

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honeyyvee · 6 years

Text

Falling in love with: food

Part of the “Falling in love with” vignette series. In which Reader falls in love with BTS members through different things.

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Words: 1789

Genre: Slice of life

Warning/notes: mild coarse language. I was not kidding when I said these were getting longer and longer lol catch me writing a full on essay for the last “vignette”.

_________________________________

Sick of your ramyeon and microwave bought-store food days, you decide to sign up for a promising cooking course. Traditional Italian dishes for beginners reads the flyer that was handed to you while mindlessly making the way back to your home from the office. It would do you good to have some cooking lessons and eat something erm, healthier for a change, you think. You very well know the long-term possible outcomes of continuing eating instant cup ramyeon for the rest of your days, a bad habit you picked up as a broke college student and kept as a nearly-but-not-quite-broke worker. You can afford the lessons, your taste buds are in desperate need of a change, so you figure, What the hell. Sure, let's do it. A couple of taps of your fingers and an emptier bank account later you are feeling pretty proud and satisfied with yourself as you've made a responsible adult choice, a good investment in your long-term health.

It would serve as a relaxing activity to look forward after work too, as the course seems to be specifically targeted for busy office workers like yourself. A good distraction from work stress and your new, annoyingly hot supervisor.

Or so you thought.

You give your name at the reception desk to an old lady that seems to eye you curiously, like you're missing something or dropped something on the floor.

"Miss Y/N, just in time. From the looks of it I suppose that you're attending the course alone, yes?"

"Uh, right."

"Oh that's fine, that's fine. It happens. You needn't worry. Rest assured, we have just the perfect someone for you." She winks, with the smile of someone who knows something you clearly don't. It unsettles you. You don't like surprises.

You give her a look like she's grown a second head, just what is she talking about? you wonder, just as you turn on your heel and open the first door at your right to find that...

It's a freaking couples' cooking course.

You stare at the tables of lovebirds watching your single ass casually stumbling upon the realization that she just made the wrong call and signed herself for a couples' course, without a couple.

"Ah, Y/N! Over here." A booming voice commands you. You recognize that voice.

You stare in petrified horror as your instinct betrays you and your gaze meets his across the room. Seokjin is waving his hand at you, with a full smile on his pretty face, at the very back of the room. Everyone is aware of the exchange now, you have no way out of this.

There's a light tap on your shoulder. "Miss, excuse me, would you mind? The class is about to begin, go to your partner so we can all start."

The chef is just behind you as you're awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, stealing away precious seconds of class everyone payed for. You rush to his side to try and get out of your mess in a last desperate attempt.

"Uh, sir, sorry but I want to— I mean, I accidentally signed up for this couples' course. I'm not comfortable, I don't know if I can be transferred to another class? One that does not require a partner?" You ask in a whisper.

"I'm afraid not Miss. Courses are at full capacity. Luckily for you there's a gentleman that like yourself, is in need of a partner. It's all up to you though, so take it or leave it, but I must remind you there are no refunds. Now, if you allow me to begin my class... " the chef gives you an impatient look.

"Right, right. I'll just— go over there, yeah. Sorry." You bow.

You fix your eyes on your shoes as you walk the walk of shame to the very back of the room where your hot supervisor probably awaits you with a shit-eating grin. By the time you reach the table the chef has already started giving the introduction. You do not dare to look anyone at the eyes, you position yourself silently besides your coworker and focus on the cuticles of your fingers. Peace and quiet however, were never an option when it came to Seokjin, it seemed.

"Hey!" He greets you in a happy tone, and you can almost imagine the devastatingly charming smile on his face.

"Hey." You answer back curtly.

"Seems we both suck at reading." He chuckles with amusement. You're not amused in the least.

"Seems like it." You mutter, trying hard to focus on the rambling instructor and not the disarmingly handsome kitchen partner that fate has paired you up with against your wishes. Kim Seokjin is nothing but a distraction, a pretty face and nothing more. Way out of your league, there's no use wasting your time fawning over him. You have no chance. And yet...

"I thought it would be really embarrassing not having a partner to cook with, thank god I have you now."

"Yeah, aren't we lucky." You mumble under your breath.

The instructor starts giving the demo of a simple bolognese tomato sauce spaghetti and Seokjin's attention is diverted. You try to focus on the instructor's voice but try as you might, Seokjin's voice repeats itself like a record in your head, thank god I have you now, thank god I have you now...

"Y/N. "

You turn around wide-eyed.

"Yeah?"

Seokjin's amused smile stops your heart for a full second. "You spaced out through half the demo."

"Eh?! "

The gorgeous man shakes his head in disapproval, still amused at your absentmindedness. "Y/N-ah, what are we going to do with you..."

"Here." He extends you an apron. "You'll need that, we should start."

"Right... " You take it from him, your fingers barely brushing. Everything is so distracting when around this man, your hormones skyrocket like a teen. Your fingers fumble with the strings of cloth, struggling to properly tie a ribbon at your back.

"Do you need help with that? "

Your heartbeat speeds up.

"A-actually—"

"Here, let me help you. " His voice is genteel and calming, but its effect on you is quite the opposite. Seokjin's warm fingers unhook your trembling ones with gentleness, and you feel as they tug and twist and turn the strings into a perfect ribbon behind your back.

"There."

"Thank you." You whisper, meeting his warm gaze. Your eyes drift back to the table, to the bowl of ripe tomatoes next to your hand, suddenly intimidated by his powerful aura.

"We should disinfect these tomatoes to get this started. You do it." You mutter absent-minded not bothering to look back at him as you reach for the handout of the recipe.

"Aye, aye captain. Take the lead. "

A smile pulls at the corners of your lips. Jin's looks were intimidating for sure, you had heard however, about his good manners, positive disposition and approachable nature. Which quickly made him incredibly popular and respected among your colleagues. You were never one to mingle with your coworkers, but you had seen in various social media photographic proof, that Jin had adapted amazingly quickly since his transference from Seoul offices. He had lots of friends; to you however, he was just your supervisor. Your boss. You thought it better to stay that way.

Today however, things would be different. You were bored of being bossed around. You wanted to be the boss for a change.

"So... ?" You bite your lip.

"Needs more salt." Jin savours loudly with his mouth.

"Wha— No, I put a tablespoon as the recipe says. " you argue, pointing at the sheet of paper.

"Yeah, well it tastes like it needs some salt." He states, reaching for the container. Something or some demon of stubbornness overcomes you as you mindlessly swat his hand away from the salt shaker.

"Yah, don't be stubborn."

Seokjin recoils in surprise. His eyelashes flutter at you in bewilderment. It must be one of the few times someone has opposed him in such a blunt way. Your cheeks warm under his stare, but you hold onto your resolution.

"Let's follow the recipe." You wave the sheet of paper, and push the plastic container to the far end of the table where Seokjin's long arms can't reach.

"Let's see, we should stir nonstop for about 10 minutes to get the consistency right... " you trail off, trying hard to focus on the paper in front of you and not the burning stare of the giant man standing next to you.

"Could you give me the wooden spoon, please." You innocently ask, extending your open palm towards him, your eyes never leaving the piece of paper in your hands. Maybe if you had, you'd have noticed the mischievous glint in Seokjin's pretty eyes, the slight curl to his full lips.

"Sure." There's something about his tone you don't quite decypher. A playfulness of sorts, that would've been helpful to detect before the next thing happened.

The next thing being Seokjin standing behind you, chest pressed to your back, left arm caging you in between his body and the table, as he dips the wooden spoon in the tomato sauce and presents it before your lips.

"Open wide." You can hear the smirk in his voice next to your ear.

"Wha— no!" You lean your head back into his chest.

"Don't say no if you haven't tasted." He presses, (figuratively and literally).

"I— " you open your mouth to protest and Jin takes the chance. He pushes the spoon into your face but as you turn your head to your side, the red tomato sauce meets your cheek instead of your parted lips.

"Ah, so stubborn. " Jin sighs, defeated. In a single motion he turns you to face him, his pretty eyes inspecting the mess on your face with little interest.

A single brush of his thumb is enough to send your heartbeat skyrocketing, because the next unexpected thing he does is smearing tomato sauce on your lips. You stand there looking at him in aghast. You lick your lips involuntarily.

"How is it?" He asks, his lips turning into a smirk as he has the audacity to stick his thumb into his mouth, licking the remaining sauce off of it and releasing it with a satisfactory “pop".

The warm taste and texture of th sauce lingers on your tongue for the couple of seconds it takes your tingling lips to be able to form the words stuck in your throat.

"I'll go get the salt." You scurry away.

And that's the first of many culinary experiences that leave you with a full stomach and a bursting heart.

#btsguild #armyofwriters #kim seokjin x reader #bts fanfiction #kim seokjin imagine #kim seokjin fanfic #filw vignette series #vee writes

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ryeimagines · 7 years

Text

Crush - Steve McGarrett imagine

This is sort of a test run, I’m still writing primarily teen wolf stuff but I found this and I decided to give it a try. I hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think and maybe I’ll write some more stuff from other fandoms.

You never intended to stay on the island for that long. Nor acidentally get adopted by the five-0 after helping them out on a particular haring case which nearly ended with a bullet to your head. But definitely, more surprisingly, you realised that the reckless leader had not only managed to get under your skin, but also into your heart. That was a particular moment, nearly working yourself up into a panic attack at the realisation.

It wasn’t like you were oblivious to his appearance, you did have eyes. Even so, you were constantly reminded of it by most people you met during a job, witnesses who’d rather be interview by “hot stuff over there”, making all sorts of inappropriate comments and noises. You had to fight down the urge to smack a lot of people, practically reaching expert level at keeping your emotions in control. He wasn’t some piece of meat, he was a fucking person and it for sure pissed you off. It honestly wouldn’t surprise you if half of the island was already in love with the former navy seal. His previous employment had left him in pretty good shape, which he’s doing a good job keeping up as well as the tattoos which is a big bonus for a lot of people.

The thing was though, you weren’t looking to get into a relationship with anyone right now. And even if you were, your boss would most definitely not be on top of the pool of potential dating options. Relationships between coworkers weren't exactly forbidden, but they were still looked harshly on which reasons made perfectly good sense to you. Actually, there were a lot of reasons why a relationship with the commander was a bad idea.

The problem was, it only made you want it more. You wanted to get to know him. And the more things you learned, the harder it was to not feel it. He was ingrained into your memory, his face, his voice, his walk. The voice at the back of your mind reminding yourself that you could do this, keeping you calm in stressful situations.

It was probably all just in your head, but there had been what felt like a moment after the realisation that you wouldn't be dying today and looking up to meet his blue gaze, something like relief flashed across his face before the stoic look was back. Somewhere along you remembered how he was sort of straddling you, chest pressed against yours and a hand firmly against the small of your back pinning you to the ground. On intstict, your eyes flickered down to his mouth before returning. The question died in your throat before you could even muster up the courage to ask it. Then the spell was broken by a frantic Danny, sounding far away and startled you both. You had forgotten about the earpiece.

You should have known Kono wouldn't be able to keep her mouth shut. In hindsight, you did know that it was a bad idea to let her fill you up with alchohol and have her wicked way with you. It was like a truth serum, and after a couple of beers and with a little prompting the secret crush was not so secret anymore. Naturally, even with a buzz going you had some kind of self preservation left, enough at least not to give her a name or anything to defining as a clue.

Five days later she showed up on your doorstep.

“It's Steve isn't it?” She greeted you, and you promtly pulled her inside and shut the door behind her.

“I think you have a concussion, I knew that hit to your head was worse than it looked.”

“Don't change the subject. Though I guess you already answered by the way you just deflected it away.”

“Okay, fine, I like him. Happy? You figured it out.” Sighing, you sank down on the couch, willing it to swallow you hole. You felt drained suddenly, keeping your gaze firmly down on the carpet.

“What are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“What? You can't just go around like nothings up. The guys are gonna figure it out eventually, they know somethings not right so they asked me to talk to you.”

“What can I possibly do? It's not gonna happen. I won't jeapordize the team because of some stupid crush. It means to much to me. Or his frenship. I wan't him to be happy, and that's all that matters.

“Your happiness matters to you know.” She mumbled softly, settling beside you on the sofa. You didn’t respond, opting to lay your head on her shoulder and leaning into her warmth and calm. You didn’t know what to do, but you couldn’t keep dancing around it either. One day he would put two and two together and figure it out, or possibly just confront you and force you to spill.

As it turned out, it only took about a day. You were on a stake out, taking shifts and you and Steve ended up together, you had a feeling they had all colluded into making this happen. Being stuck together in a cramped space for hours were the last place you wanted to be, there was no escape. He had you, and he knew it. There was nothing to do really but talk, somewhere down the line you’d ended up on the conversation of dating, snorting at his question when he asked if you were seeing anyone, a puzzled look on his face at your reaction. You didn’t really want to get into that now, quickly turning it around to him.

“How’s the wife? Or soon to be, are you gonna pop the question anytime soon?” You’d heard Danny talk about it a while back.

“What?”

“Catherine. The woman who’s been sleeping in your bed for the past couple of months? Whatever it is you have.”

“It's over.” He stated promptly, effectively ending the subject.

“Oh.” You didn’t know how to respond to that information, opting to stare out the window, praying for the mark to get there already so you could do something. Anything was better than this really.”

“Look, I'm sorry if I did something to upset you or anything, but I need you to tell me what I did. Talk to me.”

“It's nothing.” He let out a sigh, you could practically see his jaw clenching.

“Okay, fine, it's not nothing. I'm dealing with it, okay? You haven't done anything. I'm just frustrated and there's nothing that will chance that.”

“Okay, just, let me know if there is something I can do, alright? We're a team, and we've always got your back. Your not alone.” Fingers brushed against your bare skin, giving a gentle squeeze. You already missed it. It wasn't right, he was being so sweet and understanding and so good, it pissed you off and guilted you at the same time.

“I'm in love with someone, and it could never work.”

“Why not?”

“Besides the fact that it's completely one-sided? We literally can't without breaking protocol.”

“Oh.”

“If you really want it, you have to fight for it. So what if you break a few rules in the process?”

“Except I'm pretty sure that I made our entire thing up in my head.”

“What if you didn't?”

“Huh?”

“What if he maybe feels the same way too, but he's afraid that it could ruin things.” He was suddenly a lot closer, eyes full of intent.

“Maybe I'm just waiting for him to make a move already.” You breathed, heart pounding in your ears. If there was one thing you could count on, was that he never backed down from a dare. Suddenly his lips were on yours in a brief but passionate kiss that left your lips tingling long after you pulled apart. Naturally, you were interrupted as always, this time by a chase as he took off running after one of the suspects while you stayed behind and dealt with the other one. Your life was never going to be perfect, especially not in this line of work. Chaos came with the territory, but it was perfect in it’s on way. And this time you didn’t have to suppress the urge to touch him and make sure that he was okay, making him go to the hospital and putting on quite the show in front of your colleagues and everyone else who happened to be there.

#hawaii 5-0 #steve mcgarrett #hawaii 5-0 imagines #hawaii 5-0 imagine #imagines #not requested #steve mcgarrett imagine #steve mcgarrett imagines #kono kalakaua #y/n imagines #ryeimagines #send in requests

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mrsteveecook · 6 years

Text

my employee trash-talks herself, I hurt my employee’s feelings, and more

It’s five answers to five questions. Here we go…

1. My employee constantly apologizes and calls herself stupid

A few months back, you answered a letter from someone concerned about a coworker’s imposter syndrome and constant, defeatist self-talk. I’m in a similar situation — I’d type out the details but it’s almost word-for-word what that person said— except I’m the boss, not the coworker.

This is very distressing to deal with, particularly since her work is stellar. It’s clear that she is a very, very anxious person and that’s distorting her view of reality. But it’s frustrating and upsetting as a manager. Every interaction, even routine ones, are about her feelings: Instead of “Should I deal with Ticket X or Ticket Y first?” it’s “I’m so sorry to bother you, I know this is a stupid question, sorry, but should I deal with Ticket X or Ticket Y?” Ignoring it hasn’t worked (“Ticket X, thanks!”); reassuring hasn’t worked (“You’re not bothering me and it’s not a stupid question; ticket X”) and even raising it in her (otherwise excellent) performance review hasn’t worked. She just ends up apologizing for the fact that she’s apologizing.

Other managers, who don’t work with her as closely as I do, sort of laugh this off as a quirk of personality. But it’s making me dread working with her. Seeing her name in my inbox and imagining the cascade of self-hatred that’s going to preface a perfectly reasonable request gives me a knot in my stomach. Is there anything I can do to make this better?

Maybe, maybe not. I’m not sure how direct you’ve been with her about it, and how much coaching you’ve tried to do around it. You raised it in her performance review, but how clear and direct were you? Was it framed as “this is a work problem and you need to change it”? Or was it more like “please don’t feel you need to apologize so frequently”? My hunch is that it was closer to the latter, because that’s what people tend to do, and so it’s time for the former. Frame it not as concern for her own feelings (“it’s not a stupid question”), but as a work-related issue that’s making it difficult to work with her. That might feel harsh — but it’s the truth, she deserves to know that, and softer approaches haven’t worked. You’ll actually be doing her a favor if you’re honest with her about the impact it’s having because this has to be impacting how she’s perceived in your office.

So: “It’s difficult to work with you when you constantly apologize for routine work questions, and I’d like you to work on stopping that.” And then give a few examples to help her envision what she should be doing instead: “For example, when you bring me a question about prioritizing, please just say, ‘Should I do X or Y first?’ Don’t tell me it’s a stupid question.” And then assume you’ll need to do some ongoing coaching too, since this is ingrained behavior that won’t change overnight. So when she trash-talks herself next time, say, “This is what we were talking about. Do you want to say that a different way?” (And yes, she might reflexively apologize in response; cut her some slack there while she works on it.)

If you’re very direct and frame this as a work-related thing she needs to change and it still doesn’t change, then you can conclude you’re out of options. But until you try this, I wouldn’t assume it’s a lost cause.

2. I think I hurt my assistant’s feelings

My assistant has been working with me for almost a year and things have been great. We hit a bit of a snag this week, and I could use some advice.

She LOVES birthdays. She’s very into horoscopes/astrology, and when it was her birthday she took the day off. I got her a card and a manicure gift card, since obviously she cares a lot about her birthday and if it’s important to her, I want to recognize that.

I, on the other hand, don’t particularly care about birthdays. I really dislike being the center of attention. I work in an extremely conservative and male-dominated field and office. It simply isn’t common in our office to celebrate birthdays in any way. My assistant somehow found out it was my birthday. When I was in a meeting, she decorated my office — streamers, balloons, the whole nine yards. I was surprised and, frankly, not particularly enthusiastic about it. I don’t think I did a very good job pretending to be excited. I said thank you, but when we were chatting I said I wasn’t really into celebrating my birthday. I left the decorations up, although she took down some of them on her own.

I think I hurt her feelings. I didn’t mean to, but she’s been super quiet every since. She’s normally very bubbly and happy and she just hasn’t been. It was a very sweet idea and a lovely gesture from her, just not right for me or for my office. I asked if everything was okay and she said yes, but I don’t think it is. What do I do?

Yeah, it sounds like she didn’t read the office — or you — well. But now she feels dejected or unappreciated, or who knows, possibly embarrassed.

I’m a big fan of addressing stuff head-on, so I’d just ask her about it: “You seem pretty down lately — is everything okay?” And depending on her answer, I might follow it up with, “I might be totally off-base with this, but I wonder if I didn’t convey how much I appreciate you thinking of me on my birthday. While I’m not one for a lot of attention on my birthday, you had no way of knowing that before now! And it was really thoughtful of you to go out of your way for me. You’re a great assistant, and I’d never want you to feel like I wasn’t recognizing you and your work, and how thoughtful you are.”

Depending on how that conversation goes, it might even be useful to talk a little about the gender dynamics in play in your culture — something like “I’ve found that in male-dominated environments like this one, women are judged pretty harshly for doing anything that could be deemed frivolous, so I’m careful to avoid it” might help give her some context. (That said, you shouldn’t imply that that’s the only reason, since you wouldn’t have been into it regardless — and I don’t want you to sound like you’re saying all women would be enthused about this if only it were allowed.)

Also, if she’s someone who would be delighted with, say, flowers from you or another small token of appreciation, this might be a good time to do that. (Not as a thank-you for the birthday stuff — you don’t want to reinforce that — but as a tangible mark of appreciation for her in general.) Not everyone wants that stuff, but if she’s someone who likes it, it might be well timed.

3. Interviewers are surprised that I haven’t included all my jobs on my resume

I’m currently job searching within the realms of education and nonprofits, after stepping back to the corporate sector for a few years to fund my masters degree. Because I want to highlight the relevant parts of my experience, I’m currently using three different versions of my resume — one that highlights my teaching experience, one that highlights community building and event planning, and one that includes absolutely everything, for those positions that seem to want superwoman to appear.

I’m running into the same thing over and over — in interviews, employers seem shocked that I’ve only included relevant experience, even though it clearly says that on my resume. It seems that they feel I’m being dishonest by leaving part of my work history out, when what I’m actually doing is trying to market myself effectively. I always fill out work history requests with every role, and I am always honest about how little my current position has to do with the roles I’m applying for now.

Am I crazy? I thought it was fairly common to treat resumes this way, but the amount of surprise I’m getting makes me think I may be wrong. I feel the need to defend myself against perceived dishonesty.

It’s really, really normal to do what you’re doing. It’s really common advice! That said, if you’re encountering frequent push-back, your field or region may be an aberration in this regard, and so it makes sense to either use the full version of your resume or to use one with a Relevant Experience section (with bulleted accomplishments and details for each job) plus a more limited Other Experience section (with just a bulleted list of employers, job titles, and dates for the work not included in the previous section, but without the additional details).

4. Job searching with a potential illness and surgery

I’ve just moved back to the metro area where I grew up hoping to settle here for years to come. Because of the move, I’m on the job hunt, currently doing remote freelance work I’d like to leave behind. Unfortunately, I’ve also had two episodes of a new health issue in the past few months. Both flare-ups left me in the hospital for a few days. While the many doctors I’ve seen haven’t all agreed about what is happening, it seems likely that I will need surgery in a few months. That procedure would probably require a 2-4 week recovery time.

There’s also the slight possibility that the cause of these issues is something like cancer. More likely, it’s a chronic illness I’ll need to navigate. In any of these scenarios, it’s impossible for me to know yet how my health will affect my work life. The diagnostic test my doctors need to make a plan of care won’t happen until September, when I’m finally healed from this latest ordeal. (I’m fine to do desk work until the surgery, barring another crazy flare-up, which I hope is unlikely.)

However, I’m in the running for a desk job I’m very excited about. The organization is amazing and the position is such a good fit for me. I applied for this job the same day I ended up in the ER for a second time. When they approached me to schedule an interview, I didn’t mention anything about my recent health fiascos. It didn’t occur to me that I should. But now I’m recognizing that if they hire me to start in mid-August, I might work for them only a month before I’d need to bow out for weeks of surgery recovery. Of course there’s also still the possibility that this will be a manageable health issue that won’t affect work much or at all. I won’t know until September.

A friend told me I should be upfront about this during the interview process. I agree that I feel uneasy about not telling them. But I can’t imagine how much or how to share private health information when it’s so up in the air. What should I say? At what point in the process? I also can’t really imagine anyone wanting to hire me if I’ve got a medical mystery happening. I’m torn between thinking I should bow out of the job search altogether until I know more and thinking I need to keep living my life as hopefully as possible. Maybe being up-front is a good middle ground?

Don’t mention it during the interview process, but yes, once you have an offer, it would make sense to explain that you may need to have surgery later this year and, if so, would need 2-4 weeks to recover, and ask if that’s something they’d be able to accommodate. You don’t need to disclose any details beyond that, including that some of this is up in the air; you’re just sharing what’s most likely, and the part that would be relevant to them as things currently stand. There’s a decent chance that they’ll work with you on this — and if they don’t, it’s better to learn that now than later on.

If you currently had a full-time job (rather than freelance work), I’d tell you to think about whether it made sense to give up FMLA eligibility right now (since it doesn’t kick in until you’ve worked somewhere for a year) … but since you don’t, that’s not something you have to factor in.

5. Should I withdraw from this hiring process?

In April, I applied for a role at a mid-size tech company in my small town. Towards mid-May, I had a phone interview with the in-house recruiter, and a week later, I had a phone interview with the manager. Then, I was scheduled for an in-person interview with the same manager and the visual design manager. After a week or so, I was scheduled for an 8-hour (across morning coffee, lunch, and an end-of-the-day chat) interview divided into 30-minute segments with 20+ people—people who by their own admission I would not work with on a day-to-day basis (which I only mention because it seems like interview overkill). I was told it was down to four candidates (though there are two openings), and I’d hear back by the end of the week.

The week came and went. Eventually, I heard from the manager and recruiter that things were at a hold-up for HR reasons with paperwork, and they’d have an answer before July 4. On the 5th, I was again emailed by the recruiter, who told me that not everyone was available (due to vacations and what-not) to make the decision. They apologized for the lengthy hiring process, told me I was still in the running, but it would be, at the latest, another two weeks before a decision was finalized.

The two-week deadline was up on July 19. I emailed the recruiter but haven’t heard anything. At this point, I’m beyond frustrated. Part of me wants to remove my name from consideration, but my town has very few opportunities (and I don’t want to cut my nose off to spite my face). I can’t help but wonder, if this is the hiring process, what will the job be like (were I to get it)? Honestly, more than anything, I don’t understand why this is acceptable behavior, even by corporation standards. At what point do I give up? Or has the point come and gone?

Two phone interviews and two in-person interviews isn’t excessive in and of itself … but that eight-hour interview sounds like overkill, especially given the way they structured it. (Not necessarily though — it depends on the job. If it’s a high-stakes role, it’s possible that was reasonable.)

Anyway, the timeline here isn’t egregious. Hiring often takes far longer than anyone expects it to, including on the employer side, and timelines frequently get pushed back like this. Don’t withdraw from the process just because it’s taking a bit longer than they initially said it would; this is normal and not a horrible danger sign. However, since you’re feeling antsy about, decide in your mind that you didn’t get it and mentally move on, so that you’re not stressing about why you haven’t heard anything and when you will and what’s going on. At some point, if they get in touch, great. But there’s no reason for you to keep stressing about it or to preemptively withdraw.