#I believe (if you’re American and in school) there should be a break coming up :)

[cxmetcxtcher]

he smiles, hoping he’s doing well

OPEN STARTER

~We’ll be the envy of the gods above!~

Another normal day at camp. Younger campers running around, sounds of distant practice fights, the usual routine.

Until a piece of blue paper hits you straight in the face. After managing to peel it off, you notice it’s a poster advertising- a karaoke night in the Apollo cabin? It starts in ten minutes.

You decide to go, finding the place crowded with a makeshift stage in the middle. There’s a sign up sheet in the corner. You spot Comet getting a drink (Lemonade. He may be a criminal but he’s had enough alcohol in his life).

now for the question- what do you do?

tag list

@diving-off-the-deep-end

@amaiahunterofartemis

@the-winged-son-of-hermes

@demigod-jack-hearth

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 1: Welcome To A New Kind Of Tension]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “American Idiot” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“What do you think, should we kill ourselves now or later?” Rio is spinning his Beretta M9 around on his index finger. This is not advisable. He doesn’t care.

Your hands are gripping the skeletal latticework of the transmission tower, steel hot enough to burn you; no electricity hums in the power lines suspended above your heads. Your eyes are on the horizon, golden June sunlight over fields no one has planted. Weeds are growing up through the earth, feral and defiantly useless, reclaiming their land just like the deer are, and the rabbits and the opossums and the turtles and the squirrels and the doves. The reign of humanity is over. Now you’re prey animals too. “Let’s wait.”

“For what?”

“Maybe someone will save us.”

“Ain’t nobody coming, Chips!” Rio says. “We’re a hundred feet off the ground in the middle of nowhere, motherfucking Catawissa, Pennsylvania, and we haven’t run into anyone since that Amish family back in Lightstreet, and I wouldn’t count on them driving by in their horse and buggy to pick us up.”

“We’re about sixty feet off the ground.”

“Okay, Bob the Builder, why don’t you whip up a helicopter or something to get us out of here?” Rio’s M9 has one bullet left in it, yours has three, nowhere near enough. At the bottom of the tower is a swarm of fifty-four zombies; you’ve counted them twice. There are no cute euphemisms: walkers, biters, the infected. They were once people and now they’re not. They wear the vestiges of their former lives, like how those who believe in reincarnation see meaning in birthmarks: here you were stabbed, there you were kissed by your true love. They lurch and snarl and hiss in their professional attire, college t-shirts, Vans and Jordans, septum piercings, wedding rings. They decompose in a miasma of metallic blood and spoiled meat. Parker had been the last one to the transmission tower, and they grabbed him by the legs. Now they’re chewing the gristle off his bones: disconnected ligaments that swing like strands of cobwebs, scarlet threads of muscle. “Oh shit,” Rio says, looking down. “We’ve got a smart one.”

Most zombies don’t have the fine motor skills to climb, swim, or open doors, but every once in a while—just like out of every 5,000 or 10,000 or however many ordinary humans you’ll pull the lever on the genetic slot machine and get a Picasso or a kid who can score a 1600 on the SATs—you run into an overachiever. This zombie, a teenage boy with red hair and a blue plaid shirt, is slowly scaling the tower. He’s already ten feet off the ground.

Rio aims his M9, semiautomatic, packs a punch but won’t break your arm with the recoil. “Fuck off, Ed Sheeran!” He fires and misses; the bullet grazes the boy’s shoulder. He groans dramatically and asks you in defeat: “Will you take care of that, please?”

You pull your pistol out of your holster and lean away from the tower to get a better angle, holding onto the scaffolding with one hand. You feel Rio’s large fingers close around your wrist, ready to yank you back if you slip. You click off the safety with your thumb, peer through the front sight, aim and wait until you’re sure. It’s a headshot: shards of skull ricochet off steel beams, half-rotten brains spray out in a mist. The carcass plummets to the earth.

“All this horror, all this catastrophe.” Rio’s eyes, dark like a mineshaft, drift mischievously back to you. “We could…distract each other.”

He’s not serious; this is a game you play. “No thanks.”

“You don’t want to die a virgin.”

“I do if you’re the only other person up here.”

“You deny a condemned man his final wish?”

“We’re not dying,” you insist. “What about Sophie?”

“Sophie would understand given the circumstances. She would want me to be happy.”

“What if we have sex and then immediately thereafter get rescued? You’d be a cheater. You’d be consumed by guilt. You’d never be able to take me back to your parents’ doomsday prepper cult commune in bumblefuck Oregon to wait out the apocalypse in peace.”

“You’re going to appreciate those doomsday preppers when you’re eating Chef Boyardee out of a can instead of shuffling around as a reanimated corpse.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I will,” you muse. “So you agree we’re going to get off this tower somehow.”

Rio sighs and whistles a morose tune: what a shame. “You should have gone out with that Marine at Corpus Christi.”

You frown, repentant, wistful. There’s nothing on the horizon except fields and trees and black storm clouds of crows taking flight. “I was afraid of making a mistake.”

“And now look at you. About to die as pure as Pope Francis.”

“How did this happen?! We’re not idiots, we’re goddamn professionals!” You re-holster your M9. You’re still wearing your uniforms from when you went AWOL, stealing away from Saratoga Springs like rats from a sinking ship.

“I’ll tell you exactly how this happened. You let that loser Parker come with us even though I knew it was a bad idea—”

“I couldn’t just leave him there! He started crying!”

“And he had one job, which was to check the oil in the Humvee, and clearly he failed because…” Rio glances at his watch. “Approximately four hours ago, the engine started smoking and the whole thing died on us, so we had to get out and walk, like we’re pioneers or some shit, and then that hoard down there came out of nowhere, and the only place left to go was up. Freaking Parker. I could murder that guy.” An awkward pause. “I mean, the zombies beat me to it. But still.”

“He had two jobs. He was also carrying the extra ammo.”

“Don’t remind me.” Rio isn’t messing around with his M9 anymore. He’s contemplating it as the sun hovers just past noon, hot and shadowless. “How many bullets do you have left?”

“Two.”

“Good. Don’t use them.”

You look at him, this man you’ve known for over four years, this man you’ve traveled the world with. You’ve already gone so much farther than Oregon together. How is it possible that what was once a six hour flight is now a month-long journey that might kill you? “It’s not over yet, Rio.”

“Remember what you promised me.”

His hushed voice in the moonlit indigo of the Humvee the night you left Saratoga Springs: Don’t let me die alone. “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to make it to Oregon.” Then you grin, sweltering summer air breathing over you, humid, heavy, the screeching of insects in the trees. “But if it comes to that, I’d be happy to shoot you first.”

Rio smiles as the zombies below growl and claw at the steel framework of the transmission tower. Flesh peels off their fingers until you can see the gore-stained white of their bones. “Don’t miss.”

“I rarely do.”

“Do you have any more packs of Cheddar Whales in your pockets or—?” He cuts off as he spots something in the distance. His eyes go wide, his jaw drops open. “What…what is that?!”

It’s an SUV, massive, dark blue, rumbling across the field in a dust storm of displaced earth. It’s headed straight towards you. There is someone standing up through the sunroof, short dark hair that whips wildly in the wind, binoculars. You can hear the engine revving and, faintly, Kanye West’s Gold Digger. As the SUV nears the tower, Sunroof Kid ducks inside and closes the hatch.

Rio explodes into hysterical, rapturous laughter. “Oh my God, we’re saved! We’re not going to die up here! Oh, thank you, Jesus, thank you. I’m never going to jack off on Sundays again.”

The SUV, still accelerating, plows through the mob of zombies. Severed limbs go flying; bones crunch and snap. There’s a woman driving, you can see now through the slightly tinted windows. She puts the monstrous vehicle and reverse and does another pass. Zombies paw futilely at the sides of the SUV, a Chevy Tahoe, as it turns out. They smack their open, soggy palms on the windows; they gnaw and lick at the bumpers and the wheel wells. The Tahoe circles to regain speed, the engine growling, a bear, a dragon, and barrels into the remaining ambulatory zombies. The hoard is now largely incapacitated. Rio is cheering and clapping his hands.

The Tahoe’s doors open, and your rescuers appear. There are two men wielding baseball bats: one with long dark curly hair, the other tall and blonde, and there’s something wrong with his face, the left side, though you are too far away to see clearly. They move rapidly through the battlefield of felled, moaning bodies, swinging their bats and crushing skulls. There’s another blonde guy, shorter, softer, pink with sunburn, wearing plastic sunglasses and a teal polo with a popped collar. He’s spinning a golf club in his right hand. He is followed out of the Tahoe by one last blonde, spindly and swift, stalking the perimeter with a compound bow, a quiver of arrows secured to his belt. Rio is singing along to Gold Digger, drumming his fists on the steel beams.

“Now, I ain’t sayin’ you a gold digger, you got needs

You don’t want a dude to smoke, but he can’t buy weed

You go out to eat, he can’t pay, y’all can’t leave

There’s dishes in the back, he gotta roll up his sleeves…”

The driver wriggles out of the Tahoe with some difficulty; she is seven or eight months pregnant. “Stay in the car,” Madame Driver tells someone inside as she slams the door shut. She’s holding a hammer and sets about euthanizing the zombies still squirming on the ground and gnashing their cracked teeth at her.

Golf Club says: “Jace, bro, that’s so embarrassing. You’re gonna let her do that?”

Curly—or, rather, Jace—shrugs. “Exercise is good for the baby.”

All three blondes respond at once in a chorus of appalled disapproval. Interestingly, your rescuers have British accents. From within the Tahoe, someone turns off the CD player. This is wise; noise tends to attract more zombies. Madame Driver, unaffected, puts her hammer through the eye socket of a former Arby’s employee.

Jace flings back: “She likes helping! It would be sexist to tell her she’s not allowed to!”

The Scarred Man looks up at you and Rio and salutes, two fingers glanced off his forehead. You begin climbing down the scalding rungs of the transmission tower to meet them.

“Oh fuck, Aemond, you gotta deal with this,” Golf Club says. He is holding a yowling zombie at arm’s length by the straps of its overalls. It’s tiny, maybe a kindergartener. “You know I can’t kill the little kid ones.”

The Scarred Man, Aemond, turns to him. He’s wearing a maroon Harvard University t-shirt. “You have to learn how to do things yourself. I might not always be around.”

Golf Club scoffs. “As if I’d outlive you.”

“Go on. You can do it,” Aemond says. Behind him, more people are emerging from the Chevy Tahoe: Binoculars Buddy, a slight girl with shifting, watchful eyes, a blonde woman in a billowing sundress and with a burlap messenger bag slung over one shoulder.

Golf Club is still struggling. “Aw, Aemond, man, he’s got light-up sneakers!”

Jace strides over irritably. “Aegon, you’re so fucking useless…” He kicks the miniature zombie to the dirt, raises his bloodied baseball bat, and brings it down on a skull that disintegrates like an overripe Halloween pumpkin. “You’re welcome.”

“Get bit, you poodle.”

Rio hits the ground first, his boots thumping against untamed earth. Aemond sets his baseball bat aside and reaches out to offer assistance as you dangle from a white-hot steel beam. “No,” Rio tells him roughly. “Back up.”

Aemond shows his palms and complies, retreating several paces. Rio helps you down. Now you can see Aemond’s face perfectly. There’s a relatively fresh wound running down the left half of his face, the violent red of burgeoning scar tissue, clear stitches; his eye has been sutured shut. But that’s not why you’re staring at him. His other eye is a focused, hypnotic blue, his short blonde hair disheveled. He keeps touching his chin, a nervous tick. Immediately, there’s something you like about him. He gives you the impression of someone who has gotten very good at hiding how afraid he is. Aemond looks away from your gaze, thinking you’re horrified by his injury. Then, reluctantly, he comes back. There’s forbidden temptation the lines of his ravaged face, a curiosity, a hesitation.

“Thank you for saving us,” you say to your rescuers, tearing your attention from Aemond. It’s not easy. “That was really, really cool of you, and we know you didn’t have to do it. So thanks.”

“Yeah,” Rio adds. “Sorry your Tahoe is covered in guts now.”

Aemond turns to confer silently with his companions, then asks you: “Where are you headed?”

“Odessa, Oregon.”

He nods. “We’re going to California.”

“NorCal,” Jace says, holding his baseball bat across his shoulders. “Bay Area.”

“Are you two together?” Aegon asks.

“Yeah,” Rio says, misunderstanding the question.

“Not like that,” you clarify. “He has a wife and baby, that’s what’s in Oregon.”

“So you’re single,” Aegon says, grinning toothily. His fellow travelers—family? friends? classmates? a combination thereof?—grumble and roll their eyes.

“Um, I mean, yeah, technically…?”

“Aemond’s also single,” Madame Driver informs you, relishing the chaos.

“He’s single but deformed and traumatized,” Aegon says. “I am mentally uninjured.”

You chuckle awkwardly. Your eyes, by their own volition, flick back to Aemond. He peers down at the ground then up at you again, smiling, a little sheepish, a little wicked.

Aegon groans, swinging his golf club around. “Man, come on.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Aemond replies.

“No, it’s just right there, all over your fucked up face.”

Madame Driver feigns a sympathetic frown at Aegon. “How sad. Guess you won’t have anyone to give your syphilis to.”

“I don’t have syphilis,” Aegon tells you. Then, to the others: “I can’t be the only single guy! It’s pathetic!”

“I’m single,” Archery Team says brightly.

“You’re like twelve. You don’t count.”

“I’m seventeen!”

“Are you Army?” Aemond asks you and Rio.

“Navy,” Rio replies. “We were stationed at Saratoga Springs in upstate New York.”

Aemond is fascinated. “You’re deserters?”

“What are you gonna do about it, Brit Boy?” Rio says. Aemond blinks at him. Aegon cackles, drawing huge circles in the air with his golf club.

“Everyone’s deserting,” you explain diplomatically.

“They were going to evacuate the base and send everyone left into New York City,” Rio says. “Fuck that, we’d heard things, we weren’t about to go on some suicide mission. We weren’t even in a combat unit for Christ’s sake, we’re Seabees.”

“You’re what?” Aemond asks, puzzled.

“We do construction. That’s why we were still at the base. If they’re putting us on the front lines, the situation is desperate. I’m not going in the meatgrinder. I’m not gonna be like those Hitler Youth kids sent to Russia.”

Aegon is squinting behind his sunglasses, truly lost. “Huh?”

“We should go west together,” Aemond suggests. He’s attempting to sound casual.

“I thought we didn’t want to travel with strangers, Aemond,” Jace says pointedly, mocking him. “I thought they couldn’t be trusted, Aemond. I thought they might slit our throats and steal our Tahoe in the dead of night, Aemond.”

“We’re useful!” Rio bargains. “We can shoot things!”

Aegon is very confused. “I thought you did construction.”

“Everyone has to go through basic training,” Aemond tells him impatiently, watching you.

“She got the Marksmanship Medal,” Rio says, grinning, proud.

“A lot of people get that,” you demur immediately.

“We can give you guys weapons training,” Rio continues. “You seem…like you probably don’t know about guns. Like you read a lot of books.” He gestures to Aegon. “Except that one.”

Aegon snickers, unoffended, still swinging his golf club around. “I don’t read books. I read maps.”

“Okay, lets do it,” Aemond says. “We’ll stick together across the Midwest and split up before we get to the Pacific. That puts us at ten people, and there’s safety in numbers.”

“Why do you get to make all the decisions?!” Jace demands. “Who signed that fucking contract? I didn’t consent to those terms.”

“Because that’s what Criston told us the last time the phones worked,” Aegon replies smugly. “He said Aemond’s in charge. So he is. If you want to find your way to California on your own, you’re welcome to try.”

“Who’s Criston?” you ask.

“Our fake dad,” Aegon says.

“Oh, your stepdad?”

“No, our mom is still married to our dad, he just sucks.”

“He does suck,” Archery Team confirms.

Rio tells you: “Hey, Chips, you’re standing in a torso.”

“Am I?” You look down. Your boots are buried to the ankles in the rotting gore of a bare midsection with only one limp arm still attached. You step out of it and shake off the bits of decomposing organs. “Gnarly. Thanks.” You spot Parker’s backpack containing the extra ammunition, pick it up out of the dirt, and throw it over your shoulders.

“Chips?” Aemond says. “Like…chocolate chips?”

“No, like woodchips. I’m a carpenter. I mean, I was a carpenter, I guess. That’s what I did in the Navy. Some people call the carpenters Chips.”

“I was an electrician,” Rio says. “So clearly, now that all the power is down, that turned out to be a fantastic career path.” Then he formally introduces himself. “Hi everyone, I’m Rio.”

Aegon perks up. “Oh, like the Rio Grande.”

Rio pretends to be scandalized. “Wow, racist.”

“So racist,” you agree.

Aegon’s chubby pink face fills with horror. “No, wait, I didn’t…um…”

Rio laughs and taps the nametag on his chest, black letters stitched over green camouflage: Osorio.

“His first name’s Bryan,” you say. “But no one calls him that.”

“My mom calls me Bryan. Sophie calls me Bryan.”

Aemond points at his companions, one after the other. “That’s my brother Aegon and my sister Helaena. Jace and Luke are our cousins. Then Baela and Rhaena are their girlfriends. Well, Baela…she’s kind of a fiancée. But there’s no official ring yet.”

Jace says: “Unfortunately, all the jewelry stores were looted on account of the apocalypse.”

“And I’m Daeron,” Archery Team says buoyantly, waving. Then he shields his eyes as he notices something at the edge of the field. “Oh, guys…?”

There are zombies approaching with clumsy, staggering strides, only a few now, but more will follow. That’s the thing; they are in seemingly endless supply. It’s easy to get too comfortable with them, to think of them as slow and mindless, even comical, even pitiful. But they can surprise you. And it only takes one bite to become just like them.

“Time to return to the Tahoe,” Baela announces, waddling towards the driver’s seat. Rhaena climbs in the passenger’s side. The rest of you pile into the back. The SUV has nine seats; Aegon crouches on the floor without being asked to. He’s unfolding a map he pulled from the pocket of his salmon-colored shorts and laying it flat across Rio’s knees so everyone can see. Baela turns the key in the ignition and the Tahoe rumbles to life. You spot a few red gas cans under the seats. If you can’t find more when that runs out—siphoning it out of other vehicles, stumbling across a gas station that is miraculously not drained dry—you’ll be walking, biking, or skateboarding to the West Coast. Or embracing the Amish lifestyle with a horse and buggy.

“We were planning to swing by Fort Indiantown Gap,” you tell Aemond. He twists around in his seat to look at you, that absorbed crystalline blue gaze. “That’s where we were headed before our Humvee broke down. It’s a National Guard Training Center. It’s probably cleaned out like everywhere else, but if it’s not…we might be able to find some guns and ammo there.”

“Where is it?”

“An hour south of here, just outside of Harrisburg.”

Baela is watching Aemond in the rearview mirror. He gives her a nod. “How do I get there?” Baela asks you.

“South on Route 42. Did you see the signs on your way in…?”

“Yup. Got it.” Baela steers the Tahoe across the field, kicking up a vortex of parched soil. She intentionally runs down four zombies before swerving left onto a two-lane road. Then she turns up the volume on the CD player: War Pigs by Black Sabbath. “It’s a mixtape,” she informs you.

Aegon points to southcentral Pennsylvania on a map of the United States of America, highway arteries and local route veins. “We’re here,” he says, sliding around on the floor of the Tahoe as Baela drives. His index finger traces the path; it’s a precarious balance between avoiding the most heavily populated areas and still having access to the necessary trappings of civilization: supplies to scavenge, roads to follow, buildings to take shelter in. “We’ll stop by Fort Indiantown Gap and then head northwest, thread the needle between Pittsburgh and Cleveland, stay south of Detroit and Chicago, cut across Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming, that top part of Utah, then go our separate ways in Nevada. Oh my God, it’s just like the Oregon Trail! Do you guys remember that game?! Fording rivers, getting dysentery, hunting bison to extinction?” He starts humming the theme song.

Jace smirks, chomping on a Twizzler. “Hope you don’t die of a snakebite or something. That’d be awful.”

Aegon ignores him and refolds the map. “Rio! Fuck, marry, kill. The last three first ladies before Biden.”

Rhaena says, exasperated: “Aegon, you have to stop asking people that. It’s inappropriate.”

“Oh, easy,” Rio replies. “I’m fucking Laura Bush.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Aegon gives him a high five.

“And then I have to marry Michelle.”

“You gotta.”

“Which means Melania gets the grape Flavor Aid.”

“It’s the only logical answer.”

“I’d fuck Melania,” Jace says.

“Of course you would, you sick, sick man,” Aegon mutters, rolling down a window and sticking his head out like a golden retriever, his sunglasses still on, his blonde hair flapping in the wind. There’s a tattoo in black ink on his forearm, you notice for the first time: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fort Indiantown Gap is a ghost town like a gold seam emptied, an oil well run dry, a collapsed coal mine. There’s no central armory but instead a series of arms rooms, one for each unit. Every single scrap of lethal metal is gone: no pistols, no rifles, no grenade launchers or machine guns, no ammo, not even pocketknives, although you do find clean PT uniforms for you and Rio to change into, t-shirts and running shorts and sneakers. Clothes are surprisingly difficult to acquire now. Most stores have either been looted or overrun by zombies, and Amazon is tragically no longer delivering. You can break into houses that seem abandoned, but then you have to hope the people who lived there just so happened to be your size and also aren’t waiting inside to eat you. It’s not usually a wise gamble.

You study Aemond and his companions as you move through the base clearing buildings, you and Rio with loaded M9s in your holsters and clutching borrowed baseball bats; gunshots are best avoided if possible so as not to attract unwanted attention. Aemond and Jace take point, almost always; Aegon hovers on Aemond’s blind left side, wagging his golf club around, occasionally slapping Aemond’s shoulder to remind him he’s there. Daeron prowls at the back and on the periphery. Baela pretends she isn’t struggling to keep up. Luke and Rhaena are the lookouts. Helaena fills her burlap messenger bag with small treasures you don’t even notice her accumulating: bottles of Advil, batteries, lighters, pens, tweezers, Band-Aids, Uno cards. You encounter only three zombies, easily decommissioned. Fort Indiantown Gap must have been evacuated weeks ago. You wonder what pointless battles her soldiers died in. Everyone knows the dead have won.

What the abandoned base lacks in weaponry it makes up for in food. You find a chow hall with an untouched kitchen, a wealth of shelf-stable delicacies: chili, saltine crackers, applesauce, fruit cocktail with bright red gems of cherries, peanut butter, strawberry jelly, green beans, carrots, peas, beets, tuna fish, chicken noodle soup. You feast—a Thanksgiving, a Last Supper—then settle into the barracks next door as the sun begins to set. There are plenty of bunkbeds and a closet full of pillows and sheets. Someone always has to be up to keep watch; Daeron and Jace immediately go to sleep so they can get some rest before they are shaken awake sometime around 2 or 3 a.m. Baela says she’s going to lie down for a minute and almost immediately begins snoring. Helaena makes silent amendments in her notebook; she keeps an inventory of everything the group has, needs, or wants.

Outside, Rio and Aegon are engaged in a spirited game of Uno. Luke is sitting cross-legged on the roof of the Tahoe with his binoculars. Rhaena is beside him softly reading a book out loud: The Hunger Games. Aemond is on a wooden bench on the front porch of the barracks, watching the sun sink into the west. When he notices you, he seems pleased. “Hi.”

“Hi. I’m sorry we wasted your gas to come here.”

“No, it was a good idea. It was worth a shot. And now we have a safe place to sleep tonight.” His eye drops lower, his scarred brow crinkles in concern. “What happened to your hands?”

“My hands?” In the haze of the adrenaline, you didn’t even notice. Your palms are blistered, swollen and stinging. “Oh. It was the transmission tower. The steel beams got really hot while we were up there. I’ll be okay.”

“Let me bandage them. You don’t want to get an infection.”

“Really, I’m fine, I shouldn’t inconvenience—”

“Sit down,” Aemond insists. You take a seat on the bench while he goes to the Tahoe to fetch a black nylon bag about the size of a briefcase. Rio casts you a furtive, crafty grin. It’s nothing, you mouth back, more to convince yourself than him. Your pulse is thudding in your ears; your cheeks are warm. You haven’t felt like this since you almost agreed to go on a date with that Marine you met at Corpus Christi, where your battalion had been dispatched to build a series of new airplane hangars. Aemond returns to the bench and begins wiping down your palms with antiseptic. “Sorry if this stings.”

It does, but you’re grateful for the distraction. “It isn’t too bad.”

“You’re not from Oregon.” He’s noticed your accent.

“Kentucky,” you confess.

“You aren’t making a stop at home before traveling west?”

“Why would I want to go back there?”

Aemond looks at you uncertainly; he can’t tell if you’re joking. You like the way his voice goes quiet when it’s just the two of you. You like the way he barely shows his teeth when he talks, like he’s keeping secrets.

After a moment, as the sky begins to turn to orange and pink and lilac, you continue. “People join the Army for a paycheck and a place to sleep, free college, health insurance. People join the Marines to prove they’re the best. People join the Air Force because they want to be in the military but think they’re too smart for grunt work. And people join the Navy to get away from home. I wanted to get far, far, far away.”

Aemond smiles. “Are you far enough yet?” He doesn’t mean by miles. He means the fact that the world will never be the same. Now he’s coating your hands in a thick white ointment, cool and blissful.

“I was afraid of so many things, and now none of them matter.”

“We all have brand new things to be afraid of.” He gets a roll of gauze and begins to wrap your palms, careful to keep your fingers and thumbs unencumbered.

“Aemond?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened to your face?”

He shrugs. He’s trying not to be resentful about it; he can’t change it anyway. “We were scavenging supplies from a Home Depot. We had to board up the house and wait until things…got quieter and it was safe to travel out of Boston.” And by got quieter, he means that the initial wave passed, the zombies began to wander out of the cities and disperse, the survivors were hunkered down and not participating in gunfights or Vikings-style pillaging in the streets. “A piece of sheet metal fell on me from the top shelf. Aegon and Jace dragged me home, they thought I was dying.”

“I’m glad you weren’t. Who treated it?”

“I did.”

You can’t disguise your shock. “You…you stitched up your own face?”

He smirks, finishing the bandages on your hands. “I was in medical school before all this.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“I was an intern. So definitely not a doctor, but the closest thing to one I had access to. And I had taken some things from the hospital when everything went to hell. So I got a little mirror, and I lidocained myself very generously, and I started suturing.”

You don’t know what to say. His eye?? He stitched his eye shut?? “I mean…you did a great job.”

“I’m aware I look like Frankenstein, but I guess it’s better than not being here at all.”

“No, seriously. You look amazing, Aemond.”

He stares at you, bewildered. You realize how bizarre it must sound. You both start laughing as Aemond packs his supplies back into his medical kit. He touches his fingertips to his chin a few times—restless, meditative—then stands to return inside the barracks. “I’m…going to go check on Helaena.”

“Yeah. Cool. See ya.” You don’t watch him leave. This takes intentional effort.

Seconds pass anonymously: no time you need to be anywhere, nothing late, nothing early, no television premiers, no football games, no State Of The Unions, no time zones to do mental math over. You aren’t even sure what day it is. The earth has erased your invisible prisons. Now all that remain are the real ones: weather, terrain, disease, predators.

There is the creaking of weight on the porch steps. You warn him: “I’m not interested in your commentary.”

Rio winks as he says: “Maybe you won’t die a virgin after all.”

[lemonthepotato]

Narratives Schools Teach Us About Language Learning That I Dislike

Maybe this is rich for a monolingual to say, but I hate this narrative we’re told growing up that English speakers are just “lazy” when it comes to learning other languages. It’s a lie, and honestly, I think it just blatantly ignores the reasoning why English is so widely learned… cough, colonialism. The school system? Not wanting to teach us things that might us uncomfortable or break the historical narratives? Never heard of that before. Sarcasm.

No, other countries aren’t just super intelligent compared to English natives (I find intelligence narratives in general rooted in… many things). The reason why someone living in Wales might not speak fluent Italian is the same reason why someone living in Japan probably doesn’t speak fluent English, why would they? Well, also the fact English education in Japan is the equivalent of Spanish education in American classrooms… not very good, but mainly the lack of a need to speak it.

And that’s not laziness, it’s that the human brain is wired to go with the more practical options, the ‘easy’ ways. This is why I believe motivation to be a myth, something I have been reminding myself recently as I go through a pretty fucking difficult time in my life. Motivation isn’t something you strive for in order to be productive, it’s something that makes you want to be productive. Does that make sense? Motivation is the reason we do things, it can’t be forced.

It’s not lazy for someone living in America to not know fluent French… because they don’t live in France, so the chances that they’ll need to speak French, unless they’re living in certain parts of Maine or Vermont or something, are low. The same is true for other countries.

I don’t think language learning should be shamed into people. From a young age, it’s driven into us that the lack of proficiency is our fault, not the system’s, based on a lack of discipline. My high school forced us to take two language courses, and sometimes you wouldn’t even end up where you wanted regarding that.

I feel like this narrative just further discourages people from learning other languages- you’re not “skilled” enough. If you don’t have the time to learn it, you’re just not “motivated” enough. Let’s ignore the fact that unless your only hobby is being a polyglot (based tho) you have other shit to attend to- you’re just “lazy.”

I think the easiest language for someone to learn is the one you can immerse yourself in easiest. After putting myself through two weeks of nothing but Japanese content with minimal grammar study, I also think ‘immersion’ is overhyped. I think “you’re not immersing enough” is the new form of shaming, honestly. But I’ve learned from my mistakes, so I’m learning about Spanish grammar before I immerse. Spanish? Yes, I’ve switched to Spanish. Why? Well, growing up I tried learning many languages, and ended up giving up and throwing 5 years into lazily ‘learning’ Esperanto. Didn’t really work, I could form sentences but vocabulary was lacking and relied on google translate. I truly believe duolingo doesn’t work, even for ‘easy’ languages.

But, anyway, I felt shame for the fact I couldn’t learn a ‘harder’ language. But you know what? Don’t let anyone shame you out of learning an “easy” language. I wanted to learn Japanese and French too because I felt like I would’ve been too lazy or basic learning Spanish, but let me tell you, there is nothing wrong with learning an “easy” language. I don’t even believe there are languages “easy” for English speakers based on objective difficulty.

I think it’s about how much you can expose yourself to the language more so, though, yeah, obviously an English speaker will struggle more with learning Mandarin Chinese than French. But like. I think having a “beginner” language that you learn is perfectly fine. You’re learning a language and that’s okay. And also, don’t let people do the opposite either, and shame you out of learning a “harder” or even more obscure language. Just do what works for you.

I’m focusing more on Spanish because it’s easier to expose myself to; that’s all. Sure, learning Japanese sounds like fun, but it’s not practical. I think it’s okay to look at a language, study it a bit, but not aim for total fluency. I think you can appreciate a language without focusing so much on the end goal. Yeah, sure, if you want to learn Frisian (a language pretty close to English, so probably ‘easier’) but you think you’ll get more coolness points for learning Korean… you can do that. But you don’t have to start now. You can look at a language and think “I like this. I’ll study this from time to time. I appreciate this language” without feeling like a failure for not understanding it.

This goes for non-native English speakers, by the way, or people who speak very different languages than English. You’re not a failure for not understanding it. I also think there’s a discussion to be had about the opposite; shaming people for NOT speaking English. I’ve actually heard stories of people going to Japan and being upset that they can’t communicate with Japanese people. Yeah, uh, you’re in JAPAN? What are you expecting?

So, fuck it, I don’t care if learning Spanish will make me “basic.” Not everyone has to be a hyperpolyglot and there seems to be a weird internet measuring contest of who can learn the most languages. Also, I find it really funny when people assume I can speak Irish because I’m Irish. It’s actually very hard to learn Irish unless you live in very specific parts of Ireland, trust me.

What the fuck was I even talking about again? I went on a tangent about how I was basically like a weeb but for American culture growing up and then deleted it. Try growing up on the internet and not developing a half-American half-Irish accent. Btw despite people telling me that, I was never really aware I had an Irish accent. I used to not really care about my culture growing up, honestly, especially since I’m detached from it, but I kinda like being Irish, now. Will I ever learn Irish, though? PFFT. No. Irish class in high school KILLED my motivation because not only did I want to learn Spanish & French but got stuck in the Spanish & Irish classes, but I’m convinced that language teachers don’t even know or care about the languages they’re teaching.

Anyway, I swear I had a point with this post… see, sometimes I want to make well-structured essays on this app, but I’m just too incoherent, man. Oh, speaking of languages, considering Co09 the flip side came out and sucked, it made me curious if there was any Spanish fandubs of the original games. And you know what? There was a trailer for one a year ago, but it has like, 1,000 views, which sucks! Oh, yeah, another reason why I want to focus on Spanish > Japanese is that a lot more media I like is available in Spanish than Japanese. Also, Spanish has, like, an easier barrier of entry? Japanese has kanji.

You know, a lot of people shit on kanji, but I think I can acknowledge “it makes things 10x harder for me, but that’s okay.” Like, for me, the thing with kanji isn’t even the amount of kanji, it’s how many strokes some kanji have! I have poor eyesight 😭 at the same time, though, removing kanji from Japanese is like… I think it would get confusing fast because from what I’ve heard, it’s like, uh, okay, what’s a metaphor I can use? Imagine removing contractions from English but if 80% of English was contracted. Actually, avoiding using contractions was something I did as a young teen… for some reason. I just felt a need to speak “proper” or else I was bad or improper. But it’s just awkward. Sorry, “it is” just awkward.

Another thing- I’ve kinda grown to hate Esperanto. It’s really hard to immerse yourself in a conlang, and honestly, I should’ve just spent those 5 years learning Spanish instead of losing confidence. If you’re going to learn a language that’s very similar to English, kinda easier for an English speaker, why not learn the one that’s actually practical? Also, I know I said language learning shouldn’t be about impressing people, but I just- I don’t even like Esperanto anymore! I’m kinda embarrassed about it, frankly. It’s not even a good auxlang. Though, I will say, people who say Toki Pona is better as an auxlang are kinda funny. Imagine you’re in a burning building and trying to communicate with your Spanish friend in Toki Pona. You’d spend more time thinking about how to say “fire!” than running out the building. So, honestly, I think Esperanto is better in that regard, but I think Toki Pona is a better language because it accomplished its goal. To be fair, though, I think Esperanto kinda gets an unfair rep. Like, yeah, it didn’t age the best, but back then, there wasn’t really any social media, Zamenhof was polish, so it’s not like he could make the perfect auxlang with all languages considered. Nowadays, if you want to know more about a language, you can just use google. Back then, Wikipedia didn’t really exist.

Also, really depressing fact about Esperanto is that people were killed in WW2 for speaking Esperanto. I wonder how much of Esperanto’s lack of success has to do with the historical repression/censorship of the language. To be honest, I don’t even know if it’s possible to make a “good” universal auxlang.

But honestly, I find the fact English is such a widely spoken language more depressing than anything. So many non-natives learn English because it’s inescapable.

The moral of the story is that if you speak another language and want me to learn it, just refuse to speak English to me. The social pressure will be too embarrassing and I will buy 10 Swedish textbooks or Bengali or Serbian. Okay, I have no idea why those were the first three languages I thought of.

Anyway, I hope nothing in this post comes off the wrong way. Overall, I think that people being colonised into learning English, and then the education system putting individual blame onto English young children for not being “smart” or “motivated” enough to learn a foreign language, is, er… definitely problematic. I also think it’s bullshit to get mad at foreign people for not knowing English, too, obviously. Just like, be chill, god damn. Language learning should be done out of a genuine desire to learn a language.

[porcelainmortal]

YES ALYSSA!!!!!

Okay, so, everything (name/pronoun) has ever known is wrong.

Lemme have... Pez/Henry platonic for this one please?!

Ficlet Friday Monday!! 🥳

I had a crazy busy weekend but now I'm ready to prioritize fic writing over work. So thank you @thinkof-england for the ask! I took a tiny bit of liberty with the actual prompt sentence, but I think you'll like this one. Enjoy!

“Okay, so you’re telling me that everything I’ve ever known is wrong?” Henry’s mind can not comprehend this.

“Not everything, Haz. Just everything about Alex.”

“Pez, you’re the best mate I’ve ever had–”

“True.”

“– and I never believed that you would lie to me.”

“I haven’t and I never shall,” Pez replies, crossing his heart. 

“But there is no way that what you’re telling me is true.” Henry absolutely refuses to believe it.

“I’d never play with your feelings, Haz. You know that.”

“I know, I know, I’m just… having a hard time wrapping my head around this.”

“Maybe you should wrap something else around it. Like your lips.” Pez waggles his eyebrows and Henry glares but very narrowly does not kill him. 

“Okay, but even if what you’re saying is true, it’s not like he’d necessarily be interested in me.” 

“Haz, I love you, but you are dense. If anyone stands a chance with Alexander Claremont-Diaz, it’s you.”

Henry takes a deep breath, contemplating. Pez was there through Henry’s early days of Uni – or as Pez affectionately calls it, his “slag phase” – and he knows better than anyone how desperately Henry is craving real connection now. And how deeply, hopelessly in love he is with Alex, the seemingly-straight star of their school lacrosse team and all-American dreamboat with a mind that, inexplicably, matches his looks. But if what Pez is saying is true, and Alex has really come out as bisexual, then… Henry stands a chance? He glances back up at Pez’s face, which breaks into a wide grin when he sees the look on Henry’s.

“Go get him, mate.”

Henry pulls his friend into a bear hug, earning himself a sloppy kiss on the cheek, and turns to leave, breaking into a run only when the door has closed behind him.

Ficlet Friday

[thistableforone]

piling up here some tag games I’ve been tagged in ✨ pt. 3

🌼 this picrew chain - tagged by @occhi-verdi-come-il-mare

i'm so late to this but!! very cute

🌸 5 songs you’re loving right now - tagged by @julesnichols

i'm afraid these are mostly in italian rn ahah

too sweet (hozier)

considera (colapesce e dimartino)

so american (olivia rodrigo)

euforia (annalisa)

modì (gio evan)

ragazzi fuori (clara)

rocketship (llunr)

aria (margherita vicario)

picture you (mumford and sons)

ted lasso anthem (marcus mumford). always.

🌻 15 questions, 15 friends - tagged by @julesnichols

are you named after anyone? nope, no one. my dad just liked the name

when was the last time you cried? i don't remember clearly. maybe last week?

do you have kids? no thank you

what sports do you play/have played? i don't play anything currently, but i used to play volleyball when i was a kid (+ swimming for a couple of months)

do you use sarcasm? not much

what is the first thing you notice about people? the general vibe really, and if they smile or not.

what is your eye color? brown

scary movies or happy endings? i don't watch scary movies!! definitely happy endings :)

any talents? mhh... writing? taking nice pictures? but those don't really feels like talents...

where were you born? north of italy!!

do you have any pets? i have two babies (my cats)

how tall are you? 1,67 m more or less

favorite subject in the school? math, but at the end of high school i really loved literature, english, politics and IT, too.

dream job? as someone said, i simply don't dream of working :)

🏵️ 20 questions for fic writers - tagged by @beckstraordinary

How many works do you have on AO3? 20, a very nice round number!!

What's your total AO3 word count? apparently around 198,713

What fandoms do you write for? i currently write for the ted lasso fandom only

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Breaking down (the walls) - hope you'll be safe (in the arms of another) - Touch me (like you do) - we should just kiss (like real people do) - no one's keeping score

Do you respond to comments? yes i do!!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? i think i only wrote one and it was a ff about maura isles

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? it's rather hard to compare happy endings, so i can't choose

Do you get hate on fics? it hasn't happened yet

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? yes i do, that's how i started basically (i miss it a bit, recently i've not been in the mood much). i'd say that my smut is... unnecessarily long and emotional. i fully believe it's a great way to understand who a character is.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? i wrote two - one was a castle x rizzoli and isles crossover about kate and maura together in college that i dnf-ed at a certain point. the second was this supergirl x rizzoli and isles crossover i'm still very fond of. i had so much fun writing that, and i still think it makes perfect sense :)

Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that i know of

Have you ever had a fic translated? yes, very recently!!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? no, i don't think i could

What’s your all time favorite ship? i don't think i have one above all. i was really into caskett (castle) and supercorp (supergirl), but now i've grown past both, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? i have a supercorp wip that i thought was very cute

What are your writing strengths? i think... construction of the line as a whole, if that makes sense. i try to make the words flow well and sound nice together. also dialogue, showing emotions through little gestures, intimacy, and lately introspection.

What are your writing weaknesses? i can't for the life of me write descriptions. of anything. i hate adjectives. i also get hyperfocused on the dynamic between two characters and refrain from including anyone else. oh also worldbuilding/background stuff... i just don't care.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? i don't think i've ever included it. but if i had to, i would do it with my own language.

First fandom you wrote for? only italians will get this one... un medico in famiglia. i still remember the first time inspiration hit.

Favourite fic you’ve written? definitely you said yes as I said please. i'm so proud of it and i was really inspired!!

no pressure tags, for whichever game you want to participate in!! @occhi-verdi-come-il-mare @rancoreedisprezzo @julesnichols @calicomarie11 @fuddlewuddle

[lovesosweeet]

better left unsaid // cth

chapter thirty one

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

read other chapters

october 2, 2018 san diego, california calum

I feel bad for my Uber driver. He’s got some blubbering man crying in his backseat at 7 am on a Tuesday. When he drops me off at the hotel, I tell him thank you through quiet sobs, and I make sure to tip him incredibly well on the app. He didn’t ask any questions, although I’m sure he had plenty. 

I don’t know why I choose Emelia over any of my friends to go to, but I do. I bang on the door to her hotel room until she annoyedly swings it open, her eyes flooded with concern. I don’t wait for her to hug me, instead I just clumsily throw my body against hers and start crying.

I’ve cried more in the past two days than I have in the past five years. 

“What’s going on?” She asks, her voice just barely louder than a whisper. 

“She broke up with me.” Even though they’re true, the words sound like a lie. I don’t even know if Emelia will believe me.

“You’re shitting me,” is how she responds, and I just cry, confirming the truth without words. 

She lets me cry for a few minutes while she processes what I said.

“Cal, I swear, I had no idea that she would do that. I’m sorry.”

I just keep crying.

“Here, come in,” Em says. She opens her hotel room door wider and steps in, pulling me with her. I let her guide me to her bed and she pushes me down by the shoulders to sit. “I’m gonna go get the boys, okay?”

I want to yell after her not to bring Ashton, but I can’t make myself say the words. I hear her banging on doors and then whispering in the hallway, and before I know it, my bandmates and their girlfriends are all streaming into the room. Everyone looks floored and they look at me with immense pity. I hate it.

They all just stare, but KayKay is the first one to break out of the pack, coming over and sitting next to me, wrapping her arms around me in a hug. I let my emotions go again, letting the sadness ooze out of me in hot tears that undoubtedly fall onto Kay’s sweatshirt. She doesn’t say anything, but she just holds me as I cry. 

The room feels deafeningly silent aside from my cries.

I want to be mad again. I want to yell at them all for letting this happen. How could none of us have known? How could none of us have sensed this all happening? I know Orion is to blame for keeping secrets, but Ashton is who I blame overall. He knew. He knew and he didn’t tell me. He’s my best friend. He should have told me.

Even though I want to be mad, all I can feel is the sheer heartbreak. The love of my life… isn’t even mine anymore. She doesn’t want to be mine. I never thought this day would come. We were supposed to grow old together. We were supposed to get married. I figured I’d propose in a year or so, and then once she was out of law school, we would get married.

We’d elope, probably in Spain, but then we’d have an Australian reception and an American one, both still small small, with professional photographers to capture every single second of the elopement and the parties. We’d take pictures in Retiro and celebrate at Space Monkey. We’d watch the sun rise from the park, just the two of us, on our first morning as husband and wife.

Orion and I had talked about all of it. She’d shown me a Pinterest board of engagement rings she’d like. 

We had plans to buy a house on the beach in a few years, once we didn’t need to be close to any college campuses. We wanted to get another dog, and maybe even a few cats. We didn’t want kids, but we did want to rescue as many animals as we had the time, space, and money for. 

None of it matters now. She doesn’t even want to be my girlfriend anymore. 

I never thought there’d be a world without Orion being mine, and here I am, living in that very world. She won’t even be in the world at all once she inevitably dies.

“Cal? Are you okay?” Michael’s voice brings me back to reality, and then I realize that I’ve temporarily stopped crying.

“I don’t even know.”

–

5SOS Cancel San Diego Concert!

Everyone’s favorite Aussie band was slated to perform in San Diego tonight as part of their Meet You There world tour, but the band has canceled the show without much explanation, citing a ‘family emergency.’ This is the message they posted to Twitter just a few moments ago.

“San Diego, we’re so sorry to say we won’t be performing tonight. We’ve had a family emergency come up. We promise to come back very soon and we apologize for the inconvenience.

We love you! Xx -Ash, Luke, Mike, and Cal”

Fans are immediately speculating after images were posted of bassist Calum Hood at the beach having an emotional breakdown yesterday afternoon, only to be followed by images of Hood’s long term girlfriend, Orion Moss, doing the same thing at a different beach. Allegedly, Moss was approached by police before fleeing the scene.

Whatever is going on, to say that fans are concerned would be an understatement.

read next chapter

[carinalastimosa]

20 Reasons Why I’m a J.Lo-ver

I love Jennifer Lopez. And let’s face it, she could use the love these days. Bennifer 2.0 has already come to an end, marking 20 years of one of the most documented Hollywood on again-off again romances so here are 20 reasons why I love her. From the highs to the lows, beauties and flaws, this is her then and this is her now. 

She made Time Magazine’s 100 Most Influential People list. If you’re not gonna believe me that Jennifer Lopez is amazing, take it up with Time.

She’s broken barriers within the romcom genre. I didn’t realize it when I was a child, but Jennifer Lopez was doing something exceptional within movies. She normalized headlining popular movies with huge box office success as a woman of color with movies like The Wedding Planner and Maid in Manhattan. Normalizing it, not only for me, but for mass audiences, that movies do not need to have white leads in order to equal success. And she continues to provide, breaking another barrier, proving that women in their 50’s can still be viable leads with movies like Shotgun Wedding and Marry Me.

She co-headlined one of the best Super Bowl Halftime performances. Do yourself a favor and watch the 2020 Super Bowl Halftime show headlined by Jennifer Lopez and Shakira. Just watch it and you'll see why it's one of the best.

She’s the reason why I bought a matching velour tracksuit as a teen in the 2000s. I’m sure there’s some photographic evidence of this in a photo album buried in my family’s home and it should stay that way. 

She’s the first perfume I’ve ever bought. Okay, I’m technically not the one who bought it. I basically pleaded with my mom at Macy’s to buy me Glow by Jennifer Lopez cause I wanted to smell just like J.Lo. 

She deserves to be Academy Award Nominee Jennifer Lopez. While 2019's Hustlers may have been her most noteworthy of performances to get considerable Oscar buzz, she's shown her range throughout her career with 1997's Selena, 1998's Out of Sight, and 2006's El Cantante.

She deserves to be Grammy Winner Jennifer Lopez. J.Lo has the hits. You know she does, don’t deny it. Ever heard of Jenny From The Block?” Of course you have, and you either hate or love yourself as you start to sing along to it whenever it comes on. Despite a 20+ career in the music industry, Lopez has only gathered 2 Grammy nominations.

She’s the first artist to have a movie and an album debut at #1. As part of showcasing her ability to do it all, she made history with the movie The Wedding Planner and album This Is Me… Then.

She was the reason behind the creation of Google Images. Go ahead and Google her 2000 red carpet appearance to the Grammys in the now iconic green Versace dress for old times' sake.

She’s a part of my favorite rotation of American Idol judges. Yes, there’s nothing quite like the spark of the initial trio of Paula Abdul, Simon Cowell, and Randy Jackson but audiences did not give enough credit to the trio of Jennifer Lopez, Harry Connick Jr. and Keith Urban. I also think an American Idol reunion with Connick Jr. and Lopez would be the perfect romanic comedy.

She’s the definitive Selena. Netflix tried with their series on Selena Quintanilla in 2020 but it didn't come close to the 1997 movie and a lot of that was in thanks to the casting of Lopez.

She can deliver a line like no other. Not every Jennifer Lopez movie is a hit. There are some really bad ones out there and The Boy Next Door is one of them. It contains one of the most unintentionally funniest line deliveries ever. The said boy next door gives Lopez’s character, a high school teacher, a book. But not just any book, oh no, it’s the first edition of the Iliad. The ILIAD. An oral poem dating back from 3,000+ plus years ago, that was estimated to have finally been written out around 850-750 BCE. The way Lopez opens the book and utters, “Oh my god, this is a… this is a first edition?” is so earnest. That is capital A acting right there! It’s perfect. 

She’s learning Spanish just like us. Like myself, Jenny grew up only learning how to speak English and now, as an adult, is making valiant attempts at trying to learn Spanish. But being a public figure, she has to try and speak it publicly, while I can attempt to learn Tagalog in the comforts of my own home. 

She knows how to squeeze in some self- promotion while being patriotic. Lopez has no shame when it comes to promotion, especially when it comes to promoting herself. No one does celebrity quite as well as J.Lo. This was on full display for President Joe Biden’s inauguration when she was performed a medley of not just “This Land Is Your Land” and “America the Beautiful”, but added her song “Let’s Get Loud” into the mix because we got loud with our vote. 

She’s the original booty queen. Before Kim K., there was J.Lo and don't you ever forget it!

She’s given us our modern day Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton tabloid romance. Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck have already given us 20 years worth of tabloid fodder and I’m sure there’s more to come. While Ben and Jen have gotten together twice already, they’ve only been married once. Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton got married twice so the ball is still in your court Bennifer. 

She’s a hard worker. This may be what has drawn me to Jennifer Lopez for all these years. She’s a hard worker. She is someone who has to show you the work to show you that it amounts to something. As long as you work hard, you’re special, right? We may not have been destined or gifted with the vocation we’ve chosen, but we’re going to work hard in order to make it work. Lopez has made it work, but it’s work. What has made some of the greats great onscreen is that you don’t see the work. It’s effortless. Jennifer Lopez is a star, and she still has what I believe to be several more decades left of entertaining us. I hope she doesn’t have to work so hard to show us that and for us to finally embrace her as she is.

She gave us 3 iterations of This Is Me… Now. As she says in the behind the scenes documentary, The Greatest Love Story Never Told, of her album This Is Me… Now, “It's not like anybody was clamoring for the next J. Lo record, you know what I mean?” and yet she gave us 3 different projects surrounding said record. The record itself, a play on her album, This Is Me… Then, released about 20 years later in which she finds herself again with Ben Affleck. A don’t call it a music video, so a music journey with moving pictures using songs from the album to create a loose narrative. And a behind the scenes making of the record/not music video. And guess what, unlike most of the public, I consumed and loved all of it! 

She loves her children. While we cannot believe everything someone posts on social media, as it’s crafted for us to think a certain way about their lives, I choose to believe that Lopez really is an awesome, loving, supporting, and caring mom. 

She believes in love. ❤️

[runninguplenorahills]

Lenora you’re back!!!!!💕💞💕💞

How have you been?

Heyyyy✨🌞

I’ve been doing pretty great honestly. I got through my finals and I actually did quite well :)). I didn’t take the biology exam though because holy fuck I can’t even do simple math and we were supposed to do crazy equations, no calculators allowed💀. So yeah, didn’t study at all and woke up in a cold sweat like three days before the exam and quickly set myself on inactive because I would’ve definitely fucking flunked it. But English went great, got one of the best grades out of the entire course for my presentation I was sweating buckets over beforehand, linguistics went well as well and the rest was just pass or fail and fortunately I passed but I’m still waiting on a feedback for my pedagogy portfolio. Speaking of waiting, I spent weeks in February working on my art portfolio and applied for art school and I’m waiting for a response to that, too.

I also finally read “The song of Achilles” but it sadly didn’t earn its place next to my favorites, like, it was actually only three stars for me if I’m really honest. Currently I’m reading “Persuasion” (I’m about half way through) and that books actually pretty great but the first like 80 pages are just like, set up lmao. But after that it quickly gets better!!! I haven’t continued reading in a couple of days though which I should absolutely do soon because the new semester starts in two weeks and then idk how much time I’ll have to read. I’m actually taking British and American literature classes in the new semester which I’m pretty excited about!!!!

Oh boy, I also finally watched s5 of Miraculous and the alternate universe Paris special and the movie and bro, s5 was an absolute dumpster fire…. Actually fucking insane. But the Paris special was kinda entertaining lol, and I can’t lie…. the movie was pretty good. Like… it was honestly great hahahah. I also watched Cars btw! I have watched the first part before but never the rest and then my sister wanted to watch Cars so we did and yeah, Cars is amazing ofc. I also finally watched But I’m a Cheerleader which was all over the okays but it was funny and I loved the ending. I’m trying to remember what else I watched but I don’t remember anything else… hmmm… Oh!! Omg, I watched Christopher Robin and I didn’t not except that movie to be as good as it was. I was in genuine tears over fucking everything and yeah, very enjoyable. I also watched The Sixth Sense which was good, did not see the plot twist coming though, Like, spoiler! I literally remember thinking “oh.. so he survived I guess” when it says “next fall” like a fucking idiot 😭. I don’t think I watched any other movies though.

Wait, I also read the entirety of Jackson’s diary on webtoon and it was a fucking roller coaster.

Other than that I’ve been hanging a lot with my friends, especially those who moved to another city for university. There’s this café we always and in the past two weeks we’ve gone three times and you can borough games to play and we usually play scrabble which is always sm fun!

Oh and holy shit, I turned fucking 20!?!?! Absolutely batshit insane, I cannot believe it.

Also, I just kinda left tumblr very like, impulsively because I had finals coming up and thought it’d be distracting, but also, tumblr tends to suck the life out of me sometimes so I thought taking a break would be worth it either way. After finals where over I then had to work on my art portfolio and I have a huge procrastination problem so I stayed off tumblr because I knew it would make it worse and so I just left and didn’t reply to anyone, which, I’m sorry, I missed you and the other mutuals so much but I also don’t think that many people even noticed that I took a break in the first place. Anyway,I’ll probably dip when Uni starts again as well but I thought it’d be nice to catch up with y’all before that happens.

How have you been doing :))💓💗💓💗💓

[anime-rambles]

“Welcome Home Omega”

Pairing: Alpha Bakugou x Alpha Kirishima x Omega Reader

Type: ABO Dynamic, SFW  

Word Count: 2700+

A/N: I’m new to all this, but I dreamt about this the other night and really wanted to share this with everyone. I have a tone more to write, so please follow along and any feedback would be hugely appreciated. Thank you so much.

Summary: Omega y/n returns home to her pack after so many years aboard being a successful hero, now they fear begin rejecting by her pack and more importantly her alpha’s.

 *****************************************

“Everyone please welcome to the stage, the one you’ve all be waiting for, Pro-Hero Shadow…” a loud voice spoke into the microphone as I waited backstage. Once my name was called, I left the spoke I was hiding in and joined them. The crowd was screaming and shouting, holding banners of my name and posters with my face. This was something I didn’t expect to happen when I returned home to Japan from my many years abroad. I smiled towards the women on stage, already determining her as a beta.

“Welcome Shadow, to your first ever hero-con” She spoke to me looking in my direction. I brought my mic to my face,

“It’s so good to be here, look at all these people wow.” I smiled towards the crowd. The cheering began again.

“So shadow, how are you feeling being back in Japan and being high on the hero board, especially as an omega…” she continued on looking at me, this was something I was used to.

“It feels so good being back, I left Japan 6 years ago after I graduated with my friends/pack members from UA, which many of you know...” I waited for the screaming to stop before I continued. “I was faced with two choice really, be a omega hero that would only get 2 years in hero work before being forced to stop by the hero commission or I could leave my pack and go to America and have a really good hero career helping other omegas reach their potential and then come back home, I think you can guess what I chose” I said, and turned to the interviewer waiting for her reply.

Being an omega in Japan and America is very different from each other, especially in hero work. In Japan, you get an unspoken max of 2-year work and then often omegas go to desk jobs in hero agencies. In America, you can be a hero no matter your 2nd gender but the chance of being taken seriously as an omega is very slim and was something I worked hard at. During my time in America, I created an omega hero agency and left it all to the very capable hands of my sidekick, frostbite. It was my time to come home, I need my family back.

“So, tell me, does you pack know your back?” She asked with smile in her eyes.

“I mean, yes and no. Our pack is a big one and it was created when we were back in school. The time that I left, I had an agreement with the unmarked alphas that I would not contact them at all, but to know I was safe, I was only allowed contact with the omegas. So, they know” I replied, laughing slightly back.

“So, a lot of alphas in your pack, how does that work?” she pushed for an answer.

“I can’t really say, our pack dynamic is private, so I won’t tell you who or what position everyone is but, we have a main alpha who us our leader, they have a second and then we have one alpha that doesn’t really care and then one alpha who gave up their position years ago.” I replied smiling hoping she would not ask any more questions about the pack.

“That’s fine, tell me about your work as a hero omega and how difficult is” She asked again. This is something I could talk about openly. I took a deep breath and began to speak about the importance of separating your 2nd gender, from your workplace, and they it does not define you. Yes, you can still have a timid nature but do not let it halt your growth as a strong independent person. That if you want to be head of heart surgery you do it and tell those Alphas/ beats to shove it, its your time to shine. I continued until I felt the interviewer wanting to ask another question.

“Although I’m strong, I would not have gotten to where I am today without my pack, in public they treat me like a hero, not an omega. I mean it didn’t take long to do bu…” I went to say but was cut off.

“What do you mean, didn’t take long?” she interrupted. I hesitated for a bit, and then looked out into the crowd.

“Okay, I really should not be saying this, but he won’t mind. Okay so when our pack was created, I was never allowed to do anything, and it really annoyed me. So, when our first Alpha was being chosen, I kind of challenged Pro-Hero Dynamite…. And won.” I replied looking out into the crowd and everyone started cheering.

“Since then, I was treated like a person, not an omega. Well not in public, in private we still use the proper greetings.” I smiled and turned to the interviewer again.

“Wow, you are amazing. We all know your now number 5 on the hero board, can you remind everyone your quirk again.” She asked gesturing to my hands. I look down and noticed the black sut coating my fingers. I nodded and began to explain. I can create my own smoke from my body and ignite it. From this smoke I can create solid weapon and if I have enough smoke in the area, I can tell a person’s movements. I do have a drawback; the smoke uses up the oxygen from my blood and can make me pass out or it stains my skin with black smoke.

The interview continues and eventually is opened to fan questions, near the end of the questions. I notice the back wall starting to fill up with tall dark figures, already guessing that my pack got word I am here. Excitement rises through me, and I find it hard to sit still.

“Well, I think the cats out of the bag your home, Shadow” the interviewers says to me gesturing to the back wall. Light shines to the back wall, standing there when their arms crossed is Pro-heroes Dynamite, Red Riot, Deku and Chargebolt who is waving crazy towards me. I laugh to myself, locking eyes with Bakugou lowering my head slightly.

“I guess so” I reply, and the cheering slowly dies down.

 ************************************

While sitting at my signing booth, listening to some amazing stories from fans. I hear my name being called the curtain behind me. I have a break from the fans for a second and approach the curtain.

“Hello, little omega.” The voice says, as I instantly know its Bakugou. I smile to myself, wanting to rip the curtain away and wrap my arms around his neck.

“Hello Bakugou, don’t move the curtain, I can’t look at your right now” I say honestly.

“Okay, at least put your hand through the curtain, Kiri’s here to.” He replies nudging the curtain. I sigh, it’s been 6 years and I can barely hold myself together with he thought of being back with my family but being a hero right now is what I need to do.

“Okay, but only quickly I have to get back” I whisper, and slowly put my right-hand backwords them. Instantly I can feel like touching my hand and kissing it.

“Can’t smell you omega, how come?” Kirishima asks.

“Stupid American pheromone blockers, I’ll take them off later at home, promise.” I say and pull my hand back to finish quickly and get back to my family and quickly as I can. I can hear both alphas walk away, and I pull my hand to my chest.

*********************************************

Hero-con is over, and I can finally come home. After we all graduated, everyone pulled their money together and we bought a huge house together which allowed all of us to live together as a pack. Before I left, I entered a relationship with Bakugou and Kirishima but now I do not know if they still want me in a dynamic with because they’ve been an Alpha/Alpha relationship for 6 years. I don’t’ even have a room anymore, Denki took it when I moved to America. There might be room, I think, Midoriya (A) and Todoroki (A/O) have a room, Sero (B) and Mina (B) have a room, Shinso (A), Jirou (B) and Denki (O) all have separate rooms even though they are together which leaves Bakugou (A) and Kirishima (A) who have the biggest room. I could always share with Denki until I find a new place, I say to myself as I knock on the front door.

I wait patiently, until the door is opened revealing a very excited Denki. Practically jumping on the spot.

“Y/N YOU’RE HOME.” He shouts while throwing himself into my arms. I hug back, I breath him in and tears start to fill my eyes.

“Oi sparky, you know the rules. She needs to follow the greetings as she’s been away for so long.” Says Bakugou with his arms crossed. I enter the house and look around seeing everyone in their groups. I cannot believe I am home.

I quickly great Mina and Sero first, presenting our pack mark and then onto hugs. Next, I go straight over to Shinso, presenting my neck to show I am not a threat to his omega or beta. Which he simply nods and as these dynamics, Shinso does not really care for. I great Jirou and then great Denki properly by touching our noses together. I approach Midoriya next as he used to be the main Alpha who brought us all together, I greeted him the same way as Shinso but instead Midoriya threw his arms around me puling me into a hug.

“Please never leave again, Bakugou’s been impossible” He whispers into my ear. I laugh looking over his shoulder to a very anger Bakugou. I turn to Todoroki who is half Omega/Alpha, I greet him the same way as Denki, I know he prefers that greeting than the alpha one. Its finally time to see if they still want me. Kirishima is practically beaming at Bakugou side. I approach with my head down; I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as I approach him. As he is lead Alpha, I must wait to see what he will do.

“Still can’t smell you omega.”  Bakugou announces loudly.

“There’s a pheromone implant in my neck, Alpha, see you can feel it.” I reply, taking his hand to my neck. In American you are not allowed to use pheromones in public, so for hero work you must use an implant to block it. Bakugou feels my neck and I can tell he is not happy. He grabs me by my neck, slamming me on the wall behind him. Everyone runs forward but Kirishima stands forward stopping them. Telling them it must happen and that Bakugou won’t hurt me, much.

With his claw Bakugou cuts into my neck to pull the impact out, I do not make a sound and only look at him in the eye. It must be done, and I know he will not hurt me. Once the implant is out. Bakugou lends forward and breathes me in. He hesitates, and calls Kirishima over. Kirishima looks between the two of use and breaths me in.

“Oh, y/n, you should’ve come home sooner.” Kirishima says, pulling me towards him for a hug.

“Please, Bakugou, get rid of the rest they can’t see me like this.” I whisper.

“Oi, extra’s don’t you have a party tonight. Your hotels have your clothes, now get lost.” Bakugou calls out, looking at them all. No one moves.

“NOW!” Bakugou yells, using his alpha voice and everyone leaves.

As soon as the door closes, I start to cry. Six years of being all alone hit me at once, yes it was my plan to be a strong hero, its hard to do it without your pack or alphas.

“The first sign of your omega depression, you should’ve come home little one.” Kirishima says whispering into my hair.

“How could I, I would’ve let you all down and all other omega’s out there without a voice, so what I had to go through omega depression….. more than once.” I say back looking up into Kirishima’s eyes. Bakugou stands beside us, looking slightly smaller.

“Bakugou, go run a bath,” Kirishima calls out and Bakugou follows his orders.

“Wait, what’s going on. Bakugou what are you doing” I ask, looking confused. Bakugou leans over the stairs to look at me.

“Kirishima’s the Alpha now, we’ll the others haven’t picked up on it yet because we haven’t publicly fought, but he’s been the main Alpha for a while now, I can’t be number one all the time now can I.” Bakugou replies with a smile. I look to Kirishima who still holds me but is beaming with love as he watches Bakugou. I try to pull away from his arms. It is stupid why did I think this would work. They do not want me anymore, I just know. Kirishima noticed how I suddenly changed but decided not to say anything.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and smelling natural.” He says, picking me up with no issues. He climbs the stairs and I place my head into his scent gland in his neck. I notice that neither him nor Bakugou do not have a claiming mark yet. Once we reach the top of the stairs, I see my old bedroom door and ask Kirishima to put my down, he walks ahead to the double doors at the end of the hallway. Which is their room.

“I’ll only stay for tonight, and then I’ll find somewhere else to live, I don’t even have a room here anymore.” I say to Kirishima which makes him freeze.

“Silly omega, come here.” He replies, gesturing me to follow. I start to hear the water running in their private bathroom. Kirishima opens the door and lets me enter the room first.

The first thing I can smell is the strong smell of Alpha but slowly a familiar smell enters, I look around the room and see my stuff. Things that I had left behind, my paintings, photos of the three of use. The queen size bed with three sets of pillows, big enough for all of us. I look around and notice a curtained canopy hiding something. I look to Kirishima who leans on the door frame by the Bathroom and nods. I breath in again and noticed the familiar smell but I am not able to pinpoint it yet.

I pull back to curtain and freeze. “Is that m..” I say unable to finish as I look down, tears filling my eyes. Bakugou comes out of the bathroom and leans on the opposite side to Kirishima. I look at the two of them and then look down at my old nest, they kept it, they really kept it. I can’t speak, only cry. Bakugou comes over to me and hold me bringing me towards the bathroom. Kirishima entered first. He began to undress and tied back his long hair, He entered the bath first, as Bakugou began to undress me as my emotions were betraying me at his moment. There was nothing sexual about this moment, it was about Alpha’s taking care of their Omega. Bakugou lifted me and lowered me into the water to sit in Kirishima’s lap, he quickly undressed and joined us.

I started to calm down, feeling I could now speak. “So, you mean, you have forgotten me, and you still want to be with me.” I ask looking down at my hands. Kirishima wraps his arms around me more and places his head into my scent gland breathing me in, tickling me slightly.

“Of course, silly omega, we’ve wanted you since the day you knocked me on my ass.” Bakugou replied leaning in to kiss me.

[entertainment]

Black Excellence 365 Spotlight: Jay Reeves

New Jersey's Jay Reeves is a multi-talented actor, producer, and musician currently starring in Safety on Disney+. Growing up, Jay ranked #9 out of 100 in the Western Region of Underclassmen and went on to play at Pasadena City College before leaving to pursue a career in acting. After experiencing homelessness, Jay went home to regroup, eventually studying acting in New York, and debuting as Shawn Scott on The CW's All-American. Jay took the time to chat with us about the making of Safety, his music, and Black Excellence. Check it out:

Which scene from Safety had the most impact on you as you were filming it, and which do you hope viewers pay the most attention to?

The most impactful scene for me was the scene about the custody of my little brother. I mean, I grew up with a single mother most of my childhood, and placing myself in that circumstance, as Ray, was hard for me. A young man who has to rise to the occasion and take custody of his little brother is a difficult situation on its own. But when you add the stakes of having such a life-altering conversation with your mother, now that is difficult. It took me to a level of vulnerability that I haven’t been able to showcase thus far.

You’ve said that “as content creators [we] have the obligation to hold a mirror up to the world.” What do you hope to reflect?

I hope to reflect honesty at all times. That’s whether I’m playing a fictional character or someone who lives on this earth, because people gravitate towards that, people love to feel. Most importantly, there’s always someone who can relate to the truth, and that’s whether it’s my truth or the truth I live through on the big screen. There’s always someone who can relate to the story at hand, so I just hope to reflect enough honesty so the audience can organically connect.

How does your experience playing football impact your approach to acting roles?

My past experience in athletics helps me keep a level of discipline when it comes to acting. Just like any professional level player, in the NFL or elsewhere, we have to work every day and treat our bodies well. That looks like eating clean, being prepared, and knowing when to rest, and that all starts with self-discipline. You have to wake up every morning and want these things for yourself before the world can see it for you. I wake up at 5 AM every day just like I’m in high school or college again playing ball. I truly believe that’s the level of intensity you should bring as an entertainer, athlete, or whatever your dream is to be.

What music are you working on right now, and can you give us a sneak peek or hint about what you have coming up?

I’m working on an EP between acting gigs, so it’s early on in the process—a hint would be too much of a giveaway. But I am working with the same folks I have in the past, Ashton McCreight and Spencer Nezey. It’s early in the developmental process, but I trust these guys, and I can’t wait to see what we can collaborate on and put together. However, I did drop two EPs on SoundCloud this week, so be sure to tune in!

If your life was a choose-your-own-adventure, what decisions would viewers have to make on an average day?

Luckily, I do have a career where I can choose my adventure daily. Being an actor, I find myself studying and always learning about so many different careers and life decisions. What’s also cool about being a filmmaker is you get to play around with different periods, so I’m not confined to a box or any kind of structure. We get to imagine and break any form of limitation.

When you hear the phrase “Black Excellence,” what or who comes to mind?

When I hear Black excellence, I can’t help but think of Issa Rae and her infamous speech of saying, “I’m rooting for everyone Black,” because that is how I feel. Black excellence goes so deep, and there’s enough success on this earth for us all to be excellent. As a Black man, I hope to one day no longer be confined to just having the label of Black Excellence, but reaching higher and achieving overall human excellence as a Black man. My mother’s side of my family came from Monrovia, Liberia. I am my ancestors’ wildest dream!

How did you find your voice?

I found my voice falling flat on my face. I moved to Los Angeles, but things didn’t work out on my first go-around. I didn’t have money, and I lost my support by making dumb decisions, so I went back home and scraped up every single dollar and sent off the most prayers I think I’ve ever had in my life. Doing so allowed me to dig deep within myself and realize my true potential—but without that moment of failure, I wouldn’t have had my back against the wall to do so. If you’re dealing with fear, I encourage you to face it with faith because that is how I found my voice, and I’m pretty sure it’s how you’ll find yours.

You have the opportunity to ask an all-knowing genie one question. What do you ask?

If I had the opportunity to ask a genie a question, I would ask him what stock is going to short through the roof because then I would just dump all of my investments and savings into that and ride the wave. But that might be illegal for the genie to tell me that. As young people, I believe we need to no longer be consumers of a product but be producers and makers of products.

What advice would you give to young Black talent looking to get their first break in the entertainment industry?

Shoot your shot, reach out to these CEOs and ask them for advice. Don’t be afraid to ask questions…look for information, look for a mentor and work hard. Nothing worth it is easy. And you wouldn’t want it to be easy anyway. The person we become as we follow our dreams and hit the ground or backs against the wall is the true blessing. The success is the cherry on top.

How do you practice self-care?

I take good care of myself, and it’s as simple as that. I eat clean, I work out, and most importantly, I feed my spirit daily. Even if I’m not feeling in the mood, I’ll pray, and I take time to give thanks. I do whatever it takes for me to feel 100% because health is wealth.

Thanks for taking the time, Jay! Safety is now streaming on Disney+.

[doctorstethoscope]

In the Garden || A. Hotchner x Fem!Reader

hello babes! Something a little different today-- I didn’t have time to write a request that I was going to be pleased with, so this is something that’s been sitting in my drive for a while. Hope you like it! 

Submit requests here! 

contains: sexual innuendo, gun mention

wordcount: 2.4k

You can’t remember the last time you wore a dress, much less a gown like the one JJ was zipping you into now-- dresses weren’t practical for field work with the BAU, and even when you’d worked in the counterterrorism unit, you’d much preferred a professional blouse and pair of slacks. But the First Lady had decided to throw a ball in the White House to celebrate federal employees, and the Bureau was receiving an award, which the Director had hand-picked the BAU to accept. So, gown. Even though you’d much prefer to be changing into a pair of sweats-- you had been called on a case two days before the ball, and Garcia saved the day by running to everyone’s apartments and grabbing their nice clothes so you all wouldn’t be late. Which is how you found yourself squeezing into a sleek off the shoulder number in the Batcave, with Emily batting at your face with a makeup brush and JJ tugging at your zipper. 

“Babe, you look hot.” Penelope says as Emily and JJ step away from you, admiring their work. 

“All Emily’s work,” you deflected with a shy smile. 

“We’ll have that fight when we’re not running late,” Emily said, pulling you out of Garcia’s office, she and JJ not far behind. 

Derek let out a wolf whistle when he saw you all approaching, and you heard JJ’s windchime laugh from a few steps behind. 

“Hello ladies,” he said with an exaggerated leer. 

“Derek Morgan, you’re lucky that my thigh holster doesn’t go with this dress.” Emily spits out, and all of you burst out in laughter. 

“Chocolate thunder, you clean up good,” Garcia says, crossing to Derek, who moved to put his arm around her shoulders as Reid emerged into the bullpen. 

“Speaking of cleaning up good,” JJ says with a small smile, and you catch Reid blushing. 

“Did you know that balls like this can cost American taxpayers up to a million dollars?” He asks the group, and you smile.

“Maybe don’t mention that when the first lady gives us the award, yeah Spence?” You tease, and he treats you to a little chuckle.

You hear Hotch before you turn to see him and Rossi. “Alright, let’s go,” He says, leading the group out of the BAU and towards your SUVs. You end up in the passenger seat of the car Rossi is driving. 

“You doing okay, kid? You’re awful quiet this evening. Invitations to Federal Government Prom don’t come often, you know.” He smirks, and you half-ass a smile in return. 

“Yeah, I’m okay, Rossi. Just tired, you know. Would have preferred to get a night’s sleep in my own bed before we did this, you know?” 

He nods, but there’s no use in lying to a profiler. 

The food, you have to admit, is leagues better than the instant ramen you would have cooked up if you had gone home tonight. And the conversation isn’t half bad either, you admit to yourself as you lazily flirt with Paul, a junior fellow from the Department of Health and Human Services, just barely putting in enough effort to seem interested while allowing your mind to wander.

The sensation of a warm hand in between your exposed shoulder blades distracts you from your train of thought. 

“Excuse me,” Aaron’s deep baritone interrupts Paul’s nervous tenor. “I’d like to cut in for a dance, if you don’t mind.”

Paul sputters, and you laugh, because you know that Aaron was asking you, not this early-thirties politico type that he towered over, both physically and morally. 

“We’ll catch up later?” you said to Paul, with absolutely no intent to catch up later, before Aaron led you out to the dance floor. 

“Hotch, I’m gonna step on your feet.” You warned. 

“No you won’t,” he assures you. “Follow my lead.” 

You do as you’re told, and you’re surprised to realize just how easy it is to follow him, anywhere. 

“Aaron Hotchner, when on Earth did you learn to ballroom dance?” You asked incredulously. 

“Boarding school,” He answers with an easy smile.

“You’re joking,” you accuse. 

“Ah, yes, something I’m known to do.”

“You remain a mystery, Hotchner.”  You tell him.

“I don’t know. That might have been my last secret.” 

You roll your eyes, content to continue dancing, and finding yourself getting distracted again. 

“What are you thinking about?” Aaron asks, and you mentally curse yourself for letting your guard down in front of your boss. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just tired. But really grateful to be here, of course, and--”

“I wasn’t asking as your boss, you can stand down,” He smirks, dipping you quickly and it takes your breath away. “You’re thinking of leaving.” He says as he lifts you back up, and it’s not a question. 

“How did you-- I can’t believe-- Damn profilers.” You harrumphed. 

“You’ve been distant, the past couple weeks. You’re in your early twenties accepting an award at the White House, by all accounts you should be ecstatic. That’s when I knew something was wrong. And when I saw you with Peter, or whatever his name was, who you couldn’t be less interested in, that’s when I knew it was us.” 

“See, and that’s exactly why I need to leave. Because I’ll never be able to do that.” You tell him, finally looking him in the eye.

“You will,”  He says in a self-assured tone that does nothing to assuage your anxiety.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. 

“I do.” 

“Maybe I’m not good enough, Hotch.” You confess carelessly. He’s already figured you out. Might as well fess up to your deepest insecurities while your boss holds you and stares you down with his deep brown eyes in the middle of the East Room.

“You are,” he says in that same tone, that you’re sure is supposed to be calming but is only infuriating. 

“But maybe I’m not! Maybe I’m one of those people who always wanted to do it, who always wanted to be an agent, but it’s like a pipe dream for me. I don’t contribute to the team the same way everyone else does. I don’t pick up on the things that seem so obvious to all of you, and it sucks. I can still do good work, but you know-- you change your dreams and you grow up. Maybe I’m one of those people and I’m just not supposed to be here. I just can’t stay knowing that I’m not supposed to be here-- I have to leave.” You’re not even sure if your soliloquy makes any sense, but Aaron pulls you a little closer, so he can speak the next few words lowly, directly into your ear. 

“You’ve been here eight months. It takes time. You are an incredible agent, and an asset to this team. I don’t need another profiler that sees the same things we all see-- I need you, and your observations, the things we missed-- those are the things that solve cases. I can’t-- I can’t allow you to change your dream. I can’t let you leave. I need you here.” 

You let his words hang in the air for a moment before he speaks again. 

“The, uh-- the team needs you. We all need you, and your observations, is what I meant.” He stammers. 

“Hotch?’ You ask, confused by the sudden change in tone. 

“Do you want to go get some fresh air? Get away from the crowd?” He asks, pulling away to look at you, and there’s an invitation in his eyes. Maybe a more seasoned profiler would know exactly what it was, but you were excited to find out nonetheless.  

“Yeah, I think I do.”

You’re certain that you’re breaking some sort of law as Hotch pulls you out of the ballroom and down a hallway, his fingers interlocked with yours. You try not to think about it too much. Your heels click against the marble floors as you follow Aaron’s brisk pace, and eventually he finds a door outside, opening it up and allowing you to pass through it first. It takes a minute to place yourself, especially under the cover of night, but after a moment you realize you’re in the rose garden. 

“Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,” You say under your breath with a little laugh as you look out over the sprawling display of flowers and plants. 

“It definitely beats the Quantico courtyard,” Aaron agrees.

“Never thought I’d make it there, either.” You confess, not looking at him.

“But you did. It wasn’t meant to be easy, but you made it, and you’ll grow. You just need time.” He tells you. 

“How can you be so sure?” You ask, feeling your eyes well up. 

“I was young once, too.” He tells you with a self-deprecating grin. 

“You can’t play up the wise, ancient elder with me, Hotch. I’ve seen you chase Jack across a soccer field like you’re still in your twenties.” You laugh, but he can hear the emotions behind it.

“Hey, come on, I mean it. I’m not Rossi, but I’ve got my fair dose of wisdom to share,” he says, moving closer to you and placing a hand on your arm, trying to comfort you. “Let’s keep dancing. If you want to talk, you can talk. But you thought you couldn’t dance, and you could dance, right? So we can keep doing that until you believe me.” He said, pulling your hand up in his and placing his other on your waist. 

The two of you moved slowly, the orchestra from inside only barely audible from where you were standing. With Hotch’s bad ear, he could really only hear it when his body was angled just right in the direction of the East Room, but somehow he had perfect rhythm regardless. You move in silence for a song or two or three before Hotch speaks up again. 

“I lied to you, earlier.” He confesses, still guiding you effortlessly through a simple waltz. 

“How do you mean?” You ask, suddenly nervous that you were right, that you’re a complete failure of an agent, and that you need to pack your bags and head on back to Kansas.

“I lied when I said that I’d told you my last secret.”

“Oh,” you said, too caught up in your own head to try to understand what he was saying.

“And I lied when I told you that I meant the team needed you--” you felt that bone-crushing weight on your soul again-- “we do, of course, but that’s not what I meant.” 

“Hotchner, what are you talking about?” You finally asked, no longer able to tolerate the emotional whiplash of his conversation.

“When I said I needed you, I meant it.” 

“Oh,” you say, your face a portrait of shock and confusion, even though you understood him completely. 

“That’s selfish of me as a person, and wrong of me as your superior, and maybe that means that I’m outing myself as the kind of fucked-up person that isn’t worth another second of your time, but I needed you to know.” He stops dancing now, tries to hedge a bit of space between you without letting you go entirely. 

“Aaron,” you whisper, clinging to him more tightly as he pulls away, feeling his jacket wrinkle under your fingernails. 

“Yes?” he whispers back. 

“I’m glad you told me,” you tell him, and that’s all the permission he needs to take your face in both of your hands and kiss you, with a gentleness that makes you feel like spun gold, with the reverence of a man who knows that love is not a game, with the hunger of one who has been starved for months. 

He pulls away from you, too soon, and your eyes are wet. “My resignation will be on your desk by Monday morning.”

He takes a step away. “What do you--” 

“Goodnight, Aaron,” You tell him with a sad little smile, turning around towards the door you came from and leaving him in the garden.

You’re drowning your sorrows in a pint of Ben and Jerry’s when the doorbell rings the next day. You swing the door open grumpily, to reveal Aaron. 

“It’s Saturday, and you can’t turn in your resignation until 9am Monday. What can I do in the next forty eight hours to convince you that you belong here?” Aaron asks, still standing in the hall of your apartment complex.

You sigh, stepping aside to let him in. You can’t give him what he wants, but you won’t have this argument where all the neighbors will hear, either. “It’s too late, Hotch.”

“It’s not too late,” he argues, checking his watch. “I have forty six hours and thirteen minutes.”

“I’ll still be the girl who got this job on her back forty six hours from now.” You tell him, folding your arms.

“You’ll be what?” He asks, incredulous. 

“I know that you heard me loud and clear. 

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know that you slept with Erin Strauss. I didn’t think you were her type.” He says, and you let out an exasperated sigh. 

“You’re absolutely incorrigible!” You cry out. 

“Who implied that you got this job on anything other than your own merit?” Aaron asks, a glint in his eye that lets you know that they’ll be handled just as soon as he gets you to shred the letter of resignation you drafted last night.

“Didn’t I? You didn’t clear my promotion because you were attracted to me?” You asked.

“I cleared your promotion before we even met-- your interview was a bureau formality. Your reputation and the glowing recommendations from your peers in counterterrorism spoke volumes.”  He assures you.

“Oh,” you let out, your anger deflating. 

“If you want to leave because of my inappropriate behavior, please reconsider. I’m incredibly sorry for--” He starts, but you cut him off, placing your hands on his face and pulling him in for a kiss. 

“Nothing to be sorry for. Please continue to be inappropriate,” you tell him in between kisses. 

He smiles as he continues to place kisses across your face, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. “Right now?” He asks, slipping a hand underneath your shirt.  “You want me to be inappropriate right now?” 

“If you’re really good at it, I’ll let you tear up my resignation yourself.” 

@romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee      @zheezs14      @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner  @ijustwannaread2k19    @rexit-mo @shmaptainhotchnersmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner  @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @hotforhotchner11 @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @rousethemouse @scuttling

[taylorswiftandx]

Taylor Swift and Children

'Taylor Swift'

Mary’s Song (Oh My My My): I dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried, just two kids, you and I

Mary’s Song (Oh My My My): We’ll rock our babies on that very front porch, after all this time, you and I

'Fearless (Taylor's Version)'

You All Over Me: But I did, so I smiled, and I melted like a child

'Speak Now (Taylor’s Version)'

Never Grow Up: Take pictures in your mind of your childhood room

Long Live: If you have children some day, when they point to the pictures, please tell them my name

'Red (Taylor's Version)'

All Too Well: You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin sized bed

22: This place is to crowded, too many cool kids

Starlight: Have ten kids and teach them how to dream

Begin Again: And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid

Run: So you laugh like a child and I'll sing like no one cares

The Very First Night: Not trying to fall in love but we did like children running

'1989 (Taylor’s Version)'

(no children)

'reputation'

(no children)

'Lover'

Cruel Summer: I’m drunk in the back of the car and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar

London Boy: He likes my American smile, like a child when our eyes meet

ME!: Hey, kids, spelling is fun!

'folklore'

Illicit Affairs: Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby"

Invisible String: Cold was the steel of my axe to grind for the boys who broke my heart, now I send their babies presents

Peace: Give you my wild, give you a child

'evermore'

Tolerate It: I wait by the door like I'm just a kid

Right Where You Left Me: I'm sure that you got a wife out there, kids and Christmas

It's Time To Go: Or trying to stay for the kids when keeping it how it is will only break their hearts worse

'Midnights'

You’re On Your Own, Kid: You’re on your own, kid, you always have been

You’re On Your Own, Kid: You’re on your own, kid, yeah, you can face this

Vigilante Shit: Now she gets the house, gets the kids, gets the pride

Mastermind: No one wanted to play with me as a little kid

Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve: And if I was a child, did it matter if you got to wash your hands?

'The Tortured Poets Department'

But Daddy I Love Him: “I’m having his baby,” No, I’m not, but you should see your faces

But Daddy I Love Him: Screaming, “But, daddy, I love him, I’m having his baby”

Fresh Out The Slammer: At the park where we used to sit on children’s swings wearing imaginary rings

Florida!!!: And my friends all smell like weed or little babies

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me: So all you kids can sneak into my house with all the cobwebs

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart: ‘Cause I’m a real tough kid, I can handle my shit

The Alchemy: That child’s play back in school is forgiven under my rule

loml: We embroidered the memories of the time I was away, stitching, “We were just kids, babe”

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus: So if I sell my apartment and you have some kids with an Internet starlet

I Hate It Here: I read about it in a book when I was a precocious child

thanK you aIMee: And then she wrote headlines in the local paper, laughing at each baby step I’d take

thanK you aIMee: And one day, your kid comes home singing a song that only us two is gonna know is about you, ‘cause

Peter: In closets like cedar, preserved from when we were just kids

Peter: Words from the mouths of babes

The Bolter: And I can confirm she made a curious child, ever reviled by everyone except her own father

Manuscript: Afterwards she only ate kids’ cereal and couldn’t sleep unless it was in her mother’s bed

Other Songs written by Taylor

Christmas Tree Farm: In the town, kids are dreaming of sleighs

Eyes Open: The tricky thing is yesterday we were just children

I Heart ?: But I can’t believe you made me sit at home, cry like a baby

Official Alternate Releases

Anti-Hero (feat. Bleachers): Too hurt to hang out, talking shit about your famous baby

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart (Clean Version): ‘Cause I’m a real tough kid, I can handle it

[godoflobsters]

The Brothers and Dateables With a Tattoo Artist MC

My own MC was a tattoo artist before she came to the Devildom, so I thought I’d write up some head cannons with a tattoo artist MC.

MC is gender neutral!

Mammon

Nobody can convince me that the “Brothers Under a Pact” squad wouldn't be the first ones to get tattoos from MC, and Mammon would definitely be the first

Definitely likes to brag about it too

Don't remind him that there are countless people in the human realm that you tattooed before him or he will pout

People tend to think that Mammon is cheap and would try to talk you into giving him free or cheap tattoos, but he couldn't stand to be like that towards you especially regarding something that you’re so good at

Our first man works his butt off every time he wants to get some new ink from you

Likes to give you a big ole tip every time

Gets fidgety when he has to sit still for too long so you two have to take breaks often

Prefers small/medium sized tattoos rather than really big ones

One time after he started getting tattoos from you, he was at a modeling gig and they tried to make him cover them up with makeup, he quit and that magazine went bankrupt not too long after...dont fuck with the avatar of greed

Once your shop starts taking off in the Devildom, he and Asmo try to convince you to do a shoot for Majolish(They definitely didn't pull some strings to get Majolish to do a whole segment about you and your business)

Beelzebub

The second brother to get a tattoo from MC

Refuses to get any food related tattoos: he doesn't want to accidentally take a chunk out of himself when he gets blinded by his hunger

This man has a very high pain tolerance and sits like a rock while you're tattooing him and you love him for it

He definitely needs snack breaks during longer sessions though

Has a memorial tattoo for Lillith over his heart that matches with one on Belphie

While making this list I was randomly blessed with the mental image of Beel with abuncha old school American traditional tattoos and you can pry that headcannon from my cold, dead hands

Mammon likes to brag that he has the most tattoos from you, but Beel might give him a run for his money, he doesn't mind Mammon’s bragging most of the time though, so he just lets him believe whatever he wants this time

Simeon

But Simeon has never been all that great at following the rules that they set for him

The first of the dateables to get a tattoo

He wasn't actually planning on getting a tattoo at first, but one day he overheard Luke trying to scold you for all of your tattoos(definitely before the incident with Beel and Lucifer in the underground tomb) and that was the only push he needed to jump on the “tattoos from MC” train

There is a lot of rhetoric in the Celestial Realm about how “Your body is a temple and you should not mark it”

He’s still not willing to stray too far from his roots though, so he’d probably get something with vaguely religious undertones

Absolutely delights in the shocked look on your face and the sheepish questions on whether angels are allowed to do this

Once he’s finally convinced you that you're not damning him to fall by tattooing him, the process goes by very easily

He is very easygoing and open regarding designs and he handles the pain very well

He absolutely loves to show his tattoo off, even when he goes home to the Celestial Realm and receives his reprimands from Michael

Leviathan

The third brother to get a tattoo from MC

Didn't want to get a tattoo at first, all of that physical contact and pain on top of it? No way

But then Mammon, Beel, and even Simeon all got one and he got jealous

You're HIS Henry, why are THEY the ones who get to wear your art? He might’ve been able to deal with his dumb brothers, but SIMEON TOO?

You gotta sit down with him and have a nice long chat about it, making sure this is something that he would actually want to do and not just his envy talking

Spoiler alert: It was definitely just his envy talking

He realises that he is actually oddly attached to the idea of getting a tattoo from you now though, so he comes up with designs and draws them on himself until he is certain that he won't regret it

Would get something tiny and probably gaming related

Definitely very squeamish about the pain aspect but the design that the two of you came up with is very simple and small, so he is able to make it through without fainting

He absolutely loves his new tattoo...but he is never doing that again

Belphegor

Fourth brother to get a tattoo

Has wanted to get one ever since Beel showed him the tattoo he got in memory of Lillith, but things were very...not good...between the two of you at that point

Finally worked up the courage to at least ask if you would be okay with it after the two of you made a pact

Beel, forgetting his super high pain tolerance, told him that it getting a tattoo doesn't hurt at all, so he was in for a big surprise when he went under the needle for the first time

Whiny at first, but he manages to stay very still for you

Has a memorial tattoo for Lilith over his heart that matches with one on Beel

Will definitely start to doze off during long sessions

Convinced Satan to get a matching Anti Lucifer League tattoo with him(definitely doesn't try to convince you to get one too)

Make sure that he does not, under any circumstances, actually fall asleep while you're tattooing him. He did once and he rolled over in his sleep, almost ruining an entire tattoo

Ever since that time, Beel has come with him to his sessions so you could focus on your work and he can focus on keeping Belphie awake

Satan

Gets his tattoo not long after Belphie

One of those people that think every tattoo needs to mean something so he takes forever trying to pick out something that he wants

Would probably get some sort of quote or design inspired by his favorite book, something that really resonated with who he is as a person

Was somehow convinced by Belphie to get an Anti Lucifer League tattoo

Does he regret it whenever he realizes that he now has a portion of his skin dedicated to Lucifer of all people? Possibly, but he definitely won't say anything about it to you

Loves to look at you and just admire your tattoos, asking the stories behind each and every one of them that he can see

He might be a bigger fan of literature than the fine arts, but that doesn't mean that he has any less of an appreciation for your work

Definitely pulls some strings and gets one of his friends who owns an art gallery to display some of your work there

Can set you up with all the connections that you need to make your mark on the Devildom art world

Lucifer

The last of the brothers to get a tattoo

In the beginning he has no intentions of getting a tattoo, he does have alot of respect for your talents and how hard you work for them though

As an art lover and artist himself, he will most certainly commission you from time to time and hang your work in his study

He won't admit it, but seeing your art and thinking of you when he's stressed with work is very soothing

He eventually decides to let you tattoo him only if it’s in a place that is easily covered by his clothes, considering how he dresses that leaves you with pretty much his entire body to work with

Sometimes when he has some time off he will grab a sketchbook and join you if he finds you in the common room working on a design, you share a comfortable silence, with the only sounds be the crackling of the fireplace and the scratching of pencils on paper

The kind of person that wants a tattoo but has no idea what he actually wants, but hes picky as fuck so he will turn down every single idea that you give him for weeks

He is lucky that you love him

Whenever you two talk about placements, if you mention anything on his back to cover up the scars from his wings he will almost back out entirely

Almost

Afew months later he’ll put his pride aside come back, admitting that your ideas would be perfect and that he wants to go through with it

During the session he has way too much pride to admit that he was feeling any pain

That is until you have to start going over the scars

As soon as the needles hit scar tissue he starts to fall apart; tears, shaking, the whole nine yards

It takes you quite a few sessions to finish since he cant handle such long sessions on that portion of his back

The summer after his new back piece is finished, he goes with you and his brothers back to Diavolo’s beach, this time he takes his shirt off in front of everyone for the first time since the fall

He wears your art with such pride that he lets everyone keep the memory, he even lets Asmo keep the pictures he took of all of them up on Devilgram

Diavolo

Wanted to be the first to get a tattoo but Barbatos said no

If you want to continue your career in the Devildom for the duration of your stay, he will buy you a building to work from and any supplies to get started since you had to leave your stuff in the human realm

Diavolo has rooms in the castle filled with the art that he's collected over the years, so when he sees that you're an artist he gets so excited

Before he finally gets tattooed by you, he buys a lot of your artwork and hangs it up around the castle

It takes a few years to propose the idea again to Barbatos in a way that wont make the butler’s hair fall out from stress, but he finally relented under one condition: it has to be in an area that is still hidden while he’s in his demon form

He decides that his legs would be the perfect place to indulge in your artistic talents while also keeping Barbatos’s controlling side at bay

Hes another one that knows he wants a tattoo but no clue what he wants to get

Unlike Lucifer though, he is a true open canvas

He truly adores your art so he wholeheartedly trusts you with his body and knows that he will love anything that you do for him

He knows that this is most likely very nerve wracking for you considering his position so he tries to reassure you and make the process very easy for you

You still put everything into designing him something fit for a king

He’s the type to prefer large pieces that span over entire sections of his body rather than abuncha small/medium sized ones

Another fidgetter, he’s really not all that accustomed to pain so he doesn't have a high tolerance for it

Likes to treat you to dinner at Ristorante Six after each of his sessions

Tips like the absolute king he is, you could probably pay a couple months of rent back at your apartment in the Human Realm just from his tip

Once his tattoo is finally finished and healed, he will find every excuse that he can think of to invite you and the brothers on outings to places where he is free from scrutiny to wear shorts and show off your artwork

Barbatos

The last of all of the boys to get a tattoo

It was a complete shock to everyone when he came to you and asked if he could make an appointment to get tattooed by you

“Everyone” being you, Diavolo, and Lucifer because nobody else knows that it happened and he would like to keep it that way

Another member of the “I’ll get one as long as it’s somewhere nobody will see” club...so basically not his face

Before the two of you get to talking about designs, you expect him to go with something small and simple, maybe an elegant little teapot or something along those lines

Then this man comes to his consultation and throws you for a loop talking about a sleeve

Very picky, he has high standards for himself and what's on his body

Knows exactly what he wants but does his best not to stifle your creativity during the design process

You learn ALOT about just who lurks behind Barbatos’s mild-mannered butler facade during his sessions, he’s surprisingly upfront and honest whenever you have him under the needle

Solomon

Can't get a tattoo

This man has pact marks for 72 demons all over his body, there is simply no more room

Any open space he has is being saved just in case any other demons *cough* Lucifer *cough* ever decide to come around to making a pact

Collects your flash and hangs it up around his room

If you take Diavolo up on his offer to set up a shop in the Devildom, he will make sure to tell all of his pact-mates about you, hype up your work, and get you a lot of business in the door

Sometimes he will commission art from you and use magic to make your art temporarily appear on his skin over the pact marks

Once you become a sorcerer and have a better grasp on your magic, he helps you experiment in creating magical inks and enchanting tattoos

Asmodeus

The only one that actually doesn't want to get a tattoo

He doesnt think that tattoos would fit in very well to the image that he has for himself

And not being able to show off every inch of his beautiful skin while its healing is a no from him

Since he likes to test out his new makeup and skincare products on you, sometimes after he has had his way with your face he will let you draw on him with skin safe markers

would definitely be a wimp about the pain

Will spam pictures to his Devilgram of his fancy new temporary tattoos and you drawing on him

Will definitely try to bring you some of his flings to get his name tattooed on them, you will have to reprimand him every single time and eventually he will stop

If you're not the type to keep up with social media, he’ll offer to keep up a Devilgram account for your shop

If you're ever attempting to draw and you have a very specific pose in your head that you can't find a reference for, he will not hesitate to get up and start posing for you

Luke

He is baby and cant have any tattoos until he's older

His mind frequently bounces back and forth between the whole “your body is a temple” rhetoric that he was taught growing up and “wow that's so cool!”

After Simeon got his tattoo Luke became a lot more enthusiastic and curious about your job though

Will occasionally ask if he can have one of your flash sheets so he can color your pictures

These very often end up on the fridge in Purgatory Hall

Sometimes they even make their way to the fridge in the House of Lamentation too

Will this make the brothers jealous? Yes. Do you care? No.

Luke loves you and looks up to you so much that he goes through a little phase of wanting to copy you, yourself and the entirety of Purgatory Hall can expect loads of temporary marker tattoos

[abundanceofnots]

a little (just under 2k) playground scene with Lip and Ian as dads, as per @pink--and--white's request. i apologize to all actual parents in advance.

“How the fuck did we get here?” Lip asks through a huff of incredulous laughter.

Ian shades his eyes from the sun, turning to his older brother with a look of mock concern. “Your memory that bad already, old man? We drove here.”

It earns him a stinging smack on his thigh.

“Asshole,” Lip retorts back. “You know what I mean.”

Ian’s eyes flit back to the scene before them. “Yeah, I do,” he confirms a beat later, his voice more earnest this time.

This, by far, isn’t a new feeling. Lip’s had the exact same thought pass through his mind countless times in recent years, always in a momentary flash of warmth that filled up his whole chest. It happens all the more often now over the most mundane shit, though.

The first time was, probably, when Freddie was born. Then Ian got married, and Al came along, and Liam got to a good school—and after that followed every other quiet (not literally) evening when the whole family gathered up in the kitchen.

In those instants, Lip would stall himself for just a second, getting lost in the overwhelming sounds and visuals, and think, what the fuck.

He’s getting soft. That’s it, most likely. He’s getting soft and sentimental, going on with his extremely unexceptional life, wondering how in the hell did a piece of shit like himself get so lucky, and slowly becomes someone he’d gladly punch in the face not too long ago.

It hits him hard again, this strange sense of pride and wonder, as he sits next to his baby brother on a bench overlooking a kids’ playground.

This one’s the real deal. Everything here is child-proof and clean, with no syringe or dogshit in sight. Frank or some random homeless guy aren’t lying in a drunken coma by the swing sets. There’s not even one bullet hole in the slide. And maybe it’s not so hard to admit that this is actually pretty nice. That this is them now.

Still, the whole thing is, without a doubt, totally ridiculous. Here they are, Lip and Ian—the college dropout and the ex-con, the true sons of the South Side—sneakily munching on their kids’ packed afternoon snacks.

“Dumb luck, I guess,” Ian answers Lip’s question after some musing and takes a sip from Toe’s pink-colored juice box.

Lip hmms before he bites into a baby carrot. “For us, or them?”

“For us. Definitely.”

They’re just two regular dads who carry around lunchboxes and always have a wet wipe or a pack of tissues at hand, ready to blow noses and wipe off residue chocolate from chins and hands. There aren’t enough words in the English language that would describe how incredibly ridiculous this is, because once upon a time, not too long ago, still, Ian wore a jumpsuit with Dav on the nametag and believed this was it for him, and Lip thought the only way to get through life was by drinking himself through the ordeal.

How the fuck did they get here?

“Freddie! Hey, Freddie!” Lip calls out to his oldest, who hangs upside down from the monkey bars, effectively ignoring him. “Fred!” he tries again with an annoyed sigh, and the boy finally remembers how his ears work. “Can you help your cousin on the slide?”

“Okay!”

With a swift motion, Freddie pulls himself up again to grab hold of a bar, unhooking his knees in the process, and jumps down into the sand with practiced ease. He then immediately gets into a run, coming behind the red-headed girl in black overalls who’s been trying to climb the gentle ramp on her own.

“What was that about?” Ian inquires amusedly.

“Early puberty, I think. He doesn’t want us to call him Freddie anymore. It’s Fred. No Fredster, no Fredtastic, definitely no Fredosaurus. Just Fred. Apparently, I went to bed, and my son turned into a middle-aged man overnight.”

“Oof. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. The next thing I know, he’s gonna get a neck tattoo and his first STI. Al, buddy!” His younger son Alvin, at least, seems to have no trouble with hearing. “You need help? Want me to push you?”

“No, I’m good!” the blond kid shouts back from the swing, and to prove his point, he pushes himself harder off the ground to gain momentum.

Lip scratches his forehead. “They don’t need me anymore,” he comments darkly. “I am officially a bother.”

“You’ve always been a bother,” Ian notes before he stuffs his mouth full of grapes. “Come on, Lip. Freddie’s eight. He’s not exactly packing his bags to leave home. He’s still very much a daddy’s boy.”

“I don’t know, man. When I remember what I was already doing when I was his age….”

“Yeah, but that’s different. They’re not like us. They don’t need to be, and that’s a good thing.”

Ian’s right, but the concept of normal as something desirable, something he doesn’t necessarily need to rebel against, is something Lip may never fully come to grasps with. And neither does Ian, even if he says otherwise.

“We might be getting a dog,” Lip says after a while, pausing before he sinks his teeth into a cheese stick.

“No way!” Ian smirks at him. “Look at you, perfect American family and shit.”

Lip snorts at that. He and Tami are pretty damn far from perfect. “You not thinking about getting a pet? A friendly rottweiler for Mickey, perhaps?”

“No. First, I gotta talk him into having another kid.”

That takes Lip by surprise. He knows Ian absolutely adores his little girl, his mini ginger twin that everyone got to call Toe, short for Tomato, but he also knows the whole story behind how she came to be.

“Oh, yeah? You’d like another?”

“Yeah,” Ian admits, and as his eyes drop to his lap where his fingers fiddle with a paper straw, Lip realizes he sounds ashamed about it.

“Not as easy as poking holes in condoms with you guys, huh?” he jokes to release the sudden tension.

“Hah. No.”

“You told Mickey yet?”

Meeting his brother’s eyes again, Ian gives a noncommittal shrug. “I hinted.”

From experience, Lip knows that hinting in Ian’s case almost exclusively means Mickey is fully aware of his intentions and just chooses to ignore them before Ian confronts him head-on.

“Hopefully, you’ll have another girl,” he tells Ian after a quiet moment filled with children’s high-pitched screams and the steady screeching of a swing set. “It’s a lot more physical with boys. These two are already fighting like we used to.”

“Doesn’t really matter when you’re raising a Milkovich,” Ian remarks before yelling: “Hey, Toe? You wanna have a sip of your juice for me?”

The girl waves at them eagerly as she slides down the bendy chute. Getting to a run right as her feet touch the ground, she comes to a jolty halt in front of them, taking a good, hard look at the juice box as if only now realizing what’s expected of her.

“No, thank you,” Toe then peeps and skips off again.

“Polite,” Lip appraises.

Ian gives a low chuckle. “Fuckin’ weird, huh?”

“With Mickey as her dad? A little.”

They watch the kids play for a few minutes. Ian offers to exchange a cheese stick for three grapes, and Lip negotiates it up to five before agreeing.

“You think he’d be against it? Having another kid?” he asks Ian mid-chew.

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame him, after all the shit with Terry. Maybe with a second kid, he’d think there’d be twice the damage he could do. Dunno,” Ian surmises uncertainly. “I know how hard it was for him to even want a kid, and I get why he was scared. Don’t get me wrong, I’m shitting myself every day when I think of the ways I could fuck this up. But he’s a great dad. You saw him with Toe. She’s obsessed with him. The way she laughs at everything he says makes you think he invented comedy or something.”

Lip’s aware that their conversation turned sort of serious once again, but he can’t help not breaking into a smile. “Sounds like you’re kinda jealous of your husband there, Ian.”

“Oh, I hate his guts,” his brother confirms, only partially kidding. “I’m a fun dad, too, you know.” As if on cue, a figure coming their way catches his attention, and Ian nods to where his daughter’s playing, telling Lip: “Okay, watch this.”

Mickey gestures at Freddie with a finger to his lips, coming around the slide just in time to catch his daughter in his arms with a victorious roar.

“Daddy!” Toe announces the good news to everyone around with a loud squeal.

Ian gives his brother a pointed look.

“Fuck, man,” Lip huffs with mock seriousness. “You tellin’ me she loves her dad? What a nightmare.”

“Yo, lunch ladies.” Mickey suddenly approaches them with Toe at his hip. “How ’bout less chit-chatting and more kid-watching? Think I’d remember if I left my kid with a giant fuckin’ bruise on her forehead this morning.”

“Yeah. She’s had a bit of a scuffle with Alvin earlier,” Ian says, reaching out to soothingly rub Toe’s calf as if said scuffle and the tears it brought weren’t already long forgotten.

“The hell’s he doin’ fightin’ someone half his size?!”

“She started it!” Lip counters weakly.

“Okay.” Mickey’s mouth hangs open for a minute before he finds his figurative footing again. “I guess she had her reasons for that. And you should teach your kids to not fight dirty.”

“I go play now,” Toe informs him then, putting a stop to his rant and his bad mood in one go.

“Yeah! You do that!” Mickey replies as he puts her down, matching her level of enthusiasm. She heads for the extensive pirate-ship-like construction this time, watchful cousin Freddie already on her heels, and Mickey drops heavily next to his husband, letting out a prolonged groan into his hands.

“Tough day?” Ian asks needlessly.

“Igor’s a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Told you he was.”

“And I agree, so drop it, a’ight? Hey, by the way.”

“Hey,” Ian echoes before they exchange a quick kiss.

Mickey notices the juice in his hands then and perks up. “That raspberry?” he checks after he’s already snagged the box for himself, taking loud slurps from it to get every last drop. He finishes off with a belch. “Fuckin’ love raspberry.”

Lip finds that anything he’d say at that moment would only spoil the natural fucking beauty of it, so he just appreciates with a private snicker.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Toe yells from the top of one of the pirate ship’s smaller slides. “Come play!”

Mickey pats at Ian’s thigh. “That’s on you, man. I’m beat.”

Putting his fun-dad face on, Ian heaves himself up without a complaint. “Hey, jellybean! Do you think your dad can fit on the slide, too?”

Toe shakes her head vehemently, giggling as she watches Ian jog toward her. “No, daddy! No! No!”

“What, you don’t think I can?” Ian asks again, halfway through his climb up on the board. “Well, take off your socks now because they might get blown off! I’mma fit!”

“Daddy!” Toe howls with laughter as he bumps his head on one of the low railings.

Beside Lip, Mickey imitates the reaction, both his hand and the phone he’s holding with it to record a video visibly shaking. When he notices Lip staring, his grin falters a little.

“These two jokers,” Mickey complains after he ends the recording. “She always laughs at everything he does like he invented comedy or some shit.”

Lip answers with a knowing smile, his chest feeling full of warmth.

Seriously, how the fuck did they get here?

[emiko-matsui]

hello this is my official list of what i think every member of the bau would work with if they wouldn't work at the bau like if that wasn't a reality you get me

——

Jason Gideon: look i know this is technically canon but i truly do think he would be an author and would guest lecture a bit in his later years and like sure he could still write true crime books but also just regular crime novels i think this old man would just like to write

Jennifer "JJ" Jareau: i think she would work inside of the media, not in front of the camera necessarily but as a communicator or similarly inside of the media and the news. however i think there's a possibility of a divergence of path for her, i think its possible she could end up in a hostage situation due to her job in a similar situation like in neon terror and would start working out as a coping mechanism and like genuinely would pick up a (extra?) job as a personal trainer at her gym

Derek Morgan: firefighter. that's it i don't know what to say other than that, derek would 500% be a firefighter. there's nothing else. now that i think about it derek should've been a firefighter from the beginning fuck the bau this is his true calling don't even @ me

Elle Greenaway: similarly to JJ i think elle would work inside of the media but as an investigative journalist. well i think she would start out as a regular journalist but become an investigative journalist after a while because her drive would be too big you get me. also niche but i think that when she was a teen she was like briefly a singer like you know robin from how i met your mother but she would've made angry girl music

Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner: genuinely don't think this punk could stay away from the government so i think he would still work a fancy government job just not inside of the bau, maybe not even the fbi but i so think he'd still be in government. now what i have no idea because i know nothing about the government especially the american government seeing as im not even remotely american

David "Dave" Rossi: now i don't even know if this fucking counts but you know those really fancy shops that are like made of dark smelling wood and is called something extravagant with a cursive gold font and they sell like cigar or wine or herbal products or like mustache wax or whatever the fuck you know the places im talking about. i think rossi would work there and be that old man at the counter who will come up and talk to you and you have no idea if he just works there and is really invested in this stuff or if he owns the place or just a really weird costumer but then he's the one you pay too so you assume it's his but the moment you step out of the store you've forgotten his face and you never want to go back there but you always think about it once a month or something. if you don't know what kinda place im talking about consider yourself lucky

Penelope Garcia: if the bau wasn't even a prospect here there's no question that penelope would still be a hacker illegally and make most of her money from there but i also think that she would work in a small second hand shop with lots of old trinkets and clothes and stuff just because she genuinely thinks it's fun to work there and also the old woman who owns the shop lets her be on the computer when there's no costumers in the store. i just think she would sit there in her cupcake dress next to a ceramic old cat from the 1930s talking to bernice about her grandson while hacking jeff bezos on her computer

Spencer Reid: now it's time for spencer all over the place reid who i think would work at like one of those really prestige but still public libraries where like everyone is welcome but they have like locked rooms with super valuable books and stuff and he kinda does whatever there bc sometimes he gives tours talking about thr history of the building and stuff and sometimes you find him at the counter ready to guide you to the specific book you're looking for plus twenty other recommendations you should read if you like this book and sometimes you find him in a window reading and his coworkers politely ignore he's had his "break" for three hours now bc he guided 17 tours yesterday (only ten were scheduled) and they suspect he mightve slept here. plus in his spare time i think he would do some independent work to keep him stimulated with stuff but that's not a fully developed idea yet

Stephen Walker: this might be controversial but i think stephen would be a guidance counsellor at like a school and i don't know why but he has the vibe and i think he would be quite good at it. maybe he just gives me more official jawbone vibes from dimension 20

Emily Prentiss: i firmly believe this woman cannot hold down a job for her life. i think the bau and interpol were flukes in her reality because im quite certain emily would physically not be able to keep one job for longer than a year. if you mention a job she's probably done it. she's done everything from high positions in government to bagging groceries to leading seminars to breeding puppies. listen emily prentiss is a lesbian ex goth trust fund kid (like canonically yall). i think right now she's working with the lights for a theatre production and she's liking it and seems to have a knack for it

Tara Lewis: this one's out there but i think she would work as a principal at a university (do universities have principals?). but like the one who's in charge of a school but like advanced studies with like adults study after they've already studied if you know what i mean. idk i just think that's what she would be

Luke Alvez: hate to do this to luke but he would simply just be a cop. or like a detective (that's like a promotion for a cop in america right? bro my knowledge extends to brooklyn 99 and brooklyn 99 only). i hope this is because i feel like luke is the serious crime version of jake peralta and jake is the sitcom version of luke. anyway, cop

Matt Simmons: this is my magnum opus but bro i think he would be a podcaster. i think he would do a podcast with kristy. for everyone who follows my blog think justin and sydnee mcelroy but matt is sydnee. i think they would have a little podcast together. after his unit at the fbi (?) got got by linda barnes i think he would retire home and start doing podcasting full time with kristy. this is my hot take

Kate Callahan: because such a central part of kate's personality/backstory is that her sister died in 9/11 i think that kate would've been a nurse. specifically a nurse not a doctor and i don't think it's because a lack of competence or anything like that fuck u no i genuinely think kate wanted to be a nurse and chose to study to become that. her hours would still be crazy but maybe meg isn't as worried about her now

Ashley Seaver: i don't have a lot for seaver but i think she would work in local government more centralised like those guys from parks and rec and yes i realise ive made way too many references that some people might not understand but here we are. i think seaver would do whatever leslie does in parks and rec or something like that

Alex Blake: this is just a formality to have her on here because she's literally a linguistics professor in the show

[liquid-luck-00]

Where There Is Change

Overprotection

@maribat-bdbwm

First *** Previous *** Next

~~~~~~~~~~

One week.

One week without her brother is all it took to break her patience.

No, she didn’t break away from her story with the press release that happened literally two days after she started school.

No, what finally broke her was what the students did to her brother, specifically this group of five that were intentionally seeking out places she was that in order to talk about her family.

Sure, she understood why they talked about Damian, he is Gotham's Ice Prince, the person you do not want to get on the bad side of.

But moments that she wasn’t with him, people spoke awfully about him. And mostly about how he was born as a bastard child.

She pretty much assumes that when she’s not around they speak the same about her.

Both of them were conceived without his knowledge, until years later. Sure, it hurts to hear them talk about her dad like that.

But she also understands it to an extent.

Brucie Wayne, is an act he puts up. Brucie Wayne is a playboy the longer someone plays the playboy people, will come to the conclusion of him having several unknown children.

However, she also knows Brucie Wayne is a cover for her father, in the past twenty years or so since the time he pretty much became Batman, Brucie Wayne has been a cover. So much so that even the media plays into.

But what she can’t stand are the remarks her 'peers' make about her little brother, about all her siblings.

The remarks that, she is technically the older biological child. But that she still deserves a chair in the company. She is so mad that they are dismissing all of Tim's work he's put into the company. That they are dismissing her brothers just because she is the first-born biological child, that she should be the next C.E.O. People talk over him as if he isn’t there.

They talk about Jason, how he is the troubled child. That he ruins their father's name.

That Dick is just a novelty for Bruce. The first child he decide to adopt. That he’s no more than that, Bruce Wayne’s first ward.

She hates that they call Cassandra a basket case because she won’t talk.

Or how Duke is yet another charity case, simply because of his skin color.

They forget about her because she looks so American, so white, so European.

They forget that she is part Chinese, because she has such big blue eyes, fair skin, and dark black hair just like her father.

---

So back to school.

Damian was on assignment with the Teen Titans, so she was going to school alone. They said something about Damian getting an awful constant 103 fever, they didn’t want to risk anyone else to catch what he had.

So, she did what she usually did, she went outside like usual during lunch. When all of a sudden, the group of five kids in her year 'seemed' to be strolling past.

She thinks it’s still hasn’t sunk in that there’s a new Wayne. Or that they know but want to haze her. Because they are openly bashing her little brother.

"I’m sorry, but what did you just say." She stood up and looked at them.

"Well not that it’s any of your business, but Damian is such a menace, he is practically a terrorist." One of the boys started.

"Have you seen how angry he gets, I swear he could blow up the school, and he’ll still get let back in." A girl butt in.

"He’s already been expelled twice, but they keep letting him back in because he’s Bruce Wayne’s son." The final boy spoke rolling his eyes and she lost it.

She grabbed him, pulled him towards her, gave him a quick punch in the nose. Forcing him to reel back stumbling away from her.

"Let’s get one thing straight." She spoke, hands clenched in fists. "My baby brother isn’t a terrorist. He may be a menace, but he’s not a terrorist. Can any of you actually tell me the reasons why he got expelled."

Silence, pure silence was heard from the entire group.

"No, you can’t. Because like you said it’s none of your goddamn fucking business." At this point her French accent was slipping into her words, because she was getting really mad. She had to physically dig her nails into her palms to stop her magic from exploding.

"So why don’t you all just mind your own fucking business and maybe pay attention who you’re talking about, around who."

The entire group turned and ran, their tails between their legs and they scrambled to get away from her. She may have been known as the approachable Wayne between the two twins, but they messed with her brother. And they really didn’t know what they were talking about.

As soon as, the bell rang to end lunch her name came across the intercom. She grabbed her things and walked to the office knowing full well what was about to happen.

What she didn’t expect that out of all the people that would have been called the person who showed up was Jason.

If she had to cover the ever-growing grin on her face, or else the adults may have figured out that this was the wrong brother to call.

"We are so sorry to have called you today Mr. Todd-Wayne, but we have to discuss your sister’s behavior." The principal spoke as both of them sat down.

"Ok I'll hear you out, but after you explain what happened she will. And neither of you guys can interrupt the other got it. So, go." He pointed at the principle.

"Your sister has been accused of physical assault of another student."

"Is this true?" He turned to her.

"Yes." She answered.

"Why?" Jason asked as he rubbed his hands down his face.

She knows he has a shit eating grin that was slowly going to be spreading across his face, because his aura was almost giddy.

"You see they’ve not only been talking shit about Damian but Tim, Duke, Cass, Dick, and even you. If you want, I have several forms of video tape and audio proof if you’d like to see those."

"But let’s get back on point. We believe that you may have broken his nose."

"Okay, but I am not going to apologize, seeing as I was protecting my little brother, who is not here to defend himself."

She looked over to her brother and the ass had a shit eating grin plastered across his face.

"Why don’t I sign my sister out for the rest of the day, you know what, what about the whole

week, because I'm assuming suspension is an option?"

The principal however didn’t know how to react to Jason, so he absentmindedly pushed a stack of papers towards Jason and pointing to where he was to sign and initial. And then allowed them to leave.

"We’re not telling Bruce, are we?" She asked quietly.

"Not unless you want to deal with that right now?"

"No."

"Then let’s see how far we can get from Gotham."

"Yes please." She enthusiastically nodded her head, as they left the city.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

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