#Is now sent to a small rural town

[fivepebblerhehe]

So I started hyperfixating on biblically accurate angels again so now y'all gotta deal with my own versions of each type of angel just so yall know this is probably not bibically accurate lol

Seraphim: big serpents made out of pure golden light. they have six pure white wings, two on its head and four on its body, the wings have many pupiless blue eyes on them. They dance around God's form in intricate patterns, singing his praises in otherworldly voices. They can compress their forms into more humanoid ones when interacting with lesser beings, one pair of wings folded up in a way that makes them look like a feathery robe, another completely covering their head, and the third used to fly and interact with stuff (like arms)

Cherubim: humanoid with four heads, a man, a bull, a lion, and an eagle. The eagle head is on their chest (their robes are very low cut so the eagle doesn't get a beak full of fabric) they have four white wings with fiery orange tips, they have the legs of an ungulate (like a satyr or however you spell it) and cow tails. They can't change into a monstrous form much like a traditional chimera but with more wings and fire. They are the secret service of god, acting as his body guards.

Ophanim: 3-4 interconnected and spinning golden rings with eight white wings and many many eyes, with one big eye in the center which the rings rotate around. Like the seraphim they can compress their forms, with the center eye and one ring acting as the 'head' with four wings around it, one ring acts as a halo, and the other two are wrapped around the torso. One pair of wings stay unchanged so they can fly and the 8th pair turns into a pair of arms.

Second choir

Dominions: they have the face of an owl, big manes and wings made of stars with pristine robes that look like the northern lights. They uphold the laws of the universe and make sure the second and third choir are doing their jobs.

Powers: they have two heron heads with rabbit ears and rabbits feet, with the tail of a scorpion. They are ever vigilant, four eyes and ears always watching for danger and ready for action. They have wings of steel with feathers as sharp as swords (in fact many heavenly weapons are made with the feathers of a power). They serve as heavens military and fight off any stupid demons that dare cross them. They are often seen holding a spear and a shield.

Virtues: graceful beings with the legs of a deer and wings made of leaves, with antlers intertwined with plants (the specific plant depends on the individual). They have four eyes, one for each element (a blue eye, a silver eye, a brown eye, and an orange eye) they rule over nature and maintain its balance

third choir

Principalities: spider like angels with eight fluffy limbs (four arms, four legs) and six eyes. They watch over human settlements which could be a small town or an entire country. Sometimes they have very colorful wings that look like stained glass, the bigger and more powerful their territory is, the bigger their wings are.

Archangels: individuals who act out God's will in the mortal world. mostly human with a single pair of wings, the color depending on the individual. 12 total.

Angels: anything that doesn't fit in the other categories, includes guardian angels and angels of death. Really just humans with wings, but their appearance depending on the type. Usually trained by an archangel

[reiding-writing]

For a Halloweeny fic you could do like a bau!reader and Spencer going to a haunted house while away on a case.. you could make it more fluffy or more a thriller/drama thing, whatever you're feeling like <<3

HAUNTED HOUSE — SPENCER REID!

you and spencer search a ‘haunted’ house, that might actually be haunted.

a/n — a little halloween blurb, thanks for the idea !!

masterlist.

You and Spencer are sent to investigate an old, crumbling house on the outskirts of a small town in rural Illinois, a place that even the locals keep their distance from.

Supposedly, it’s haunted—whispers of creaking floorboards and flickering lights drift around like the dust in its empty rooms. But it was also a likely suspect for where kids kept going missing around the area, so it couldn’t be left unsearched.

Spencer looks slightly pale as he stands beside you, adjusting his flashlight, gaze fixed firmly on the front door like he's trying to psych himself up. He’s heard the rumours too, and you know how superstitious he can get.

“Ready to meet our resident ghost?” you ask, a grin twitching at the corners of your mouth.

Spencer tries to hide a frown. “I don’t believe in ghosts, you know,” he mumbles, a touch of defensiveness in his tone. “But historically, homes like these… well, they do tend to have unusual histories.”

You give him a mock-solemn nod, widening your eyes dramatically. “Right. Unusual histories. Very rational.” And with that, you push open the door, stepping into the cold darkness beyond.

The house is dimly lit, with thick shadows pooling in every corner. Your flashlight beam skims over a musty rug, tarnished wallpaper peeling at the edges, and a cracked mirror that only reflects your flashlight’s weak glow. It’s quiet. Too quiet. You see Spencer shiver slightly as he steps in behind you, his expression determined but slightly uneasy.

You let a silence hang between you, just long enough for him to start looking around nervously. Then, slowly, you lean in and whisper, “You feel that, right? Like… something’s watching?”

Spencer visibly tenses. “Don’t start,” he murmurs, but his eyes dart around as if he’s trying to catch sight of something shifting in the shadows. “There’s no statistical evidence to support hauntings—”

A floorboard creaks sharply underfoot, and Spencer’s voice dies. He goes completely still, clutching his flashlight like it’s a lifeline. You suppress a laugh, barely.

“What was that?” he whispers.

You lean in, voice low and conspiratorial. “I heard that the ghost here likes to knock… three times…” You knock three times against the nearest wall. The sound echoes through the empty house.

Spencer flinches, his face a mix of surprise and mild horror. He opens his mouth, probably to throw some scientific reasoning at you, but then, down the hallway, another knock answers. A hollow, soft thud—just once, but loud enough to reach you both.

You raise an eyebrow, turning to Spencer. “Was that you?”

He shakes his head slowly, eyes wide. “No. That… that must have been… the house settling.”

“Right, right,” you say, not buying it one bit. “The house settling. Just like all those stories about people hearing whispering voices or seeing strange figures here. Probably just… wind, right?”

You watch his face, noting the way his brow furrows. He’s still holding onto his skepticism, but only by a thread.

You press on, deepening your voice and dropping into your best spooky narrator impression. “I heard the ghost is a woman who lost her eyes in an accident… can’t see, but they say she walks these halls… blindly searching for her next victim.”

Spencer’s mouth opens slightly, but he’s too tense to even object now. He flicks his flashlight down the hallway as if daring the ghost to appear.

The moment is perfect.

You slip behind him as he takes another cautious step forward, and in a low, breathy whisper, you murmur, “Spencer…”

He spins around, eyes wide with sheer panic. His flashlight beam swings wildly around the room, and he barely contains a yell. He narrows his eyes, catching your grin, and lets out an exasperated breath. “You— You’re impossible.”

You chuckle, but before you can answer, there’s a soft scratching sound from somewhere upstairs. The mirth fades a little from your expression. That one didn’t sound like it came from either of you.

Spencer glances at you, his look equal parts accusation and genuine fear. “You… didn’t set that up, did you?”

For a second, you almost want to tell him yes, that it was just another part of the prank. But the scratching continues, persistent, and… you can’t deny the chill creeping up your spine.

“It’s probably just a rat,” you suggest, not as confident as before. And, Spencer’s nod is just as unsure.

“A rat, right….”

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

A Southern Myth

Summary: Leon had been sent to a rural place in Texas where sightings of a BOW were reported. But upon entering the forgotten town, he began to get entangled in a horrific twist of events involving a religious cult. Things escalate and now he must survive with the help of a girl who doesn’t believe in anything.

Warning: horror. religion. mentions of blood and gore like description. cult activities. violence. swearing. reader is fem. there is no romance/smut.

A/N: omg I’ve never written something like this before🙈 CAPCOM should hire me for script writing.

“You believe you're on the righteous path, you believe you're a force for good, but you're not.” - John Seed, Far Cry 5

“Come forth, my children. Let your souls become pure under His guidance.”

“Let us rejoice in purity as we bathe in this sacrifice. Let us become one for Him, for He has been waiting.”

-

The sound of the dirt rolling under the car’s wheel made the road feel bumpy for Leon. The heat was intense the further he went into the rural side of what was once a town named Giligand in Texas. Once a lively town that had become a ghost town.

Until a group of religious settlers took over the desert land and claimed it their new home. They built their own society, far away from modern civilization. The orange and dried plants surrounding the new town as the wind blew hard. The sun intensified and caused Leon’s sweat to trickle down his body.

Right in the middle of nowhere is where he got sent- yet again. The D.S.O has assigned Leon a more haunting mission. The government division found in Texas’ own legislation had found weird signs of an unknown entity roaming around the dried up land. He found himself standing in front of an agent in Austin telling him about this entity.

“Our homeland security experts have raised a few concerns regarding a secluded town in Western Texas. They believe that this could be related to the virus incident that presided in other countries,” The senior agent stated as he gave Leon a stack of papers containing pictures and files of the sightings.

The abnormality was big and round. But its eyes were the only visible thing in the dark of night. Pure white eyes protruding from the creature’s face, sending a wave of uneasiness to Leon. The monster seemed tall, definitely more than 9 feet tall. Leon couldn’t tell exactly what it was but he guessed there were some sort of horns coming out the creature’s skull.

Leon had finally reached the town, being greeted by a yellowing sign. The sign written in Times New Roman “Welcome to Cunstacin” on the bottom “previously Giligand” and then near the border edge “Pop. 189”

Such a small town for a big state. Leon didn’t think much of it. He wasn’t aware of how much his life would change the minute he passed the sign without seeing those pure white eyes watching him from behind his truck.

The town itself was small but seemed very busy. The roads were flat with gravel. The houses were old and barren but still usable. He wondered how people were able to make a living of such an abandoned place. As he neared a motel, he was met with the leader of the town. A tall man of tan skin, hair long enough to reach his shoulders as his beard grew to his neck.

He approached Leon’s truck and greeted him with a polite smile, “Ah, you must be the new guy they sent here.” Leon nodded as he turned off the engine and jumped out of his car.

The man walked up to Leon and patted his shoulder, “Hope the road wasn’t too tedious. The distance between here and the city is pretty stretchy.” The man chuckled and looked behind him where two young women stood. “Go fetch his luggage and take it to his room. We don’t want to make our esteemed guest work too much now, don’t we?”

The two ladies nodded and walked over to the trunk of Leon’s truck. They both carried the brown and thick luggages to the motel, their silhouettes getting lost in between the halls.

The man then gently forced Leon to walk with him, “I’m sure you’re tired and you might want to get some rest, but there’s an afternoon mass the town wishes for you to attend. The people want to meet the new guy in town,” the man laughed again and gave Leon’s chest a lazy slap.

“I appreciate the offer but I’m here for work- strictly for work,” Leon replied as he looked at the man and then around the area.

The man chuckled and took his hand away from Leon’s shoulder, “No worries- I get it. You’re a busy guy and your work ethic is commendable,” the man leaned towards Leon’s ear to whisper, “But if you find yourself in need of His words, do come to the church behind the Great Willowed Forest.” The man leaned back and gave him another toothy smile, almost unsettling. “Make yourself at home.” That was the last thing the man said before he began to walk away.

Leon exhaled through his nose. He already got the creeps from the background check he ran on the town but meeting the people in person made the whole experience much more precarious.

He began to walk along the town, trying to find any other civilians. He saw an older woman with two children outside a two story building.

“Excuse me,” Leon said as he jogged to the three individuals. One of the children, a little boy with a bowl haircut pointed to Leon and exclaimed, “Look, meemaw- ‘tis the new guy!” The older woman slapped the little boy’s head, “Pointing at strangers is rude.”

Leon cleared his throat, “It’s alright,” he looked down at the kid before looking back at the older woman, “I’ve heard there were some strange… sightings around this town-“

“Ah, yes-“ the woman cut him off, “You’re talking Tervin.” Leon immediately furrowed his brows. They had named the potential B.O.W?

“Tervin?” Leon asked and the woman nodded, “Yes. He was sent by God,” she looked up at the sky and then back at him.

“He was kind enough to send us a messenger. My boy, the end is coming. We must cleanse our souls of our sins in order to enter our Eden.”

Leon immediately felt a weird sense of unease in his lower stomach, the bottom pit sinking down after the woman spoke.

The woman took a step forward and cupped Leon’s face, “He is our savior. He will bring us to an eternal peace. Time is ticking, we must proceed with His plan.”

Leon took a step back, taking deep breaths. What was this feeling? His heart was hammering against his rib cage and he could feel his head become light. Maybe it was heatstroke or maybe it was fear.

The woman stared at Leon, seemingly in a trance. He swore he saw her eye color vanish for a moment, not right before she “came back” and smiled at him. She then took hold of the two children’s hands and walked away. He could only stay there watching as they got further away.

He exhaled shakily as he ran a hand through his hair, this would be harder than he thought.

-

For the next following days, he’s been trying to talk to these people but everyone said remotely the same things.

“Monster? He’s no monster. He’s our salvation.”

“God sent him, it is His gift to us.”

“We must act quickly, the end is nigh”

Leon was currently sitting on the edge of the bed in the room he was currently staying. His elbows rested on his knees as his gaze fell on the picture of the creature he had in his hand. Pure black, except for the eyes. Something felt sinister- almost too evil. But he couldn’t pinpoint what. Everyone looked normal-ish.

He left the motel and began his 15th round of research. He was so sure he’d get kicked out if he kept asking the people questions. His mind traveled back to what the leader said, something about attending mass.

He didn’t want to but he knew that he had to try. Maybe there was something that could be useful in the church.

So that’s where he was headed. To the Great Willowed Forest. A forest full of tall trees and tall grass. The sun was setting and the church came into his line of vision. A tall Victorian structure that was adorned in white and gold. A bell sitting on top of the highest tower peak of the religious establishment. He slowly walked up the freaking and old steps of the church. Muffled talking from just the other of the door. With a light inhale, he pushed the door open with gentleness and stepped into the church.

The inside was much more beautiful. The benches were neatly fixed in rows as the windows were stained glass depicting stories of their God. The church was packed and the leader stood on the podium, preaching about their path to salvation.

“We must obey the Lord’s rule. For we are His children as well as His servants. We must makeup for the loss of His journey.”

Leon found himself an empty seat at the very back. No one seemed to have noticed him enter, they were all focusing on the town’s leader words. Almost as if they were bewitched.

“Tonight, we must bring our sacrifice and cleanse our souls. We must savor the taste of blood as He has given us a vessel from his sacrifices. We must show him our devotion.”

The mass lasted for an hour and a half, and he didn’t find anything remotely useful. He sighed in defeat as he felt like he wasted his time, yet again. There were no signs of any B.O.W and these people were most certainly convinced that the monster was their key to heaven.

It was nighttime when Leon had left the church, walking aimlessly through the forest. His mind preoccupied with thoughts about potentially lying to the D.S.O and telling them it was just some southern myth.

Until he hears clinking sounds coming from behind a bush. His agent instincts activated and he quietly walked towards the bush to see what was behind it.

To his surprise, he’d found another person. A girl working on a garden. She had been couched down on the floor as her hands worked through the soil.

As he walked towards you, his boots crunched against the twigs lost in the grass. Your attention had been drawn to the sound and you quickly spotted the new man in town.

You furrowed your brows as he approached you, “You’re the new guy everyone’s talking about.”

Leon nodded curtly, “The one and only,” you hummed in response and resumed your duties.

“Can I ask-“

“No.”

He was caught off guard by your immediate answer. You didn’t even look back at him. He could only stare at the back of your head as your hands worked through the soil.

“You didn’t even listen to what I had to say,” he approached you and crouched next to you, glancing at the plants you’ve been planting.

“I don’t need to. You’re asking questions about this stupid and fake thing everyone claims to be salvation or some other bullshit,” you grumbled.

“Not necessarily-“ he sighed and looked at your side profile, “I’m not here for that-“

“What do you want me to tell you? That there’s some sort of monster roaming around the forest?” You turned your head to look at him, “Because I won’t. I haven’t seen anything and I do not believe it even exists. Those lunatics are hell bent on their stupid… belief,” you scoffed as you turned your attention back to your plants.

“Bunch of bullshit if you ask me,” you muttered. He looked at you some more before looking back down at your hands covered in dirt.

“So you aren’t with those people?” Leon raised a brow as he analyzed you. You shook your head no, “Hell no. You don’t know what they do to those who don’t believe in their God… you don’t know anything.”

Leon remained silent as your words settled down in his mind. There was more than what you led on and both of you knew this.

“Then tell me,” he replied quietly. You sighed and looked at him with an annoyed expression, “Doesn’t matter. Just go back to your shit and mind your business.”

He didn’t say anything, he just watched you for a few minutes before he stood up and left.

He went back to his motel room and laid down on the bed. Staring up at ceiling as he thought about the events that took place. He still couldn’t shake off the strange feeling he felt about this town. Something felt odd but he just didn’t know what. He sighed and decided to just sleep for the night.

-

Leon woke up early in the morning and tried to find the leader of the town. Surprisingly, he was at the church. He was sitting down on a bench, silently praying. Leon walked up to him and sat next to him as he waited for him to finish praying.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t our visitor. To what do I owe the pleasure?” The man said as he noticed Leon’s presence next to him. Leon cleared his throat and pulled out a picture of ‘Tervin’

“I need you to tell me about this. What do you know?” Leon’s brows were furrowed, he was serious. He didn’t come around to play. The man took the picture and stared at it. Something in his aura had changed upon seeing that picture.

“Where did you get this?” The man asked as he looked at Leon with an unreadable expression. Leon shrugged, “I can’t say.” The man hummed and looked back at the altar in front of them.

“Tervin is a gift from God. He was sent as a warning of impending doom,” the man replied in a flat voice. “If he isn’t satisfied, then he seeks blood. We must cleanse this town of impurities and relay a message to God that we are worthy of his Eden paradise.”

Something in that caused a shiver to run down Leon’s spine, but he didn’t show it. He remained serious and calm. Leon nodded once and stood up, feeling like no one will actually tell him anything.

“Thanks,” he muttered before he left the church. When he walked out, he nearly crashed into you.

“Watch it,” you hissed at him. He looked down at you with a raised brow, “I’m pretty sure you meant ‘excuse me’” he crossed his arms over his chest and kept blocking the doorway.

You sighed and looked at him unimpressed, “Excuse me.” Leon rolled his eyes and stepped to the side. As you began to walk past him, you noticed the picture in his hands. Your brows pinched together and you quickly pointed to it, “what’s that?”

Leon looked down at the picture and then back at you, “I’m supposed to investigate this… thing.” He watched you closely, trying to gauge your reaction as you stood there silently thinking.

“You’ll get yourself in trouble if you keep putting your nose where it doesn’t belong,” you warned before stepping inside the church. He saw you walk up to the leader. He exhaled and walked back to the town. When will someone actually help him?

-

It was somewhere past 11 pm, he was staring at the files he had about this town and his objective. It was impossible to think how he didn’t have any leads. It was the Leon S Kennedy! He always saw that the job got done, always.

He groaned defeatedly and began to walk around the town, he doesn’t even know how many times he’s done that.

The town was awfully quiet. There was a fog occupying most of his vision, making the place look eerie and unsettling. He heard the rustling of the trees and grasses but he paid no mind to that. Not right now, at least.

He saw you sitting on a fountain, staring at your reflection deep in thought. Why were you the only one out here. He walked over to you and spoke in a soft voice, “What are you doing out here?”

You looked over at him and then back at the water, “Could ask you the same.”

Leon sighed and scratched his head, “I just- I wanted to ask questions but seems like everyone just… disappeared.”

You hummed in response as your fingers played with the water, “They didn’t. They’re at the church praying or something.”

His ears perked up, praying at this time? He didn’t want to question it but it still lingered in his mind.

After a few moments of silence, he couldn’t help but ask, “You said you didn’t believe in God, why is that?” He asked in a quiet voice.

You looked at him before motioning for him to follow you, “It’s better if I just showed you.”

You led him through the dark forest, twigs snapping under your shoes and wind howling soft whispers as the moonlight glimmered down you two.

“This town ostracizes those who don’t believe in God. Do you know what happens to nonbelievers?” You looked behind your shoulder to glance at Leon for a brief moment.

“No, I don’t but do tell,” he followed behind you as his eyes scanned the forest for any threats.

You sighed and stopped walking once you’ve reached an abandoned cemetery, you walked up to one of the gravestones and stared down at the name, “Jeffrey Clyle. 1987-2024.”

“Sacrifice,” you whispered. Leon heard you and walked up next to you, your eyes distant and your expression solemn.

“Ever since rumors of the “messenger” started, they’ve been capturing and targeting those whose faith has been faltering…” your gaze remained down at the gravestone and Leon remained silent as he let you talk.

“They’ve been doing human sacrifices in the name of God. They believe that God would forgive them if they kill those who oppose him…” your voice trailed off for a moment before you turned your face to look at him, “It’s evil. Punishing people for not believing in something is inhumane. They’re all slaves to their own fucking religion, that God is not kind and I will never believe in it.”

“Then what are you still doing here?” Leon asked as he stared into your eyes, searching for an answer.

“Because my father is the fucking leader of this whole thing. I can’t just leave,” you mumbled and looked away. “I already get judged for not believing- imagine what would happen to me if I left?”

He remained silent once again. Your father was the preacher and the leader of the town? That makes things even more interesting. Leon never pictured himself to be in this kind of situation- not since Spain, at least. It all seemed the same to him. Religion controlling people, is that all it will ever be?

Then he remembered something from mass he attended,

“Tonight, we must bring our sacrifice and cleanse our souls. We must savor the taste of blood as He has given us a vessel from his sacrifices. We must show him our devotion.”

Leon’s eyes widened as he began to finally realize what might happen. He looked down at you, “You mean to tell me… that your father participates in human sacrifices? Why?” His eyes were narrowed as his breathing became faster.

You looked at him with narrowed eyes, “Because his idiotic self thinks that sacrificing people will help him and his goons reach their heaven.”

Innocent lives were being used for this town’s religion. This didn’t sit right with Leon. He quickly ran out of the cemetery- his heartbeat speeding as his legs carried his body towards the church.

Under the embrace of the moon and the night, a gathering assembled at the edge of the churchyard, shrouded by the shadows cast by the townspeople. Their faces unrecognizable under the dark night, their chants in hushed tones as they circled around a sacrifice.

Bound by chains, a person writhed in resistance, their muffled cries stifled by a potato sack over their head. Leon stood behind a tree as you came behind him to look at the scene unfold in front of your eyes.

The leader of the town emerged, wielding a sacrificial blade gleaming under the moonlight. Each stroke of the blade sent shivers down your’s and Leon’s spine, as the victim's anguished pleas echoed through the night, a haunting presence appeared through the tethered night.

“We give this sacrifice to you, our Lord. Let us repent for our sins and wash ourselves with the blood of those who’ve been cleansed.”

The creature- otherwise known as the B.O.W- emerged from behind the forest and entered the churchyard. Its stature was 11 feet, towering over everyone. Its black glistening skin reflected the moonlight as its pearly white eyes penetrated the group of believers. Its horns swirled upwards, reaching up to the sky. The townspeople all bowed to the creature as they chanted its name, “All hail Tervin.”

Leon’s eyes widened as he saw the B.O.W while your eyes widened at the fact that this “messenger” was indeed real. Leon took out his gun and aimed it at the B.O.W. You quickly pulled his arm down and whispered in a harsh tone, “Are you stupid? That thing could be dangerous.”

Leon narrowed his eyes at you, “I’ve fought those things before, I know what I’m doing.” He shook your hands away from his arm and aimed the gun back at the beast.

The beast approached the human sacrifice and with its claws, it picked up. Almost instantly crushing the human, letting the blood fall down like rain on the townspeople.

“Thank you, Lord, for this blessing”

The B.O.W then ate the human sacrifice after the townspeople showered in their blood. A scene so horrific and disturbing, it twisted your stomach upside down. The creeping sensation of the fact that it could’ve been you in that situation only made it worse.

To feel your rib cage cave in, piercing your lungs and heart as blood trickles down your mouth. Its claws clawing into your body, letting the blood flow like water.

It only made you shiver and writhe in disgust.

Leon then began to shoot at the B.O.W with his gun, drawing the attention of the townspeople. One bullet shot the creature’s eye, causing it to stagger backwards in pain. The group of believers all turned to look at you and Leon.

Their faces unrecognizable- their faces foreign as the creases and eyes all felt like distinct people. The group slowly began to walk towards you two as the monster howled in anger.

“God, forgive those sinners. They haven’t sought your guidance. Let us illuminate their path,”

The leader spoke as they approached you and Leon. Anxiety coursed through your body as you saw the B.O.W swing its claws at the group of believers. People flying left and right. The leader turned around and observed in delight.

“Yes, God, yes! We shall sacrifice ourselves for Eden.”

The whole group then began to chant, “For Eden. For Tervin.”

The B.O.W only had one goal in mind- and it was to kill the person who injured it. As Tervin kept walking towards you and Leon, Leon took hold of your wrist and began to ran. He dragged you through the forest back to the motel he was staying in.

He looked the door to his room and turned to look at you, “What the fuck was that!?” Leon was stressing, all these emotions resurfaced and he felt overwhelmed. Why was this happening, how was this happening?

“I told you, they’re fucking evil when it comes to their God,” you replied harshly.

“Yeah I wasn’t exactly expecting your father to be the leader of a cult with that thing as its dog!,” Leon replied as his hands traveled through his face and hair.

You scoffed and crossed your arms over you chest but just as you were to speak, the ground shook. Heavy footsteps were heard and Leon rushed to the window. He peeked through the blinds and saw the group of believers walking over to the motel with Tervin in following them. They kept chanting as they kept walking.

“We need to get out of here now-“ you said as you began to hurry out the door. Leon, however, stopped you.

“I can’t just leave, I have a mission to do and it requires me to kill that thing. I cannot go home until it’s dead,” he said as he stared at you with a resolved expression.

You could only stare at him in silence for a few moments before sighing defeatedly, “Fine, do whatever you want.”

“Stay here,” he instructed as he took his gun and walked out, leaving you alone in his motel room.

In the flickering glow of the moonlight, amidst the eerie chants of the cultists, Leon stood there, gun in hand as he scanned the group. He needed to be smart. They had a B.O.W to their advantage.

As the first cultist lunged forward, knife in hand, Leon countered with swift precision, deflecting the blade with a punch to the gut. His movements were a blur of calculated strikes and evasions. As he killed and wounded the cultists, they grew more frenzied, their chants escalating into desperate cries of fury. Yet, undeterred, Leon continued fighting.

“We must bring him to God!” They chanted as they kept lunging at Leon.

Amidst the chaos, the B.O.W stepped forward, its twisted features contorted with rage as it charged at Leon. With the gun pointed at the beast, he shot bullet after bullet, causing it to slow its movements.

“God, please forgive our brother for he has sinned. We must cleanse him.”

Leon ran out of bullets and just as the B.O.W was about to strike, he saw you throw a pitchfork at it. The blades piercing the creature’s skin, stabbing it right in the chest.

The B.O.W let out a screeching scream, “No! Our messenger!” The leader spoke in anguish as he watched the creature stumble back, falling to the ground with a thud. Leon reloaded his gun and began to shoot again, this time aiming for the head.

As Leon became busy, your father glared at you and it was like something turned in him, “You bitch. I’ve had just about it with you. You will submit to your God and you will repent!”

You’ve never heard him speak to you this way, so much malice in his voice that you didn’t recognize the man that used to be your father.

He lunged at you, his hands trying to reach for your neck to strangle you. You took a nearby torch and set his clothes on fire. He stood back and tried to set the fire off of himself- to which he fails. He screams and cries in pain as he began to get engulfed in the flames of his sins.

“Forgive me, my children!”

You finally understood everything. There was no God because your father believed he was that God. The flames burned up in hues of blue and orange right before the sparks flew into the night sky.

His skin melted, his eyes became a blobby mess and he fell to the ground. His screech becoming more faint as the life in being burnt away from his body. The flames expanding over the dried wheat of the town, engulfing the town in a pit of fire.

Leon had been too busy to even notice that you killed your father. He’s been shooting the B.O.W, making sure to blow its head off once and for all.

After two rounds of reloading, he finally was able to kill that damn thing. Watching it fall to the ground, sending harsh vibrations to the floor as silence overtook the ghostly town.

Heavy panting overtook the two of you as the silence grew deafening. You turned to look at Leon as he stared at the B.O.W all lifeless. You looked around and saw the bloodbath. Everyone was dead.

Pools of blood stained the gravel he once stepped, the lifeless bodies of the townspeople growing cold. The flames being the only source of light under the dark night.

Leon turned to look at you for a brief moment before looking up at sky as he tried to take deep breaths. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. He couldn’t believe what he was brought into. But he was glad it was over. For now at least.

Leon packed his things and went over to his truck, he looked at you, “Aren’t you coming?”

You looked at him and then back at the town- or what remained of the town. You nodded and walked over to his truck.

Both of you driving down the lane of the rose, exiting the town. Passing by a sign that read, “Please visit soon!”

Unaware of the presence with the white eyes watching you two leave the town.

[ronearoundblindly]

Forgive me if I sent this ask before... I don't remember if I did 😅 but if not just know that I thought about sending it in since you started this series 🙈

For who would:

If you just hand them your baby niece or nephew or a baby you're watching for a friend (just any baby lol) who would hand it right back to you, silently hold it with a sheer look of panic till you come back and take it or be a natural and not give it back to you at all?

I love this bit of fluff and silliness for a Sunday; excellent question!

James Mace

He asks a lot of questions about what needs done or should be done. Is it changing time? How much head support should he provide? Is this a DND (do not disturb, D&D is for his own kiddos) baby ready for a nap? Is this play time? Should he be engaging the baby or keeping up conversation with the group?

Now, as to whether or not having the baby in his arms gives him any ideas: not any more than he's already had. You two have plans, you've talked about this and are on the same page, so his interactions right then have to do with that baby at that moment. He doesn't necessarily have stronger feelings when handling other people's children.

Curtis Everett

Curtis does not trust himself around babies especially. He goes extremely stiff and extremely quiet. He stares intensely. He will not do anything unless you tell him to do something with the baby. Even then he is not truly comfortable.

Babies bring up a lot of memories and emotions for him, and theoretically he knows he isn't in the same place/headspace as when he was younger, he knows babies aren't in as much danger as the old days, but he still gets so overwhelmed by it.

Yes, Curtis is even like this with his own children. He counts the days until his child is old enough to not be considered a 'baby' anymore. In fact, Curtis enjoys the memory of their infancy, pictures and videos, etc, more than he can enjoy being with them as infants.

Jimmy Dobyne

Honestly, a total natural. Small towns and rural areas mean closer-knit families, neighbors, and friends. They all help each other out. A bunch of kids shuffle around to spend afternoons here or Saturdays there. Babies get passed around to let parents get errands done or go on dates. It's not a big deal; it's just a way of life.

At this point, Jimmy has cleaned up after and fed a dozen different species of 'babies.' He's fine with it. He doesn't play much though, not with babies. Jimmy prefers when they're old enough to run around for catch or sports, etc. That's more his wheelhouse.

Johnny Storm

Fucking terrified to handle babies but LOVES entertaining them. Will do absolutely anything to make that baby laugh. To a fault sometimes because Johnny will get so animated he knocks shit over in the house or wherever you two are.

You give him credit for trying though.

Jake Jensen

Sits that baby up on his lap and continues to watch whatever screen he's focused on.

Jake isn't necessarily bad with babies, but he prefers to continue to enjoy the more adult entertainment/interactions around him. Like Jimmy, he will be more than hands-on excited once that baby can be active with their own interests (sports or otherwise) because he will participate and support 100%. Babies are just a bit too floppy and unreadable for him.

Lloyd Hansen

Thrilled to let those tiny baby fingers try to hold the grip of his switchblade. Adores how fucking angry the parents (or you) get when he plays with knives around them or has them play with the knives. Lloyd secretly finds baby facial reactions to be the funniest things on the planet--but, no, he doesn't actually like babies.

Ari Levinson

Ari is a playful papa through and through. Has more than once strapped that carrier to his chest and wondered around with someone's kiddo for whole parties. Endlessly entertained and entertaining when it comes to babies.

However, Ari really, really doesn't like when babies get grabby and pull at his hair. That shit hurts, and he hates it. Also he's oddly squeamish about spit-up and/or vomit. Technically, he is not a fan of diaper duty, like very, very, very not a fan.

Ransom Drysdale

The absolute fuck are you handing him a baby for??? Bitch, are you insane?! Be real. Seriously. Just don't.

There isn't even much improvement in this behavior when it's Ran's own child. Not a fan of the 'baby' stage, this one.

Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes

Lumping these two together because they do exactly the same things. Steve and Bucky physically treat female and male babies differently; they are sweet and cooing with girls, and then they talk about or mimic sports things with boys. They don't mean to be presumptive in this behavior, just do it be default.

Neither is afraid to roll their sleeves up and help with feeding or changing. They'll give equal attention to the baby and the group around you. They will both happily sit/stand/walk around with a napping baby in their arms--although they aren't thrilled to be unable to help with other stuff while they have no available hands.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Who Would...? Asks List; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses

@brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81

@bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries 

@rogersbarber @blogbog710

[candycandy00]

So I thought I’d introduce the concepts for my JJK Fairytale AU. Some of you sent in some interesting suggestions, but in the end I decided to go with the most famous fairytales that would fit. I’m already writing the first one, Gojo x Cinderella. You’ll notice some of these ideas are more developed than others. Here are the others I plan to write. 

Please vote for which one you’re most interested in! I’ll write them all but I’m curious about how much interest people have. It might affect the order I write them in. 

Geto x Little Red Riding Hood

Reader is a young woman traveling through the dangerous woods to reach a safe house. This is a kingdom ravaged by war, and she’s a medic. She has medicine and supplies that she needs to bring to a military safe house to treat some injured soldiers there, but there’s a big bad wolf (Geto) stalking her. He was an enemy soldier she saved once, now turned into a werewolf, and hungry for her in more ways than one. 

Toji x Snow White

Reader is a beautiful young woman living in a small rural village. There’s a huntsman who lives close by (Toji) who is a lot older than her, but she has a bit of a crush on him. For his part, he thinks she’s pretty but also thinks she’s too young for him (she’s like 20, he’s late 30’s). So he mostly ignores her. He’s known for being an excellent hunter and gets hired to go hunt dangerous animals in the woods. The evil queen hires him to take Snow White into the woods and kill her, but once he actually spends time with her, he might decide to just keep her. 

Choso x Rapunzel

Reader is gathering herbs in the forest and stumbles upon an old watch tower inhabited by a cute but antisocial hermit (Choso) who seems sweet and keeps talking about his brothers who are “out” and will be back any minute. She starts visiting him regularly because she likes him, but she suspects his brothers might be dead and he just can’t face it. One day she gets attacked by a wild boar and injures her ankle. Choso finds her and takes her back to the tower. She faints and wakes up to find that he’s locked her in the top of the tower and won’t let her leave, because he’s afraid she’ll leave and never come back, just like his brothers. Choso as a classic Yandere. Reader’s only plan is to grow her hair out long enough to make a rope with it to escape. 

Higuruma x Little Mermaid

Reader is a mermaid in love with a lawyer who lives in a coastal town and specializes in shipping contracts (Higuruma). She makes a deal with the sea witch and signs the contract to get human legs in exchange for her voice, but when she formally meets Higuruma, she ends up showing him the contract. He’s flattered that she did all this for him, but (like in the original story) the new legs cause her terrible pain, every step feeling like walking on glass (seriously the original story was fucked up). Will this genius lawyer be able to find a loophole in her contract and free her? 

Sukuna x Sleeping Beauty

Reader is a princess who was cursed at birth. If she ever pricks her finger on a needle, she’ll fall into a deep sleep/coma. Her parents recently died, leaving her as the young ruler. Her first step is to hire a new captain of the guard, a mysterious and powerful man rumored to be a murderer (Sukuna). She’s instantly attracted to him, and despite her obvious flirting, he rejects her everytime, smugly saying a dainty princess like her couldn’t handle him. But when she ends up pricking her finger, Sukuna recognizes the curse, and knows that she’s still aware of everything, can still feel and hear everything. And the only way to break the curse is to fuck her. 

Nanami x Beauty and the Beast

Since multiple people mentioned wanting Reader to be the Beast, I’m going for it! That’s right, Beast Tamer Nanami! Reader was cursed by a witch to be a beast (she’s still cute though, more like a lil bunny girl lol) and her royal parents are ashamed of her so they banish her to a secluded castle. Then they hire Nanami to take care of the place (and Reader). 

[unhappy-last-resort]

The Puppet In A Forest (Yandere Roland x GN Reader)

Warnings: forced kissing, bone breaking, drugging, implied minor surgery performed without readers consent, tracking

A/N: I apologize for any stiff writing or grammar mistakes. This was literally just supposed to be this short little 1 AM thing for his birthday and it fucking spiraled into this

Status: edited

You wade through crystal waters, fireflies twinkling around you like little stars in the night and comforting you ever so slightly, the quiet chirping of crickets in the distance is calming enough to make you almost forget there was an ongoing war outside this place, but unfortunately not enough to make you forget why you're here. The letters you received six hours ago have led you to an rural town in the outskirts of Kowloong, to a pond with bamboo growing in its edges.

You suck in a breath and steady your grip on your gun. You really shouldn't be here, not for the reasons you're weaving through towering rods of bamboo, anyway. Your heart tussles with itself, one part saying that you should turn back, the other telling you to push forward. Meeting an Ascendant isn't just dangerous to your prestigious position as Gray Ravens commandant, but also physically.

You're going to the coordinates you found inside the Russian dolls Roland sent you and the thought that it's just a trap has never once left your mind. Roland is a trickster, murderer, manipulator, and an actor, there is absolutely no reason you shouldn't have forwarded those letters to Hassen and Nikola, no reason for you to be here alone, and no reason for you to feel a painful tug in your heart when you read the last line of his second letter.

"I'll be waiting for you and gladly accept whatever you have for me, whether it's a bullet, a restraint, or an Activation Date gift."

In your uncertainty, you've prepared all three, your gun loaded and drawn at any potential danger, the restraints dangling off your hip, and a small box of chocolates sitting securely in your bag. It's unconventional for a birthday gift, but you don't have time to look, or make something more appropriate and frankly, there's no reason for you to put more effort in. You're enemies, not friends, and you don't owe anything to him.

You keep moving, the mud of the ponds floor squishing beneath your thigh high boots, the water beneath you littered with fallen leaves from the bamboo above you. Gradually, the bamboo starts to thin out, easing you into a small empty space. There's a rock sitting in the center, bathed by the moonlight as fireflies dance around it.

You can't see anyone, or a sign that anyone was here to begin with, although it's not like you'd find much in a shallow pond at night. You carefully feel out the ground ahead of you before stepping forward, it's easy to fall for the illusion of ground beneath you and end up much more wet than you intended and it'd be much harder to explain your little trip to your team if you came back dripping wet.

You reach the center of the clearing and look around. No one's here, it's just you. The water sloshes and ripples with every movement you make, announcing your presence to the surrounding silence...was it always this quiet?

Plunk.

You whip around, gun pointed in the direction of the sound as you glare into the dark, as if the very darkness itself would somehow lift to reveal what hides inside it. You stay like that for half a minute, ears and eyes straining for movement, but there is none. No more noises, just silence. It's only now do you realize that the fireflies that were here have disappeared, as if they'd been scared off by something, but what could scare a bunch of bugs?

You look around again, re-observing your surroundings. You look down and see these tiny little black dots in the water, confused you reach down and scoop one up in your palm and bring it close to your face.

It's an insect, it looks like a firefly. Your eyebrows furrow and you check your terminal, scanning the air quality...nothing. Punishing levels are low, and nowhere near fatal for a human, and there are no other toxins present in the air. You rack your brains, trying to think of anything that might cause a bunch of bugs to just die like this, but you come up with nothing.

You inspect the bug again, as if there's anything else a simple big would be hiding-

Wait.

There are tiny, inconspicuous little ball joints on each of its legs, and a very thin seam where the body connects to its abdomen, which on closer inspection is just an LED light trapped in a casing. It's mechanical. It's a fake. You've been surrounded by hundreds of mechanical bugs since you came to the clearing, maybe since you first stepped foot near the pond.

You drop it from your hand, it's body making a small plink sound as it falls into the water. You sigh and look up, only to find yourself caught in the gaze of a pair of eyes.

A figure clad in black and white with grey hair stands as still as a statue. His hair is undone and pulled forward, his long locks falling over his shoulders, his eyes glow like jewels in the moonlight, the cool tones of his outfit making his eyes stand out even more.

"Prefiero un minuto contigo a una eternidad sin ti." He whispers, the silence around us making even the quietest whispers apparent. "I never thought you would come. Hah...I thought I'd made myself a fool again."

You sigh through your nose, your grip on your gun is tight, but pointed at the water. In your shock you hadn't pointed it at him, your mind still trying to fathom how many fake fireflies there were and what else around you was an illusion that, you hadn't thought of giving yourself a defensive position. And getting into one now may escalate things.

"You're always a fool." You mutter ruefully, keeping your eyes on his. "Why would you think your enemy would respond to you?"

A grin stretches across his face, growing wider until he bursts into a chuckle. "Well, you did, didn't you? Besides," He pauses, smile dropping into a deadpan. "I did say I wanted to get you out, no matter what. Didn't I?"

"What would you have done if the letters hadn't worked, then?"

Another chuckle. "Oh, wouldn't my little rabbit like to know? Tell you what, if you can win my game, I'll tell you."

Roland starts moving towards you, he moves silently, so much so that if you hadn't seen the water moving you would have thought he was a ghost or a figment of imagination. It was like he was one with the space around him, seamlessly fitting in as if he belonged there- as if he was always there.

You breath, feeling more anxious by the moment as Roland closes in at a steady pace. "What game?"

"It's just a simple question, if you answer correctly you win, if you don't..." He smiles again.

"...What happens if I lose?"

"Hmm....I get to take a present from you." He stops at arms reach from you, smile still plastered on his face and an undeniable glee glinting in his eyes.

"I already brought you one though." His eyes widened in surprise, his smile faltering for a moment.

"You really brought me a gift? Here I was expecting you to restrain me and bring me back to Babylonia."

You watch him for a moment before reaching a hand into the bag at your hip, Roland's eyes flickering from your hand to your face, the flurry of emotions behind them tells you he's as desperate as he is distrusting of you right now. Slowly, you pull out the chocolates and hand it to him.

"Aww, do you really have to be so stiff?" He chuckles, tilting his head slightly, it felt half mocking, half curious as he graciously took the box from you and gingerly opens it.

"Oh my, this is quite a romantic gift. Could it be the Gray Raven Commandant is harboring feelings for an Ascendant?" He muses, feigning shock.

You roll your eyes and attempt to snatch the box out of his hand. "I can always take it back."

He leans back, looking almost offended, keeping the chocolates out of your reach. "Of course not! Anything from you is treated with the utmost care."

"But this is the first time you're getting something from me?"

He smiles, popping a chocolate in his mouth before tucking the box away in his coat. "Well now, should we start the game?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"Is this place real, or an illusion?" He stares at you, smile still on his face as the question hangs in the silence.

"...What?"

"Is it real, or an illusion?"

His expression is indiscernible, emotions hidden behind the thick curtain of a jester's smile. The silence of the area you're in is deafening, the previous chirps of crickets had long gone, leaving you and Roland in a pool of knee deep water, sprinkled with mechanical bugs on its surface.

As much as those things may have been fake, you were certain the rest couldn't be. The lake, the bamboo, those things had to be real. The amount of materials required to do something isn't something Roland would have access to, not to mention the time required.

"It's real."

He looks pleased, too pleased for your liking. "Is that your final answer?"

You hesitate. Are you wrong? Or is that just what he wants you to think? Indecision rips at your mind, your thoughts circling each other over and over, never getting any closer to an answer. Is he playing a trick, or are you overthinking? But he looked so happy when you said it was real, so you must've gotten it wrong, right?

"Uh...No!" You fumble, almost out of desperation. Your answer swings like a pendulum in your mind.

"No?" He drawls, putting a hand to his chin as he watches you.

"No...it's fake." You breath.

Roland raises a brow. "Are you sure?"

You suck in a breath, if you take it back again, you'll just be stuck in a never ending loop of second guessing yourself. "Yes."

Roland laughs and it makes you flinch, it feels especially loud in your ears for some reason. "Alea jacta est. Congratulations, my dear little puppet."

He announces with all his usual bravado as he closes the distance between you two. Alarmed you move back only for his hand to grip your wrist, rendering your hand with the gun useless. You pull at your arm as hard as you can, but you only succeed in earning a chuckle from him.

He pulls you close and before you can realize what's going on you feel lips press against yours in a greedy, pawing kiss. His teeth nip at your bottom lips, his tongue swiping over and attempting to push through your lips. You resist, refusing to open your mouth and using all your strength to break yourself free.

"Quit struggling." Roland grunts and twists your wrist unnaturally, a snap sounding up your arm and you open your mouth to scream, only for it to never make it out into the world and being swallowed by Roland instead.

His tongue explores every inch of your mouth with a fervor that speaks of an untold longing and desperation, an insatiable need that quickly overwhelms you with the pain in your wrist.

You feel drowsy, the edges of your vision blurring as continues his forced affection. You try to fight it, but you can't, your vision fading on a string of saliva between you and eyes of amber and ruby aglow like flames.

You gasp, your heart pounding as you stare at the wooden beams above you. It takes you a moment to realize you're in the abandoned tea house, the one you and your team decided to camp in.

You sit up slowly, your sleeping bag rustling quietly as you move. Your head hurts and you feel woozy just from sitting up, it takes you a moment to realize one of your wrists is bandaged, although it doesn't feel like it was done well despite it appearing to be wrapped properly.

You groan, how did you end up hurting your wrist again? Everything feels so foggy in your head that you can't remember.

"Hey Command- what the hell?" A captain dashes over to you, you vaguely remember his name being Casper.

Ah, that's right. You were sent on a mission to Kowloong to help assist a team that had gone for artifact retrieval. The battle ended a while ago and your team agreed to wait until day break to return to Babylonia.

Casper looks flustered, gently bringing your arm up to inspect your cast.

"Hey, Didi! Get Mao and have him dress a wound the Commandant got!" He yells to the door before turning back to you. "How did you do this? You should've asked one of us to help you if you didn't know how to wrap your injury."

You consider saying something, but instead you give a half-hearted smile and apologize. You don't want to cause them more grief than you likely already have.

An airy chuckle dances in the wind as the transport craft from Babylonia lifts off with its passengers. Pointlessly, Roland waves it goodbye as if you could see it- not like you'd appreciate it even if you did. Maybe you'd even hate him by now, if you hadn't before.

Still, like a fool he clung to the hope that you'd be someone he could count on. No, that's not quite right. Something he could own, a person he could claim for himself and not share with others.

As much as the temptation to whisk you away as you rested unconscious in his arms was deliciously enticing, he would be a fool to think he could protect you from Babylonia's lackeys, let alone in this old frame. Without a doubt the best of the best would come from you and he had difficulty enough with just Gray Raven, and that Kamui fellow and his original have been a pain too. The only way he'd be able to do that now would be to go to Der Meister himself and he made his skin crawl. He would never trust the likes of him with Luna, or you.

For now, he'll just have to settle with knowing where you are. He did his best to make sure everything was sterile when he made the incision, although he was still worried that it might get infected...Oh well, even if it did and that tracker got discovered, there are still others among your things, so it won't be that big of a deal.

"La vie est une fleur dont l'amour est le miel. 'Til we meet again, my dear."

[reidswrite]

One of each

Spencer Reid returns home after another exhausting trip working for the FBI, where he has spent most of his life. Now, on the verge of fifty-three years old, he finds himself thinking about Ethan and the life they could have had if he hadn't turned that love down to become an FBI agent almost 30 years ago.

Warnings: Alcohol/Drugs use, mention of suicide (not from main characters).

Word count: 2.4k

Turning the door handle slowly, the cold air in the apartment was the first sensation Spencer felt. It was empty, dark and quiet, almost as if he lived somewhere in the back of a library, on the shelves that aren't visited by students or readers who seek comfort between pages. He liked it. He liked the silence, the tranquility, the feeling of having a world of his own. Having joined the FBI just over 30 years ago, some cases were still hard to deal with, like the one from the last three days that sent the team to a small town in rural Texas. Arriving back at the apartment after dealing with so much chaos and adrenaline was like turning off the noise in his mind for a moment.

Dropping his cross-body bag on the floor next to the sofa, he headed towards the cabinet that held an expensive old whiskey and a couple of crystal glasses. Reid had promised himself that he would never give in to the habit of drinking away his own thoughts, but after all this time, so much loss and so much trauma, he no longer cared about old promises. He could feel the first sip burning down his throat as he leaned back in the armchair taking a deep breath. The street outside was illuminated by lamp posts and a few people were walking around. He liked to observe all those strangers and spot the small things about them, definitely a very profiler way of spending free time outside of work. After a few seconds a well-groomed young man walked by fidgeting his hands and breathing quickly. If Spencer could take a guess he would say that he was probably nervous for a first date.

Reid smiled to himself as he remembered the times when he used to feel like that. Anxious to see him. Breaking out in a cold sweat when he looked at him. His heart leaping out of his chest every time their lips met. God, he missed it more than anything else.

They were both 19 when they first met in graduate school after university. Two prodigies, the youngest in their class. Spencer had to deal with the awkwardness of not being the only genius in the room, something that had never happened before in his life. If that wasn't enough, they were roommates. Apparently the director of the dormitories decided that the best idea would be to pair the two youngest up together because they would “get along more easily and become friends”. He hated that director for three whole months. He hated the overbearing way Ethan spoke. He hated how he assumed he knew everything. Hated his voice, hearing him breathe, watching him sleep. Hated how he left his shoes untidy and his side of the closet a mess. Hated sharing his space, both physically and academically. Hated him so much that he was not even able to detach his lips from the brunette's when Ethan came into the room slightly stoned after a Halloween party and confessed that he couldn't stop thinking about Spencer. And, after that night, he hated every second of his life in which he wasn't with him.

Their relationship began hesitantly, with neither of them truly understanding how to deal with what they were feeling. Neither of them had even realized that they liked men until they started to love hating each other. Neither of them had had that experience. Two nerds who graduated from high school too early to be invited to parties with cheap alcohol poured into red cups where teenagers learned how to kiss in guest toilets. Together they discovered how to love, in every sense of the word. They spent every Friday night on the balcony of their apartment, Ethan with a weed cigarette between his fingers while Spencer read and talked enthusiastically about thousands of different facts that his superhuman brain had stored for years because no one had had the patience to listen to him talk. No one until then. The brunette smiled as he released the smoke through his nose. Every word that left Spencer's mouth mesmerized Ethan, almost in a hypotonic way. He couldn't imagine anything he liked better in the world than listening to his boyfriend talk.

Yes, boyfriend. It became official after almost two months when a girl hit on him in front of Spencer in a coffee shop. He tried to hide his jealousy but couldn't hold his tongue as he responded with false sympathy that the other man wasn't available. Ethan found it so adorable that he couldn't help but laugh, interlacing their hands as they walked back to the dormitory. The next day, when Spencer came home from his last class, a single rose and two pairs of colorful socks were laying on his desk. The first pair was striped in vibrant green and orange while the other was completely red with some animated animals drawn on it.

- One of each. - He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of Ethan behind him.

- What? - Reid asked, still confused.

- One foot from each pair. - the brunette said as if it were obvious and sat down on the chair, putting the striped sock on his right foot and the red sock on his left.

Spencer made a funny expression, still not quite understanding what he meant.

- All my life I felt like an intruder, like someone who didn't deserve to receive the love I saw others getting. I felt weird, I was excluded, I was bullied. I believed for years that no one would be able to love me because of my personality and who I truly am, but you have shown me otherwise. With you I don't feel like an intruder, I feel at home, like we were meant to be. - made a brief pause reaching for the remaining socks. - This one is weird like me. - he pointed to the striped one. - And this one is weird like you. - he pointed to the other foot. - Together they're even weirder and perhaps others will never understand, but we don't need others' comprehension to make this meaningful. I love you, Spencer. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

Today, thirty years later, he still remembers it each morning when he puts on his mismatched socks. He couldn't help but think about how that crazy peculiar proposal gave him the confidence to be who he wanted to be, even if others didn't understand. Ethan taught him that he didn't have to diminish himself, hide or try to fit in to be part of something. In the right place he would be appreciated exactly for who he truly is, he didn't have to hide his interests or the way he thought. In fact, his genius brain saved more lives than any of the frat idiots who made his life hell in college could ever imagine. Dr. Spencer Reid. Agent in the FBI's behavioral analysis unit.

But if he began to think about all the implications his career has had on his life, he'd need three more glasses of that whiskey.

Not that he didn't like it, on the contrary. He was proud of each and every case he solved, his studies, the methods he developed, his awards and even of the time he spent wrongfully incarcerated. He was proud of the work he had done during all these years and the people he had helped, but not of the implications it has had on his life. Witnessing the death of friends, the sufferings of people he loved, experiencing more traumas than he could possibly count, not attending his own mother's funeral because sinking into his work seemed like an easier way to escape. Losing Ethan and the life they could have had together.

And although he loved the stillness of that apartment, Spencer couldn't help closing his eyes and imagining coming home to the aroma of the delicious Italian food that only Ethan knew how to make.

He would leave his shoulder bag by the sofa and hug his husband from behind, placing a kiss on the back of his neck while whispering how much he had missed him. They would be interrupted by the two kids (not so kids anymore) coming into the kitchen chattering loudly. Anna would be a senior in High School while Luke was just starting middle school. The daughter came first, adopted by the couple at two years old and named after her grandmother Diana who was the most affectionate granny on earth. Luke came later, adopted when he was just a few months old and named after Ethan's father, Lucas, who would fly from Italy to the United States whenever he had the chance to visit. Anna would tell her fathers about the stress she was under when it came to choosing colleges, while their youngest would talk excitedly about the goals he had scored at soccer practice that afternoon. Spencer would laugh at the jumble of voices trying to pay attention to everyone at once, only to be interrupted by the barking of the dog who also wanted to be part of the family moment. Kiky was an almost seven-year-old golden retriever, originally called Rocky but Luke couldn't pronounce the full name when they adopted it.

He would work at the local library and they would spend the weekends with the family in a park, Ethan playing with the children while Spencer read something enjoying the wind swaying his already long hair. No long work trips, no trophies, no students or lives saved, just a comfortable, happy domestic dream. Reid found himself lost in this imaginary scenario far more often than he would ever admit to anyone. It was his escape from all the scars that his choice had given him. That choice he really wished he could go back in time and make everything different.

- I don't want to. - Ethan said, running his hands through his hair. - I can't do this, I can't join the FBI, I don't want to live in fear of dying. I can't be like my mother.

- Babe please, think about it, it's the chance of our lives. - Spencer insisted, wanting to cry.

- I love you, Spencer. I love you like I've never loved anyone else and that's exactly why I can't do this. I want to have a home, build a family, be happy like we are now. You know I grew up watching what being a cop made to my mom and I promised myself every day that I would never do that with my life. - He said with tearful eyes before mouthing the phrase that would change their lives forever. - I'm not going to hold you here, if that's your dream then you need to go, but you're going by yourself and our story ends right now.

And he left. Spencer packed everything needed and looked at his now ex-boyfriend one last time before never looking back. He knew that neither of them was wrong, they had different ideas on how life should be and they weren't going to deprive each other of that. Ethan witnessed his mother drowning in an alcohol addiction as he was growing up, every loss at work, every new scar, every day with that badge pushed her a little further down the glass. Of course he admired her. He admired the work she did and knew that someone had to do it, but the price to pay was too high. She lost her marriage and later lost custody of her children. She gradually fell out of touch and finally, on a Thursday morning in December, she lost the chance of seeing them grow up forever. On the letter next to her body, she asked for forgiveness for not being the mother she should have been and confessed to a life full of self-blame. A heroine who nobody realized also needed to be saved.

When the FBI offer came, Ethan didn't think twice before turning it down, but something in Spencer was ignited. He saw an opportunity to save people. A good psychologist would probably say that Reid's obsession with saving everyone derived from the fact that he subconsciously knew he would never be able to save the one he truly wanted, his own mother. And there, for the first time, the couple entered an impasse that was greater than the love they felt for each other. Two inner children who were hurt and traumatized in different ways and who sought healing through opposite paths. There was no resentment between them, only the question of what it would have been like if things were different. Spencer often wondered if Ethan also imagined the life they would have had together. He wondered if Halloween was also his favorite holiday because it reminded him of that first kiss. He wondered if he still wore mismatched socks, if he left his sneakers untidy and his wardrobe disorganized. He wondered if he still had dimples next to his eyes when he smiled and if he still breathed heavily when he slept. He wondered if he thought of them whenever he saw the moon and remembered all those Fridays on the room's balcony. He wondered what life could have been like if he had chosen love over his career.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when a car braked sharply in the street he was observing, almost hitting a pedestrian and causing a bit of a commotion that soon subsided. Spencer took a final sip of the bitter liquid in his glass, grimacing and trying to remember when he had started to like it, probably an inheritance from David Rossi. He took the cup back to the kitchen and when he found the dark room again, he decided that maybe this was the moment to do something about all of it. Blaming the alcohol in his veins, Reid picked up the phone and dialed the forbidden number in his contact list, finding it ironic that his heart was racing faster in that moment than it had been during the last three days when he was hunting a serial killer.

The call rang three times before a very familiar voice answered, more mature and huskier than he remembered, but still close enough to send shivers down his spine.

- Hi Ethan, it's Spencer. - He breathed for a moment trying to gain confidence, after all he hadn't actually planned to do that. - I know it's been a while but can we talk?

[chigirisprincess]

Good Luck Babe! - Chapter 2: Your Best Laid Plans.

— Aizawa Shōta

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, fem!reader (she/her pronouns used to refer to reader), sfw, reader has anxiety, mentions of past situationships ;), reader has lore, plot building, teacher talk. ⊹ Run time. 4.0k ⊹ Note. This is mostly plot progression, next chapter will be make exciting! Enjoy :3

❝Unpacking isn't always easy, at least the U.A dorms were nice.❞

previous part || masterlist || next part

The U.A dormitories were infinitely nicer than your university accommodations. The realisation strikes you before you’ve made your way across the green expanse of the newly built quad. It bristles your feathers and adds yet another reason why privately funded academies were far from your wheelhouse of experience. The Miyagi University of Education was a fine school, it had a small number of students which meant one on one time with their professors, and was built in the late 19th century making the campus as picturesque as a university could be. Sure, the accommodations were a bit dated especially in comparison to a brand new, state of the art building, but you couldn’t complain. Your university years were enjoyable, you wouldn’t trade those memories for anything.

And, Sendai was a lovely city. Costal, filled with enough greenery to never make you miss the quaint rural town you were raised in. There were a plethora of museums and cultural sites that kept you busy and when your close friend worked as an apprentice curator, affordable year round passes were suddenly far more accessible.

Friend, almost boyfriend. Situationship. You chuckle to yourself with a shake of your head. Almost something, almost, nothing. It was maddening when you were stuck within the pit, uncertainty wearing at you. Now, it just seemed silly. 

The lines were still blurred on where exactly your relationship stood. Not that the semantics mattered much when you moved nearly four hours away to a new city, with new people, and a new job. You hadn’t seen him in two months, not since you moved into Musutafu for work and he refused to answer any text messages you’d sent. Not that you cared, that chapter of your life was firmly shut and left in the past– in Sendai– and he was still a close friend, at least that’s what you liked to believe, and would until he said otherwise. Not that he would say otherwise. Still, he was a good friend to have even if he didn’t see you as a friend, or was pissy that you never made a move to clearly define what you were. It’s not like he did either.

Almost, he was an almost. 

You had a lot of those in your history books. Paramours who weren’t quite lovers but you could hardly call them a friend. Always feeling too attached to simply name them as a friend. Women who’s friendship was so intense you couldn’t call it anything other than something akin to love. An almost something that you were scared to commit to. Your heart locked firmly behind the fortress of your rib cage when you wished it could be freely given.

You think that’s why you took this job.

Aside from the clear résumé booster this would be, the pay, and the perks, and the fact that you’d be stupid not to take the job, it was a far leap from your comfort zone. Sendai was the safe choice for university, it was only an hour train ride from your family’s home, a handful of upperclassmen had already been in attendance and offered to shepherd you into this new era. Most weekends were spent back at home until you made a few friends. Even those came with a caveat and a safety net. Mister situationship with the spiky blonde hair and glasses was your lab partner and subsequently became the gateway to the group of friends you'd made. You didn’t dare to branch out on your own, beyond them.

You took the easy way out. If asked you’d say that made you sensible. Your elementary school teachers would agree. They all thought you to be well beyond your years, an old soul trapped behind a pair of chubby cheeks. Never one to act out or step beyond your comfort zone. Your assignments were predictably perfect and drawn directly from your wheelhouse of interests. Your arguments were well polished and you possessed an arsenal of peer reviewed resources that you shuffled around based on your topic of choice.

As a child the adults in your life fussed over you, shirking their misplaced dreams on your frail shoulders. A little leader in your own right, keeping your stuffed animals and friends in line. They told you that you’d make a great teacher, your voice was gentle and your touch was always soft. That or a mother. As if it were the middle ages and that’s all you could amount to.

But, you were predictable. 

You stayed the course they mapped out for you. Too scared for anything bigger. The figs that branched out beyond you had long since rotted and died, taking with it, whatever other paths and aspirations you might’ve filled your life with. 

And, in some fruitless attempt to extend beyond their expectations, you left home and took this job. In most lights it still existed within the realm of your comfort zone but in some it pushed you.

You decided, your one saving grace of the day was that you packed lightly and still managed to scarcely fill out your apartment. Though it may not have been half as fancy as the U.A accommodations, you learned from your university dorm that you probably didn’t need as much as you thought you did. Clearing out your apartment took an hour and the commute back to U.A only about thirty minutes. Foot traffic was much lighter now that the morning rush had subsided. It helped that you’d spent the last two months living out of your suitcase. The apartment was temporary, a placeholder until you found something closer to the school. Though you stupidly never thought to consider that you’d be expected to reside on campus grounds.

Perhaps you were a child like Aizawa accused. Your brain gnawed on his words, playing them on loop until it accepted it as fact. Wearing boots too big for your feet, your naivety glaring. Obvious to everyone but you. 

It was an easy fix. Pessimism was your middle name, though, you preferred to call it realistic. You would wise up in no time. Gather your bearings, plant your roots, and never stumble over the shock of the unknown again. Prove to them, to you, to anyone else who thought to question you, that you were meant to be here. Then, maybe you wouldn’t feel so sick with insecurity even as you tossed your things into your new lodgings.

Shōta stands with his back pressed against the wall outside of class 1-A when Yamada pops out of the classroom. Kayama would be there soon for modern hero art history, Shōta decided then that he’d prefer to keep whatever schemes Nezu was cooking up to himself. He scoffs to himself as he replays the conversation he has with you.

Concerned.

The ministry of education was concerned? Now? Of course they were. Shōta wasn’t stupid, he saw the uptick of distrust growing between the general public and the ministry– it went hand in hand with the near constant criticism that floated across the gaggle of paparazzi that sat outside the school gates everyday. They questioned the ethics behind U.A as an institute, wrote think pieces and created conspiracy theories to work out every move they made as if to catch the school in some lie. It was as exhausting as it was hypocritical. Shōta laughed at the mere thought. The general public had no problem fawning over his class during the sports festival, marvelling at just how powerful they had to be to stand against the League of Villains all on their own.

But sure, now there was a problem. It was serious now that a student had been kidnapped.

Stuffing his hand into his pocket, Shōta grabs the small plastic bottle of eye drops he keeps handy. His eyes sting with irritation, if that was even possible. His unkempt bangs slide away from his forehead when he tilts his head back, widening his eyes for a few drops of temporary relief.

“Hey” Hizashi calls, popping his head out of the classroom door, “Who was that you were talking to? Your students sure had a lot of questions but I didn’t have many answers”

“Irrelevant,” Shōta snips.

“Hm?”

There’s a stack of workbooks tucked in the crook of his elbow, the covers worn and the colours faded. The class must have finished their latest grammar unit. He tilts his head down, his bright orange glasses slip down the slope of his nose to reveal his inquisitive yellow eyes. He peers at Shōta with interest.

“I said, she’s irrelevant,” he repeats, with a frown, “At least to you.”

Hizashi chortles, “Oh? So what, only you get a special little helper?” he quips, with a smile, “Iida said she introduced herself to the class and Nezu was with her, it seemed like she was supposed to be there.”

Shōta hums, pushing off from the wall and away from his classroom, “Seems to me you’re pretty well informed already, Mic.”

“Eh, not anymore than your students.”

His laughter bounces down the hall as he bounds after Shōta, only pausing to adjust the stack of workbooks under his arm.

“C’mon, Shōta, spill!” He says, throwing his free arm over his shoulder, “No one’s losing their job are they?”

The teasing lilt dies quickly, “Right?” Hizashi asks, concern drips from his tongue. Concern for Shōta. He’s getting sick of it.

“She’s from the ministry of ed,” Shōta huffs.

There’d been concern after Bakugō had been kidnapped. Selfish ones. Some worried their positions were up for debate, others wondered if alumni and sponsors would pull funding. Of course, there was always the concern for bad publicity. This entire school year was bad for publicity. Not that it mattered. Bored, nameless nobodies on internet forums always had something to criticise even when the academic year was perfect, when U.A graduates continually climbed the ranks, opened their own agencies, and continued to keep Japan safe. Whatever concern they had now was purely bureaucratic to save their own skin.

“Oh?” Hizashi raises an eyebrow.

They share a look, “Apparently they’ve begun to worry,” he explains, thinking back to what you said. How much did you believe in the lines you’d been fed? Did you create them?

No. You seemed earnest, young enough that your naïvity was genuine and you were likely just a piece for them to move about the board as they saw fit. You couldn’t be complicit in whatever cover up scheme Nezu had allowed into the building. Your flighty, nervous demeanour told him as much. He was worried he might burst into tears if his voice dared to sharpen any further. The way you wilted like a sad, delicate flower beneath the uncomfortable heat of the sun reminded him of a few past students. The ones he expelled for being too soft and too thoughtful. The ones who weren’t cut from the right cloth, they’d never be able to hack it as a hero without that reckless drive most had. 

You were like them but somehow even more fragile. Even with the tenacity and sheer stupidity you had.

“About?” Hizashi questions, his eyebrow quirking upward.

“Our teaching capabilities,” Shōta shrugs, jabbing his thumb into the up bottom once they reach the elevators.

Hizashi leans against the wall, hitching his leg upward, “What does that mean?” His scrunches up in annoyance, “It’s deceptively vague.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

The ride up the elevator is quiet. Hizashi keeps his lips pursed in a fine line while Shōta scowls in contemplative silence.

Concern?

If they were concerned they’d help implement mental health services for all students at U.A. He’s petitioned them relentlessly for years, they had the funding, Nezu was onboard but there was far too much red tape to navigate through and each thread led back to the ministry. Instead they wanted to throw you to the wolves. A peppy, fresh faced, anxiety riddled university graduate who had yet to experience much of the real world. You sparkled in the way most did before they got a taste of how monotonous their dream careers were. 

“I heard the minister of education is planning on campaigning for Prime Minister,” Hizashi comments, stepping toward the now open elevator doors.

Shōta clicks his tongue, “Hm, how convenient.”

“It could be worse.”

“How so?” He raises a brow to Hizashi.

“The hero commission and the ministry could be breathing down our necks,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I’m sure she’s harmless and her presence is merely a formality, a box to check to appease antsy civilians and overzealous journalists.”

“Right.”

Shōta gives Hizashi a tight, strained smile as the elevator door shuts between them.

A formality. 

That’s what you were. He didn’t often feel uneasy, but none of this sat right with him. His stomach churned at the thought of you. The same looming feeling of dread sat like a pit in his stomach most days when he stared directly into the bright eyed, determined faces of his students. You held the same look, though it was shrouded with an obvious nervousness that you couldn’t shake. Still, your dreams had yet to be jaded by the cruelties of this world, much like his students. It made him uneasy. They at least understood the gravity of their reality, he wasn’t sure you did.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Shōta sighed to himself.

He was growing soft in his age. That’s why he didn’t fight you. It had to be why.

Sauntering down the hall to his office, Shōta wonders if he made the right decision.

Aizawa finds an hour after the final bell has rung. The sun has dipped low in the afternoon sky, painting your lodgings a warm, comforting yellow. The walls are bare and the decor is sparse. Only a few polaroid pictures, a calendar and your two degrees occupy the space. It feels oddly big, too big for just you but there’s nothing else to cram in the nooks and crannies to make your new home a little less lonesome.

It’s a relief to see Aizawa’s tired face on the other side of your door. He’d offer you a reprieve from the anxious thoughts that relentlessly ping pong around your skull.

“Hi!” You chirp, opening up the door, offering him a nervous smile, “Did you want to come in?”

He hoarsely grumbles out something resembling a, “Yes”, pushing past you before you’ve fully moved out of the way. His eyes scan his surroundings, you suppose he’s taking in the little decorations you’ve set about the place but you struggle to follow his gaze from where it’s hidden beneath his fringe. You suppose it’s a learned trait. After a bit of googling, you found that his quirk was aptly named erasure and  manifested through his eyes. 

Aizawa settles on your sofa, his legs spread as he rests his elbows on his thighs.

“Did you uhm, want something to drink?”

All you had was a nearly empty tin of instant coffee and a box of tea that expired two years ago. You hoped he’d say no, so you didn’t have to go through the mortifying ordeal of scrounging something you. Your parents raised you to be hospitable when you opened your home to guests. So, you couldn’t help but ask.

He dismisses you with a wave of his hand, “Thank you but, I’m fine,” he says, resting his chin on his interlocked fingers.

“Okay!”

Scratching the back of your head, you flounder around the living space. The armchair was piled high with your winter coats and the only other space to sit was next to him. 

“I don’t bite,” he mutters, peering up at you.

You shift nervously from foot to foot, reminding yourself that he’s a pro hero– despite his tired disposition. He was likely trained to read body language. It wasn’t that you were easy to read but that he read others easily. There was no need to feel nervous, he wasn’t doing it purposely and you probably weren’t giving anything away. Shuffling closer to the sofa, you sit as close to the arm as you could without making your discomfort obvious.

“You’ve settled in?”

Nodding you nervously bite your lip, “I pack light so it wasn’t much work.”

Aizawa hums. His arm brushes against yours. You can feel how his chest rumbles as he speaks.

“Good,” he says, pausing for a moment, “Then, I trust you have the time to elaborate on why you’re here?”

A small sound of agreement passes your raw, bitten lips, “I sure can!” You smile, hoping the pep in your voice disguises the panic, “Uhm, well the ministry of education was worried that the repeated villain attacks and lack of consistent curriculum was negatively impacting their development.”

 You wrack your brain trying to remember what exactly their email outlined but all that comes up is the excitement you felt. The picture in your mind is hazy, the details sparse but you remember most of the key points they had. They’d stuck out to you and seemed reasonable enough once you started digging into the files they sent you.

“I think it’s fairly obvious that being the target of villain attacks would have adverse effects,” you state as if he didn’t see that for himself, “However in addition to the unique mode of learning employed by each teacher here, there has been concern that the lack of consistency is what’s causing their markedly low grades.”

Aizawa scoffs, staring at you in disbelief, “Their grades are fine, I would know.”

“Their grades are still above average; however, compared to their entrance exam marks and results from the previous year's standardised tests, the class's average has dropped by 5%,” you explain, pressing a finger to the tip of your chin, “I have the data sheets, I can show them to you if you want.”

Initially you hadn’t been concerned when looking over their most recent examination marks. They had done exceptionally well with material that far surpassed the curriculum expectations set in the prefecture, however the decline was clear. You presumed the several areas in which they hadn’t done as well in, had been lessons interrupted by villain attacks. It wasn’t their fault, and if anything they were still on track but still, you couldn’t help but worry.

“If they're above the country's average, I don’t see the issue.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you sigh “Well there’s a clear pattern that indicates an issue that needs to be addressed,” a frustrated puff of air passes your lips, “These kids are meant to be above average, sure that’s why they’re here, however their emotional well being and emotional needs should also be met instead of being ignored because they’re so special!”

Clearing your throat, you sink deeper into your sofa’s cushion, cheeks warmed to the touch. Your voice had raised several octaves, progressively getting louder as you prattled. You’d always been passionate about mental health, but you didn’t know you were this passionate. Aizawa watches you, there's something in his eyes, you can’t name it. Not yet. You don’t know him well enough. He gestures for you to continue on with his hand.

 “It’s evidentially contributing to a class-wide decline,” you conclude, fiddling with your fingers, “It’s not your fault! I tried asking Principal Nezu about U.A’s guidance counsellor and mental health resources and apparently neither exist.”

He nods, seemingly knowing it all too well,“How do you propose we fix that then?”

“This isn’t something that’s cut and dry, I need to spend some time with your students, get to know them, and hear from them where they’re needing support.”

Aizawa laughs. He laughs at you, throwing his head back and letting out a full bellied laugh. You’re stunned to silence, blinking, half in disbelief and half in shock. His laugh was nice, rich even. Oddly befitting for a man like him, but still unexpected. At first glance you wouldn’t have expected from him. Though, you’re unsure what you had expected of Aizawa. He was nothing like the glamorous, larger than life pro heroes you grew up watching on television. Aizawa was far more relaxed, his dress casual, and seemed to proudly wear the dark circles that lined his tired eyes. It made him approachable, the lack of lustre and branding around the elusive Eraserhead. 

You liked that about him.

“Is something funny?” You asked with a quirk of your brow.

“It’s just rather amusing that you think any of them will ask for help,” he states, leaning back into the sofa, “Have you ever heard of a hero's pride?”

“Well, it’s a good thing they’re not heroes, they’re teenagers,” you hum, clasping your hands together.

“Try telling them that and see how well that goes.”

A joke, you think he was making a joke,“I’m well aware they think they’re more grown up than they actually are,” you felt the same at that age, you’re sure the responsibility of herodom only intensified it,“They kinda are compared to their middle school peers at the very least.”

Aizawa snorts, “Something like that,” he agrees with a shake of his head.

His gaze catches yours for a moment, it’s held for a few short seconds before you anxiously look away. Letting out a forced cough, you train your eyes on the television that sits across the room. 

“So I was thinking it would be a good idea if I could have a copy of your students' syllabus for each course they're taking?” You blurt, eager to continue the conversation forward.

“What?”

“The syllabus?” You repeat, “You know, the document that outlines their course expectations, assignments, and schedule for the semester?”

He scratches his chin, rubbing the stubble, “We don’t have those,” Aizawa says with a frown, “Is that standard practice?”

“Ah, mostly in University but many secondary schools are beginning to use them,” you explain, “It helps give students an idea of their semester beforehand.”

“It’s the beginning of the semester,” Aizawa comments, his lips pursed.

“That it is.”

Shrugging his shoulders, his eyes slide over to you, “We could make up a syllabus,” he suggests, “If you think that it’d be a worthwhile endeavour.”

“I think it is,” you sit a little straighter, a grin overtaking your lips, “Students seem to respond well when they feel prepared rather than blindsided, I can send you one of the research articles I’ve read!”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Giving your knee a pat, Aizawa offers you a strained smile.

You have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking if he was sure. Aizawa didn’t strike you as a man who did anything he wasn’t sure of. Your overly eager, zealous attitude could be a bit much. You didn’t want to come off any stronger than you already did. Whatever impression that you’d made to him likely wasn’t one you’d want to stick around for too long.

“Well, that sounds like a plan!”

“So, tomorrow you’ll observe my class,” he proposes, “We can regroup in the evening, if it should suit you?”

You find yourself nodding before he’s finished speaking, “Oh for sure!” You grin, clapping your hands on your thighs, “I can do that!”

Aizawa rises from your sofa with a small grunt, stretching out his spine before he turns to you, “I’ll see you then.”

Nodding in agreement, you watch as he walks out of your front door. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, flopping back onto the sofa as soon as the door clicks shut behind him. Tomorrow would be the big day then, the day you stepped into adulthood and kickstarted your career. Your stomach churned at the realisation. You’d spent the better part of two weeks preparing for this day, meticulously rehearsing what you’d say, how you’d say it, what you’d wear, and how you’d part your hair. 

You’d have to do it all again, tomorrow. This time, without any of your planning.

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

[thenixkat]

Mundane AU!Laios thoughts

Note:

Probably contains spoilers

Mundane au= no magic and no fantasy 'races' (like... little people are a thing, they exist in reality, some people just have dwarfism. The elves are just skinny racist and xenophobic Europeans like? And there's already parralells made with the demi humans so if I do anything the orcs are Afro Native and Kobolds are somewhere African or Arab. And for the ogres... gigantism is a thing that exists in real like and totally a teen girl would just wear some horns.)

Thoughts:

The Toudens are European-born. From somewhere cold as hell, really isolated and conservative, that's close to some mountains, that's racist towards the local indigenous people.

(The sibs, but especially Laios got chewed out about some shit and has been trying to be better, slips up every now and then but takes criticism well so long as folks tell him what he did/said wrong).

Local weird kids put off vibes that the rest of the village didn't like, Laios and Falin grew up bullied and ostracized. Falin got sent off to schooling in the big city and later to a university in Italy where she met Marcille.

Laios dropped out of high school and joined the military as soon as he was able to b/c he wanted to get the hell out of dodge. Served for a few shitty years b4 just... deserting and backpacking across Europe just straight up homeless and working whatever odd jobs he could find. Man was going through it. Wound up in the same city where Falin was studying at a university in and decided to visit her. She took one look at him and refused to let him just go back to what he was doing, so Laios started couch surfing with her (very much against dorm rules but he looked terrible and Falin wasn't about to let anyone stop her from making sure her brother has a roof over his head and food).

Eventually, she takes him with her when she does a work-study in the USA for her ecology degree and they ended up staying/Falin kinda maybe sorta dropped out and got a job with a vet near where she was doing her work-study.

Laios and Falin are technically illegal immigrants but they're white so no one really questions their citizenship (their working on getting citizenship/papers)

Laios gets a GED. Does some self-study from Falin's textbooks and online stuff but that's about it for his schooling.

Laios definitely, like, lives in Falin's basement. Falin is the primary breadwinner in this household, Laios is aware of this and has learned to accept it even tho he would like to take care of his baby sister and sometimes feels bad about not being able to. They used to share a room in a cheap apartment but after building up enough savings they managed to buy a suspiciously cheap house in a rural town bordering a reservation and not far from a national park.

Laios still works odd jobs, mostly physical labor and stuff where they won't ask for a degree. Has worked retail, where his customer service was trash but he's darn good at just stocking and shelving shit.

Met Chilchuck while working retail, Chilchuck introduced him to the concept of a union which Laios thinks is really neat.

The town where the Touden's moved has a sizable population of people with dwarfism, Chilchuck is a notable member of the little person community in the area. The Touden's go to Chilchuck for help with paperwork (they pay him a small fee) and he doesn't ask too many questions about why they don't have this or that piece of documentation.

Laios enjoys doing citizen science and bird watching. During the tourist season, he runs a small wilderness guide giving campers and hikers tours in the local national park.

There's a hermit that lives in the national park illegally (Senshi) that Laios and Falin made friends with. They love his cooking.

Laios is active in the online furry community. He does commissions, mostly of digital and physical art or people's fursonas and vore stuff. He does great ferals, and decent anthros, but his human art is not good (he's working on it).

Laios is decidedly chubby in this, his weight goes up and down depending on the season and how much physical activity he's doing. But ever since he reunited with Falin, she's been making sure he doesn't skip meals if they can afford to eat. And ever since he met Senshi he's gotten heftier since he loves that man's cooking.

[skyfallslayer]

The Black & White Lie || Chapter One

-Modern Day!Eddie Munson x Wheeler!Reader-

Series Masterlist

🦋Summary: Ah, College. A time where you can finally spread your wings and enjoy a little bit of freedom. And you’re even spending it with your best friend, Jonathan. You shouldn’t get too lonely… right?

🦋Pairings: Slow burn! Eddie Munson x Wheeler!Reader; (Past) Jason Carver x Reader; Platonic! Jonathan Byers x Reader; Jonathan x Nancy

🦋Rating: Teen

🦋Word Count: 3,248

🦋Date: 2/18/24

🦋Warnings: Brief mention of underage drinking; Brief talks of sex - of losing virginity; Slight Reference to a panic attack. Read At Your Own Risk!

🦋 A/N: If you recognized the summary for this story, this is actually inspired by the movie 'Son-In-Law'. When I watched for the first time the other day, for some reason the love interest reminded me of Eddie a lot and- *Ding*Ding*! Lightbulb moment! And then before you know it, every idea came flooding in and then this was born. Hopefully it turns out like it did in my head. Lol. Enjoy!

In a small rural town in Hawkins, Indiana, is where this strange adventure begins. Born 18 years ago is our main protagonist of the story, Y/N Wheeler. Y/N grew up with a loving family that owns a farm, consisting of her twin sister, Nancy, her younger brother, Mike, and baby sister, Holly; and of course her parents. 

When she wasn’t helping out on her parents’ farm, Y/N was the typical “all american” girl. She dawns lovely clothes, is mindful and full of manners, a cheer captain and top of her classes throughout the school years and earned many straight A’s that steered her in the right direction for a bright future and career. Which leads to her very big day…

.

.

.

Now here you are, dressed in hunter green silk and caps, the seniors waited around on the bleachers of the basketball court, diplomas in hand as they listened to their principal speak from his heart, telling them that he was very proud that you made it this far. When he finishes everyone claps and soon the spotlight falls upon you as the class valedictorian. 

You stood up as your name was called, hearing everyone applaud and your family cheer from you in the stands; You even heard your boyfriend, Jason, shouting your name. You step up to the podium with a smile, proceeding to recite the speech that you’ve replayed thousands of times.

“Today, I would like to talk about change. It’s all around us.” You feel your family’s eyes on you as you begin. “Change. It happens whether we want it or not. Change. Are we ready for it? I think so. We are poised and prepared for the future, ready to embrace new people, places and ideas. In short, we are ready for the challenge of life. Lady and Gentleman, take a good look at us. We are the future. We are the Hawkins Tigers. Here us roar! We did it!”

“I give you the class of 20XX!” Your principal sent just as everyone sent their caps into the air while jumping with joy.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“We fucking did.” Your twin, Nancy, said once everyone was settled down into their friend’s house for the party. She passes you a drink and gives you a wink to silently tell you this was a… special fruit punch.

You laugh quietly. “Thank you Mr. Hopper.” You smile and take a sip before sighing with relief. “Four long years and it’s finally over.”

Nancy hums. “And you’re the one who’s jumping right back into it.”

You quirk your eyebrow up. “Hey, pot-kettle? You’re going to college, too.”

“Not willing…” She sighs. “I wish I could have gone to the same school as you.”

“I know.” You frown a little. It was always hard to not stay attached to your twin, especially when you’ve done pretty much everything together. However, you try to keep both your hopes up by saying, “But, hey… you can’t pass up a scholarship. Indiana’s instate school is still just as great as California’s. Not to mention, Indiana U has the best journalism courses, this is your dream! Your calling! You’ll be great.”

You see your sister smile, happy with the outcome just as someone came up and slung their arms around both your shoulders.

“How are my favorite girls doing?” Jonathan, who was your childhood/best friend, asked, with the biggest grin on his face. Whether that was from drinking or feeling the high of not being in highschool, you were unsure of but glad to see he was enjoying himself.

“Pretty amazing, actually.” Nancy replies to her boyfriend (Yeah, her boyfriend. Whom she should thank you for that). “You?”

He lets out a blissful sigh. “Fantastic! The nightmare is finally over.” 

You snorted and teased, “You really didn’t like it?”

“Hell, no. You think there’s room for a nerd like me? I never fit in.”

“Awe.” Nancy said, squeezing his cheek. “You’ll always be our nerd.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, hey! Y/N! Jonathan!” You both turned around to spot one of your brothers’ friends, Dustin. He smiles with his goofy toothless grin, making you heart melt (He was always your favorite one. Don’t tell, Mike). “Hey, if you find a cute girl around my age in Cali, send her my way.”

“Dusty!” His mother said, catching his conversation when she walked by.

“What?”

Jonathan laughs. “We’ll try. I promise.” He said, ruffling the kid’s springy hair.

He holds his hand to his chest, all moved. “What about you Nancy? Any cute girls in Bloomington?” 

“I will definitely try, Dustin.” She promises as well, crossing her heart. It must have been enough for the boy before he ran off with some friends to the backyard.

“What do you think Cali’s like?” Jonathan asked, genuinely curious.

“Hmm, don’t know.” Nancy said, knowing just watching shows from there and reading up about it wasn’t enough information.

“I mean, sun, sand, ocean, uh–” 

“Baywatch, The Hollywood sign, uh, Nickelodeon, um–” You started naming off things and couldn’t hide the fact that you were about to laugh at your own antics. Both your sister and friend were on the verge of doing the same.

“Nickelodeon?” Jonathan muttered, surprised.

“Y-Yeah, uh, Regular Show, San Andreas fault, Chris Pine, Comic Con, Pet Rocks–”

“Pet Rocks?” Nancy asked, confused.

“Hey, they were invented in the state, look it up. Uh, Universal Studios, Barbie, The San Diego Zoo, Alcatraz–”

She chuckles. “Y/N, Stop.”

“Never.”

“Oh, kids!” Jonathan’s mother, Joyce, called out, getting their attention. 

Well, I guess that’s your guys’ cue to take some photos.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You were all packed and ready to go for the next day. Since Nancy didn’t start school till next week, your family decided it would be nice for all of you to pack in the old van and drive to your new school. Your Dad says it was for… safety, but you knew better; They were all going to desperately miss you. Which leads to this conversation that’s been going back and forth for a few moments now.

“-California is a long way off just to go to school. Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider going in state?” Your father, Ted, asked, and just when you were about to ‘go to bed’.

You laugh lightly, trying to calm his nerves. “You know I want to do this. Besides, I won’t be alone. Jonathan will be there with me.” 

“Well– that’s true. But uh, Y/N, I’m not sure if I’ve really prepared you for what you’re gonna run into out there. Uh–” He clears his throat as you raise an eyebrow. “What I mean is… the boys are different from what they are here. They’re uh–”

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

You smile. “I’ll be fine. You know me.”

He nods. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He knows you well enough that you won’t do anything too crazy. “Now let’s try to get some shut eye.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

“‘Night.” 

And when the door shut, your closet automatically flew wide open (and you pray that it didn’t make too much noise).

“He’s officially calling it a night?” Nancy asked, dressed in street clothes which you were also wearing under your robe. She was skeptical as she stared at the door wondering if he’ll just waltz back in here without warning.

“Yep.” You reply, shedding your coverage and standing tall.

“Oh, finally! He gave the same talk, and I don’t leave for another week!” She smiles. “Thanks for letting me sneak out.”

“Hey, we both got to see our boyfriends before we leave, right?”

“Just–” She grabs you by your hands. “Be careful, alright?”

“Right back at you, Nance.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You found yourself in the barn that was far away from your house. Laying on the hay bales, you were kissing Jason passionately, your hands in his hair and slowly moaning his name as he slowly undoes each button on your blouse. But your worriedness got the best of you, making you squirm a bit from his touch.

“Jason.” You whisper, feeling his fingers skim across your bra straps.

“What?” He said back, ghosting your ripe lips.

“Slow down.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I-I want it to be right.” You reply, a twinge of guilt courses through you as he stops his actions, looking you dead in the eyes with concern and softness.

“Well, when is it going to be right?” He asked, sounding like a lost puppy. “You’re leaving tomorrow.”

You almost laugh at the face he was making. “You act like it’s forever.”

“Well I’m not going to see you for three months. What if everything changes?”

“Nothing is going to change.” You shake your head, cupping his face and stroking his cheeks with your thumb. “I’ll go to school, you’ll work at the co-op, and we’ll see each other every single vacation. And when I’m done–” You smile. “We’ll be together.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay.” He whispers, fully under your spell. “I guess I can wait.”

You hum in delight. “Now…” You pull him closer again. “Where were we?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Dad’s going to blow a fuse if we don’t leave soon!” Nancy says, barging into the bathroom where you were finishing up doing your hair.

“I know, I know. I’m finishing up.” You said, sparing your twin a glance. You can see her button her collared shirt all the way up, making you grin like the cheshire cat. “Oooh… I didn’t know Byers was a biter.”

She blushed and lightly smacked you in the arm. “Do not tease me. I mean he always is.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Always?”

“Yeah.” She locks eyes with you, face still red before realizing. “Wait… You and Jason still haven’t done it?”

Now it was your turn to blush. “W-Well–”

“I thought you surely were going to do it last night?”

“I-I don’t know, I got weird.” You shrug, breaking eye contact. “I told him we should wait, you know, when the time’s right.”

“So you’re going to be like a 40 year old virgin?” Nancy teased, copying your grin from earlier.

“Hey.” You said, smacking her this time. 

“Joking, I think it’s sweet. Y/N Wheeler, the purest of all Wheelers.”

“You know they think you’re pure too.” You said as you followed her out and down the stairs.

“Ha, ha.”

“I’m serious, Nance!” You reply, feeling around your pockets as you do so. “Oh, crap. I forgot my phone.”

“Well hurry up! Dad’s a ticking time bomb.” She yelled back and hustled out of the house. The conversation she foretold was being presented in front of her.

“I don’t get why we’re driving. Flying would be much easier.” Mike complained as he loaded his backpack into the car with a sour expression.

“We’re just trying to spend some quality time with your sister, Okay?” Their mother, Karen said, giving him a look to tell him to stop.

“Oh, good, Holly’s here.” Ted said, as he spotted the four year old climbing into the van. “Mike, where’s your sisters?” 

“I’m here!” Nancy said, while fixing her hair to cover her neck.

“Okay, where’s Y/N then?”

“Maybe she’s still in the barn with–” Mike snickers, before getting whacked in the back of his head by Nancy. “Ow! Mom!”

“Kids, stop fighting!” Karen shouted back.

“Y/N!” Ted called out, upon seeing his daughter still up in her room through her window.

“Coming!” You called back, double checking you have everything before you go (I mean I guess your family could mail anything you need to you but that’ll be a hassle for them; And maybe kind of a dick to do that to them?).

“Well hurry up! Time is of the essence.” He sighs. “I swear, the Byers are going to beat us there.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

And sure enough…

They did.

Parking pretty much right next to each other, you stood their basking in front of the school along with Jonathan and his sister. The younger girl was looking at it like she’s never seen such a big building before.

“Bitchin’.” She says, and both you and Jonathan hold back a laugh.

“Language, young lady.” Jim, or who you like to call, Hopper said to his daughter who gave him a strange look.

“You say it all the time.” 

“Think she’s caught you there.” Jonathan said, throwing salt into the wound.

“You’re not helping your sister here.” He points to the car. “Now I’m going to make my kids grab your own bags.”

“What?!” They said, which resulted in some light bickering, which was kind of happening with the other family beside them.

“Y/N! Get your head out of the clouds, and let’s find your dorm.” Ted said, and you hurry over. 

The families grabbed the belongings and headed straight first into the hectic crowd. This was definitely a culture shock for them, especially for the Wheelers. The hallway was crowded with rowdy young adults, cracking jokes, makeout sessions, and even the occasionally streaker. You locked eyes with your sister when it happened, who was trying to hold back a smirk as your eyes just stayed wide. Your dad ushered you to keep moving until you found your dorm, overhearing a conversation while you passed.

“Uh, this was the– uh, opportunity that you wanted for your daughter?” Ted said, as Karen tried to hold back her feelings on her face (Which was hard at this point).

When you finally got to the room at the end of the hall, room 408, you noticed the left side of the room was empty, free for you to use. The other side was already occupied, filled with a few movie posters and cheer pendants. You smiled and wondered what your roommate would be like (and was excited that she likes cheerleading like you. At least you have a good conversation started).

“Hey, why don’t you see where Jonathan’s at?” You tell Nancy who complied and dove back into the crowd.

“Well this is very cozy, sweetie.” Karen said, trying to stay positive.

“It’s a shithole.” Mike replies, plopping on your bed.

“Mike!”

“What?”

“It’s… not bad. I’ll do.” You said, also trying to keep your head up high. But your brother tries to say something else and you were fortunately saved by a cute ginger girl entering the room.

“Hello, there. I’m Chrissy, your roomie.” She said, slightly shy as she gave the family a wave.

“Hi.” You said, waving too. “I’m Y/N.”

“Sorry to bother you, Chrissy, but it seems we forgot the key to her trunk.” Ted said, gesturing to where most of your belongings were. “Do you have any idea where I can get some tools?”

“Oh, yes. Uh, our resident advisor should have something.” She points across the hall. “He’s right across from here.”

“Oh, perfect. Thank you.” He was secretly happy that his precious daughter would be across from the advisor. He pushes himself past some people, knuckles brushing against the door. He knocked a few times afterwards when he didn’t get a response, wondering if maybe it was too loud to even hear it or he’s not in. So, treading carefully, he opens the door to peek inside.

This was not at all what he was expecting.

He was blasted in the face with ‘Iron Maiden’, and a room that screamed heavy metal. Stickers and posters laid across the wall, all consisting of either some kind of band or horror film; A record player-CD combo on the shelf, instruments of every kind, sheet music on the floor, leather jackets and boots hanging off from the windows and ceiling. This was not…

Resident advisor material.

Did he walk into the wrong place or–

“Hello!!” A voice shouts before he dangled upside down in front of the older man. Ted nearly has a heart attack as he startles and falls back against the door. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, I’m just trying to get the creative juices flowing. You know?”

“Uh– s-sure.” Ted said, still trying to process this. He keeps his eyes on him and not the fact that this boy was hanging from a pipe. “Um, I need to borrow a screwdriver.”

The boy, who’s hair was long and curly and orbs of cinnamon, raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, I’m all out of vodka.”

“N-No, I need an actually screwdriver. My daughter’s trunk is–”

“Oh, you have a daughter! Is she cute?”

“What–”

“I’m just kidding.” He smiles and holds his hand out. “Name’s Eddie. I’m the resident advisor.”

Make that a second heart attack for Mr. Wheeler, who’s face paled as he tried reaching for the doorknob behind him. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit.”

“What? Where are you going?” He asked, with a snort. “Don’t leave me hanging.”

But Ted was already hustling back over to the room where they were still talking to Chrissy, who was getting them up to speed on how this place ran. He comes over to his wife, pulling her aside and discussing what he just witnessed and how he’s not liking this. Meanwhile, Nancy had just returned while stringing along her boyfriend.

“Oh, Chrissy, this is my twin Nancy and my friend Jonathan.” You said, as she waves to them.

“Hi. You guys coming to school too?” Chrissy asked, your sister shaking her head.

“I am.” Jonathan said, before looking at you. “Y/N/N, this is awesome.”

You tilt your head. “Really? I still think this is a bit overwhelming.”

“I admit, it is, but my roommate, Argyle, is a trip.” He smiles. “I’m so going to love this place.”

“See, honey–” Karen said, loudly. “Jonathan’s staying.” She holds her hand up to stop her husband from talking. “And yes, I’m sure Joyce has some words about this place too, but the kids can’t pass this up. They got on a scholarship here.”

“But Karen–” He tries to protest.

“They. Have. A. Scholarship. They’re staying.” Her eyes trailed over to yours. “Right?”

You flash your dad a smile. “Don’t worry, Dad. It’ll be fine. And you know I can always come home.”

“See, Ted?” Your mother points out, finally defeating him. He mumbles an ‘okay’, satisfying her.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Mom, you’re suffocating me.” Jonathan said, after yet another hug and kiss from his mother. She was holding back some tears at the thought of leaving her oldest child behind in another state. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m really happy for you, I promise.” 

“I know, Mom, I know.” He takes her hands in his. “I promise I’ll be okay.” She opens her mouth to speak. “And I promise I’ll call every once and a while.”

Joyce smiles at the answer. “You’re going to do great.”

The family of five shared a hug afterwards, wishing him the best of luck. Meanwhile, the Wheelers were doing the same, squeezing the life of You and nagging you to make you call, or at least text them here and there. You of course promised them too, which was a good enough answer.

The last person to hug you was your sister, giving you a small squeeze of reassurance, knowing you like the back of her hand.

“I know you’re nervous about fitting it, but don’t sweat it.” She says, pulling away. “You’re going to do fine. If not, you can always go home, or…” She smirks. “You can nag Jonathan.”

You chuckle. “Of course I can nag him. It’s not like I’ll be alone.”

You have Jonathan, and you even have your chill roommate, Chrissy. You shouldn’t get too lonely.

.

.

.

.

Right?

(TBC)

A/N: I promise the next one will be longer :) - Thanks for reading!

-Taglist Is Open-

[mariacallous]

Vovchansk is a small Ukrainian town that sits just three miles from the border with Russia. Dotted with farmland and Soviet-era factories, it carries the memory of successive invasions and occupations. During the Second World War, as the Wehrmacht and the Red Army fought relentlessly in and around nearby Kharkiv—control of that city changed hands four times—Vovchansk was occupied by Nazi forces for more than a year. Today, two years into Russia’s war in Ukraine, as the Russian military has managed to shift momentum in its favor, the town is again at the center of decisive battles.

The story of Vovchansk’s present-day occupation began on the first day of the invasion, in February, 2022, when Russian units streamed across the border. They took the town without much of a fight, but they were eventually worn down by insufficient troop numbers, disorganized command, and a lack of air and artillery power. That September, Ukraine mounted a surprise counter-offensive, leading Russian forces to retreat from Vovchansk and dozens of other towns in the Kharkiv region.

On May 10th of this year, with the war in a very different phase, Russia attacked again. The so-called “meat storm,” in which wave after wave of foot soldiers are sent into the line of fire—Western intelligence services estimate that the total number of Russian dead and wounded has surpassed half a million—remains a grim hallmark of Russian operations, but the military has adapted. The Kremlin has replenished the armed forces by way of a military draft and financial incentives, recruiting as many as thirty thousand new soldiers every month, and is spending a third of the national budget on defense and security. According to nato estimates, Russia produces three million artillery shells per year—more than double the number that all nato member states combined can provide Ukraine. The Russian Army has become adept at using drones and electronic countermeasures to stymie Ukraine’s own battlefield innovations, and the Air Force has retrofitted Soviet-era one-and-a-half-ton unguided “dumb” bombs with wings and G.P.S. navigation to create “glide bombs,” which are used to level troop formations and entire city blocks alike.

Meanwhile, Ukraine is facing perhaps its toughest moment yet in the war. For months, recalcitrant Republicans in Congress blocked the passage of a new aid package, and Ukrainian stocks of everything from anti-aircraft missiles to artillery shells grew scarce. Ukrainian commanders estimate that Russian forces now have a ten-to-one advantage in artillery rounds. With air defenses depleted, Ukrainian cities—Kharkiv most of all—endured the most sustained assaults since the war began. Missile strikes knocked out power grids across the country. In late April, Congress finally approved a sixty-one-billion-dollar arms package, but the war’s momentum had already turned, and, in any case, heavy-weapons systems and armaments can’t reach the battlefield overnight. Last week, for the first time, the government in Kyiv ordered nationwide blackouts.

But a lack of arms is only one of Ukraine’s problems; the military is also short on soldiers. In the early days of the war, there was no shortage of people looking to sign up to fight, but finding eager recruits has become far more difficult. Discontent is rising as the draft affects mostly those who tend to bear the brunt of fighting in any war: people from more rural regions, the less educated, the relatively less well off. President Volodymyr Zelensky had no ready solution to this dilemma, and the parliament failed to pass a mobilization law for more than a year. Last month, Zelensky finally signed a series of laws expanding the draft and, his administration argues, making it more transparent and efficient. But there is still no process for demobilizing troops, so those who are called up fear that they are being handed a one-way ticket—not an attractive prospect in a grinding war of attrition that, according to U.S. intelligence, has killed seventy thousand Ukrainian soldiers. And, as with the long-delayed influx of U.S. arms, the new laws will take time to change the reality on the battlefield.

It was within this window of opportunity that Russia launched its current offensive. Fighting continues in the streets of Vovchansk, as Ukrainian commanders speak euphemistically of units that have “moved to more advantageous positions, as a consequence of enemy fire and storming action,” and less euphemistically of a Russian “tactical success.” Russia’s incursion is what’s known in military parlance as a “fixing” operation—a way to tie down forces in one area of fighting to create advantage in another. Vladimir Putin’s immediate priority remains the capture of the entirety of the Donbas region, in eastern Ukraine.

When Putin’s initial war aims—the sacking of Kyiv and the overthrow of Zelensky—failed in the invasion’s early days, it seemed as if a prolonged war would favor Ukraine. Zelensky didn’t flee. The Russian Army was in disarray. The West proved more united than Putin imagined. But that logic reversed long ago. Even with a year’s worth of U.S. weapons on the way, Ukraine cannot count on future aid packages, particularly if Donald Trump becomes President again. And for all the talk in Washington and in European capitals of the existential nature of the fight, they have not used the past two years to seriously upgrade or expand arms production.

The Biden Administration, out of fear of escalation, prohibits U.S. weapons from being used against targets in sovereign Russian territory. (Last week, Russia staged drills near the border, simulating the use of tactical nuclear weapons.) But, Ukrainian officials argue, that is where Russia is now launching its strikes. Zelensky thinks that Putin’s nuclear posturing is essentially just that, and in a recent interview with the Times he said that Russian forces “proceed calmly, understanding that our partners do not give us permission” to use Western weapons to hit back.

If Vovchansk falls, Russian artillery will again be within firing distance of Kharkiv. The campaign to render Ukraine’s second-largest city—with a prewar population of 1.5 million people, the size of Amsterdam—functionally uninhabitable would gain force. Putin has indicated he believes that if Russia applies enough pressure, destruction, and misery, the West will end its support of Ukraine, which would lead to political change in Kyiv, with Zelensky replaced by figures sympathetic to Moscow. But that outcome is not inevitable. As the story of Vovchansk shows, the trajectories of wars can change many times.

[unflded]

    • ° .   *   ࿐  blasting  SEX  ON  FIRE  by  KINGS  OF  LEON  through  their  airpods  is   𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐍   𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐘  .  oh  ,  you  don’t  know  them ? they’re  the  twenty6   year  old  MUSICIAN  who  just  went  viral  for the headline :  TROUBLED  SONGSTER  CAUGHT  SULKING  BEHIND  THE  SCENES  WITH  ON-AND-OFF  EX  AT  THEIR  GO  -  TO  DINNER  SPOT  —  WHEN  WILL  THEY  LEARN  HE  CAN’T  BE  TRUSTED  ?   .  yup  ,  the  one  that  drives  a  FERRARI  348  TS  .  i  hear  they’re  pretty  VISIONARY  ,  but  others  have  claimed  that  they’re  quite  MOROSE  .  that  makes  sense  ,  considering  they’re  often  labeled  as  the  black  hole   .

* 𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 .

full name: stefan healey. nickname(s): stef, steffy, stefano. age: twenty6. gender: cis man. sexuality: tbd. zodiac: gemini. occupation: musician— guitarist + singer/songwriter. career claim: role model <3

* 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 .

he   grew   up   in   rural   appalachia,   a   west   virginia   town   with   a   single   school   for   the   entire   small   sleepy   grove   of   300.   father   a   logger,   mother   a   tailor,   the   youngest   of   4   in   a   family   torn   apart   by   tumultuous   unpredictability.   their   town   didn’t   get   internet   until   stefan   was   about   9,   before   which   he   would   read   every   book   available   in   the   town’s   run   -   down   library.   once   they   got   their   first   touch   of   the   outside   world,   the   boy,   born   into   poverty   yet   knowing   there   is   more   available,   became   obsessed   with   the   potential   he   knew   he   possessed   that   would   guide   him   out   of   the   mountain   range   and   into   the   light. stefan   became   obsessed   with   music,   teaching   himself   to   play   guitar   and   getting   his   hands   on   any   old   records   he   could   in   order   to   practice.   his   dad’s   old   guitar,   gone   untouched   for   years   as   he   now   preferred   to   wind   down   by   drinking   himself   blind,   became   stefan’s   best   friend—   and   the   internet,   to   which   he’d   post   videos   of   himself   playing   any   and   everything,   became   his   biggest   fan.   he   shunned   the   real   world,   obsessing   over   posting   daily,   knowing   mastery   of   the   thing   he   loves   most   would   be   his   best   ticket   out   of   a   life   where   he’d   be   relegated   to   chopping   trees   or   mining   for   the   rest   of   his   life. he’s   discovered   online   and   sent   an   email   by   a   talent   scout   for   a   boarding   school   in   new   york   for   the   arts   and   he   doesn’t   think   twice   before   stealing   his   brother’s   bike   to   make   the   miles-long   trek   out   to   the   nearest   bus   station,   guitar   case   on   his   back   and   stolen   cash   in   his   pocket.   his   audition   changes   his   life,   and   by   the   age   of   14,   it’s   the   last   his   west   virginia   town   sees   of   him.    new   york   is   not   kind,   but   stefan   is   relentless   in   his   pursuit   of   greatness,   and   spends   sleepless   nights   obsessing   over   becoming   the   best.   of   his   class,   of   his   grade,   of   his   craft   altogether.   he   gets   signed   to   a   to   go   touring   as   a   guitarist   for   major   pop   stars   by   the   age   of   17,   and   by   his   19th   birthday,   he   has   taken   to   singing   to   release   his   first   album   as   a   solo   artist.   his   success   takes   off   overnight,   offering   with   it   an   escape   for   the   backwoods   boy   to   leave   behind   the   life   that   nearly   trapped   him   in   mediocrity.

* 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.

 stefan,   brooding,   sulking,   yet   sharp   -   eyed   and   singular   in   his   focus,   has   an   incurable   case   of   being   insatiable   at   heart,   that   taints   everything   he   does.   through   everything,   a   shadow   is   cast   as   he   wonders   to   himself   if   he   can   do   more,   if   he   can   get   more   out   of   it,   if   he   can   push   further.   alive   once   and   believing   this   is   his   only   lifetime   to   do   so,   he   ruins   more   than   he   starts   through   his   fear   of   missing   out.   though   he   carries   himself   with   a   cat   -   like   air   of   non   -   chalance,   there’s   a   visible   shadow   he   casts   wherever   he   touches,   someone   who   can’t   ever   get   enough   of   the   life   he   lives   and   makes   it   very   clear   that   he   would   sooner   let   things   implode   than   tie   himself   to   something   half   -   tried.   blunt,   cantankerous,   yet   never   willing   to   commit   to   a   full   fight,   stefan   picks   at   holes   in   armor   and   logic   until   he’s   unraveled   the   whole   thing.   he’s   self   -   aware   and   painfully   straightforward   about   what   awaits   anyone   who   seeks   entering   his   circle,   perhaps   somewhat   refreshingly   negative   in   a   world   of   insincerity   that   surrounds   the   glitz   and   glam.

* 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

former bandmates: on-and-off exes: people he records guitar for: muses for his music: close friends: 1-3 inner circle: friends from music school in NYC:

[adalwolfgang]

What shall I tell my ma...

Chapter 1

Teen!Beaugard (Bo) Sinclair x Teen!Fem!reader

Summary: You met Beaugard Sinclair back in 1989 when Ambrose was still heavily settled with people. This is how it yalls story started.

A/N for future chapters: Bo is 17 and you're 16 and the story takes place in 1989, back then if you told a kid to go left, they'd go right. I asked my ma who was born in 1974 in a rural town questions before writing this and all I got to say is, back then things were very different. Kids underage did things they shouldn't have been doing but did it anyway. That being said I don't condone kids under the age of 18 doing anything that's mentioned below or in future chapters. This is fictional, not real life. I also plan to make this a series if people ask for it enough.

Warnings: 1989, Victor and Trudy Sinclair, Bo being Bo, Small harassment, Characters might be a little ooc.

Credit to @cafekitsune for the banner(s)!

You step over the small grate as you make your way to the front door of the gas station. A canister held firmly in your hand. Your fathers truck ran out of gas, so he sent you into town with $10 to fetch some for him. In return, he'd given you 5 more dollars to buy a treat for yourself at the gas station. It wasn't uncommon for kids your age to be running errands like this for your parents or anyone for that matter.

The door chimed as you entered. Led Zeppelin meets your ears as you spot a radio resting on the counter. You walk around a bit, looking over the selection of drinks and snacks. As you do, a brunette around your age it seemed, walked out of the back room holding a dirty rag. When it spots you, a small smirk appearing on his face.

"How can ah help ya little lady?" He wipes his hands clean with the rag before tossing it over his shoulder and going behind the counter. His eyes never leaving yours.

You raise the canister a little in your hand, "In need of some gas. Whatever $10 will get me." You place the canister on the counter, along with a drink you picked up from the cooler. "I'd also like to buy this please."

"We got plenty uh fuel, no problem'." He took the canister off the counter and walked to the back. After a couple minutes, he came back, setting the now full canister on the counter. As he rings up your drink, he try's making small talk. "Are ya headin' sumwhere in particular or yer uh local?"

"I live just outside of Ambrose, just never really had a reason to stop by here until now," You explain to the young man as you watch him ring you up. You give him a puzzled look when all he charges you for is the drink.  

"I see." That wasn't interesting at all he thought. When he notices your confusion, his smirk grows bigger. "On thuh house since yer uh new face." His eyes wander over your figure before looking back up at your face. "Yer uh purdy little thang though," he looks you up and down once more, clicking his tongue in thought. "Ya got anybody waitin' for ya back home?" he asked with a teasing grin.

You bite the inside of your cheek, your grip tightening on the handle of the canister. "Just my parents. I best get back before my dad runs me a new one for wasting time," You explain as you give a polite smile. His face falls a little in disappointment before perking back up as if his demeanor hadn't changed.

"How often do ya thank you'll come back here again? Sure ya can't stay uh bit? It gets quite borin' here alone..." He leans his elbow on the counter, resting his chin in his hand. His eyes traveling up your body, lingering for a moment on the curve of your hip. He smirked teasingly, "Ah promise, you'd enjoy yerself."  

You give a nervous laugh nodding your head to him before muttering a small goodbye and retreating out of the station with the canister and your drink held firmly in your hands. Bo watches your retreating form, smiling and shaking his head to himself as he lets out a small sigh. His eyes spot a couple of bills laying under a notepad, this causes him to smile softly at the cash. "Touché darlin'...."

A few days go by as you carry on with life. The small interaction at the gas station long forgotten. You walk down the street of Ambrose, a small list of errands your mother had tasked you to do for the day. As you read over the list, you hear someone call out, "Hey!" You look around for the voice, quickly spotting the guy from the gas station a few days prior sitting in an old Chevy k-30. He hops out of the truck and start jogging over to you. "Where ya goin', purdy girl?" He walked right infront of you, blocking your path.

Your faces show a little of puzzlement and amusement. You ignore his question, instead asking one of your own. "Aren't you that mechanic at the station?"

"The mechanic, yeah. Bo Sinclair." He nodded with a grin, his eyes moving up and down your body before they meet yours again. "...And you?" He asked, casually wrapping an arm around your waist. "Purdy girl like you gotta' hav' uh name." He asked playfully.

Your face heats up a little from the bold gesture, a nervous smile appearing on your face. "Why do you want to know my name?"

"Cuz ah just wanna make sure ah git' yer name right when I'm introducin' ya to mah ma as mah new girlfriend!" Bo said, that teasing smirk back on his face, he was clearly not backing down. "So? Whut shall ah tell mah ma when ya come back home with may fer dinner?" He said, the playful tone in his voice clear.

"Mhm....well, as interesting as it would be meeting your ma, I have errands to do, so I'll have to politely decline. But I'll generous with telling you my name since you gave me yours. It's (Name)." You explain as you move away from his grasp, making sure your list wasn't crumbled. You start walking again, leaving Bo to talk to himself for a second.

"Name," Bo said, tasting how it rolled off his tongue. "I like thet." He had a grin on his face, the sound of your name on his tongue felt oddly charming to him. "Ah promise mah ma ain't scary," he cuts himself off before adding "atleast not tuh guest's." He comes back to reality when he notices you walking away. He lets out a short huff in annoyance before calling out to you, "The more ya reject uh man, the more he wants ya!" Bo shouted, as if it was the truth, a smug grin plastered on his face. "It's gist the way it iz!" He shouted, shrugging before he continued with a teasing tone. "But ya gist keep playin' chur little game girl! Eventchly you'll give into me!" He shouted one final time before you turned a corner, a smirk still plastered on his face. "I know it..."

Tags: @ninakuli

[dontcallpanic]

Hi there sweetheart! 🩵 as i said on my post, im turning this around

what are some of the things that never fail to make you smile?

and I'll also ask: what are some of the things/people that scream 'love' from miles away for you?

@gege-wondering-around I am so, so sorry this has taken so long – as usual. Life is chaos but I really appreciate the ask! You’re so kind and so lovely and your answer was perfect I hope I can do this justice! Diolch yn fawr iawn and here we go

Family. – One member in particular keeps wandering around singing Life is a Highway very badly and offkey and I just love it! It’s so cosy and fun and I just love it when things are calm enough that people can relax and be themselves. My cat (called Busy) also makes me smile. She’s a floozy cat and loves attention.

Writing – I’m working on something for my absolute best friend which has a bit of a story behind it. It’s a Sterek Au that came about because I went back home. I grew up in among those strange rural small towns where everything is a bit weird and a little left of reality. I was in the local supermarket and for some reason in the back rooms they had this section absolutely chock full of plaid shirts so I snapped a pic and sent it to my friend for fun as a Stiles reference. And from that we just kind of ran with this strange Sterek, small town au where all sorts of strange, odd, supernatural things happened. So, of course I had to write it for her. But I write REALLY slowly. It’s not going to be finished any time soon but it’s 18000 words so far! Anyway, it’s purely for fun and full of joy and bittersweet things and it makes me smile SO much. Have a snippet! He can see it now. He’s going to become a cautionary tale. Parents everywhere will tell their children all about the dangers of running off to find themselves and all because he got lost in the woods and eaten by a bear. My what big teeth you have and all that. Wait – that’s little red riding hood. Maybe he’ll be eaten by wolves, not bears… That would be exactly his luck. Especially when there are famously no wolves in California. What was the moral of that story again? Something about not trusting strangers? Never leave the path? Something else about… not… going… for a walk in the woods… alone? Fuck. Stiles runs an anxious hand down the front of his favourite red hoodie. Double fuck. There was no way he was little red riding hood. The universe wouldn’t be that cruel, right? The colour of his jacket should have no bearing on the likelihood of him being eaten by a wild animal. Absolutely not. None, whatsoever. Nope. Incidentally, has anyone done any research on whether bears are attracted to certain colours more than others?

Adventures – I love exploring and just seeing new places, near or far. It doesn’t really matter where but show me a quiet road surrounded by tall trees and I am just giddy with happiness. I love driving too so that helps!

Music – this is one of the things that I live for. I love how much music can give you, from inspiration, to pure feeling, vibes, joy, drama, beautiful poetry. It’s everything and it’s got everything! Here’s a link to my favourites playlist (that I'm still adding to!) but it’s full of all sorts of everything . Listen at your own risk!

Kindness - I’ll shout out to people on Tumblr too. I love seeing people be themselves and owning their weird, whatever it is! That always makes me smile – especially when something good happens for someone I follow. I loved what you said about kindness too. The words I try to live by are be curious and have compassion. Everyone’s going through something and the world can always use a bit more kindness!

Things that scream love from miles away (loved this question!)

Friends – I have two best friends who are the complete opposite of each other and I love them so much. They keep me going and whatever’s going on, they can always make me smile.

I’m moving away from them both which is breaking my heart a bit but something they both do which, to me, screams love from a distance is they’ll just send me things.

One friend sends memes and funny videos

The other shares her day and sends me pictures of what she’s doing.

I love this so much because its just I saw this and thought of you! It’s quick, it’s sweet, its thoughtful and it just means so much to me that they are going about their day and they take the time to think oh, I thought you’d like this! Now my phone is full of their lives and it makes me so happy.

I try to reciprocate  as much as possible but everyone always says my love language is bread. I’ll often bake bread for my friends to pass on when I see them although I realise that might be harder these days. Posting bread doesn’t seem like the best idea…

I’ll also do a small shout out to my husband here, as we’re talking about things that scream love. We met about 14 years ago when I was 18. I saw him across the room in a crowded bar on my first day of Uni and it was love at first sight. Still can’t explain it to this day. He was just my person.

Thanks so much for the ask! It’s really sweet and I had a lot of fun thinking about this one! It’s always worth spreading a little love and happiness and I hope your day is full of pure joy! You deserve it!

[abigailspinach]

“How often in 100 days do you get to change the trajectory of the world? How often in 100 days do you get to do something that’s going to impact generations to come?” Walz asked. “And how often in the world do you make that bastard wake up afterwards and know that a Black woman kicked his a**, sent him on the road?”

The line was well received on the call and almost immediately grabbed headlines. For many Democrats, at least, the online virality – with apologies to Biden’s “Dark Brandon” meme – was the kind they have pined for over the past few years.

Walz also has a personal story befitting the zeitgeist – a family history, as he discussed last month, of infertility troubles, with his wife of three decades, Gwen, which allows him to speak with some authority against opponents or skeptics of in vitro fertilization, or IVF.

“My oldest daughter’s name is Hope. That’s because my wife and I spent seven years trying to get pregnant, needed fertility treatments, things like IVF – things (MAGA Republicans) would ban,” Walz told Harris supporters. “These guys are the anti-freedoms.”

And to draw a bright, cheeky line under his own childhood experience, Walz – not for the last time – recounted that he “grew up in a small town: 400 people, 24 kids in the class, 12 cousins.”

Prior to Congress, Walz was a high school teacher and football coach and served in the Army National Guard. Over more than a decade in Congress, he assembled a fairly centrist voting record. As a first-time campaigner, he opposed a ban on same-sex marriage and supported abortion rights. And once in Congress, he balanced that out with comparatively more conservative positions on gun rights, which resulted in scoring a National Rifle Association endorsement. Walz has since fallen out of favor with the gun lobby over his support for gun safety actions as governor.

“I think he was a solid Democratic member of the House with a few twists - focus on ag, farmers, rural areas,” said Democratic strategist Jeff Blodgett, a longtime aide to the late Sen. Paul Wellstone. “I think that he wanted to protect rifles and things of that nature as a rural congressman.”

Walz ran for governor in 2018, emerging victorious by a double-digit margin. He won reelection in 2022 with 52 percent of the vote. As governor Walz had to grapple with divided government and slim majorities in the state Legislature. But in 2022, the Democratic-Farmer-Labor Party (as the state’s Democratic Party is known) won control of both the state House and Senate giving Walz’s party a slim “trifecta” of legislative control.

That allowed Walz to sign into law a raft of expansive social welfare programs such as free lunch for public school students, expansive access to Medicaid, increased protections that allow workers to unionize and expanded medical and family paid family leave.

Through the trifecta, Minnesota Democrats were also able to codify abortion rights into law, increase transgender rights protections, pass a marijuana legalization bill and install new gun safety laws. Progressives hailed the work as an example of all that Democrats could achieve. Former President Barack Obama wrote in a tweet praising the most recent legislative session that it was a “reminder that elections have consequences.”

Walz touted the trifecta’s work in a combative 2023 State of the State address.

“There’s nowhere quite like Minnesota right now,” he told the audience of lawmakers. “Together, we’re not just showing the people of Minnesota what we’re capable of in delivering on our promises. We’re showing the entire American people just how much promise is contained in that progressive vision held by so many people.”

“As governor, he’s embraced the idea that it’s really important to invest in people and infrastructure to grow the economy,” Blodgett said. “And to do it in a way that really helps people in the middle and down below. To me, it’s just a huge focus on economic issues that are kitchen table issues that people care about.”

When speculation began about who Harris would pick as a running mate, Walz started out as the darkest of dark horses. He did get support from a few members of Congress such as Minnesota Rep. Angie Craig and Washington Rep. Pramila Jayapal of the Congressional Progressive Caucus, as well as encouragement from labor unions. In the end, Walz’s background as a governor experienced in working with Democrats and Republicans and his roots in rural Minnesota made him an appealing choice for Harris.

Walz was also a surprise to Republicans.

“Tim Walz doesn’t even register on the fear-o-meter,” Minnesota Republican strategist Kevin Poindexter said before the announcement, adding that Republicans had been more worried about Harris picking either Arizona Sen. Mark Kelly or Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro. “Him joining the ticket as VP does not bring anything.”

Democratic strategist Raghu Devaguptapu, a former Democratic Governors Association political director, characterized Walz as a “real steady hand” more than anything else as a governor.

“He’s not the most charismatic guy, but he’s a steady hand. He’s really thoughtful, very likeable. He’s done a really nice job of building a broad coalition of support. … That’s the center of strength around Tim Walz,” Devaguptapu said.

[cheesetalia]

Small Town, Tuesday Night

Written for the @microcest June 26th Prompt: Blind Date

America/Canada | 2.7k words | twincest, SFW

Rotting away in the boring small town he grew up in, Alfred lets himself be pushed into a blind-date with the one other gay guy in the area—some dude named Matthew. There's no way he'll hit it off with some stranger, but at least it'll shut his nagging dad up for awhile, and­­ offer some variety in a life where the days all blur together.

Matthew is spending his summer break upstate, enjoying hiking and fishing and being away from the hustle and bustle of the city. When his aunt offers to set him up with a coworker's son, he accepts. He wasn't exactly pining away for a boyfriend but maybe a little romance will spice up his summer.

Neither is prepared for what they'll see when they finally meet.

Ao3 Link

Alfred was relaxing on the couch peacefully picking flowers in Skyrim when Arthur walked in from the kitchen.

Alfred didn't even have to look up at his dad to know he was about to dish out some criticism. It was all he seemed to have for Alfred these days.

"I'm sick of seeing you mope about the house. You're twenty-six years old, if you can't find a job, you can at least meet someone!" Arthur said.

Alfred thought for the millionth time that he really needed to get a TV for his bedroom so he could take his PS5 upstairs and be safe from Arthur's relentless nagging.

"I've tried!" Alfred whined, "It's not that easy. Do you know how many gay guys there are around here? None!"

Here being a small town in rural Minnesota.

"Nonsense. Why, just the other day Chloé at work was saying her nephew came out as gay recently. You can date him." Arthur said, putting his hands on his hips.

He was wearing a little checkered apron over his clothes, and going by the harsh acrid stench of smoke beginning to waft out of the kitchen, he would be better off checking on his scones than pestering his son. But Alfred knew when Arthur got on a roll he wouldn't listen.

"One guy," Alfred grumbled, "and he could be forty for all I know."

"He is not forty," Arthur scoffed, "he's a student at the University of Minnesota."

"That doesn't mean anything, he could be a nontraditional student," Alfred said, just to be contrary.

At his age, he would be a nontraditional student if he enrolled, like Arthur was always nagging him to do.

"Quit making excuses," Arthur scolded, "do you want to be still sitting on my couch when you're forty? I'll ask Chloé his age and if he's closer to yours than mine, you can go on a date with him."

"Yeah sure whatever," Alfred mumbled.

It's not like he didn't want to find a partner, although having to be set up by his dad was so embarrassing. He was sure the guy would be a total dud, with nothing in common with Alfred other than being gay. Maybe a Log Cabin Republican, or some super flamboyant type.

Arthur smirked at Alfred's acquiescence, savoring the triumph of finally succeeding in one of his attempts to push his manchild son towards the milestones of adulthood.

That was, until he noticed the dark smoke now billowing out of the kitchen.

"Bollocks!"

*****

It turned out that Chloé's nephew was the same age as Alfred ("If that's not a sign I don't know what is," Arthur had said smugly).

"Okay, what's his number?" Alfred asked.

"I didn't get his number," Arthur said.

"Well get it! Geez. How do you expect me to get in touch with this guy without a phone number?" Alfred asked.

Arthur rolled his eyes and walked off to call Chloé (yes, call, because Arthur was such an old man he still called everyone instead of texting) and get Matthew's number. Alfred heard him mutter something about "in my day".

"In your day you probably sent a telegram," Alfred said.

Arthur walked back in, phone cradled to his ear and still chatting with his coworker, and flipped Alfred off.

Alfred sputtered. "I'd get grounded for a week if I did that," he protested.

Arthur put his hand over the phone's mouthpiece and said, "My house, my rules."

Alfred fumed. Maybe he'd hit it off with this Matthew guy, who'd get a high-paying job when he graduated, and then Alfred could move in with him and be his cute gamer house-husband.

Hell, Alfred would move into a shed with a hobo at this point to get away from Arthur's annoying ass. But a shed wouldn't have electricity for his PS5...

Alfred sighed. Better hope Matthew made the big bucks then. When Arthur finally (finally! God, the man gossiped like an old hen) returned with a scrap of paper with Matthew's number on it, Alfred snatched it out of his hands, saying "That could have been a text you tree-wasting bastard."

While Arthur started a longwinded rant about showing respect, Alfred sent Matt a quick text saying "Hi :)" and then started sleuthing online. Everyone had an online footprint. Time to find out what this Matthew was really like.

*****

Alfred dug around online in between texts with Matthew. Matthew was polite but didn't hesitate to answer all of Alfred's questions. Alfred had a tendency to bombard people with texts, sending a dozen in a row rapid-fire. Matthew didn't complain or ask Alfred to slow down, that was one point in his favor.

According to Matthew he was: in his senior year of college working on a Conservation Biology degree. He'd grown up in Canada but moved to the states as a teen. He enjoyed hockey, nature, and his favorite food was pancakes.

His taste in memes was excellent, and he and Alfred spent the next couple of hours sending each other dumb shit until Arthur yelled at him to be quiet because he was laughing so hard.

"Uptight British asshole," Alfred grumbled, but he took his phone and went to sit in the backyard all the same.

Fireflies glowed in the darkness a few yards from the deck, but their beauty was wasted on Alfred, who was too busy getting to know his new potential-boyfriend.

The hours passed quickly with them chatting about everything and nothing. Alfred was stoked to find out they had the same music taste (eclectic and broad, spanning all genres, even the ones people usually listed as exceptions, like country and rap) and liked a lot of the same bands. They played a lot of the same games too.

"I was actually playing Skyrim when Aunt Chloé called me about you." Matthew texted.

"haha, what a coinkydink. we're on the same wavelength." Alfred replied.

He was starting to feel really excited about their upcoming date (bowling, because "what else is there to do in this town?" "IKR???"). Maybe Matthew and him were meant to be.

"I hardly ever get to play cuz I'm so busy with classes...speaking of classes, I have an 8am class! D: I didn't realize it'd gotten so late. I'd better go to bed. See you tomorrow!" Matthew sent.

"Nite!" Alfred replied, pondering if he should send a kissy emoji or something like that. But nah, they didn't know each other that well yet.

With that decided, he stuck his phone in his pocket and headed back indoors. Matthew might be going to bed, but Alfred would be up for a couple more hours leveling his WoW characters.

*****

The next day, the date loomed heavily in his mind. In between gaming with his online friends he texted Matthew. Something occurred to him after lunch.

He still didn't have a clue what Matthew looked like. Matthew's Facebook icon was a picture of a polar bear, not a photo of himself. The guy's Instagram gave away nothing—not a single selfie or group pic. It was mostly meal snapshots and photos from hiking trails.

Alfred texted him, "Can you send me a photo of yourself? I'm not asking for a dickpic or anything, I just wanna know what you look like so I can spot you at the bowling alley."

A couple minutes later Alfred's phone dinged. He snatched it up, eager to see what his date looked like.

The excited grin fell off of Alfred's face as he stared at the screen, confused. It was...a photo of himself? His eyes looked weirdly purple in the photo but that was probably a filter.

Had Arthur sent Chloé a photo of Alfred and she'd passed it on to Matthew, and Matthew accidentally sent that instead of one of his own selfies? Or had Matthew been e-stalking and gotten the photo off of Alfred's Instagram account or somewhere?

Either way it was weird. Alfred didn't recognize or remember the photo at all. In it, his hair looked unusually lush and wavy, and he had an uncharacteristically sweet smile on his face as he leaned on the railing of a balcony.

Alfred squinted at the background of the photo. What looked suspiciously like the Eiffel tower stuck out among the more normal buildings.

Alfred had never been to Paris, or even France. The only place he went overseas was to England with Arthur to visit his relatives there. Why had someone Photoshopped him into Paris? Was this guy Matthew a total fucking weirdo or was this Arthur's doing?

A chill ran down his spine at the possibility that Arthur had gotten him entangled with a freakin' psycho!

"ARTHUR!" Alfred hollered, jumping off the couch and running to find his dad.

He found Arthur in his study upstairs, frowning over some paperwork. When Alfred burst through the door, Arthur glanced up, eyes searching Alfred's body for any injuries or cause for alarm.

"Half the town can hear you shouting, what is it?" Arthur asked.

In response, Alfred held up his phone. Arthur look at the glowing screen.

"A photo of yourself?" Arthur sighed, "Alfred, I really don't have time for this. Please don't interrupt me unless it's something serious.

"I didn't take this! Matthew sent it to me," Alfred said.

"And?" Arthur raised one bushy brow.

Arthur presumed the boy had gotten a photo off of Alfred from the internet. Strange maybe, but who knew what was all the rage with kids these days and why?

"And I don't recognize this photo at all, and, and—look, that's the Eiffel Tower!" Alfred said, pointing to it.

Arthur looked.

"Did you send Chloé or Matthew any photos of me?" Alfred asked.

"No, I haven't sent them anything of the sort." Arthur said.

"So where did he get this? And why would he doctor it to put me in France? What sort of a weirdo did you set me up with?!" Alfred asked, waving his arms around.

"I'm sure he's a perfectly nice lad, it's probably a joke. Why don't you ask him?" Arthur asked.

"Why don't I ask him?" Alfred mimicked him. Then, he shouted "Because I don't want to end up chained up in his basement!"

"Always use a safeword son," Arthur said.

"Ewww! Take this seriously!" Alfred said, his face scrunching up.

"Don't go on a date with him if it bothers you so much," Arthur said, "Now, I'm very busy with work so if you could leave now—"

"When they find my body in a ditch somewhere, you'll wish you'd listened to me," Alfred grumbled.

He stalked out of Arthur's office with his phone clenched in his hand. When he got back to his bedroom, he flopped down on the bed to stare at the photo some more, as if it would give up its secrets. Matthew had messaged again while he was arguing with Arthur.

"No response? Damn, I didn't think I looked that bad lol," Matthew's text read.

"Where did you get that photo?" Alfred texted back.

"Papa took it, when we were in France last year," Matthew answered.

Then he sent,"How about you? Send me a selfie? :)"

"You already know what I look like :/" Alfred responded.

The reply from Matthew came through a few seconds later, "Wdym?"

Alfred growled. The fucker was playing dumb. This guy had to be a real whackjob. This was the weirdest catfish ever—Matthew had stolen his date's photo to present to them, pretending to be them? Completely bizarre. Did Matthew even like all those bands and video games he said he did, or had he just stalked Alfred thoroughly and learned all his likes and dislikes?

He didn't scare Alfred though. Alfred was going to meet the little psycho in person and give him a piece of his mind.

****

It was already dark out when Alfred walked up to the bowling alley. The parking lot was nearly empty of cars, since Tuesday wasn't exactly a hot date night for most people. The ancient building that housed the bowling lanes was in poor-repair, but it was brightly lit outside, so Alfred sat down on the bench next to the entrance. Junebugs flew by his head, drawn by the light, but Alfred ignored them.

He was busy texting Matthew. "I'm here. waiting by the bench outside" he sent.

Then he put his phone down and waited, eyes scanning the parking lot but also alert to the door next to him, in case the weirdo was inside and would come out to get him.

After a few minutes, a small white car pulled into the parking lot, parking a few spaces down from the entrance.

Alfred tensed as the car door opened, and a man stepped out. Was this him? As the young man approached, Alfred's jaw dropped.

"What the fuck?" Alfred asked.

"Are you Alfred?" Matthew asked, blinking. He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and put the glasses back on. Stared. "Wow," he croaked. "We...look a lot alike."

"Yeah, no shit," Alfred said, staring back.

So that hadn't been a stolen photo of Alfred, Photoshopped for some bizarre reason that only a twisted nutcase would understand.

Alfred chuckled. "Well, at least you're not crazy."

"You thought I was crazy?" Matthew asked, "Why?"

"Dude! I thought you sent me a photo of me," Alfred said.

Matthew sat down next to him on the bench. "Yeah, I can see how you'd think that. No wonder you wouldn't send me a photo back."

"Man, we look so much alike—this is nuts! We could be twins," Alfred said.

Matthew groaned, covering his eyes with one palm. "Don't say that. It would be just my luck eh? Finally meet a nice boy who likes me back and he's my brother."

"Aww, you think I'm a nice boy. Enjoy that delusion while it lasts," Alfred snarked.

Matthew straightened, his pretty violet-tinted eyes (and Alfred was still in awe that he was dating a guy with legitimately purpley-blue eyes) narrowing as he looked over Alfred's face again. Alfred couldn't look away from him. It was so strange.

"Let me guess, you were born on July 1st, and you're adopted," Matthew said.

"Yep! Hey, how'd you know I was adopted?" Alfred asked, not jumping to conclusions as fast as Matthew.

"Because my birthday is also July 1st, and I'm also adopted." Matthew said, "Fuck, this sucks. Do you know what this means?"

"We're time-twins! That's so kickass!" Alfred said.

"Yes, we're—wait, what? Time twins?" Matthew asked.

"Also called 'astro twins'!" Alfred informed him, "It's people born around the same time, around the same place. I guess if you were born like, half way across the globe from me, then you might have a different birth chart."

"Oh shit, you believe in astrology," Matthew let out a shaky laugh, "Well at least there's that. Clearly we never would have worked as a couple."

"Hey man, what do you have against astrology?" Alfred asked.

"Nothing," Matthew assured him, "it's just complete hocus, but you can believe what you want."

"Oh fuck man, you tryna start a fight?" Alfred said, shaking his head.

"Not at all," Matthew replied, "Time-twins or not, I think we're literal twins. Same birthday, adopted, look the splitting image of each other. I bet if we could get our adoption records opened, it would show we have the same birth mother."

"Bullshit dude, I finally found a boyfriend! No way am I having him taken away from me by some corny soap opera shit!" Alfred said.

"So what, you want to just ignore that we're almost certainly blood related? Identical twins? People will notice that we look just alike," Matthew said.

"I'll dye my hair," Alfred said, stubborn as ever, "and no one can unseal our adoption records, so they can't prove shit!"

"There's no way this is going to work," Matthew said, "but okay. Brother, boyfriend, I want to learn more about you either way."

"Sweet! Maybe I won't die a virgin after all," Alfred said, grinning at his twin.

"You're still a virgin? At our age? Oh my god," Matthew said.

"Don't judge me! Who would I screw in this podunk town? Before you arrived, that is," Alfred said, raising his eyebrows up and down.

Matthew groaned.

C'mon, let's go bowl!" Alfred said.

He grabbed Matthew's hand and pulled him to his feet, dragging him through the swinging doors of the bowling alley.