#all i ever want is for the kids to get to burn david all the time always so he is frank and i'm not sorry

[supermenz]

one

summary: One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do; two can be as bad as one, it's the loneliest number since the number one. Or: you're two years old when you lose your parents. Your brother, a kid himself, is unable to give you the love you deserve, and you end up at twenty being as burn out as only a Gotham University student can be. So, what do you do? Change scenery, of course.

pairing(s): clark kent x wayne!reader, bruce wayne x sister!reader, eventual platonic batfam x reader (no use of y/n)

warnings: genius kid trope, kinda doomed siblings, language, there are reference to what happens in "the batman" but there will be a merge of both comics and films, written with david!superman in mind cuz he's my pookie 😞, bruce is so pathetic i love him sm

word count: 2.2k

author's note: my first ever fanfic for the dc universe!! constructive criticism is welcomed as english is not my first language,

next | series masterlist

Gotham has left you feeling more claustrophobic in the last few months than it did all your life. 

Maybe it’s because you’re seeing your brother slip into his work — aka beating criminals in the night as a hobby — more and more, or maybe it’s just your brain playing tricks on you. It’s probably the latter. 

You’ve never been good with emotions — it comes with being a Wayne, and surely, having your parents die before you were three didn’t help your situation. Bruce spending most of your childhood abroad with barely any contact with you also probably didn’t help either. 

“But I’m here now,” he had said once, “Am I not?”

He is, but even if you love him with all your heart, sometimes you think that you’re more like colleagues rather than siblings. Your bond is strained, with him being so closed-off and spending most of his free time cosplaying as a bat, and you having just entered your twenties, trying to get your second degree in biology after an early graduation and an even earlier PhD in engineering. And since his first big case four years ago, neither of you has been the same. 

Your relationship has never been easy. The flood and the Riddler’s case basically forced you to trauma bond over what you both had experienced, as surely no therapist would’ve wanted to hear about all the horrors that you two experienced, even for all the money in the world. Besides, it’s not like Bruce could just enter a therapist’s office and tell them that he’s the fucking Batman. 

As of now, you tend to have your… ups and downs. Both prefer to just hide behind paperwork, projects, cases or research rather than just talk some things out. Because yes, Bruce’s your brother, but that doesn’t mean he’s easy to love. There are some days where he seems to be barely able to talk to you, others where you know he just wants to scream at you for whatever reason, others where… others where you think he might just crumble at your feet and start crying. 

You don’t have a lot in common. Maybe that’s why he manages to stay in Gotham even after all that’s happened — combined with the fact that he’s spent ten years or so abroad. Maybe you need that, too. 

“I’m thinking of moving out,” you tell him during one of your rare dinners together. You have already talked about your plan to Alfred, who has shown his support towards the idea and urged you to get out of Gotham as soon as you could, but you also wanted to tell Bruce — just to be honest with him. 

Yes, he left you to study abroad all those years ago without any kind of goodbye or anything, but you have no intention of leaving him behind like he did to you — you may be grown adults now, but that doesn’t mean that being left behind doesn’t exist anymore. You doubt Bruce would ever feel left behind by you, of all people, but still. “Found a faculty in Metropolis that will be able to transfer all my credits and studies and a nice flat downtown near the Wayne Enterprises’ site there. I think I need a breath of fresh air– I need to go somewhere where the sun actually shines and not everyone has hidden agendas.”

You’ve heard good things about Metropolis, and you think that the Martha Wayne Foundation could be expanded a bit more — somewhere far from Gotham, where surely there are other orphanages, other people in need that could use some help. “I could handle Wayne Enterprise’s gestion and settle our matters there while continuing my studies in a more… calm environment.” calm is a big word for a metropolitan city as big and populated as Metropolis, but every city is calm in contrast to Gotham.  

Your brother doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, wide-eyed, fork still raised to eat the potatoes Alfred cooked, his face blank. Is he having a heart attack? You didn’t think that you moving out would’ve been such horrendous news for him. Yes, even if you are not that close he’s still very protective, but he went to live abroad at ten. You’re twenty and you’re just… moving to Delaware. It’s not like you’re going to the fucking Himalaya mountains as he did. 

(Meanwhile, Bruce is spiraling. He wonders when the hell did his little sister grow up, how it can be that she isn’t the little girl he used to sway around anymore, and why would she ever want to move out. Is it because of him? Did something happen? 

Isn’t Metropolis in another state? Is he so tremendous that you have to move states in hopes to forget about him? Is he too overbearing? He thought he had always given you enough space to do your own thing–)

Instead of saying all of the things he’s thinking, he tries to muster up a smile, even if it comes out as a grimace. “Alright.” 

He nearly jumps out of his seat when you beam at him — is he really that obnoxious that you can’t wait to move out and have him out of your life? “Oh, I’m happy that you’re taking it well! I was afraid you’d freak out.” you get up from your seat and move over to hug him, and he chuckles nervously. “Why would I? You’re an adult, you can do what you want.” 

(What do you mean?!, his conscience screams in his head, She isn’t even twelve! Just yesterday she was talking about going to the homecoming dance with her friends–

But time has passed, and even if Bruce feels that it was particularly hard on him, he didn’t think it’d affect you too, somehow. It’s weird acknowledging something’s — someone’s — changes in the years in… so little. He had gotten so used to you being his little sister that he didn’t even think about you becoming a full on woman. He still remembers the pink bundle of blankets your parents had given him that day at the hospital, telling him to be careful with her, she’s your little sister.

When have you grown this much? Where did the time go? He swears it was just yesterday when you were admitted to Gotham University.) 

“But… a flat? Are you sure you’ll be comfortable there? It’s not exactly as big as a manor.” 

You avoid his gaze, scratching the back of your head. “Yeah, about that…”

He raises an eyebrow, “Let me guess, you bought the whole building?” 

You snap your fingers, “They don’t call you the greatest detective for nothing!” you sit back down, cutting the meat on your plate, “I plan on making the floors I won’t live in into a laboratory of sort– almost like the Batcave, y’know, so I can continue working on the models I designed undisturbed.”

When Bruce had started his crusade as Batman, you had just gotten your bachelor’s degree in engineering, and were working on your master’s degree. You had basically given him the head-start, creating the software of the Batcomputer (or of the computer, as he calls it), designed and adapted a sport’s car to the Batmobile (just call it the car, Bruce always insists) and basically modified and created every single one of the gadgets and systems he uses. 

You just hope he won’t let the Batcomputer get hacked as soon as you land in Metropolis — you spent weeks programming her and years perfecting her system. You spent so much time on her, she might as well be your firstborn by now. 

“I’ll always be a call away,” you murmur when your brother’s eyes get a little dazy, unfocused– like he’s in another world, always thinking about the worst that could happen. “You know that, right?”

Bruce blinks. “Yeah. Yeah, I– I know that.” 

(He isn't sure about that.) 

You pat his hand, mustering a smile. "Maybe you should take a break, too. Why don't you book a vacation in, let's say... the Bahamas? Just to get a bit tanned and remember what the sun actually looks like."

He shakes his head. "Can't. Batman doesn't go on vacation."

You raise an eyebrow, sighing in defeat. "Well, I'm sure the GCPD could handle Gotham for a few days, but do as you like."

Your arrival in Metropolis is, of course, followed by an unhinged swarm of journalists and press that surround you as soon as you land.

You can already see the headlines — THE PRINCESS OF GOTHAM NOW IN METROPOLIS or some other corny predictable shit like that — as they shove their cameras in your face, screaming and trying to grab you, as your bodyguards try to contain them. You're much calmer than they are, having already endured years and years of invasive journalists.

“Miss Wayne, would you care to tell us the reason for this abrupt change in scenery?”

“Has your move got anything to do with your relationship with your brother?”

“Miss Wayne, look here! A smile for the front page–”

“Miss Wayne, why Metropolis, of all places?”

“Miss Wayne, a word for the Daily Planet?”

The guy for the Daily Planet catches your attention– he seems far too nice and isn’t elbowing anyone; he must be either new at the job or is too nice for it. He’s got a mop of curly, black hair atop his head, thick glasses perched on his nose, baby blue eyes behind them. His posture is a little crooked — he’s getting squeezed by reporters on both of his sides — but, even as disheveled as he is, you notice a thing. 

Ohh, he’s pretty. Like, jaw-dropping pretty, the kind of pretty that makes you want to bite his cheek and never let go for the rest of your life. 

You stop in your tracks, lifting your sunglasses to your head, bodyguards panicking at the swarm of journalists that suddenly all point to one direction; you reach for the pocket of your jeans and take out a business card that you pat on the pretty reporter’s chest. “Another time, pretty boy,” you promise as he takes the card, his fingers brushing yours, the other journalists speechless around you. “I’m kinda busy right now.” 

You don’t stay long enough to see him blush and hold the business card tight in his palm so that the other reporters don’t snatch it out of his grip — the bodyguards urge you forward, towards the SUV with obscured windows that is waiting for you right in front of the arrivals’ exit of the airport. One of them opens the door for you, and you don’t hesitate to get inside, the car speeding off as soon as everyone’s inside. 

“Never seen anything like this,” one of the men mutters.

You shrug, “I’ve had worse.” 

The ride to your building is short, mostly because it’s late in the evening and there aren’t many people still around. You leave a generous tip to both the bodyguards and the driver, thanking them but assuring them that you can walk alone the thirty steps that separate you from the entrance to what’ll be your home for the foreseeable future. They help you take out your trolley and duffle bag, which you swing over your shoulder right after taking the keys of the building out. 

You open the front door, carefully closing it behind you, taking the elevator right in front of it. You press the number thirty out of thirty-four, which turns green with a ding, and wait for the doors to open back up. And once they do, you’re not disappointed. 

The loft is arranged just like how you asked the movers to — it would’ve been hard not to, as you sent them the 3D interior design plan you had made, but still. You’ve been raised with the idea that if you want something done well, you have to do it yourself, so you’re pretty happy about how it turned out. 

Still, something’s missing. 

You check around the loft for any pieces of missing furniture or something like that, not finding anything. You even go back to the 3D model to make sure that everything got here safe and sound, only to find that yes, everything is in the colour you ordered and exactly in the place you asked for it to be. 

You sit on the U-shaped couch that sits right in front of the giant windows that let on the skyline of Metropolis, eyebrows knit in deep thought. The house is nice — for fuck’s sake, you bought a whole building just for you and your projects — but it’s weird not having anyone else around. There’s no Alfred to welcome you, no half-asleep Bruce roaming without an idea of where he is, no squeaking and creaking of the floor when you walk. 

You sigh. “Maybe I should get a cat.” 

[madelynraemunson]

i need to know if we ever get jealous of eddie’s said short lived relationships. do we ever try to sabotage them? or are we the type to try and get along with them and thats when they’re like “oh no you two need to be together?”

(i know the answer in my heart but i want to hear what you think lol)

ex husband!eddie x reader

whaaat? sabotage eddie's relationships? 😵 that's diabolical. why on earth would we do that?

that one time we showed up to his house wearing a sundress after months of wearing sweats was TOTALLY unplanned! we had a date, after all.

and that one time we were dancing with eddie at the family bbq, rocking out to all our favorite songs like careless teenagers right in front of girlfriend #3 was all a ploy by our kiddos! right, kids? right? we do everything for the kids. they love seeing their parents happy and getting along. right, kids?

and are you really still on about the day of eli's talent show?? 🤦🏻‍♀️ we only asked girlfriend #9 to take a family photo of us because she was the only one that was around. that's all 😇 and she shouldn't be mad at us! eli LOVES taking pics with mommy and daddy. who is she to get in the way of a family, especially when kids are involved 🤨😤 (also, we didn't MAKE eddie place his hand where he did in the pictures. he literally did it by himself, on his own terms.)💋

...okay, bunnie you got me! we know damn well what we're doing 😅 but quite frankly, so does eddie.

you've got a date with david tonight. in fact, eddie knows was nice enough to house sit for you and help the kids with homework. an innocent, sweet little gesture. right?

you and david are watching a movie on his couch and things are getting steamy really fast. david is about to kiss you when...

RING! RING!

you pull away immediately. checking your phone to see who it is, you realize,

"it's my ex husband, that fucker. the house better be burning down." you go to answer it. "yes?"

“hey, sweetheart, this is eddie...the banished." he greets you. “i can't seem to find the measuring tape and was wondering if you knew where it was."

you're unsure as to why he would even need measuring tape. regardless, you reply,

"it's in with drawer of miscellaneous stuff. the one by the kitchen sink.”

"ahh, that's right. found it. thanks, babe."

but that's not the only useless call of the night. as your date with david continues, the calls keep coming through in seemingly calculated intervals. at the worst possible times. with the most irrelevant fucking questions.

“i can't find the baking soda." “where do you keep the batteries? the c batteries not the double As." "hey, just a heads up, you might wanna call somebody for this pipe." "what's the wifi password again?"

"EMUNSON1986!" you hiss. "the year you graduated high school."

"aww, really?" eddie coos. "that's endearing. thanks baby."

eventually after an hour, the calls stop. you and david were able to finish the movie, and get back to that steamy interaction before you were spammed mercilessly. david is now fiddling with your straps as you two are kissing, his available hand grazing your lower back, breath hitching when —

RING! RING!

"jesus h CHRIST!" you howl. "it's midnight for god's sake. this better be important. HELLO?”

"sorry," eddie mumbles on the other line. "remind me, i'm looking at your snake plant and was wondering how often these guys need watering? they look a little parched."

"once a day and i already did it," you say through gritted teeth.

"it's a new day, should they be watered again?"

"don't worry about it, eds."

"i always worry, sweetheart.”

david happens to hear this. giving you a side eye now, your date watches as you stay on the line with eddie for a couple of minutes. finally, you get eddie to agree to stop calling, which fills you with relief when you hang up the phone. your eyes then travel back to david, whom you begin to bat your flirty lashes at.

"now." you say. "where were we?"

"you should probably go home," david huffs. "looks like the fort still needs holding down."

you're seeing absolute red now. you are seething. that motherfucker.

your drive home is an angry, and sexually frustrated one. you can't believe eddie would sabotage your date like this, your only fun night out this week. he's in for it now.

"date ended early sweetheart?" eddie pouts at you the moment you walk into your house.

"bedroom," you order. "now."

tagging peeps who seemed interested in this lil universe! as always thank you for reading 💋

@highinmiamiii @potatobeans99 @mediocredreams @joshlmbrt @eddiesxangel @enam3l @mmunson86 @davidblowies-blog @thatissonnina @oskea93 @aurora-austen @lesservillain @madeofmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @munsonssweets @nailbatanddungeon @swiss-mrs @winchester-angel @belokhvostikova @curlyjoequinn @strangereads @marrowfrog00 @shadyunknowncreation @tuolcaniacoc @catherinnn @prestinalove @pleuviors @cinemabean @calumfmu @littlexdeaths @let-the-music-take-c0ntrol @meetmeatyourworst @b-irock @spencerssatchel

divider by: @cafekitsune

[merryloumas]

Even though I read plenty of fics and have been doing so since I first started in 2021, this is the first time I actually noted down the names of the fics as I read them this month. I’m so thankful to our fandom’s wonderful writers for sharing these with us and it is because I read so many that I wanted to start noting them down so I can remember them. I was debating posting the list but fics have always been a source of comfort for me and if you feel the same, maybe these can bring you some comfort too.

🎃 The Serpent and the Lion by louiseparker @louiseparker [212k]

Seventh year Hogwarts AU in which Harry Styles is an asshole Gryffindor jock with daddy issues, Louis is just trying to get through the year, and Liam, Zayn, and Niall rarely ever know what the hell is going on.

🎃 Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices by Toomanytears @toomanydreamers [126k]

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

🎃 You Drive Me Round The Bend by TheCellarDoor [77k]

In which Louis is a spoilt rich kid who’s always on the phone while he drives and Harry is a struggling musician making his way down the mountain. It’s just a matter of time before they crash and burn.

🎃 but me, i'm not a gamble by orphan_account [33k]

A Posh & Becks AU in which Harry is a star on the stage and Louis is a star on the pitch, but they're both inexplicably terrible at articulating their feelings. In the end, it only takes a season's worth of failed matchmaking schemes, platonic dinner dates, road trip holidays, and one very convenient David Beckham cameo for them to figure it all out. And if Niall knew all along? Well, he at least has the decency not to be too smug about it.

🎃 The Lone Hydrangea by sarah_writes @lightwoodsmagic [77k]

The post Hogwarts AU where Harry's a florist, Louis' a muggle who edits fantasy books, and they both have no say in how quickly they fall for each other.

🎃 The Sunshine Stays by quickedween @becomeawendybird [15k]

It's three years after One Direction got back together, and Harry and Louis have just come off a world tour. They're enjoying a much more relaxed schedule the second time around, allowing themselves to bask in married life. Until, one day, Louis surprises Harry on vacation, and there are some surprising consequences.

🎃 House Of The Rising Sun by @itsmotivatingcara [100k]

Witch Harry/Vampire Louis. The Originals AU.

🎃 Something Like This by multicoloredme [150k]

After leaving his boyfriend, Louis is a little sore emotionally and is ready for a fresh start in a new city. When a coworker tells him about a couple friends looking for a new flatmate, he decides to go for it. Little does he know, that one of his new flatmates is the gorgeous, captivating guy he met at a party a few weeks ago. A New Girl/Grey’s Anatomy/Relief Next To Me inspired AU.

🎃 Say That You Can See Me (I'll Speak Up I Swear) by @coffeelouis [20k]

The liberal arts COLLEGE AU where Harry knows Louis as the best friend of the boy he has been hopelessly in love with for years now and Louis knows Harry as the boy he wished would look away from Zayn long enough to notice him.

🎃 Don't You Think It's Boring How People Talk? by wildestdreams @thelavendrhaze [80k]

A Gossip Girl AU where Louis is the king of the Upper East Side and Harry is the bad boy he loves to hate until a late-night limo ride changes everything.

🎃 Magical Soup by gloria_andrews @gloriaandrews [28k]

Slytherin prefect Louis Tomlinson's seventh year at Hogwarts takes an immediate turn for the worse when he's made to be potions partners with Harry Styles, Hufflepuff's resident heartthrob and class clown. Louis has always considered Styles to be a terrible show-off who coasts by on his charm and good looks, but the more they work together, the more he questions that idea. As term goes on, will Louis be able to admit to himself that he might actually like Harry Styles after all... and maybe, just maybe, as more than a friend?

🎃 King Of My Heart by wildestdreams @thelavendrhaze [80k]

A Red, White, and Royal Blue AU where Hollywood elite, Louis Tomlinson, finds himself falling for the closeted Prince of England.

🎃 And What If I Were You by @jacaranda-bloom [100k]

For Louis, will losing his sight give him the clarity to realise what is right in front of him?

For Harry, will losing the love of his life give him the strength to finally open his heart?

And can they find their way back, before they lose each other forever? A story of love. A story of loss. A story of fighting for each other, no matter the odds.

🎃 Tell me when you're ready (I'm waitin') by insufferablelovebirds [17k]

When Harry's love letters to his old crushes get sent accidentally, one recipient, Louis, offers to help him fake a relationship but it gets complicated when feelings get involved.

Or an au loosely based off to all the boys I've loved before.

Total Fics Read: 14

[reidsc0nverse]

A Rose by Any Other Name (Chapter One)

Summary: Reader has her first day at the BAU in training to take JJ's place on maternity leave. She gets comfortable around the office with the help of her father Davis Rossi and the other members of the team, especially one specific genius.

Warnings: None

AN: This is my first real try at this idea that's been collecting dust in my brain, so far this chapter doesn't have a whole lot and it's mainly intro to the character but yeah. Also reader doesn't have Rossi's last name fyi and she's taking Jordans place in season 4 but they're not the same I promise.

Series Masterlist

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   Well, I knew the time was coming, just not so out of the blue.

   I was training under the Communications Liaison of the BAU today, Jennifer Jareau, due to the fact that she's leaving for maternity leave soon. 

  It was only a matter of time before my dad, him being THE David Rossi, pulled some strings to get me to that spot despite me barely finishing the academy. I mean, I rocked it, but they usually want someone of more...experience in a position as such.

But here I am, walking through the doors of the bullpen and Jennifer walking up to me with a friendly smile.

"Ah! Agent Y/L/N, glad to see you," she said cheerily, holding her hand out for me to shake it.

"You too" I say returning the gesture and trying to keep my composure and maintain the same cheeriness as her, but failing.

"Nervous?" She asks, seeing through me with ease but continuing to keep her friendliness and walking me to her office.

"No of course not" I say sarcastically with a playful smile on my face as we enter in the room filled with a vast amount of case files.

She motions for me to sit across from her at the desk and laughs softly, "Don't worry, after your first couple of cases it gets easier..ish." 

"I just hate the part of the job that involves dealing with the press" I admit, with the stuff I've heard from my dad I can understand the stigma around journalists and outside sources.

"Tell me about it, but you'll get the hang of it, it's usually just repeating yourself after a while." She replies and we continue to discuss more about the details of the job and what I'm gonna have to do in the next weeks. 

"Alright enough of this, everyone should be here by now. I'll introduce you to everyone." She says and we get up and out where three agents stand talking.

"Hey guys, I want to introduce you to someone. This is Agent Y/N Y/L/N. She'll be taking over for me while I'm on maternity leave." She says and I smile at the three that Jennifer has described to me.

I go to shake their hands, "You must be Agent Prentiss, Agent Morgan, and Dr. Reid." They all return smiles to me, "Agent Jareau has told me so much about you all."

"La mia bambina!" I hear a familiar voice say as I look over to see my dad, his arms stretched out and pulling me as he kisses my cheek. 

"Hi dad." I say sheepishly, my face burning as the agents in front of me furrow their eyebrows. 

"Dad?" Prentiss says and continues, "Does your last name come from wife number 2 or 3?" she jokes and Morgan laughs in response.

My dad waves them off and looks back to me, "Training start today?" I nod and he holds me with his arm over my shoulder. "Yeah if you can let me go I can finally start" I joke with him and he lifts his arm in response.

"Yeah Rossi, I'd like to get her started with that." Jennifer says playfully as I wave once again to the others when she brings me with her to look over a case before bringing it to the team.

"I may have forgotten to mention that part to them," She says, looking at the file in her hand. "Oh, what? That Rossi's my dad?" I ask, her nodding and I continue, "No worries, I don't think he's ever even brought up having a kid. One that he knows about at least. We haven't been that close in all honesty." I explain to her. It's really no big deal to me, he wasn't very present in my childhood but as I've gotten older, he's put in a lot of effort to be a part of my life even if it's a little late. Hence, my place at the BAU.

We spend the next hour going over cases and she guides me on how they decide where to go and whether or not the risk of more lives being lost is prominent. Once we settle on one she lets out a breath, "Alright let's take a break, I need to stop staring at all of this" she says motioning to the abundance of cases on the desk. I nod in agreement smiling and make my way to the break room for a cup of coffee.

"Agent Y/L/N, right?" I hear someone say as they walk in. I turn my head and see the tall stature of Dr. Reid.

"Yes, yeah. Hi." I say, waiting for the coffee machine to finish brewing. He walks over and waits next to me with his empty mug. "But I don't really care about formal titles, you can just call me Y/N."

"Okay, Y/N. You can call me whatever, Spencer, Reid, I don't mind." He says gently and continues, "Rossi never mentioned he had a daughter. Let alone one coming onto the team."

"Temporarily" I remind him, but it's more to myself, "but I don't know how often he really wants to talk his personal life." I say lightheartedly and the coffee finally fills up my cup and I move over to let him use the machine.

Spencer shrugs and begins to make his own, "How long have you been in the FBI?"

At this I get nervous to respond, you can be as young as 23 to get into the FBI, but the BAU needs prior experience. But of course, my dad rushed the process some. "Well, uh, I kind of just finished the academy. I'm only 24 so there hasn't been much room for familiarity."

He looks at me with a slight surprise in his face, "Really? I mean if it makes you feel any better I started here as soon as I could. So in reality, you don't need all that much prior experience in the FBI to work here."

"Aren't you like, a genius though?" I laugh, Jennifer did tell me that about him.

He laughs and nods, "Well..you know what I mean. They make exceptions."

"Yeah, I suppose"

"Are you interested in profiling?"

"I only just recently figured that out." I laugh and explain further, "Psychology has always intrigued me and that's what I majored in, so once my dad figured that out he kinda shoved me into this field." I say, doing an exaggerated push motion absentmindedly.

He smiles and nods, "I think you should go for it, after this whole liaison thing of course, I wish you luck." He says and waves as he walks out. In that moment I can feel my face flush slightly, it wasn't that big of a deal but I guess I just wasn't expecting that sort of kindness on my first day.

I shake my head slightly and walk back to where Jennifer and I previously were.

She was already back on her side of the desk and reading a file, looking up she points at my cup, "Good thinking" she smiles and I take my seat again.

"I'd hate to think about how much coffee is drank in this building." I joke.

"Probably enough to supply a small country." she laughs and goes on, "Alright so I think you're pretty much all done for now, I don't think you'll be able to join us on the case but you can just get yourself used to the team if you want."

I nod and the day goes by with loads of 'how to's' around the office and in the perks of Jennifer's job. Sooner than later I get to go home and I get my stuff packed up and walk in the elevator.

The doors start to close but before it shuts completely, I see Spencer rush towards the elevator and I hold them open for him.

"Sorry- sorry." He says awkwardly as he gets in next to me. "How was your first day?"

"It was new. That's for sure. Just a whole lot of information on what I need to do." I say, fidgeting with my hair slightly.

"I'm not sure how much I can do, but if you need anything I know anyone on the team will help" He reassures me, and i smile back. "Thanks, really. I appreciate it."

"Of course." He smiles and the elevator opens up leading to the parking lot. "I'll see you later." He says and I smile back walking to my car.

I can feel the pink in my cheeks when I sit in the front seat and drive home.

I think I'm gonna like my time here.

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okay chapter two will be out sometime between today and next week I hope y'all like it so far ik it's not a lot but give it some patience lols

[erial-c]

redacted headcanons if they were filipino 🇵🇭

please bear w me and my scattered thoughts😭 also credits to @pandoraroid for the vincent hc it's so real

- when the shaw pack gets together they do the family gathering thing of making the kids have a dance competition for money

- angel doesn't know how to commute (public transportation) and david would have to come along with them on a jeep to help them learn

"davey ikaw pumara para sakin please nahihiya ako" "kaya mo yan, dali lalagpas na tayo oh"

("davey can you make the jeep stop please i'm too shy" "you can do it, cmon we're gonna miss our stop")

- at a jollibee birthday party david would always help the shaw kids win the "bring me game" . that shit is SERIOUS for him i would bet

- milo would overdress all the time  . kahit anong ganap he will be layering IN SPITE of the heat. he'd also be called "estetik" and he HATES IT  .

(estetik: from aesthetic, used to make fun of people who dress up)

*(kahit anong ganap: whatever event there is)

- also, milo and sweetheart ukay-ukay dates perhaps. . . . but i think they'd both get carried away because they'd be blessed by the ukay gods and forget they were ever on a date

(ukay-ukay: secondhand shops in the ph!! mainly clothes)

vincent and lovely  . aircon humor x kanal humor CMAWWNN. the vampire houses alone r so extra and fancy vincent would for sure have the conyo/filipino rich ppl accent too like. 

(vin telling lovely abt his first summit): vin: "ok so inisip ko like, paano ako gaganti kay william during the summit, right? so i decided i was going to show up looking like as the, pinaka-antithesis of what he wants me to look like."

lovely, absorbing nothing of what he just said: "HUY antithesis???????"

(vin: "ok so i thought, how am i gonna get back at william during the summit, right?; ...looking like the (most)antithesis of what he wants me to look like.")

(aircon humor: humor associated with wealthy people, priv school kids, "out of touch" humor

kanal humor: "public school humor" , vulgar and relatable

conyo: someone who speaks filo+english in a pretentious way, mostly due to being raised wealthy . idk they always have that rich ppl accent)

- i can't imagine guy being filipino no matter what i do. however, i think honey is for sure filo (projecting) and they wld have a complete filo friend group  . honey wld still have that gruff exterior but their walls r down, and their friends would joke that honey and guy r the "nonchalant x oa" pairing and guy wld have NO clue what they're all talkin abt.

(oa: over acting, usually used negatively to call someone dramatic, but with the "nonchalant x oa" it's kinda similar to the introvert x extrovert trope)

- when honey brings guy along to hang out w/ their filo friends, he just looks at them mesmerized 90% of the time they're all talking . afterwards, when they ask abt it, guy says that honey is way more expressive when they speak in filipino and he thinks its rlly cute (IDK. I FEEL THIS ONE IN MY BONES .)

- i also have a hc that honey likes to draw so . stem strand/course to art course pipeline baby (many filipinos can relate🔥🔥🔥)

general idea / kinda just a joke but honestly it'd be so hard to allude to being a vamp in the philippines . 

"pag natamaan yung balat ko ng araw, nasusunog ako" "beh nasa pinas ka, lahat tayo nasusunog"

("when the sunlight hits my skin, i start to burn" "beh you're in the philippines, we're all burning")

[jewish-vents]

My Anti-Social Personality Disorder is helping me cope with the spike in antisemitism - I've been told I'm not a person, I don't have a soul, people like me shouldn't be allowed to have kids, I should be euthanized, everything someone with ASPD does is secretly evil or manipulative and every person who sucks secretly has ASPD, etc. - but it's not helping me with the one thing I need it to. I need to protect my great-grandmother, my only living relative, the one who raised me after my parents died, who fought tooth and nail to get me out of the foster care system. I need to shield her from all this bad news and make sure she doesn't realize how violent and dire things are. She always protected me. I have to do the same for her. I have to keep her happy for however long she has left on this Earth.

I love her more than anyone or anything in the world. I would take a bullet for her if I had to, but antisemitism is more like a sea of landmines that keep detonating all around us. I try to get out in front of everything. I buy her silky summer scarves because she loves them and they cover up her Magen David. Instead of going to the summer music festival here, which I know attracts a lot of country good ol' boy white supremacists on top of the left wing antisemites, I bought us tickets to a classical violinist she's a huge fan of. She asked about my girlfriend breaking up with me and instead of telling her about how antisemitic my ex is I blurted out a truth I've been hiding for years, which is that I'm asexual but not aromantic and that's made dating hard sometimes. I've sought out, downloaded and burned DVDs of all kinds of her favorite movies from the black and white era so she'll be distracted away from her time spent normally watching the news by that. In spite of my dyslexia, I've recommitted myself to learning Hebrew because she helps me and that pulls her attention off of the news and the realities I don't want her to face.

And yet it's not enough. More and more of the news of antisemitism rising around the world filters through to her. I'm doing everything I can but it's not enough. I am not enough. I am insufficient. ASPD comes with being acutely aware of your own high intelligence but what no one ever tells you is, to quote an anime I watched recently, "You can't recover from something you can't escape." There's too much for me to shield her from all of it.

I'm used to being treated as if my personhood is conditional and can be revoked at any moment. That's my whole life. That was not her whole life. She's a survivor of the Shoah. Her whole life has been spent seeing progress made in antisemitic attitudes in many countries after witnessing the worst it could get. My brain is uniquely (mal)adapted to process and disregard people's cruelty as normal. Hers is not. She expects people to have humanity. They don't. And I can't protect her from that. I can't save her. I can't keep this from creeping into her spectrum of awareness.

Sometimes I wonder why Hashem even bothered giving me heightened intelligence if I can't manage to use it correctly to help her. What is it good for? What is it worth?

Sometimes I think this must be a skill issue. If I just tried harder, surely, with my IQ, I could keep her safe and oblivious to everything. I need to be doing more. But what?

Sometimes I just look at goyim and - and I am aware this is not something you're supposed to admit to/is bad, I just don't care - I think, "I hope someday someone treats you exactly like you've treated others. I hope you get back exactly what you've put out into the world, and you get as little sympathy and help in that moment as my great-grandmother is getting right now."

I'm so sorry you're dealing with this. If you haven't already, I strongly recommend that you reach out to your local Jewish community. If you don't have one, or you for any reason don't feel comfortable with the local community, seek out community online.

There is only so long that you can shield your great-grandmother from the world. I understand the urge; we all have it, but no one has the power to keep their loved ones from ever being hurt.

What you can do is support her through the pain, and find other people who will help support her.

This will not be the first time your great-grandmother has experienced antisemitism. She may be better equipped to handle it than you fear.-🐞

[boldlyvoid]

I Know Places 3: Omnivore

18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader | Masterlist | AO3 link

Summary: Reader thought that Aaron was depressed post-divorce and following the death of Kate Joyner... nothing compares to how he is dealing with the mass amounts of guilt surrounding The Boston Reaper.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (child sexual assault, arson, murder, burn victims, death), background moreid hurt/comfort, mutual pining, depression, suicidal thoughts/feelings, deep emotional chats, love confession, first kisses, lots of kissing

Word count: 8.1k

The last couple of months have been nice. Neither she or Aaron has gotten hurt, which is the best part, but it’s also been nice just getting closer to one another. They’ve continued their phone calls at night, they get dinner together sometimes after work, she’s met Jack and accompanied him and Aaron to the museum on one of Aaron’s weekends alone with him. Aarons has been over to her place, and even spent the night a few times now.

It’s been lovely, actually.

Something changed after the cult case. After she was held hostage and beaten pretty badly. He took care of her, he got closer to her than ever before… she can’t really remember much from that night right after the case, all she knows is she woke up in his arms again and she never wanted to leave.

They’ve shared a bed in every case since then.

As for the rest of the team; JJ had her baby, a little boy named Henry. He’s adorable. So, needless to say, JJ was out of the field for a while, other than that, not much has changed at work.

Something is defiantly going on with Reid and Morgan… Reid had his own special case just before JJ had her baby, he remembered a case from when he was a kid and thought maybe his dad was a killer or worse. Derek stayed back with him in Vegas to figure it all out, they bonded over it too. Having similar childhood trauma, Derek was the only one who could really talk to him about everything he went through as a kid. She was glad they had each other.

Penelope’s even been trying to get them all to go on “double— triple? … quadruple? Quintuple dates!!” Seeing as everyone in the BAU has a significant other now. JJ and Will never come because they have a baby, she and Hotch don’t go because the assumption that they’re a couple is still awkward for them as they haven’t admitted to the other that they even like each other yet. And Reid and Morgan are too busy having alone time together to go out in public yet.

And then there’s the ever-secretive David Rossi… Dave’s been talking to one of his ex-wives again. He’s been happier. He’s whistling in the mornings and not staying as late anymore. He’s definitely getting laid.

All this gossip is stuff that she and Aaron have talked about lately. They would stay up late, either on the phone or at her apartment, chatting about anything and everything… And at the end of the night, when he’s at her place, they’d get ready for bed together, he’d slip into her bed on the side she never slept on and they’d fall asleep, cuddled into one another. On nights he didn’t come over, however, they’d still get ready for bed together, their phones on speakerphone, and they’d talk until one of them started to drift off.

She loved this new tradition. So seeing it come to an end so soon, it broke her heart a little.

Aaron's lowest point wasn’t getting divorced. It wasn’t losing Kate Joyner. It was letting the Boston Reaper getaway. Again.

It all started with a phone call. Tom Shaunessy’s care nurse called Aaron one morning while they were on their way into the office, inviting him out to Boston as Tom was dying and this was his final wish. Aaron couldn't just say no, so that night after work, she drove him to the airport.

When he got back the next morning, she picked him up and he knew something was up. Something happened… at first, she thought he was there as Tom died, then they got to the office and Penelope handed him a copy of The Michigan Post from March 1998. As it would turn out, Shaunessy made a deal with a serial killer, he vowed to the Boston Reaper that he wouldn’t kill anymore as long as Shaunessy stopped hunting him. He agreed, the killings stopped and he sent Aaron and the rest of his team home.

As soon as Tom died, The Reaper killed again. A young couple first, an older couple second and then a bus full of people simply because Aaron wouldn’t take another deal from him. She was there when it happened. She was sitting beside him in their hotel room when he got the call.

At first, she thought there was another attack, they had only been at the hotel a few minutes. It was only 9 pm, normally he didn’t hit until later at night. She got out of bed to start getting dressed again as Aaron answered the phone. She watched his expression change almost instantly. The heavy breathing on the other end was loud enough for her to hear… it was The Reaper.

“Who is this?” “If you stop hunting me I’ll stop hunting them,” the deep, sinister voice started. “you think I’d take that?” Aaron spits back, pissed that he’d even suggest it to him. “It’s a good deal.” “I’ve misjudged you. I thought that you were smarter than this.” “You should take it.” “Then you’ve misjudged me.” “This is your last chance,” The Reaper says, audibly angry that it’s not going to be this easy this time. “I don’t make deals. I’m the guy who hunts guys like you,” Aaron says, stern and confident. Angry as all hell. “There are no guys like me.” “You all think that,” Aaron spits. “You’ll regret this.” “I’ll see you soon,” Aaron says and then slams the phone down on the receiver.

She doesn't say anything, she watches him run his hands through his hair and turn towards the window in their room. He’s watching them. He knows where they are. He finally turns to her, “This is going to get messy.”

“We’re used to that,” she reminds him. “They all make contact with the police, they insert themselves into the investigation every time. We know this.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be that east this time.”

-

They couldn’t go back to sleep. They waited and waited for another call- for the police to report another killing. Another couple in their car or a single woman stabbed a bunch of times the way he liked to do… what he actually did wasn’t at all what they were used to.

The Reaper was more than mad. He was furious that Aaron wouldn’t take the deal. It’s like he wanted the deal. He wanted a reason to stop but Aaron's words just made him need to kill even more. There were 7 people on the bus, including the driver. They were all shot multiple times and then the women were stabbed.

And when Aaron stepped onto the scene… when he saw what The Reaper did because of him, he almost threw up.

Rossi follows him around the side of a building, down an alleyway and away from the scene. Leaving Y/N and Morgan at the bus alone to check what was taken and what was left. There were numbers left on the window in blood 1488, 201, 1439. And The Reaper's calling card. An eye drawn in blood on the front window of the bus.

She heads around to find Aaron, wanting to ask what he thinks of the numbers when she finds Rossi handing him his gun. “You convinced me…” Dave explains.

Aaron pushes the gun away and wipes his eyes.

“No, no, you hung up on him. You practically killed them yourself,” Dave pushes even further. “Go ahead, get it over with. Don’t worry about us, we’ll get this guy without you.”

“Dave I had 10 years to do something about it!” Aaron fights back, trying to reason with him that his reaction is warranted.

“Shaunessy made the deal, the killing stopped, he closed the case and sent the BAU away. For 10 years you worked on active cases—

“But I kept coming back to this one,” he admits. “I kept coming back to this profile.”

“Hey, I was retired. Should I blame myself?” Dave pushes. “Is it my fault for every victim died while I was out on my book tours? Look. If you want to end up like Shaunessy, like Gideon, blaming yourself for everything, you go ahead. But that voice in your head is not your conscience, it's your ego. This isn’t about us, Aaron. it’s about the bad guys. That’s why We Profile Them. It’s their fault. We’re just guys doing a job. And when we stop doing it, someone else will. Trust me. I know.”

“You can put that away,” Aaron looks down at the gun and then back at Rossi. Neither one of them notice her and Morgan standing there, watching.

“You sure?”

“It’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” Aaron manages to give him a little smile.

Before they turn towards them, he and Morgan rush back to the front of the building and pretend they never saw a thing. But she saw it. She saw the tears in his eyes and the hurt in his soul. This is going to affect him for a while.

“What did you find?” Aaron asks them once he rounds the corner.

“The bus driver has the wedding band taken from the male vic at the last attack,” Morgan explains. “But I can’t figure out the importance of the numbers on the windows?”

“Send them to Reid, he might know,” Aaron suggests.

“Wait…” Dave says as he looks through the windows. “I know those numbers?” He pulls out his little evidence book from his pocket and flips to the most recent page. “Those are the addresses to George Foyet’s apartments.”

Foyet, being a man they interviewed only yesterday. He was the only survivor of the original killings in 1998. He was stabbed over 67 times in the chest while in his car with his girlfriend… after the case, Foyet healed, he recovered and he disappeared. He essentially killed off every part of who he used to be, making himself somewhat of a ghost that even Penelope couldn’t track down. The only way they could find him was through another guy, Roy Colson who wrote a book on The Reaper and interviewed Foyet. He gave them three possible addresses for him.

1488 Edenhurst, 201 South Brookline, and 1439 Yarborough.

“Okay we’ll split up,” Aaron announces. “Me and Dave will take South Brookline, you and Morgan take Edenhurst, we’ll get the police to do Yarborough, let’s go.”

—

When they arrive on the scene, she heads around back and Derek kicks in the front door to clear the house. It’s scarily quiet and dark, she holds her flashlight up as she checks out the yard and heads towards the shed in the back. That’s when she hears it. With a loud crash, she holds down the talk button on her in-ears and speaks, “Morgan?”

No answer. She rushes around the front and see’s Derek laying on the ground surrounded by glass. He was thrown out the window and he’s unconscious. “I need medical assistance at 1488 Edenhurst, I have a federal agent down, I repeat, a federal agent is down at 1488 Edenhurst!”

She doesn’t approach him, she simply keeps her eyes out for The Reaper, her gun drawn, she keeps her back to the street and watches the house. “Come out here and face me like a man, you sick fuck!”

From behind her, she hears a laugh. Deep and dark like the phone call. She turns around in search of the voice but no one is there, she shines her flashlight on the street, across the neighbour's bushes and then she turns back to the house. He’s gone. Disappearing into the darkness of the night as the sirens are heard approaching the street.

She heads back over to Derek then, he’s coming to and trying to sit up. She holsters her gun again, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t move too fast, you have glass all in your shoulder.”

“Did you get him?” He asks.

“No. I heard him laughing at me, but he got away. I couldn’t figure out where he went, it was like he was right behind me but when I turned there was nothing… he-he just disappeared. Like a ghost.”

The paramedics are the first on the scene, they get Derek off the ground and inside Foyet’s house. They sit him down on the back of the couch for height and cut him out of his shirt so they can start pulling the glass from his shoulder. That’s when they find it.

He left Derek with a bullet. Unused, gold and shiny, in the pocket of his jeans. “What did he take?” Y/N asks.

“I don’t—” Derek looks around at all his things and then he realizes. “He took my credentials.”

“At least that’s all he took,” Aaron’s voice is heard from the doorway. “Are you okay?”

Derek nods, “I’ll be fine…”

Aaron heads off deeper into the house, she hasn’t left Derek's side so she hasn’t seen what state the house is in… “Y/N,” Aaron calls out to her. “Come see this.”

She follows his voice into the kitchen and that’s when she sees it. The whole floor is covered in blood, signs of a struggle and a drag mark leading out the back door. “I didn’t even notice the back door was open when I was checking out back? Holy shit…”

“He has Foyet,” Aaron says, confident that this is his blood and no one else. “He finally got him.”

Reid comes running onto the scene then, JJ not far behind him. He rushes to Morgan's side, “are you okay?”

“Reid,” Aaron calls out to him. “I need you back here.”

“Go, it’s okay,” Derek assures him.

Spencer walks right into the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks, “oh, wow…”

“How much do you think is here?”

“The average human has 5 quarts of blood in their system… I’d say this is close to half that. No one could lose this much blood at once and survive,” Reid explains.

“We need to regroup. Somethings off with the profile,” Aaron announces. “Why would he leave Foyet alive all this time just to get him now?”

“Foyet disappeared,” she reminds him. “Penelope said he was like a g— oh my god?”

“What?” Aaron asks.

“The Reaper, he was outside with me, he was laughing, I couldn’t figure out where he was in the dark and I said to Derek it was like I was looking for a ghost.”

Hotch rushes out of the kitchen towards the living room where the rest of the team is around Morgan. “Why would he go after Foyet?” Aaron poses to the team.

“I don't know?” Derek shrugs.

“He’s not a threat at all,” JJ says with a roll of her eyes.

“He kills men quickly and easily, but women and girls… the younger they are the more time he spends with them. He likes to stab. Stabbing represents a sex act. He likes them younger. Specifically teenagers… Amanda Bertrand, she was only 19. She was a freshman and he was her teacher's assistant,” Hotch explains. “Y/N said The Reaper was like a ghost, Penelope said the same thing about Foyet. What are the chances that both men would be sexually interested in teenagers and disappear easily?”

“The guys a hebephile,” Rossi states. “But how would he be able to stab himself 67 times and call 911?”

“He called 911 before he stabbed himself after he killed Amanda. That’s why he was the last victim, that’s why he disappeared, he had Shaunessy agree to the deal right after that. He both inserted himself into the investigation and made it so we wouldn’t think twice about him,” Aaron keeps going. “Get Penelope on the phone.”

JJ whips out her cell and starts the call, “Hey is Derek—

“He’s fine,” Hotch answers for him. “Penelope I need to know everything about Amanda Bertrand.”

“Oh, okay, uh,” she stumbles around, typing furiously. “She was 19, a freshman. She came to Boston from Michigan to go to school.”

“Michigan. That’s where The Reaper had Shaunessy put out the personal ad in the paper,” Hotch remembers. “what were Foyet’s aliases?”

“Kevin Baskin, Mark Holden and William Parker,” Rossi reads from his notepad.

“Garcia—

“got it, sir.”

“I need you to look them up in the Boston City Records— try the Department of Education,” Hotch asks.

“Well played sir, they all work for the Department of Education as substitute teachers… they all teach computer science—

“High school?” Hotch asks, knowingly.

“Yeah… oh wait,” Garcia pauses.

“What?”

“William Parker was fired for alleged inappropriate behaviour with his female students,” Penelope reads off her screen.

They all watch as Aaron stares off, remembering something that he isn’t sharing with the rest of them.

“Hotch?” JJ tries to bring him back to the conversation.

“Aaron,” Y/N reaches out for his hand. “What is it?”

“Colson. Foyet called him, he wanted to meet with him.”

“Garcia,” Dave is about to ask her to track his phone.

“I’m already on it,” She explains furiously typing away. “Give me one second to triangulate… okay, he’s at 2633 South Babylon.”

“Come on,” Hotch orders, stand-in up and reaching for his bulletproof vest again. “George Foyet is The Reaper.”

Getting out to their SUVs happens in the blink of an eye, and the police follow them in their squad cars. It’s only been 6 hours since the phone call. To hear the police rushing down the streets at 3 am, everyone in Boston knew something was going down. Everyone gets off the street, allowing them to race down the roads as fast as they could, rushing to the 1 house Foyet didn’t tell them about.

“How did this guy afford to rent 4 different homes in Boston?” Y/N asks. “Seriously, what kind of freelance computer guy makes that kind of money?”

“I don’t know,” Aaron shrugs, going 120 down the road, he’s not even really listening. He only cares about getting there before Colson’s death is on his hands too.

When they pull up to the house, Roy’s car is parked on the street and all the lights are on inside. There’s movement in the front window, behind the curtain, causing them to all head around back. Dave jiggles the back door handle and it opens, Hotch is the first one inside, gun drawn, clearing the room as they head around to the front room. There’s a clear view from the back door to the front door, Aaron and Rossi start slowly walking towards, it, blocking the exits so that they have him surrounded. He’s yelling at Roy, preoccupied with why it was never published that The Reaper made a deal with Shaunessy. He doesn’t even notice they’ve entered the house.

With Hotch and Rossi in front of him in the dining room, Y/N, Morgan and Reid make their way around to the little room behind the dining area, boxing him in so he can’t even think about running.

“It’s over,” Hotch makes their presence known.

“Stop!” Foyet yells, holding his gun to Roy’s head. “I’ll kill him.”

“You need him to write your story,” Hotch reminds him.

“I’m taking him with me, I’ll let him go as soon as I’m safe,” he tries to broker another deal.

“No, you’re not,” Hotch is so done with his shit that everyone can hear it in his voice.

“I said I’ll kill him!”

“You kill him, I kill you,” Hotch bites right back. Calmer than ever. He has the guy, he knows this is so close to being over.

“you think I’m afraid to die?” Foyet laughs in his face.

“You’re not afraid. You’re greedy and narcissistic. You want the recognition that’s going to come the book that he’s going to write. You want the fame that’s going to come from the media. It’s gonna be like Bundy,” Hotch profiles him right to his face.

“I’m going to be bigger than Bundy,” Foyet says with a smile.

“Well, you can’t enjoy it if you’re dead.”

“If you know me so well how come so many people had to die to bring you here?” He rubs it in, profiling Aaron right back and digging in where it hurts.

“It’s your choice, not mine. You’re the serial killer,” he reminds both himself and Foyet.

“That’s right,” he says, starting to lower his weapon. He turns back to Morgan and smiles. “Hello Derek,” he teases, putting his gun down on the table and in a rare turn of events, it’s Reid who grabs him by the back of the neck and pins him to the wall and begins to cuff him.

“Where’s my badge?” Derek asks as Spencer flings him around, holding him by the cuffs. Foyet starts to smirk and so Derek grabs his hair and tugs his head to the side, staring right at him now. “Where is it you son of a bitch?”

“I’m going to be more famous than you even realize,” he teases one last time before Spencer hands him over to the cops so he can be processed and booked into the nearest prison.

Once he’s out of the room, Aaron checks on Roy and Y/N and JJ let in the detectives. “Reach this place high and low, I want no stone gone unturned. Find me trophies, evidence, anything you can that can really get this fucker pinned and locked up for the rest of his life,” Y/N explains to them. “And if you find Agent Morgan's credentials, you know where to mail it.”

“Let's go home,” Aaron announces to the rest of them, taking his in-ears out and pulling on the Velcro strap of his vest. He’s so over this case.

—

The flight home isn’t too long. They touch down around 6 am and all head back inside the building together. Headed up to their floor, everyone is quiet. They’re exhausted, they can’t wait to file their paperwork and head home to sleep the rest of the day… they get about 20 minutes into their paperwork when JJ gets a call and goes running from her office, down to Aarons.

“Foyet escaped?”

Just then, their phones start to ring, the detectives called Y/N and she grabs Reid right away taking him to the fax machine, the one in her ear says that they found schematics to all electrical, water and heating ducts to every single correctional facility, prison and courthouse in Massachusetts. He was planning this for far longer than anyone thought. He knew this day would come and he was ready for it.

He was going to be bigger than Bundy… and Aaron had to find a way to live with that.

—

She notices a shift in him, this one is worse than after Haley served him the papers at work.

He wasn’t just depressed this time… he hated himself a bit now. He hated that he never gave the profile in ’98, he hates that he didn’t realize that The Reaper leaving a witness was weird. He hated himself for not watching George Foyet carefully as he was brought to prison.

He feels like everything is his fault.

She watches him stay later than ever, he misses nights with his son and they don’t talk on the phone anymore. His nose is constantly in his files, trying to find a way to figure out where George Foyet would be before he takes another life.

She walks up to his office one night, having left already just to grab some dinner, she returns only to make sure he eats. She knocks on his door, “Hey… hungry?”

He looks up at her from his files and he softens, “Starving… thank you.”

She places the bag on his desk, “You need to take care of yourself, too, you know? You can’t catch this guy if you’re withering away to nothing.”

“You say that as if you don’t love taking care of me?” He teases, knowing her way too well.

“Okay, whatever,” she jokingly rolls her eyes, taking both their meals out of the bag, she places his in front of him and then takes her own to the other side of the desk.

She went to a nice restaurant and ordered a meal she knew he would appreciate. A steak with a baked potato and steamed vegetables. He opens the container and he can’t believe it, “you didn’t have to get all this?”

“When was the last time you had a good meal?”

He thinks about it but genuinely doesn’t remember. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she shoots him a sweet smile. “What are you working on?”

“A way to track Foyet,” he explains with a sigh. “I’m not getting too far.”

“That’s okay… you know you don’t have to look for him alone, right? It doesn’t just fall on your shoulders because you’re the only one still on the team from ’98.”

“I know,” he says between bites, hand over his mouth because it’s “impolite” to talk with his mouth full. “I just feel… terrible? He wanted to make a deal and instead of leading him on and continuing to look for him behind the scenes, I just made him angrier. He has to start over now, make new aliases, find a new place to stay, and figure out how to get all the millions of meds he takes without someone recognizing him from the news… I’ve made his life a living hell and he’s going to repay the favour. I know it.”

“You know serial killers don’t have rational thoughts, I mean, look at Ed Kemper, he really thought that he had to kill his mom's best friend because she’d be sad to learn her friend died and so her being dead too, stopped her from being sad… they don’t make any sense, you really can’t blame yourself for that,” she explains.

He just nods along, trying not to bring it back to himself. The self-pity is so strong, he really believes part of the weight needs to land on his shoulders.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” She suggests, “Just leave the files, leave the work here, let’s go eat our dinner somewhere else… we can eat in my car, we could drive somewhere or go to my apartment? Let’s just get you out of here for a while.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go,” he agrees, he stands up and puts the lid back on his container and she follows his lead. “But I’m driving and we’re taking my car…”

“Okay,” she doesn’t mind. “You’ll just have to bring me back to work tomorrow.”

“I can do that,” he agrees. “It’s not like we haven’t been carpooling after I spend the night for the last few months, anyway.”

He slips back into his suit jacket and grabs his bag and keys. He holds everything in one hand and she offers to take his food for him, he places his hand on her back and leads her out of his office. “How would you feel about staying at mine tonight instead?”

“I don’t mind at all, I just need to grab my go bag from my car,” she agrees.

They take his SUV, he drives them to his own apartment and for the first time ever, she goes inside with him. They put their food on real plates, warm them up in his microwave and sit at his tiny dining table.

“How long have you had this place?” She asks.

“I got it just after my suspension. Right after Haley threatened to leave me… I think she was already seeing someone else,” he admits.

“What?” She can’t believe that. “Why?”

“Someone called the house phone and when I picked up and answered… they hung up and called her cell instead. It wasn’t her mom or her dad, it wasn’t her sister either. I know all their numbers. Someone called expecting her to be home alone during the day and when I answered, it threw them off. I knew that whoever they were was a secret she was keeping from me and she knew I knew it too.”

That just makes her angry, “I can’t believe she could even entertain the idea of cheating on you.”

“I’m not that—

“Stop talking down about yourself. You’re handsome, you’re a wonderful dad, you’re funny and kind and you care. I mean, you watch the boring TV shows I like just so we can talk about it together. I’d kill to have a husband like you and she just threw it all away? And for what? Have you ever met the guy? Has Jack?” She rants, visibly angry.

“I’ve asked, she won’t tell me,” he answers the last two questions but smiles because of the rest of it. “Thank you… you know, you’re pretty nice to know too.”

“Just pretty nice? I buy you steak and nurse you back to health and I’m just pretty nice?” She teases.

“Fine, I think you’re—“ they’re cut off by his cell phone ringing in his pocket. He takes out his phone and see’s JJ’s number. “Where are we headed?”

—

They get pulled out to Royal, Indiana for an arsonist case that’s claimed over 31 bodies so far. Aaron's stress level was already at an all-time high, watching people die again is just making it worse. He’s angry, he’s being a bit of an asshole… he even snapped at Penelope of all people.

And he’s not the only one in this mood, the whole town is pissed. That’s to be expected, they’re losing family and friends and memories to fire. First the rec centre, then the movie theatre and just today, the local bar. The bar fire is the most important to the investigation, seeing as he didn’t go after a larger crowd of victims, which means he’s going after individuals. They just have to figure out which victim it was.

Nancy, the bartender, she lived… she’s just barely hanging on, but still available for questioning. Aaron goes to see her. This is the second time he’s held a woman’s and hand stayed with her while she’s died of extreme burns and smoke inhalation.

At the station, Y/N and Reid are sitting together, going over the victims' lives with Penelope.

“I’m worried about Aaron,” Y/N whispers to their small group.

“He’s going to be okay,” Spencer shrugs it off. “We all have cases that hurt more than others, it sucks for a while but then you either catch the guy or enough time passes that you build some scar tissue and forget about it.”

“What if he never forgets about it? We’ve seen cops go through this. Something happens and they feel so guilty, like if they were there 10 minutes earlier or if they did something different, it eats at them and then they die too,” she whispers, her heart aching for him. “We need to intervene at some point. We can’t let it get worse… what Rossi did- handing him his gun- that only worked because he got embarrassed around a coworker. What happens when he goes home and he’s alone and it all catches up to him? What if he doesn’t show up to work one day and it’s because he’s killed himself? What do we do then?”

Reid gets up and pulls her into a hug, “Hey, hey, don’t think like that.”

She rests her chin on his shoulder and lets out a sigh. “I love him, Spence, I can’t lose him.”

“You loving him is exactly what he needs to stay here,” he reminds her, rubbing her back, soothingly. “Let him know, spend more time with him, get him to talk. You’re good at that. You’re warm and inviting and he’s going to want to tell you things. Listen, keep his secrets and let him know you love him… even if you just tell him it’s friendly, either way, I think he’s going to appreciate it.”

She pulls back and she nods, wiping her tears from her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.”

“When am I ever wrong?” Spencer teases, trying to make her laugh a little. He succeeds, she giggles and swats his arm lightly. “You know, it’s really nice being friends and going through stuff at the same time… I didn’t think I’d have anyone to talk to when I eventually fell in love.”

Her heart soars for him, “oh, Spence, really? You and Derek?”

He nods, “Yeah…”

“I’m always free to talk whenever you want to,” she reminds him.

“I know,” he smiles. “Now come on, we should call Penelope and at least start a theory before they all return. I don’t want them to think all we did was gossip this whole time.”

—

At the end of the case, they’ve caught a killer but they don’t feel good about it. So many lives were ruined, it could’ve all been avoided years ago if people knew how to treat children kindly… that’s the case for so many of these killers. They’re raised through terrible events in their childhood, events that shaped them into monsters and nothing could stop them from wreaking havoc on a small town just like this.

They take the plane home late that night, she drove in with Aaron so he has to drive her home, too.

It’s a quiet drive. She can tell he’s stuck in his own mind and she wants to ask what’s going on in there but she can’t get the words to come out. Instead, when he pulls up at her apartment, she reaches out for his hand, “Come in with me?”

“Okay,” he agrees quickly.

They barely slept the last few days, scared that their hotel would go up in flames if the arsonist knew they were in town and trying to stop him… so Aaron looks tired. Exhausted, even.

They get out together, she walks around the front of the SUV and he meets her there. She takes his hand and she leads him inside. They kick their shoes off at the door, she helps him out of his suit jacket and hangs it up on the coat hook. He undoes his tie and the first couple of buttons and she smiles, “You want a drink?”

He shakes his head. “I just want to get in bed.”

“Okay,” she doesn’t mind either way. She leads the way down to her bedroom and he’s right there behind her.

He’s been over so much lately that some of his things are still there. She’s done a load of laundry and washed a few of his nightshirts and boxers that he’s left in the bathroom after his morning showers. He always comes out smelling like her shampoo, so she went out and got his usual body wash to keep in there, so she can have his smell back on her sheets. She’s worn his shirt to bed a few times too… she just loves him and when he’s not around she wants to pretend that he is.

She sets out some of his things on the bed while he’s in the bathroom, he has a toothbrush in there too… he could move in if he wanted and she’d be fine with it. More than fine with it. She never wants him to leave.

She changes in her closet, it’s pretty big— a walk-in closet, actually. She hangs up her suit on the “has to go to the dry cleaners” side and changes into her pyjamas before she heads back out into her room.

He’s already changed, standing there in his underwear, looking through her bookshelf, trying to pick out something to read in bed while she watches her show… it’s just what they do.

“What one are you going for tonight?” She asks.

“Hello Sadness,” he says, holding it up for her. “Where’d you get this?”

“Spencer,” she says with a smile. “He said that one is the best translation from the original version. bonjour tristesse.”

“Did you like it?” He asks.

She nods, “It’s good, it’s about a girl and her father who live in France, her dad has been a widower for a long time and his late wife's old friend comes to stay with them. They fall in love and his daughter is scared that everything about her life is about to change… the plot twist at the end is a lot though, you might not like it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he smiles at her and makes his way over to her bed. To his side. His phone is already plugged in and resting on that night table and his watch is right beside it. It’s like he’s really made himself a home here.

She climbs in bed beside him, forgetting the TV remote for her little tv over on the dresser… so she snuggles into Aaron's arm and reads along with him. Page after page, they read in tandem, sometimes he even reads parts out loud. Things that caught his eye and stood out to him.

“I have loved to the point of madness. That which is called madness. That which to me is the only sensible way to love,” Aaron whispers.

She hum, barely awake, “I liked that line the first time too…”

“It’s so true,” he says with a sigh.

She just snuggles in more, “You been in love a lot?”

“3 times,” he says, closing the book for the night and placing it on the night table.

“I’d say the same,” she says, including him in the equation.

Aaron turns off the lamp light on his side and the two of them settle down against the pillows in the darkness. “Love is strange.”

“You’re telling me,” she teases.

She rolls to her side and he snuggles into her back, the way they always slept together. “When was the last time you were in love?” He asks, and he sounds hesitant.

Maybe this is the time to tell him. Maybe Spencer was right. Maybe telling him could soothe his soul and make him feel more at ease. Anxiety pools in her stomach and she’s been quiet for too long now… but she says it. “I’ve been in love for a while now. Almost a whole year now, I think?”

“Oh,” he acts like he’s surprised. “I’m sure he’s a lucky man.”

“He is. He’s strong and confident but he’s also soft and sweet. He’s so good to me, he’s so good at his job and he’s a great father too…”

“wait—

She rolls around to face him in the dark. Taking a leap of faith. “I love you, Aaron.”

“Really?” He doesn’t believe her at first.

She nods, reaching out she places her hand on his cheek, barely able to see him in the dark but she can see enough. “Even if you don’t want me to… even if you rather we be friends. I love you.”

“I-I-

“It’s okay,” she cuts him off. “You don’t have to say anything. We can pretend this didn’t happen if you want. I just… I don’t want things to change again. I was so scared in New York, I thought I was losing my best friend and then you got hurt and this thing between us got stronger… and then we went on that little trip. And then I got hurt and—

“You told me you loved me that night,” Aaron whispers. “You were high on the medicine I gave you and you were falling asleep but you said it. I wanted it to be true so bad, but I never said anything.”

“Oh,” she had no idea. Truly never remembered a thing. “Is that why we kept getting closer?”

He nods. “I don’t know how long I’ve loved you.”

Her eyes widen her heart speeds up, “really?”

“Trying to be in charge of hostage rescue knowing you were in there almost killed me,” he whispers. Still affected by it. “Hearing him hurt you… not knowing where you were in the compound… Derek and Dave had to keep reminding me I couldn’t storm the place myself just to get you back.”

“Oh.” She doesn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he assures her. He rolls back onto his back and pulls her in closer, she rests her cheek on his chest and he holds her hand where it rests on his stomach. He kisses the top of her head. “You’re my best friend too, you know?”

“I figured,” she teases, holding him close, she smiles to herself. It’s hard to believe this is real and she isn’t dreaming. “So what does this mean for us?”

“I don’t want anyone to know,” Aaron whispers. “Not because I’m ashamed or anything… but with The Reaper out there, with him saying he’s going to make my life a living hell, I can’t risk it.”

“We’re going to find him,” she says, confident in the team. “I need you to know that. I need you to believe that this isn’t your fault and I need you to remember that what he does doesn’t fall on your shoulders. No matter what he does.”

“It’s easier said than believed,” he whispers.

She gets off him and reaches over to the lamp on her bedside table, she flicks it on and sits up, staring at him. “I am so scared to lose you over this. After what happened after the bus— with Rossi, and-and after the way you’ve been so withdrawn and honestly… you’ve been kind of a dick to everyone but me, Penelope especially. I can’t have you being mad all the time, I can’t deal with the thought that a case is going to send you over the edge and I’m going to find you dead in your apartment one morning. I can’t do it,” she cries. “I can’t lose you over this.”

“Hey,” he sits up and tentatively puts his hand on her knee. “I’m not going to do anything like that. I promise.” He wipes the tears from her cheeks, “am I disappointed in myself? Yes. Am I going to kill myself over it? No. Never. I’m not going to do that to you or the team or my son. Believe me, I know I’m going to get over this. I know we can catch this guy, but the anticipatory dread I’m feeling, this anxiety, it’s not just going to go away until we catch him. I’m not going to feel okay again until he’s either behind bars or dead.”

“You can talk to me about it,” she reminds him. “Always. I’m never going to push away your feelings or make you feel small. I won’t think less of you or tell your secrets to the others. What we have is special, I’d never break that. I want to be there for you.”

“And that’s why I fell in love with you,” he admits.

Her bottom lip sticks out a bit more as she pouts at him, “Really?”

He nods, “Yes, really… can I kiss you?”

She places her hand on his shoulder and lifts her leg over his lap so she can sit in it, her hands resting on both his cheeks now. “You can kiss me whenever you want to.”

His hands come around to cup her lower back and cradle the back of her head, he pulls her in closer and presses their lips together softly. She never thought she’d get to kiss him… but she has imagined it many times. This is even better than anything she could’ve ever conjured in her mind, alone in the middle of the night.

His lips are soft, his hands are so big and his chest against her own is so inviting. Her hands drop from his cheeks, down his neck, she drags them over his shoulders and then down his strong arms. She feels him up as he kisses her over and over again. Soft pecks at first, he finally licks along her bottom lip, inviting her in for more.

His hand cupping the back of her head comes around to caress her jaw, he traces his fingers down her neck and stops right at the hem of the neckline of her shirt. She pulls back then, breathless and anticipating more, “you can touch me,” she whispers against his lips, stealing more kisses. “You can have me.”

“Have you?” He smirks, trying not to laugh.

“I’m yours now,” she says, feeling drunk on his kiss. “Keep me, touch me, love me, whatever. I’m yours.”

He smiles into another kiss, “All mine you say?” He whispers before kissing her jaw and down her neck. His hand continues down, cupping her breast gently before resting at her side.

She tilts her head back, letting him have more space to kiss… his lips feel so good on her like they were always meant to be there. He starts to go lower, kissing over her shirt, right where her heart would be in her chest. “I want to kiss you everywhere, every last inch of you.”

She reaches for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head, “keep going.”

He lays her back against the bed then, her head resting on her pillow, he kneels between her legs and hovers over her. He stares into her eyes for a moment and then starts to look at her naked chest, “you’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she can’t help but smile.

He leans in and kisses her shoulder and all the way down her arm until he grips her wrist and holds her hand to his mouth. He kisses every finger on her right hand and then reaches for her left, doing the same before kissing his way back up to her shoulder. Across her collarbones, down the centre of her chest. He spends equal amounts of time with each boob, making her smile to herself, suppressing a laugh at just how much attention he gives them. But he is a man after all… then he hugs her hips and runs his cheek over her tummy, caressing her gently before he kisses her right beside her belly button and over to her hip.

Loving every inch of her just like he said he wanted to.

She basks in it, the soft touch of his kiss, his calloused hands, his coarse, barely there, beard against her… it's more intimate than anything she’s ever experienced in her life.

This is what love is supposed to be like. She was always meant to be loved by Aaron Hotchner.

He keeps her shorts on, pushing each loose pant leg up to her underwear line to get as much surface area as possible. He kisses all down her thigh, grips under her knee and lifts her leg up to kiss all the way down to her ankles. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for feet…”

He smirks, shaking his head, “I don’t,” he whispers, kissing the side of her foot before laying her leg back down. He grips her at her other ankle, kissing the side of her foot and once again repeating the same pattern as the last leg, just backwards. He gets all the way back up to the hem f her shorts, pushes them up and kisses her underwear line. She sucks in a sharp breath, wishing he’d take a risk and peel her out of her shorts… and then he kisses her right over her shorts, smack-dab in the centre of the mound of her vagina and looks up at her. “Roll over.”

She listens, carefully getting not her stomach, he places a knee on either side of her thighs, boxing her in, and moves her hair over, off her back and to the crook of her neck. He leans in, kissing her one shoulder blade over to the other and then starts down her spine. Once he has her all covered, he wraps a hand under her, holding her close as he presses his body weight onto her. He kisses her shoulder again and then rests his cheek there. “I love you.”

“I love you, more,” she whispers back to him.

He gets off her and lays on his side, facing her. “Are you tired now?” She asks.

He nods. “Can I have just one more kiss?”

She sits up a bit, switches off the lamp and moves in closer to him, rests her hand on his cheek and kisses him softly. Again and again and again until the last thing either one of them remembers before falling asleep is the taste of the other's kiss.

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86 @buckleyhans

IKP

@southernraven @alluringshawn @lambsheepsheeping @lmg-stilinski24 @louderfortheback @deludedfruitcake @kleff03 @mrs-ssa-hotch @maxinehufflepuffprincess @lokifanfic2021 @art-and-thoughts @forkswabutnoforks4me @no-1martinipolice

[labrxnth]

EotP Chapter 1: Into Darkness (Leon x Reader Series)

Tag List:

WC: 3310

CWs: some heinous forced father figure shit, human experimentation, PTSD, kidnapping, cannon level body horror, cannon level swearing and violence, body comparison.

AN: So, This monster is finally here now that Prison Break is done. I'm thinking of a schedule that I can accurately keep, maybe one chapter every two weeks. This series will span over all of Resident Evil, it's gonna be a big boy so strap in.

If you want to be on the tag list, comment and it'll be done.

Spotify Link: Listen along to the playlist I've curated for this fanfic

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

The first thing you experienced about the apocalypse wasn’t the loud sirens, explosions, or screaming. It was how quiet it was. The usual fluorescent lights of the lab testing floor you were on were still burning as bright as ever, your eyes trailing the multitude of doctors and nurses scrambling through the hall, clipboards and keycards in hand. 

Your hand placed itself on the glass wall, confused as to why the doctors and scientists were acting more skittish than usual. The feeling you had in your stomach turning into a deeper pit. Anxiety swelling inside of you. 

Even without any of the chemicals dumped into you through the many syringes “gifted” to you, your intuition was off the charts. You knew something was wrong. 

Hearing the usual vroom of the door to your cell opening, your eyes turned to it, seeing the scientist usually in charge of you with a lead in hand. He stood in the doorway, his salt and pepper hair slicked back like it always was. His glasses were pristine, no scratches or dirt on them, his lab coat and scrubs eerily clean. 

“Subject 13, we’re moving you,” David said, his voice not leaving room for question. 

You nodded, walking up to him. David had been in charge of you since you got here at the ripe age of 10. A decade of being trapped in these four walls, not seeing the outside. 

The last time you were outside, the whole world felt like it was dripped in neon. The lights, the hair, the makeup, everything. All you wanted was a Barbie doll or a cabbage patch kid. Now, the world to you was white walls, white floors, and people wearing all white. 

David clasped the lead onto your thin collar, starting to walk the opposite end down the hallway that you were used to. You only ever walked to the left of your cell, not the right. Today you were going to the right, following all the other doctors and scientists. 

“Where are we going?” You asked quietly. 

“Hm?” David asked, not even bothering to look over you. 

You took a second, looking down at your feet while you walked. Taking a deep breath, you get ready to rephrase your sentence. “Father, where are you taking me?” You rephrased. 

He smiled back at you, his yellow cigarette smoke stained teeth being visible from behind his lips. “My flower, we’re relocating you.” He responded, then looked forward. 

Relocation….. 

You’ll get to see another part of the world. Maybe if you were lucky, you’d be able to see outside through windows. The idea thrilled you more than the fear of being sent to another location. But still, one thought loomed over you, the NEST had been your home for the past 10 years, why were they moving you now?

“Father, why?” You asked, watching people run by you. The hairs on the back of your neck were sticking up, matching the anxiety of everyone else besides David. 

“Because, My Flower, someone messed up on one of the upper floors,” He replied. His tone was always condescending, infantilizing you, talking down to you. He acted like you were still 10 like when he “found you”. 

“Messed up?” You asked. He never told you about stuff happening on the upper floors, you were hoping that he’d be willing to go into deeper detail if he was already in a talking mood. 

“Birkin…. messed with something that he shouldn’t have,” He responded and left it at that. 

Birkin…. That had to be a person by the way he was talking. You had searched your memory, trying to figure out if you ever came into contact, but couldn’t remember anything. 

As the two of you walked through a set of double doors, the hallway changed from white to a blaring red. An alarm was going off, along with the emergency lights, making the hallway a sensory nightmare. 

You squeezed your eyes closed, attempting to quell the migraine you were starting to get from everything. 

After going through another set of double doors, you felt yourself rising from the ground. Opening them in a panic, you noticed you were in an elevator, making your way to the surface. How long had it been since you were in an elevator last? It had to have been at the mall, while you were waiting impatiently to get to Orange Julius. 

The mall that had just opened up down the road from where you lived. The same mall where a strange man in a suit came up to you and asked you where your parents were.

The same one where you were taken from, never to see the outside world again. 

“Where will we go?” You asked, your (e/c) eyes meeting his face. 

“Where we go,” David replied dryly. 

You nodded, discontent with the answer, but pushing your feelings aside like you had been trained to do. If you dug too far, it would only spell more pain and suffering for you; curiosity was not a trait celebrated by Umbrella Corp. 

He led you down another hallway, the lead tugging at your neck, an uncomfortable feeling, making you seem like a dog. Your place was a lab rat, property owned by Umbrella Corp. You were truly David’s bitch through and through. Something he held over you. 

After a mind numbing walk through more hallways than you could count, you felt the cold air prick your face. Your nose breathed in the fresh air for the first time in a decade, tears almost welling in your eyes at the nostalgic feeling of it. It was crisp, but warm at the same time. Smelling like nothing, but everything all at once. Where the air smelled like cleaner and chemicals in your cell, the air here smelled of an electric charge, a storm on the horizon, and the calamity happening in the city. 

Looking around, you saw the city horizon line. There were more lights than when you were brought here, assuming you were looking at the same side of the building from before. You saw the misty haze sweeping over the city, the pine trees in the background surrounding the mountains in the faint distance. If you could see the roads, you would have seen the destruction breaking out around you. 

You would have seen the hell emerging from the depths of where you were kept. 

Looking forward, you saw a military grade helicopter, the same type they brought you here in. When you were first taken, you remembered every single detail you could with hope you could somehow make it out. 

Obviously, you were naïve. 

David ushered you into the helicopter, taking his seat in the pilot’s. Two U.S.S. (Umbrella Security Services) agents accompanied the two of you on the helicopter, guns drawn. One was pointed off the ramp, the other was pointed at you. At this point, you would have either been an idiot or had a death wish if you attempted to run. At this point you had the survivor mentality beaten out of you. 

Starting up the helicopter, David tied your lead to the bar separating the two of your seats. Your eyes were glued to the world outside, watching the rain hit the windows and windshields in awe. The world seemed darker since you saw it last, obviously because it was night time, but it felt grungier. Less like the neon wonderland you left and more like cigarette smoke and leather. 

As the helicopter flew above the city, the fires and crowds of people below were finally visible to you. The shock tore through your body at the sight. 

“The people… what’s happening to them?” You asked, your eyes following clusters of people attacking others. It looked like ants fighting from how high up you were, but you could still make out their shapes and sizes. 

“Birken’s atrocity. This is why I worked on more sophisticated projects like you, My Flower,” David replied, running a hand through your hair. An unfamiliar sound filled your ears, getting louder and louder by the second. 

David’s head whipped to the side. “Holy shit!” He yelled and jerked the steering sticks of the helicopter towards you. Your eyes widened as you saw a glimpse of something coming at the two of you, then the world went white again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

You woke up to a searing pain in your right arm. Eyes shooting open, all you saw around you were silent flames, engulfing the helicopter and licking up your right arm. You tried to lunged through the flames and get out of the helicopter, but a force pulled you back, the fucking collar and lead. Looking around the helicopter, you found a stray shard of glass and picked it up. Your hand instantly filled with a sanguine red, the glass cutting your hand from just holding it. Quickly and wasting no time, you sawed through the lead, gritting your teeth at the pain. 

David would surely forgive you for breaking your lead, it was life or death. Then again, he was a psychotic doctor that experimented on and tortured you for years. 

Once the lead went slack, breaking apart, you jumped through the flames, rolling on the floor of wherever you were to extinguish the flames on you. Catching your breath and feeling your heartbeat die down, you took a few seconds, waiting for David or a U.S.S. agent to pick you back up. 

When no one jolted you up to your feet, your eyes opened to find a dusty wooden floor beneath you. Pushing off of your arms, you looked around you and saw a hallway of some sort, a rather plain one, but not the white ones you were used to seeing by now. 

You stood up and looked toward the helicopter, seeing three bodies in there, engulfed in the flames. David and the two U.S.S. agents. 

You were…. Free. 

Free… 

David was dead. 

Your mind kept going over these words in your mind before you decided it would be better to move than stay still. While David had beaten the survivor out of you, you weren’t an idiot. 

The helicopter was cutting the hallway in half, giving you only one choice to go: behind you. You turned around and looked down the daunting hallway, feeling like it would’ve been better if you perished in the crash with everyone else. Nonetheless, you pushed forward into the darkness, your eyes adjusting to the darkness and your ears adjusting to the quiet. 

Walking down the hallway, you found the first door, a wooden door directly in front of you. On the wall, there was a sign that stuck out from it saying “Waiting Room”. As you walked closer, you found yourself having to limp, your ankle feeling less than ideal for walking a great distance. Your hand pressed up to the door, feeling the indents on the real wood. Every texture you had dealt with since you were taken was either slick, cold, slimy, or all of the above. 

It felt nice to feel something homemade, something that felt real. You cautiously pushed the door open and a sudden warmth filled the hallway. The room had multiple lights on, the type that you weren’t used to anymore. Instead of the fluorescent lights that made you want to gouge your eyeballs out, they were small lamps with a warm, orange or yellow glow to them. 

Closing the door behind you, you tried to find anything that could tell you where you were. You had no clue the size of the building you crashed into or where exactly you were. 

Turning to your direct left, you found a bulletin board on the wall with multiple posters. All of them said Raccoon City as the location of what they were advertising, so it was safe to say you were still in the city. 

Looking around more, you were startled as you heard the door behind you open. It was quiet, but you still picked up on it, your ears flicking slightly at the sound. 

“Are you alive?” A rather young voice asked you. Your hands went up slightly in surrender and you turned around. 

When you looked at who was talking, your eyes lit up. The question he asked puzzled you, but seeing someone that looked around your age was a relief in its own right. 

His face was unlike any other face you had seen. Most faces from your childhood blurred together, the only faces you really remember being your own, David’s, and the other scientists that occasionally worked on you for David. This young man’s features were soft, his eyes blue and kind, with an emotion at the forefront. You had seen that emotion in your own eyes before. 

He was scared and trying to hide it. 

“You’re alive,” He responded. You knit your eyebrows in confusion and noticed the gun he was pointing at you. Confused, you nodded and watched him sigh in relief, then lower the gun. “You, me, and Marvin are the only ones here that aren’t infected,” He added, reholstering his gun. 

“Infected?” Your voice asked. 

The young man looked at you, his eyebrows knit together, confusion matching your own. His eyes looked up and down your outfit, the white hospital gown and scrub pants that you had worn for the last ten years catching his eye. 

“Yeah…. Where did you come from?” He asked and took a step towards you. 

Instinctively, you took a step back, his eyes immediately softening. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you okay? I’m a police officer, it’s my job to help people.” He said softly. 

You remembered your parents telling you to find a police officer if you ever needed help when you would go to the mall alone. The day you were taken, you tried to tell one that a man in a suit was following you.

You were laughed at. 

Sensing your apprehension, he took off one of his fingerless gloves and held his bare hand out to you. “My name’s Leon, Leon Kennedy. If you want to survive, I might be your best bet,” He said. 

You looked at the hand and hesitantly reached your own out to his. But your name, what name could you tell him? Subject 12 wasn’t your name, it was used to get rid of your humanity, taking away your ability to even have a name. 

A name, you used to have a name, but what was it? Digging deep into your memories, you tried to remember it; tried to remember a friend saying it in joy, tried to remember a parent saying it in love, a teacher in anger. 

Nothing. 

Leon looked at you expectantly, trying to read your expression. Your eyes met his as your hand met his in a shake. All you could remember for a name was the sound of rock playing through your dad’s radio, him praising a female singer for her melodies and guitar playing skills. 

“Joan, my name is Joan,” You said, claiming the name as your own. 

“Nice to meet you Joan, got a gun?” Leon asked. He looked down at your hands and you guessed that you had held on for way too long judging by the look on his face. You let go and awkwardly smiled at him. 

“A gun? No,” You replied, your head tilting to the side slightly. “Why would I need a gun?” You asked. 

“Why would you need a gun?” Leon echoed your question, looking at you incredulously. His eyes then went down to the burn mark on your right arm and the cut through the palm of your same hand.  “Where did you come from, you haven’t been here?” He asked. 

You shook your head slightly, proving his theory correct. “I was in a helicopter, then everything went white and I woke up surrounded by flames in this building,”

His eyes widened. “You were in that helicopter? The one that crashed into the building?” He asked, his eyes almost bugging out of his head. You nodded in response and he dug through his hip pouches, producing a small box with a red cross on it. 

“Here, let me patch you up, take a seat,” He said and gestured to one of the benches. You limped over, his eyes catching which ankle you weren’t letting touch the floor and taking a mental note of it. 

Sitting down on the bench, you looked at the palm of your hand seeing just how deep the glass had cut you. Leon kneeled down in front of you and looked up into your eyes, then back down at the collar you had on. 

“I don’t mean to pry…” He trailed off. You stared at him, expecting him to ask a question, but he just shrugged and shook his head, saying something to himself that a normal person wouldn’t be able to hear, but you could. “Isn’t the weirdest fucking thing I’ve seen today,” He said to himself. 

You watched him take bandages and a small spray can out of the case. “Can I have your hand?” He asked. You gave up your hand, palm side up. His hand gently grabbed your wrist, his eyes darting to your face for any sign of discomfort, but finding none. 

“This will hurt a bit,” He said and shook the small can. As the spray hit your cut, a slight hiss left your mouth. “Sorry,” He said, his eyebrows knit in focus and sympathy. Leon was quick to wrap the hand in bandages and then wrap the burn loosely.   

His hand dropped your wrist and he gestured to your ankle. “Can I help that too?” He asked. You nodded and he took your ankle, resting it on his knee. Almost as quick as when he wrapped your hand, your ankle was wrapped and all set to go. 

“It looks sprained. If we were in a better situation, I’d tell you to stay off of it, but we’re not,” He said and looked up at you.

“Thank you,” You said and lightly smiled at him. Looking down at him, you got a feeling that you haven’t had in awhile. 

You felt like he could be trusted; instead of the churning sea that your stomach usually was, it was calm. A slight warmth spreading through your chest at his smile.

“We should head out, I have this puzzle that I need to solve for us to get out of here,” He said, fishing a small booklet out of his pouches and putting the box back in. 

Looking at him, you could tell that he’d been here for at least longer than you had. He might be useful to stick around; especially if he had weapons and you didn’t. 

“Sounds good,” You said and stood up, getting used to the new weight on your ankle. 

“Before we go…. I gotta ask,” He said, leading into a question that you didn’t really want to answer right now. 

“No you don’t,” You replied and steadied yourself, looking up to meet his gaze. 

“Okay, I guess I don’t,” He said, his head moving to the door he came out of. “Alright, let’s get moving,” He added. 

You followed him through the door, into the unknown. Maybe on the other side of the door, there would be a fully fledged freedom; the world that you were kept from. 

To you, you were free of the white walls, white floors, damnation you were sentenced to. Now, you were headed into hell on Earth that you were completely unaware of. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

Catch this fic and others on my AO3

[carryingthebannershitposts]

Very genuinely important question

So, in a modern AU, I feel like all the Newsies would have drastically different music tastes from each other, and I have almost all of them figured out, but I need y'all to tell me if I'm right

Spot: Mother Mother, specifically both Haylofts and Burning Pile since he thinks it makes him look badass, but also he relates to a lot of the lyrics and likes to scream them. On the other side of things, he likes listening to egotistical songs (mostly from Bradways and shit) because they make him feel better about himself. (I give you as an example, What The World Needs from Ride The Cyclone. He loves RTC, Ocean is his favorite character. He hates her character arc tho.)

-

Race: Half Cavetown/Alex G/Will Wood, and other music artists that just make music for a living, half surprisingly upbeat songs, mostly from shows, games and movies, that for the most part aren't made to be listened to as much as he does. For example, No Girl's Toy from the Raggedy Ann/Andy movie had him in a chokehold for a little bit, same with the Cab Calloway version of St. James Infirmary Blues from Betty Boop's Snow White (Specifically JUST that version- he refuses to listen to the other ones). He is not allowed to have his playlist of shuffle in the lodging house because it'll skip right from the most depressing song you've ever heard to some random ass thing from the Cuphead soundtrack.

-

David: Doesn't listen to actual music with lyrics most of the time. No, he puts on that one 10 hour lo-fi compilation from Youtube. If he does want actual music though it's shit like MARINA and Melanie Martinez. Also, he LIVED AND BREATHED the Dear Evan Hansen soundtrack at one point. There's also a few songs he likes but he doesn't listen to anything else from the artist/source material, most notably Soldier, Poet, King and It's Not A Game/It's Just A Ride (After Spot forced everyone to watch RTC with him and Race).

-

Jack: COUNTRY MUSIC. But also, not actual country music. He likes the aethstetic (because cowboy) but can't stand the music, so he gets away with saying it's country music by listening to shit like I Love You Like An Alcoholic. He's gotten caught once listening to Hug All Ur Friends after Race recommended it, but he always used headphones after that. Also, being the tenor icon he is, he would be in choir and all his choir pieces (specifically the concerning sounding ones) are on his spotify playlist. (I raise you: A Silence Haunts Me. Look it up. Also, yes, as a Tenor who sang that piece with the choir I'm in, it's still in my playlist.)

-

Crutchie/Les: Grouped together because these two have the same music taste and share headphones a lot. It consists of AJR (They like the vibe of the music and both giggle quietly when it swears) The entire lion guard soundtrack, a bunch of Yaelokre songs and other fantasy-sounding stuff, and a bunch of My Little Pony (g4) songs.

-

Albert: Doesn't listen to as much music as the others, but he notably blasts the entire Hazbin Hotel soundtrack whenever he's watching the younger kids, very loudly yelling all the swears. He doesn't even watch Hazbin Hotel, he just does it to piss everyone off for fun. Jack hates this but can't really do anything about it.

[nathantheauthor]

I said I was going to start talking about the rewrites I have, and what better way than just start with the poster boys, and I do mean boys!

Welcome to the first entry of my Creepypasta rewrites, I introduce the rewrites for Woods, Keaton and a variant of 2015, as well as my own original Jeff! We'll talk about this in chronological order.

Before we get into it I do have to preference there is a lot of lore that I'm not going to fully dive into here, cuz as you'll notice I have excluded a Jeff variant, as I'm saving Hodek for his own blog entry. My takes on Jeff depict the variance as a cult worshiping the original Jeff the killer, with Woods and Keaton at the head of it, well, Keaton is the REAL master mind.

Hailing from 2013, we have the ever well-known and (not very) beloved Jeffrey Woods, the second ever recorded Jeff The Killer. No I actually had a lot of difficulty figuring this one out, because he needed the biggest rewrite out of all of them, and frankly, I had fun and adore the end result.

Jeffrey Woods is still a story we know, and have seen time and time again, but there is a few major updates and differences to his origins. For starters, one of the major things I wanted to do and touch up on is his relationship and dynamic with Liu, and I went a step further to switch their ages, Jeff is once again the younger brother, with Liu being only a year older than him, making most of the stuff to come later make a lot more sense.

The other major change is the incident is no longer a birthday party, I rewritten and restructured a lot of the events without changing most of the beats, and this is the event I've changed the most, and it's aftermath, you see instead of a birthday party this takes place at a 4th of July gathering. The events play out somewhat the same, with his parents sending him to find his own entertainment and ultimately he ends up playing cowboys with some of the younger kids, before Randy and crew came onto the scene, pulling him away for a "chat".

Instead of guns or the flare gun this time around, no, Jeff is hit with some illegal fireworks, the incident burning him from head to toe, leaving him worse from where when the ambulance is finally do arrive and Randy is arrested. His pale skin is actually explained by the improper skin grafts, leaving him with ghostly pale skin, and in fact, he still has his eyelids. Rather than them being removed, his eyes are unable to shut properly due to a problem with the methods used to treat him.

In fact the events of the first murder are completely different, it is instead the family of Jane Arkensaw, leading to his parents seeing him coming back from the burning the house down, forcing him to silence them as well before visiting Liu. In this version of events there is no catchphrase, instead it's Jeff struggling to find any sort of comforting words for his brother, only what their parents used to tell them... "Shh. Just go to sleep." Before smothering him with a pillow and leaving during Liu's unconscious moments. Now homeless, and on the run, he's forced to fend for himself until!

Jeffrey Keaton, the third and most vile recorded Jeff The Killer, based semi off of the MBK version. He's more violent and manipulative, and audible stutter often signifying his enjoyment of his depraved actions. Unlike Woods, there had been something wrong with Keaton deeply from the start, hell it wasn't just him, his elder brother David was equally as vile. They killed their parents together, and wreaked havoc across the small town of Ferguson,

However, similar to his counterpart in the MBK-verse, he would be trapped in Krueger asylum and meeting group of colorful individuals. Helen Otis, Natalie Outlette, Katherine Knight, Diana Angels, and Owen Allaster. Eventually they would all find themselves free in the wake of Natalie's superhuman strength awakening. They broke out as a group, ultimately splitting up as Owen and Katherine returned to Slenderman, Jeff sought to find his brother, Diana Angels left to seek out answers to what she is, and Natalie vanished into the night.

Having split ways with his asylum gang, Jeffrey would find himself lured into an abandoned pizzeria, David strung up from wires, the mad head of the asylum was waiting for him, garbed in wolf mask and trench coat. The resulting class at ultimately end in the death of David and the first of many deadly experiences for Jeffrey Keaton.

In the aftermath of this, he would be indoctrinated and resurrected by Zalgo, infected with the demonic warden's influence, and ultimately coming to die multiple times.

Present day Jeffrey Keaton is a walking corpse, malnourished and rotting, bugs crawling beneath his skin and threatening to eat him from the inside out. He can only be described as a GHOUL, a zombie. His appearance began to resemble the ugliness inside of him over time, to be a reflection of the monster within.

He's long evolved from playing serial killing, now using the existence and concept of Jeffrey Hodek, he's formed a cult alongside Woods, calling themselves The Church of Smiles, which, unbeknownst to Woods, is a way for Keaton to highly rack up the amount of kills made in the name of Zalgo. The undead abominable aims to speed up his master's arrival, using the others as his pawns.

Our next stop is Jeffrey Coleman! A reimagined 2015, which is mostly the same for now, the only difference is that rather than the flare gun... He is suffering from a chemical burn that covers half his face.

Our final stop, the original concept. Jefferson Forester! The youngest of the jeffs here, and the most short-lived. Honestly I'm still working on flushing on his backstory, and general concepts for him...

I can't over say that I do have a lot of concepts for what he was during his time alive, but I do want to talk about him because he's how I started to like Jeff The Killer again. I actually originally hated the guy, and that just spawned from how I written a lot of variants were, and just the damage he did to the fandom as a whole. But, the goal for Forester was to create what I would like to see as the ideal Jeff The Killer.

Forester is an amalgamation of all that came before him, the stutter from keaton, a more thorough burning than 2015, leaving him a SCARRED mess, and he is the only one that actually has the catchphrase penned by Woods. He's twisted and chatty, he'll break you down psychologically before he takes your life.

Forester is egotistical and short sighted, he was the first one to come up with the idea of leaving carved Smiles as a sort of calling card for the church, and it's ultimately he that ends up creating this world's Nina. Ultimately, it's his ego that got some killed, for when Jack Revver came for him, he thought that nothing could stop him. I'll probably make a blog for him when I eventually return to fully flush him out.

So, yeah, I figured we start off strong with the poster boy(s) of the community. And I'm sure you've noticed them in the tags and their real names in thread, but there are plenty of pastas mention here that will get their own blog entries with time. Bloody Painter, Clockwork, Killing Kate, Zalgo Judge Angels and Nina Hopkins, all already have their own rewrites, and I'm actively working on the rewrite for The Red Artist

[vampire-club]

Heroes | November 7th, 1983

steve harrington x oc

(this entry contains: pining, yearning, slow burn, teen angst, unrequited love, childhood best friends, best friends, friends with benefits, sex, drugs, rock-n-roll, smoking, drinking, david bowie, vampires, potentially erotic soccer playing, dungeons, dragons, and the incurable desire to be known)

word count: 2.1k

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

from the diary of Sara Henderson: writer, actor, biter, striker, team player, good with kids

dedicated to her brother, Dustin, and her best friend, Steve. may they never, ever read this!

i might be in the library… 

November 7th, 1983

I can’t discern the sound that wakes me up. Realizing it’s a symphony of both my alarm and the phone, I hit the clock and drag myself to my desk. Mom is at work so I play receptionist in the mornings. I clear my voice before answering the phone. 

“Hel-” I am immediately cut off.

“Sara?” Joyce. My mind immediately runs away from me. It’s not unusual for her to call, but being almost frantic first thing in the morning? 

“Y-yeah?” Is all I can manage as I snap into the day. Her words are on top of mine.

“Did Will stay over last night?” Will doesn’t stay over here. I mean, he has before but it’s not exactly something that would happen on a whim.

“Oh, no. He rode his bike home from the Wheeler's. I saw him… he was with Dustin. He went right past our house…” Right?

“And you haven’t seen him?” She’s seemingly trying to keep herself together. 

“No. Didn’t he make it home last night?”

“I’m sure he just left before I saw him this morning.” This isn’t normal. I can tell she’s scared. I’d be worried, too. I’m like her in that way. Seems I have more in common with 40 year old mothers every day. Bummer.

“Ok, I’ll-”

“Thank you, Sara. Bye.” The line disconnected before I could say anything else. Huh. Business as usual? I put the phone back and haul myself to Dustin’s door. 

“Morning!” I knock loud enough to wake him and wait for a response. A loud groan tells me all I need to know. He’s awake and he’ll join the rest of the world shortly. 

What’s going on with Will? I don’t want to tell Dustin yet. It could be nothing so there’s no reason to worry him, right? For now, I’ll pretend everything is normal. Nothing I haven’t already been doing so what else is new?

Just go through the motions as usual. Make breakfast, get ready, make sure Dustin leaves for school on time.

I grab some bowls of cereal, put them on the table and- no milk. Shit. Just add it to the list and I’ll grab it later. Change of plans. I grab two muffins and throw some bacon on the stove. Be right back. Get dressed quickly and of course all my sweaters are dirty. I guess I’ll do laundry when I get home. Short sleeves. Just throw a jacket over and it’ll be fine. Bra, boots, bag, blush, books… bacon. I throw everything into my backpack and run back into the kitchen. Almost burnt. Good enough timing. 

“Come on, Dustin. Breakfast.” I call, pouring him a glass of juice and putting on a pot of coffee. By the time I set the table and take a moment to sit, I hear his door open, then close. He clumps to the kitchen and drops his things.

“Good morning.” He says, clearly still tired.

“Good morning. Did you get your homework done?” He nods as he bites into his muffin. There has to be something for us to talk about.

“I have some time this week to write a campaign for you guys.” No I don’t. “You could play it this weekend.”

“That could be cool. We just have to finish our other campaign first.” 

“Then I’ll have it for you next weekend.”

“Awesome.” He smiles 

That worked. Kinda how it used to be. Dustin and I actually have a lot in common. I’m not sure if that is more embarrassing for me or for him. We both finished our food quickly since it wasn’t much and we were on our way out. I hand him his hat and pour some coffee to go. Plenty of cream and lots of sugar. 

“Be safe.” I tell him as he gets on his bike.

“I know.” He says. “See you later.” 

“Later.” I wave as he rides off. Following his lead, I get in my car and make my way to school.

Sweetly reminiscent,

Something mother used to bake

Hawkins High has an unspoken rule about parking spots. They’re not assigned but they might as well be. My spot is the fifth down the second aisle, facing north. Steve parks on my left, the sixth spot. 99% of the time, I beat Steve to school. The 1% is the days I don’t show up. I leave a little note on his windshield every morning. Mostly meaningless, they are usually just lyrics or Shakespeare or drawings. 

“Thy sin’s not accidental, but a trade.”

I’ll explain it to him eventually. I won’t see him until class, but somehow I feel his lingering presence as I pass Nancy in the hall. She’s a little preoccupied reading some note so neither of us really acknowledge the other. She’s not quite my friend but we’re more than acquaintances. I don’t know what to call that. Well now she’s like my friend's almost girlfriend? Whatever, just keep walking to class.

I save a seat for Steve. I want to sit closer to the front, he wants to sit in the back. We sit in the middle. He walks in right before the bell in a manner that I would call oddly peppy. 

“She’s got you good, Romeo.” I whisper.

“And I’m gonna see her again tonight.” Almost jumping for joy in and out of his seat.

“You are a real winner.” I grab the notes from my bag and hand them to him. “Don’t let me down now that you have other prospects.”

“Have I ever?” Hand over heart, he looks at me. 

thy sin’s not accidental, but a trade

Hours pass by. I think about Will and my brother. It somehow makes the day go by faster. Soon, I’m walking back to my car with Steve. 

“I’ll let you know how it goes.” Please don’t.

“Oh good. Disgusting amounts of detail please.” I will throw up if you say anything weird.

“Yeah you wish.” He opens my door and nudges me into the seat. I should run him over.

“Gross. I’ll talk to you later. Don’t forget-” He cuts me off as I start the car.

“The notes. I’ve got it. Bye” He closes my door. Rolling my eyes, I wave to him and drive away. Off to my destined duties and to not think about him swapping spit with Nancy. 

By the time I’m home from the store, the sun is just about to set. Dustin is home, sitting at the kitchen table as I walk in. Usually he would be at Mike’s.

“Hey Dust, I didn’t think you’d be here. How was school?”

“The same as it always is I guess. Except for the part where the cops told us that Will is missing.” So it’s real and it’s only getting realer. He won’t be happy if he finds out I knew something was wrong.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, I guess he didn’t get home last night. We answered their questions but we should be out there helping.” Absolutely not. There is a line when it comes to me getting into trouble and this would probably be crossing it. I especially need to keep Dustin out of it. I take a deep breath.

“Look, I am sorry that they can’t find Will but there isn’t much that we can do. If the police are looking for him then let’s not interfere. You’ve already helped by telling them what you know.”

“I was gonna go to Mike’s and…” Here we go.

“You know I can’t let you. Not until we know-”

“Please, Sara.” I kneel down next to him, really needing him to hear me.

“I have to keep you safe, especially now. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” He goes to his room without another word. I don’t try to stop him. At least he’s not in danger there. I’ll just try again later. 

Unpack groceries, start laundry, make dinner. Go team! Except that the team is me, myself, and I.

Dinner is quick. Just some spaghetti for tonight. I don’t have the time or the desire to make anything else. Dustin says he’s not hungry. I’ll try again a little later.

Not too much homework tonight. It’s mostly Latin, which is probably the most cerebral class I’m taking. Steve thinks it’s funny, but I’m not the one struggling in Spanish. Mom gets home, thanks me for the groceries, and goes to bed by the time I’m done. I check the clock and it’s already 9. Time to try appealing to Dustin one last time. I know that he’s worried, I am too. We really are similar, which is why I know what will work on him. I go to his bedroom door and knock.

“I got ice cream at the store if you want some.” Nothing.

“Dessert for dinner. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity you’re missing out on.” Still nothing. “Dustin!” I knock again. “Dustin?” Against my better judgment, I decide to open the door.

He’s not there.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Immediately I looked for his bike. Easiest way to know if he’s home. Nowhere to be found. Now, unlike last night, I shoot out of the house and am flying through the neighborhood. I go straight to the Wheeler’s, getting there in record, and law, breaking time. It’s really raining. I loathe driving in the rain. Almost there and I see Steve’s car parked a block away. Subtle. 

As I approach the house, I notice the idiot in question trying to climb out of a window. Steve notices my car pull up. I don’t even turn the car off before getting out. I won’t be here long. He walks through the yard in a way that only he would describe as sneaky. Lucas scrambles out of the house right after. I nod him off, signaling him to get home. 

“Be safe.” I warn. He nods before taking off on his bike. Dustin comes out right after, first in a hurry, but almost freezes when he sees me. Slowly making his way towards me, but Steve beats him.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks. I simply point at Dustin.

“Uh oh. Someone’s in trouble.” Steve says as he starts to walk towards his car.

“You’re not setting a very good example.” I joke. 

“Neither are you.” He shrugs, slipping me a pack of cigarettes he must have swiped from me earlier.  

“See you later” And he’s off. Just in time for Dustin to take his place.

“What do I always tell you? Don’t do anything stupid, don’t do anything dangerous, and don’t be like him.” I gesture to Steve and turn to open my trunk for his bike.

“Are you mad?” I really want to be.

“I’m just glad you’re safe.” I take his bike. “Get in.” And he does.

This is the first night we drive home without music. 

He seems pretty shaken up and I can’t tell if it’s because he got caught or if it’s something else. What happened tonight, and where is Will?  It’s not quiet for long.

“You’re not in trouble.” Let’s get that out of the way.

“Are you gonna tell mom?” And get us both in trouble?

“I won’t. Unless you want me to.” Clearly a joke. That is the last thing either of us want. He laughs a little.

“Good idea.” He says and I grin.

“But I will tell you that what you did tonight was a new level of stupid. You completely ignored everything I’ve told you.”

“I know… what do you mean by ‘don't be like Steve?’” I’ll tell you when you’re older or whatever parents say.

“Just that… he does stupid things and you, Dustin, are not stupid. So I don’t want you acting like it.” Stellar big sister advice if I do say so myself.

“Do you think Steve is a douchebag?” Yes.

“Yes.” Honesty. Without hesitation. 

“So why are you friends with him?” Well. What do I say to that? Because he’s Steve. That’s it. There’s not a way to explain it that would make sense. The closest I’ve got is because I think that I’m a douchebag too so it’s a birds of a feather thing. But I won’t say that to Dustin. Instead…

“He’s a good guy, I think.” A little rough.

“You think?”

“‘I think’ as in that’s what I believe. I believe that he is a good guy. That is why I’m friends with him. I always thought you liked Steve.”

“I don’t know, you just seem mad at him.” Not far off but just another thing I can’t explain.

“I’m not. It doesn’t matter.” Deflect. “What you did was stupid regardless of Steve. What were you guys even doing?”

“Nothing.” He snaps and the car is quiet again.

“You don’t have to tell me, but if you want to, you know?” 

“Yeah, I know. No secrets.” He says. 

“No secrets.” I say.

And it’s clear that neither of us mean it. 

said you’d give me light

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: David/Jake; unilateral move

For the prompt: David and Jake re-discussing marriage and kids post-retirement

David has never wanted children. Not when he was a child himself, not when he was a teenager, and not as the years went by, no matter how many well meaning remarks have been made about him changing his mind and wanting them some day.

Strangely, not wanting kids had offered a strange sort of comfort when he was younger. Sure, he was — he couldn’t even think the word at the time. But at least that meant children weren’t going to be something to worry about in his future. He’d be alone forever, and that wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t the worst thing either.

Obviously things didn’t work out that way.

Anyone who’s met Jake for ten minutes knows he’s the sort of person who wants marriage and kids. David knew he’d be good with kids before he ever saw the gentle way he has with them, careful but not ginger. And not careful because he’s afraid of them, the way David is, especially when they’re small, impossibly fragile.

Every time the topic came up — and it did, every so often, after time with the Lourdes, or meeting a teammate’s newborn, or someone said ‘you two thinking about kids?’, offhand, like that wasn’t an insultingly personal question.

Every time it came up, Jake would say something like ‘we don’t have to decide yet’, or ‘can’t do anything until retirement anyway’, over David’s ‘no’, and David never knew if he said that hoping that David’s mind would change by then, or if he was giving a deadline, but letting David know there was still time. A stay of execution before they both had to admit, with their parallel careers behind them, that they wanted to walk different paths, and that maybe it would be best to part ways.

David doesn’t want to part ways, but he doesn’t want to walk the path Jake wants to walk either, and he doesn’t know how to reconcile those two things, isn’t sure that he can. So he took delay as a reprieve, with gratitude.

When Jake retired, it was delayed again, ‘we don’t have to talk about this until you retire’, and that lasted longer than David thinks either of them expected, his body holding out, his skills remaining relevant, until he was the only one remaining from his draft class, then his draft class and the two draft classes following.

But now David’s retired, and the offseason has cycled into a new season, the first one he hasn’t been a part of in over two decades, and Jake hasn’t brought it up, but David knows he wants to, is just waiting for what seems like a good time, and David doesn’t know what he’s going to say, but he knows whatever it is, it’s not going to be what Jake wants to hear. Whatever he says is going to be the wrong thing.

David doesn’t think about the conversation they need to have often, truly; he tries not to, with the things that scare him, even though he knows that probably isn’t the way he’s supposed to deal with them, that bravery is doing it anyway, not turning away from it. But then, David’s never claimed to be brave.

He hasn’t thought about it in weeks, right up until he gets a text from Emily while he and Jake are lingering over a late breakfast, David half-heartedly pushing at the last of the fruit he took too much of, hoping Jake will notice and offer to eat it for him.

Max is grinning wide, a little too close to the camera, like he was crowding the screen. He looks like he’s about to do something that’ll get him trouble, maybe already did it, and David finds he takes after Emily more and more as he gets older, but in this picture he’s all Kiro. David possibly loves Max more than he loves Kiro, and that’s saying a lot. It burns a little, how much he cares about him, but a good burn, like a sore muscle after a hard day of training.

“I still don’t want kids,” David says aloud.

“Aw, come on, if there’s any kid that shouldn’t turn you off kids, it’s Max,” Jake says, looking up from his own phone. Em must have sent him the picture too.

“I’m not turned off kids,” David says. He loves Max, loves his nephews, always liked signing things for kids the most. Toddlers mostly no longer scare him, though he’s still anxious whenever someone hands him a baby. It’s not that. “I just don’t want them.”

Jake puts his phone down. “Okay,” he says, and David doesn’t know if it’s ‘okay, we don’t have to have kids’ or ‘okay, I hear you’ or ‘okay, I guess this is it for us then’, and he’s terrified.

“It’s not because I had bad parents,” David says. “Before you say that. It’s not.”

“David,” Jake says.

“I—“ David says. “I’m not denying they’re bad parents, but they’re not responsible for every single one of my decisions and preferences.”

“I didn’t say they were,” Jake says.

“I know,” David says. “I don’t know, maybe it’s just that I’m selfish, or—”

“You’re not selfish,” Jake says, and David doesn’t bother to argue with him, because they both know he’s lying.

“I don’t want my life to change,” David says. “I like it the way it is, and I’m not willing to turn my life upside down for someone I don’t even know if I’d love—“

“Of course you’d love them,” Jake interrupts.

“You don’t know that,” David says. “There is absolutely no way to know that. No one goes into parenthood thinking they aren’t going to love their child, because who would do that to themselves, let alone to a kid?”

Jake’s quiet, still.

“Kids know, Jake,” David says. “They aren’t oblivious. They know when something’s missing.”

“I think you’re underestimating yourself,” Jake says.

And maybe David would be if this was a matter of willpower, but he doesn’t think it is. He doesn’t think you can will yourself to love someone any more than you can will yourself not to love someone. And he loves Max, and Ian, and Cam, but they aren’t his children. If he hadn’t loved them, it would have been unfortunate, but it’s not the same.  

“It’s not a choice,” David says. “You don’t choose to love someone.”

“I think you would, though,” Jake says.

“You don’t know that,” David says. “And I don’t either, because that’s not how it works.”

Jake doesn’t say anything, and David looks up, but he can’t get a read on Jake’s expression.

“I know you want kids,” David says. “I know that, and I still — I don’t want them. I don’t want kids, and leaving aside whatever…issues I have, and everything else, I just — don’t. I don’t.”

The silence is unbearable. He’s been waiting for Jake to cut in, to say — he doesn’t know what, that David misinterpreted, that he doesn’t either, or that it doesn’t matter, or —

But he does, and it does, and that’s the problem.

“And I know that’s something you want, but I can’t provide it,” David says. “If I could, I’d do that for you, but I can’t.”

“David,” Jake says softly, and he’s been waiting for Jake to say something, anything, but now that he has, David can’t look up from his hands.

“And if that means we should part ways, we should probably do that sooner rather than later,” David says, trying not to choke on it.

Not that fertility’s a concern, the way it would be if either of them was a woman, and if it had been, it would have been a concern they needed to start talking about a decade ago. But babies and small children involve sleep deprivation and a lot of energy, and David imagines that grows harder as you get older. Besides, Jake probably wouldn’t want to do it alone, would have to find someone first, someone easier, though that won’t be hard to find, and maybe —

“David,” Jake says, and David jerks his head up, manages to meet his eye for a moment before he looks down again. “I’ve been gone for you since we were eighteen years old, what did you think was going to happen here?”

“I don’t know,” David says, and he watches his hands shake until Jake’s hands settle heavy over his, pins them still.

[dick-helmet-magneto]

Prompt from @slagneto4life For Erik trying to teach the kids German but realizing he's forgetting the language after speaking English for so long. hope this is okay! I sort of just chose children to use

It sounded like a fun bonding activity for Erik and the children, something he could teach them and they could do together. After all, it wasn’t like he had anyone else around he could speak in his mother tongue with. If he taught Peter, Wanda and David then it would just be something for the four of them to share. 

Not to mention that Charles kept saying he needed to spend more time with David. Erik was just struggling to find something to do with him. But he did seem to enjoy learning knew things and so it was decided. 

Erik came into it prepared, a couple of worksheets he’d found in a book Charles had laying around, a game set up for the kids. He wanted to make it fun, something they would enjoy instead of just staring at him while he lectured. He wasn’t Charles, after all. 

The first couple of lessons went well enough. Counting was something he would never forget, at least the first three numbers were burned into his memory. Every time he said or heard eins, zwei, drei it was followed by a gunshot that seemed to echo through the years and find him no matter how long had passed. 

And Peter seemed to giggle every time someone said fünf, which gave Erik something to look forward to during the first three numbers. 

The third lesson, David insisted they go over the alphabet, no matter that Erik had assured him it was basically the same. He wanted to know the letters and how to pronounce them. Another thing that Erik was certain he could never forget. The number of times his mama had sang the little long to him, and then to his sister. Over and over until Erik still could get it stuck in his head today, if he wasn’t careful. This only led to the days of the week and the month of the year. Erik’s lesson plan was mostly useless that day, but he wasn’t complaining, they were still spending time together and the kids were learning—and what they wanted to learn. 

By the fourth lesson, however, Erik was beginning to regret the whole plan. 

“Auto…” He started to say and then stopped, “Automat…” His brows were drawn together as he looked at the picture on the page. An ATM, something he wasn’t as familiar with, something that wasn’t burned into his memory from when he was young. Yet, it was something he knew he had heard, something that he had said before, he was certain. 

“Do you not even know?” Peter asked, looking up at his dad, seeming amuse and Erik glanced at him. 

“It would make sense,” He said softly, unsure if he was talking to himself or Peter. “But automat is like a vending machine, not-“ He paused as it finally hit him. “Money, geld. Geldautomat. ATM. That’s what it is.” 

It was a terrifying idea, that he was forgetting things, things that made sense and he knew at one time. Until now, it hadn’t occurred to him that he could’ve been losing his ability to speak the language he knew so well, the first one he ever learned. He just assumed that since it was his mother tongue, muttersprache, then it would always be with him.

His eyes moved on down the page. Train station—bahnhof, subway—U-Bhan, restaurant—which he was glad to see was still restaurant. 

“You could’ve chosen and easier page if you don’t even know the answers to this one,” Wanda said, tapping her pencil against her desk and Erik let out a breath. He knew she was right but was he going to admit to that? 

“I can figure this out. Here, there’s some for food and drinks. Those should be simple enough,” He decided, passing them to the three children. 

“Are you going to be able to grade us on these?” David asked as he looked over the page. Erik wasn’t sure but he looked down at the one he had kept for himself. 

Most of it was matching, a word and a picture. Simple enough, brot and bread, wasser and water, tee and tea, kaffee and coffee. He nodded, “This one I will be able to,” He informed them as he went back to looking at the first page. 

Church was Kirche, theater he wanted to say could be the same, but it could be cinema. Somehow that still didn’t feel right though. It wasn’t somewhere he frequented as a child.

These worksheets should’ve come with a word bank. Pharmacy, Erik could identify as apotheke, bakery was bäckerei, but if he had to, he wasn’t certain he would be able to spell it. Links and rechts for left and right he could remember. It was really all a hit or miss. 

Before the next time he was going to meet up with the children for them to learn some more, he was going to need to do some learning of his own. When he decided they would all do this together, he didn’t expect to be learning right along with them.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Thanksgiving Reruns 2024--Chapter 3: Black Friday (pt. 1/3)

It’s that time again; the holidays!  I would like to wish all my followers who celebrate it a very happy Thanksgiving.  As a thank you to you (as well as my followers who DON’T celebrate), I present you with 3 Thanksgiving related stories I’ve written in the past.  Enjoy!

Title: Black Friday—Chapter 1 of 3

Rating: G

Words: 1442

Summary: CS as single parents AU. As the holidays approach, Emma’s son Henry and Killian’s daughter Alice ask for a specific storybook which will ONLY be available for purchase on Black Friday.

 Other Chapters: 1 2 4 5

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Black Friday—Chapter 1

One week before Thanksgiving

“Do you really think it’ll work?” she asked, leaning forward, eyes bright and delighted.

“It’s perfect!” he answered. “Trust me!  Our plan will work like a charm.  Just make sure you give him Miss French’s flier and make him see how much you want it.  I’ll do the same with her.  By Christmas, we’ll be celebrating our success.”

She grinned.  “Oh, I hope you’re right!  Can you imagine?  If we pull this off, everything will change forever!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The morning after Thanksgiving

The alarm clock roared to life as a way, way too enthusiastic version of Jingle Bell Rock blared from the speakers of her clock radio. Emma groaned, reaching blindly over to slam the button on the top of the alarm and make the noise stop.

3 am.  It was entirely too early for any sane person to be awake.  Even the early birds were still peacefully snoozing in their nests.  It was only the crazy humans, intent on getting the best deals on the best Christmas gifts who would submit themselves to this kind of torture.

She hoped the payout was worth it.

Her bed was so warm, so comfortable, that for a split second, Emma considered just forgetting about the whole thing and going back to sleep, but then she thought about Henry.

It had been a difficult year for him, for both of them really.  They’d had a great life in New York.  Her bail bonds gig had paid well enough that they could afford a wonderful apartment. Henry had lots of friends at school.  She’d had a guy she loved, a guy she really thought was the one.  He’d seemed great with Henry, and Henry had really liked him.  

Walsh had proposed a week before Halloween, and Emma had really considered saying yes.  Granted, she didn’t feel the epic, sweeping, melt-into-a-pile-of-goo passion you see in movies, but she did love Walsh, and he could be a wonderful addition to the little family circle she and Henry had put together.

At least that’s what she thought.

Emma had made up her mind to accept the proposal when it all went south.  Turns out Walsh wasn’t at all who he said he was.  He’d been playing a long con on her, doing his level best to steal her money and assets right from under her nose, and she felt like a fool for buying into it his b.s.  She was smarter than this!  She ran the honey trap on bail jumpers; she knew the playbook.  How did she fall for it?

She’d just so badly wanted that perfect, white-picket-fence life for herself, and especially for her ten-year-old son, that’s how.

After everything had so epically crashed and burned with Walsh, Emma had just wanted to get away.  She’d wanted–needed–a new start, and so when her brother David had mentioned the opening for a deputy in the tiny town of Storybrooke, Maine, where he lived with his wife Mary Margaret, Emma had jumped at the opportunity.

Within a week, she’d uprooted her whole life–and her son’s whole life–and moved to Storybrooke.  For the moment, she and Henry were crashing with David and Mary Margaret in their tiny loft apartment until Emma could find them their own place.

The move had been the most difficult on Henry.  All he’d ever known was back in New York–friends, school, entire lifestyle.  Small town Storybrooke was like a totally different world than the booming metropolis he was used to.  Her normally happy, vivacious kid had been quiet, almost withdrawn since they’d arrived in Storybrooke.

Emma knew kids were resilient, that Henry would bounce back, but she felt so damn guilty for causing him stress.

And so, naturally when Henry had come home a week ago, excitement bumped up to a level ten, talking a mile a minute and waving a flier in her face, Emma had taken notice.  Turns out the school librarian Belle French–who was also the owner and proprietor of “A Tale as Old as Time”, Storybrooke’s best (and only) bookstore–was holding a special Black Friday sale on a very special storybook, entitled Once Upon a Time.  She had one copy, and one copy only, and the rare book would normally sell for an exorbitant price–somewhere between an arm and a leg.  On Black Friday, however, she was offering the book for dirt cheap, but there was a catch.  The price was only good during the special, Black Friday early bird sale.  Doors opened at 4 am.   First person to touch the book had the opportunity to purchase it.

Henry had always loved stories, and he’d been particularly fascinated with fairy tales.  Naturally, a book chalk full of them would be right up Henry’s alley.  Faced with the prospect of getting Henry the perfect gift, the gift that would finally bring him some joy after the difficult last few weeks, it was a no brainer.

Waking up a few hours before the crack of dawn was a small price to pay for her kid’s happiness.

Emma pushed aside the covers and got up, throwing on the first pair of clean clothes she could find, twisting her hair into a messy bun, and then downing the strong coffee her sister-in-law had set to brew for her.  By the end of her second cup, she was feeling almost human, and she was ready to brave the hordes of Black Friday shoppers to attain her prize.

It was a quick, five minute walk to the center of town where “A Tale as Old as Time” was located, and Emma made it just as the cheerful brunette proprietor was unlocking the doors and letting her first customers in.  Emma knew just where her target was.  She’d scoped out the bookstore over the weekend, getting the lay of the land and mapping out her plan of attack.  She knew just where to go, and within sixty seconds of the store opening, she’d reached her target.  It was right there, in sight.

Emma reached for the book, her hand made contact–just as another hand did as well.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian Jones had lived a difficult life.  He’d seen more heartache and tragedy in his thirty-five years of existence than most people did in a lifetime.  Aye, it had been an incredibly difficult life, but it did have one bright, shining spot.

His daughter Alice.

His one-night-stand with Alice’s mom, Eloise, had been a mistake of epic proportions, but Killian would never regret it, because it gave him the greatest blessing of his life, his precious little starfish.

Nine months after their dalliance, Eloise had suddenly showed up on his doorstep, placed their newborn daughter in his arms, and then walked out of their lives forever.  For himself, Killian couldn’t have cared less.  He felt nothing but revulsion for the woman who’d gotten him blind drunk and then taken advantage of him that night nine months ago.  In the bright morning light, he’d been disgusted with her, with himself, and with the entire sordid affair.  He’d have been more than happy if he never saw her noisome face again.

No, he didn’t care if she walked away from him, but his heart had broken at the fact that his tiny, perfect daughter had been abandoned by her mother.  Killian knew from first hand the agony of being abandoned by a parent, and it tore him up inside that his beloved daughter had to deal with it as well.

Though having a child was the farthest thing from his mind at the time, there’d never been any doubt what he would do.  Alice was his daughter, his precious child, and he would do right by her no matter what.

Ten years later, he thanked his lucky stars every single day that he’d made the choice to raise her.  Alice was the most important person in the world to him, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

So naturally, when she came home from school all excited about the book Miss French was selling, Killian knew exactly how he would be spending his very early Black Friday morning.

He’d arrived at “Tale as Old as Time” just as Miss French opened the doors.  He rushed to the back of the store, his prize in sight.

He grabbed the book just as a gorgeous blonde made contact.  

“Um excuse me,” she said with a frown.  “This book is mine.”

It appeared this shopping expedition was going to be more difficult–although possibly more intriguing–the blonde truly was breathtaking–than he’d expected.

Killian grinned.  He’d never backed down from a challenge, and he didn’t intend to begin now.

Next Chapter–>

[vanderwoodlings]

fire escape: a dan&vanessa playlist (x)

Tracklist and commentary under the cut:

1. “We’re Going to Be Friends,” The White Stripes. Here we are, no one else/We walk to school all by ourselves is definitely the specific line that made this one for them as little kids need to be here—there’s a very specific way that Dan and Vanessa’s friendship involves (but quietly and unacknowledged) their family bullshit

2. “Kids In The Dark,” All Time Low. They left alone, the kids in the dark/To burn out forever or light up a spark

3. “You Get What You Give,” New Radicals. This whole damn world could fall apart/You’ll be okay, follow your heart/You’re in harm’s way, I’m right behind/Now say you’re mine

4. “Little Cellist,” Bears In Trees. Hmmmm yeah I think they’re a little fucked in the head

5. “Walk Backwards,” Maude Latour. We’re still early days, here, little fourteen year olds who haven’t quite had anything go wrong with them yet and so they’re orbiting closer and Dan hasn’t really noticed that Vanessa’s got a crush and neither of them know it’s a bad idea

6. “Bruises,” Reneé Rapp. …but the truth is I bruise easily/And sure I’m down to be the joke/Metaphorically though.

7. “Prodigal,” David Wirsig. In the beginning we were banished/Then we stoked the fires/And scrapped our songs for salvage. The thing is, like, Dan craves acceptance by the cool kids even as he holds up his pretentiousness as a shield and Vanessa is an outsider who wants people to meet her where she is and accept her

8. “Forgive Me Friend,” Smith & Thell feat. Swedish Jam Factory. This kind of tracks us into s1: And I, I promised that we would never change/That you and me would always stay the same/How I let you down

9. “That’s What Friends Are For,” Dionne Warwick, Elton John. Keep smilin’, keep shinin’/Knowin’ you can always count on me for sure/That’s what friends are for/For good times and bad times

10. “Old Friends,” Pinegrove. …Significant amounts of this playlist may be bitchy. Maybe I should have gone out a bit more/When you guys were still in town/I got too caught up in my own shit

11. “Platonic Cuddling,” Breakup Shoes. But significant parts are also sweet! Lovely day to watch the clouds race/Lovely day, nothing I would change

12. “You’re My Best Friend,” Queen. They are. So stupid for repeatedly trying to date. I love them

13. “Give It Up,” I Fight Dragons. The UES is a seductive kind of hell. Give it up for human nature/Give it up now, bit by bit.

14. “Misfit,” High Dive Heart. I know people say that you’re a misfit/But that’s the thing I like about you

15. “Everything I Had,” Sub-Radio. And sometimes you grow apart and you don’t want to admit that things are falling apart and here you are anyway

16. “Youth,” Daughter.

17. “I’ve Been Over It,” Geowulf. Time and time again, my head just wants to find a reason why/I needed another lesson in choosing who to give my heart. Wherein you date the guy

18. “Grow Up and Be Kids,” The Cab. But it’s still gone.

19. “Dial Tones,” AS IT IS. All we ever share are dial tones

20. “Twins,” The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart. I didn’t mean to let you down/And now I know everything that’s good is gone

21. “I’m Not Calling You A Liar,” Florence + The Machine. I’m not calling you a liar/Just don’t lie to me

22. “It Ain’t Me, Babe,” Johnny Cash with June Carter Cash. Go away from my window/Leave at your own chosen speed/I’m not the one you want, babe/I’m not the one you need

23. “When We Were Writers,” Indigo Girls. This… might’ve been the first song on here? Idk the sense of artistic nostalgia just worked so very Correctly with their vibe

24. “Sober Up,” AJR feat. Rivers Cuomo. Won’t you help me sober up/Growin’ up, it made me numb/And I wanna feel somethin’ again. And we have arrived in early s4!

25. “Quarrel,” Moses Sumney. I love Moses Summey btw. Everyone should just go check him out. Quoting this as a quarrel so immorally implies/We’re equal opponents and we both antagonize

26. “i hope ur miserable until ur dead,” Nessa Barrett. She can be a little evil. As a treat. I hope you be yourself and lose your friends/I hope they call you out for shit you said/I hope you’re miserable until you’re dead

27. “Somebody That I Used To Know,” Gotye, Kimbra. But then she gets completely written off the show so… ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

28. “Please Leave A Light On When You Go,” fun. How do you fix something/That you can’t touch without hurting?/The lesson you’ve learned is leaving you dumb/Please leave a light on when it’s done

29. “Call Off Your Ghost,” Dessa. We’ve lived too close for too long

30. “Your Ex-Lover Is Dead,” Stars. I put this one one the Vanessa playlist, thinking about her and Dan, and I knew I was going to end with it the moment I started this one—it’s kind of both the best and most tragic ending for them, to me, saying ‘I’m not that person anymore’

[man-moth-hook-hand]

Christmas with the boys

Masterlist

The boys absolutly love Christmas! It's suprisingley their favorite holiday

They do Secret Santa every year

One year, Marko got David pretty much everything he could find with George Michael on it and gave it to him

The boys were singing his songs the entire night

David was not happy about it, his nickname is Uncle Scrooge

While they can't drink eggnog, they do at least try to be festive

They drain a victim and put the blood into a giant punch bowl and even drink out of festive mugs

Paul and Marko typically go out scavenging for old Christmas decorations, lights, I mean you name it

They have an old skeleton from halloween it's real and put him in an old Santa costume

His name is Mr. Kringles

They boy's aren't super creative

Dwayne has an old Elvis holiday album that they get out pretty much every year

David definetly reminisces on the "good old days" of better music when listening to old Christmas songs

I'm not talking about the 40s or 50s

No, David likes Christmas songs from the 1700-1800s

They boys joke that he's as old as Saint Nick himself

Marko's favorite part is decorating

This man cannot contain himself and will splash Christmas cheer every where

Dwayne could kinda care less, but he enjoys celebrating with the boys

The holidays are also a good way to help prevent time from passing too quickly

Paul wears a Santa hat every year

He starts sporting it the day after Thanksgiving and will wear it until midnight on Christmas day he's commited to the bit

They spoil Laddie so much

This kid literally gets at least 15 presents from each of them

Star doesn't really enjoy how excited the boys get, especially with the punch bowl, but she enjoys it for Laddie

They usually end up showing up at Max's house and watching movies on Christmas

At the end of the night, they all pile up in a room and pass out

Max likes it because it's the closest thing he gets to a "family" christmas

Christmas with you bestie

Oh the boys spoil you too

Anything you want to do they will intenseify that 100%

Get ready for the clingiest boys ever

They want you over 25/8 and will not stop cuddling you

If they manage to not burn everything, they'll set up a fire pit in the cave and make you sit on their laps

You always make sure to get the perfect gifts, they always get you twice as many

Usually, Dwayne gets a new book he's been talking about, David gets some kind of knife, Marko loves anything art related or new patches, and Paul loves music so you get him any new record or cassette he's been looking it

They boys understand the idea of gift giving, but they borrow just about anything from each other, so they kinda get you gifts they also like

One year you got a tool set. . . for a motorcycle. . . that you don't own

They boys said it was for when you do get one, but they definetly use it

They do ask first though

They do end up giving you gifts you do like

David got you an expensive necklace one year, it had your birthstone as the centerpeice with matching earrings

Marko loves to get you clotes, pretty much anything that you seems like you would wear, he somehow figures out how to get it even if it was on a diffrent person the other night

Paul likes to get you a lot of knick-knacks and decorations

Eventually you had to tell him to stop since you didn't end up having any space for them. He said you could store them in your area in the cave

Dwayne gets you normal gifts and at least one gag gift

One year, he got you a boyfriend pillow. It was basically a male torso with one arm so you could lay one it. Honestly, it's pretty comfortable. They boys had to throw it out because you were preferring that to them

Yes, they do an ugly Christmas sweater contest every year, even though Paul turns it into an ugly Christmas outfit

Star always makes you something and Laddie usually give you a decorated rock, he tries

You always get laddie the newest toy that comes out

Star loves it when you give her crystals and other shiny things

Even if you haven't turned, they still invite you over to Max's for the yearly Christmas movie marathon

Max likes you since you keep the boys in line when he can't be there

They all just flop down and make you sleep in the middle surrounded by them

It's your favorite time of the year since the boys end up being so sweet