#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 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

boldlyvoid · 1 year ago

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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

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #hotch smut #hotch x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

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labrxnth · 8 months ago

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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

#resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfiction #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #slow burn #spotify #echoes of the past

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carryingthebannershitposts · 4 months ago

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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.

#newsies #jack kelly #davey jacobs #92sies

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nathantheauthor · 7 months ago

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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

#creepypasta #creepypasta au #creepypasta rewrite #jeff the killer #my wrtitng #clockwork creepypasta #bloody painter #judge angels #nina the killer

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vampire-club · 16 days ago

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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

#stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fic #steve harrington x original character #dustin henderson #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington x henderson!oc

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youcouldmakealife · 2 years ago

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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.

#fic snippet #david chapman #jake lourdes #SOTM

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dick-helmet-magneto · 5 months ago

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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.

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vanderwoodlings · 7 months ago

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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’

#unfortunately the editing hardware has died so you get one cover made on my phone rip #the image is from senamarais as always #gossip girl #dan humphrey #vanessa abrams #dan and vanessa #danessa #kinda. you know #suicide /#<lyric content warning #this is a playlist tag #original nonsense

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man-moth-hook-hand · 11 months ago

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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

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khaleesiofalicante · 5 months ago

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Trying to get back to my Mavid feels to read LDV by re reading certain IALS chapters and I remembered you saying somewhere that one of David's favourite things about the show was all the Taylor Swift song edits of him and Max and with the new album they are so spot on??

Example number one: So high school

I need an edit of Max and David going:

No one's ever got me, not like you

Truth, dare, spin bottles

You know how to ball (a scene of Max swimming)

I know Aristotle (a scene of David's book signing)

Pure poetry✨️

Example number two: Buy Daddy I love him

And now I'm running with my dress unbuttoned

Screaming "But Daddy I love him!"

David with Albert? Max with Alec?

I know he's crazy but he's the one I want

People calling David crazy? Or making Max evil? Mavid not caring?

I'll tell you something right now

I'd rather burn my whole life down

Than listen to one more second of all this griping and moaning

David's answer to everyone who said that he deserved better than Max before the show?

I'll tell you something about my good name

It's mine alone to disgrace

I don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing

Max to everyone that took his side and called David crazy after the show came out?

God save the most judgmental creeps

Who say they want what's best for me

Thinking it can change the beat

Of my heart when he touches me

Me and my wild boy

Both Max and David about each other? David and his wild boy?

Example number three that I will not analyse because I'll cry and I don't wanna: Loss of my life

Basically Mavid during their divorce era??

Example number four: I can do it with a broken heart

Ummm Max's anthem during divorce Mavid era? (Most painful era to exist?)

Cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit

They said, "Babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and I did (Max faking his smiles- the conversation betweenAlec and David after they got back together "he looks happy"/ "he always looks happy")

Lights, camera, bitch smile, even when you wanna die (the paparazzi harassing him because of the show)

He said he'd love me all his life

But that life was too short

Breaking down, I hit the floor (his time at the hospital)

All the pieces of me shattered as the crowd was chanting, "More" (the fans of the show dissecting their lives and never leaving them alone)

'Cause I can do it with a broken heart

At this point you might as well admit that Taylor Swift is a close personal friend you talk with about your stories and they're the real inspiration behind them.

And Mavid feels have been restored so I'm off to cry about LDV🌼

First of all, restoring Mavid feels by listening to Taylor Swift? DAVID BEAUCHAMP APPROVES.

Second of all, Taylor Swift reads mavid fics confirmed 😌

Thank you for this! I wish I could share this with David 🥹

#and hope you enjoy LDV!#mavid #IALS

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eccentric-nucleus · 7 months ago

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so, i finally finished (posting) my huge, novel-length teenage mutant ninja turtles fanfic. i just posted the final epilogue over on ao3!

here is my director's commentary on it, if you want to read even more about it. this contains spoilers for the whole thing. maybe read the epilogue first and sit with that for a minute. also this will probably be pretty incoherent if you haven't read the whole thing. it's just a disconnected series of thoughts i have about the story, really

man, this story. this is maybe the longest thing i've ever written? like 'the new hive' and 'hell game' had more words (i think) but they were mostly a disconnected series of sex scenes with thin connective tissue between them. this is ~200k words of a single, linear, mostly-plot narrative. i'm writing scenes that aren't just about getting the two leads to fuck!! that's weird. it's definitely the most ambitious thing i've written. kind of weird that it's tmnt fanfic. that's just how it worked out, i guess.

so back in 2022 i watched the rise of the tmnt movie because people kept talking about the animation quality of the fights and that got me into a spiral of actually paying attention to the ninja turtles. i had never been into them & genuinely i think a huge part of getting into tmnt stuff was that rise actually varied the design of the turtles so that they weren't all basically identical save for color-coding. turns out visual design was the missing mystery ingredient.

also in 2022 i was burning out on writing 'goblin cave', when what i had intended to be a fun little writing exercise ended up getting algorithmically surfaced and getting me hundreds of comments on each chapter. that got a little stressful and i wasn't really enjoying that, so i stopped. but i was like, hmm you know i mostly just write weird porn but maybe i should write something a little more ambitious. with a plot, and everything. 'goblin cave' was (in my mind) all about a character who was created for violence deciding art was a much more worthwhile pursuit. but the main character of that doesn't know what art is. because it's a magical dungeon core. and i was still thinking a lot about dead zones of the imagination, by david graeber. so i was like, okay, let's do this again but in a slightly more self-authentic way and make it weird gay porn with weird animal dicks. let's give michelangelo ninjaturtle a monologue about how the powerful are utterly insulated from any consequence.

(also early on, after watching most of rottmnt, i stumbled across this blog post about the tmnt comics and the end of the world. that ended up being deeply influential on the fic too. i've been kinda in a state for the past few years and this fic is absolutely a part of me working through a lot of complicated feelings about the world and the future. lol people talk so much about people writing dark fic 'to cope' but this was pretty much the first time i've outsourced my emotional processing by having bad things happen to fictional characters.)

so uhhh where to start here. the setting of the fic is this complicated messy mashup of a half-dozen tmnt continuities. it's very rise-heavy, since... that was the only series i had watched(/read) when i had determined the major plot points, but there's a lot of bits and pieces from all over.

to roughly outline the characters here, a huge influence on mikey's personality in this is... mikey's 'dr delicate touch' persona in rottmnt. in the sense that... okay yes yes that is a kid's show and all of his dr delicate touch lines are, you know, setups and punchlines. you think he's going to be nice but actually he's mean! etc. but in-universe it's like, wait hold on a second. mikey is like the most emotionally-intelligent of the four. he absolutely knows when people are on the edge of flipping out and need a calming out to a stressful situation. and instead he freaks them out more! mikey's hobby is: being mean to his friends & family, for fun! what a fun character trait.

i was thinking about this tweet a lot, too. i read some writing advice once that people tend to make characters who are supposed to be likable too squeaky-clean. nothing but positive character traits for them! but actually every 'positive' character trait is exactly the same as a 'negative' one; it's just a matter of focus and degree. a character is light-hearted and comedic? they can never take things seriously, even when they really should. a character is willing to do anything to protect the people they love? so they're violent and threatening and scary if they happen to decide you're something that they need to protect against. etc. i was really dedicated in this to bringing out the worst characteristics of everybody's personalities.

mikey was also very deeply inspired by: all the garbage progression fantasy stuff i've been reading. i've complained about this several times on this very blog, but a constant theme in most progression fantasy is 1. the main character will constantly get more and more powerful and 2. the main character will never really have their relationship with the rest of the world changed via that power. it's just stat-ups. they just have higher stats so they're more powerful. mikey is the most powerful person on the planet and it's fucking ruining his life. he knows that there's nobody capable of actually checking his behavior, & he's in this constant state of thinking he's maybe a few bad days away from murdering half the planet and incredibly aware there's not really anything he can do about that aside from constantly worry. he's kind of an anxious mess.

mikey absolutely thinks it's more ethical to murder somebody out of the sheer glee of seeing people crushed before you than murdering somebody for something as tedious as mob orders. you're satisfying a deep, raw desire felt from the heart! that's good!

what he'd like to do, in some sense, is just hang out in his studio and chill with other artists, but he knows the world is not gonna let him do that. things will come up. a lot of his being a creepy bystander thing while people get murdered is b/c he's very much formulated his morality to be like... it is not his responsibility to fix other people's problems. other people will do what they want and that has no bearing on him. is that a pretty cowardly and self-serving morality? sure! but he was kinda designed to rule the world & his flinch away from that pretty much defines him as a character in this. that's kinda the morality he needed to end up on to convince himself not to be a genocide machine.

he's incredibly aware he could basically be a superhero, & all it would take is... giving up on all his hopes and dreams and constantly engage with his abilities. and being a superhero isn't that many steps removed from living up to his full design spec and just taking over the world and ruling as god-emperror. idk how well i hit all those notes in the actual fic, but, that's what i was going for. mikey as the narrator clearly doesn't want to talk or think about it so it's never really directly confronted.

raph is... okay so i guess a fairly common piece of fanon, for rise especially, is to characterise raph as having multiple personalities? whether that's him just having alters or him having full-blown MPD depends on the fic. my fun little nod to that is that he's kind of a disassociative mess. he has kind of failed to reconcile the disparate aspects of his personality and he switches between one of several different facades depending on the situation. also, you know. the trauma.

(i didn't really mean for it to be as such, but there is this theme in the story about names? despite everything else mikey has a crystal-clear self-conception of himself and has one name, which he gave himself. raph, who has kinda failed to build his own personality, has a collection of name other people have given him, none of which he feels actually fits him. donnie has a more fluid self-identity and also has roughly a million aliases and false identities & constantly slips in and out of character when it's convenient. leatherhead still going by the name mikey gave him goes hand-in-hand with that bit where mikey meanly thinks about how maybe leatherhead's entire self-conception is hung up on something mikey said to him once, etc. this is one of those things that i'd go back and make more present if i did go back and clean up the rough draft, b/c as it is it's there, but it doesn't really do a whole lot.)

this fic was inspired by... i had read a few big aus that were just like, taking the characters and loose bits of setting and going off in completely different directions. some of NeiNing's aus were a definite influence, plus like, this one au where raph is an ex-con mechanic, etc, etc. just like "i am going to play out a completely unrelated drama using turtles as the dolls". maybe most directly influential was Of Knights and Thieves, where donnie & mikey are corporate espionage hacker/thief types and raph & leo are do-gooder vigilantes. the original concept for this was much more heavily focused on the art forgery. in a very early draft the idea was leo would get involved much more actively in trying to track down the creator of the false takenobus. then i was like, "i am going to crash a completely separate story concept about the dark armor into the side of this art-forgery story". the filename for the story is still 'lol grindr hookup art thief'. that is not really where the story went.

oh man, the art stuff. i made some posts about this at the time! that are now several years old. here's one! i did end up getting a traditional woodcut printing of Tokaido 53 stations, no. 11, Hokone. in a lot of ways doing all the art research was more satisfying and fun than writing the extensive downward spiral that was the latter half of the fic. but, hey, that's life too i guess.

also raph in this is... okay, so, i don't mean this in a mean way. i really liked the fics! but cndrow has written several raph/donnie fics where raph is just like... like a repeated theme in them is raph confessing eternal love & talking about how he's like, mentally planning on them being together forever. on the first date. and sure sure everybody has different tastes; i'm absolutely sure that my interest in guys who are mean leads to some stories that are extremely offputting to some people, etc. but it's like, oh man, raph, please slow your roll a little. if somebody said they were planning our future wedding all of ten minutes into talking to me i would flee the room. & the raph in blinded by the summer sun is very much inspired by that. sadly, i never fully committed to that. originally i even had a line in chapter 9 where slash was like 'please tell me you didn't drop the 'i love you forever' on this guy already' to imply that that was, you know, a theme for raph, but i chickened out and cut it. raph as a kind of rolling series of bad relationships characterized by him falling forever in love w/ his latest crush until the relationship detonates and leaves him not really understanding how things went wrong. but i don't think that's expressed well like, at all. but that ideally should characterize a large part of why he keeps chasing after mikey even well after the point where it would be reasonable to disengage. also to convey some of the downsides of a character believing in true love. it's rough out there in the world.

also thank you tumblr user averyterrible for writing this goncharov post. that was the point in the story where i was like, actually i have been writing raph as way too much of a sad boy. if i want to play in the space of crime drama, there needs to be some crime! he's a yakuza assassin. he needs to chop off somebody's fingers with bolt cutters.

to me, the central question in the fic isn't really 'will the mikey/raph relationship work out' or 'will mikey succeed in his plans', it's 'why is mikey doing these things'. & i think the leatherhead chunks in chapter 23 finally give enough context to what's going on with mikey to let people answer that? like oh, mikey is a mess.

(lol the initial setup for the early chapters are supposed to give an audience response of like, "oh no, raph has some dangerous secrets" "oh no, raph is a violent yakuza murderer! i hope mikey is going to be okay interacting with raph" "...oh no, i hope raph is going to be okay interacting with mikey")

a lot of the story really is about how... mikey & raph's relationship is in a lot of ways very adolescent? they have not had a lot of prior experience with healthy relationships, and they're trying, but, uhhhhhhh. mikey likes to act like he's so cool and above-it-all and unaffected by things happening, but that's actually just b/c he doesn't really care about most things. when something happens that he genuinely doesn't like he immediately snaps and has a giant meltdown. (we see this once with raph, when mikey has a panic attack and throws up when raph blows him off wrt warning him of bishop, and once with donny about the armor, where mike immediately starts tantruming and threatening to kill himself. mikey is very bad at resolving conflict. he's kind of a brat, actually.)

like every character in this is in some way their worst self. they're all pretty awful people. but they're all also trying to... grapple with their place in the world and try to be better people. to even figure out what 'better' means. this is a story about how 'being a good person' is a constant struggle, not to 'do the right thing', but to even figure out what's 'right'. it's about picking yourself up again after a bad period and going, well, let's keep going. like mikey has a lot of traits but one that i, the author, actually think is fairly admirable is his ability to get back up and keep going after a really bad period. which is funny b/c characterwise that goes hand-in-hand with his callousness. just shrug off all the misery you caused other people, i guess! see above about positive/negative character traits.

(also uh there's another tmnt fic author whose work has a lot of... a Bad Guy is constructed/identified. then helpless children (or teens!) are rescued from him. then the bad guy is ruthlessly & violently murdered. sometimes onscreen, sometimes offscreen. and then it's nothing but chapter after chapter of people being happy and cutesy to each other. and like, i get it. but the, like, recurring theme there of the Bad Guy having done something fundamentally unforgivable that separates from all understanding & mercy, to which the only justice is a violent death, just strikes me as... simplistic. sometimes people do really awful things and part of grappling with that as an adult with an adult moral conceptualization is realizing that you gotta look past your initial reflex to punishment.

or like, mikey's whole childhood in this really fucked him up but a huge part of his identity is him having to form an identity from that. having to make the determination of which parts of him are 'him' and which parts were done to him. lol @ him aggressively and extensively rejecting everything about what draxum made him to do & then blithely being like 'we were engineered to eat humans anyway' as a defense for all the corpse-eating. mikey you just like eating people & have decided that part does align with your self-identity. mikey would really not appreciate anybody being like 'i'm sorry nobody saved you from that' b/c that (to him) would basically be the same as them saying they thought he was fundamentally, irreparably damaged & was going to be forever incapable of being anything other than what draxum made him to be. he wouldn't take it well.)

uhhh what else. i mean there's a lot. fun fact pretty much every time mikey gets mad at somebody else he's hugely projecting. even his pacifism is like... hmm maybe he should have killed draxum. a lot of his talk @ raph about splinter is secretly mikey relitigating his feelings about draxum. oh what's that mikey you think that splinter is only playing happy family b/c he's immortal and he has infinite time to spend humoring somebody's illusions but that when push comes to shove he'll drop all that? gee i wonder if that might apply to any dynamics in mikey's own life. lol at mikey being like "wow red your life is kind of a fucked-up nightmare of weird psychopaths playing like they're happy family" and then two chapters is like "hey come meet my family. we live in my genocidal dad's bombed-out lab and we're treating him like a weird racist grandpa". i kinda wanted something that would complicate mikey just being like "i am a pacifist now and i don't kill anybody"; mikey that's all well and good but like half his inner tension comes from not being sure if he should've left draxum alive. that's kinda the mirror to him debating whether or not actually killing leatherhead would've been better. (in a few years shelldon is gonna go through a period of not wanting to talk to any of them. mikey & donnie are better parents than draxum but that's such a low bar.)

(likewise at the end when mikey is like "this is raph's healthiest relationship so far!" to leo, like, this is more mikey projecting. really the raph/casey relationship was probably better for raph & casey, idk, who can say. but is mikey's relationship with raph the healthiest romantic interaction he's ever had? yes, absolutely. we don't get to see the mikey/leatherhead relationship really up-close and personal but it should be pretty clear that it was pretty awful for everybody involved. compared to that, the mikey/raph is absolutely mikey's healthiest relationship so far. just. low bars.)

lol i am a little concerned that mikey's tendency to monologue, & especially his whole political monologue near the end, will get people to think he's just acting as an author's soapbox. i mean, okay, the little author's note where i'm like "as always, mikey is a perfect role model and everybody should do what he does" was a fun little joke. but, oof, the number of fics i've read where the authors feel the need to loudly and repeatedly disclaim that This Story Contains Things The Author Does Not Condone In Real Life is pretty disheartening. way to have absolutely no faith in your audience. but likie, the part where mikey is pretty much flat-out like, "actually i think my moral framework is whatever is necessary to justify my actions" is meant to be pretty damning. maybe not of mikey specifically as a character, just of, you know. the whole world where that's a pretty common outlook among people with power.

lets talk about the rape. part of it is that it felt like it would be inauthentic to go through the entire story without mikey seriously violating one of raph's boundaries. part of it is that mikey here kinda has the trifecta of ASPD, ADHD, & bipolar, and the thing with that is it's very easy to just say that but a little more difficult to convey the personality traits involved. this isn't really something ever stated as such in the fic, aside from various people calling mikey crazy + raph calls him a sociopath once. it's kind of too didactic to just flatly state "and this is what's wrong with mikey!" imo. but. this is a story about violent people. imo you can't just gesture to a character with the background level of callousness for the genre and go "okay this is a clinical sign"; you kinda gotta do something more direct. 'wow mikey sure is CRAZY and WEIRD good thing it only shows itself as him being slightly mean to people'. no. mikey has done some pretty horrible things in the past and clearly isn't fully done with that.

(i did pretty much go straight down the list of symptoms there. impulsive, suicidal, aggressive, violent, risky sex, arrogant, limited empathy, no regard for other people or social norms, difficulty with relationships, arson, etc, etc, etc. but it's not like he's a 'realistic' portrayal here, since... i mean, he is a super-powered ninja. there's a level of 'superficial charm' here but we do get enough of mikey's interiority to be able to tell he's a total mess in a way that's not particularly constructed.)

also it's like. raph graphically tortures several people to death & i didn't really feel the need to disclaim that here. murder is usually seen as a lesser crime in fiction than rape. people love their violent blorbos but the second there's the implication of sexual violence people freak out. the usual line people say is that the threat of murder is a little more removed for most people than the threat of rape, which idk if i fully agree with. but part of it is also to draw a line between raph's violence and mikey's boundary violation. like mikey says, well, raph tried to non-consensually murder him a few times too.

anyway i don't think i really stuck the landing with that either, in part b/c raph's response to it. he's a little too pathetically accepting of things at the end instead of being angry + violent. that could use a rewrite or two.

honestly i'm kinda sick of this story now? which sucks a little, since i kept realizing things about the story all the way up to the very last moment of editing. if i had waited to post any of this until i was done with the first draft... well, it'd be a very different story if i went back and turned this rough draft into something more complete. i never really did manage to hit the character beats with raph i was hoping to. oh well. like, i still like it. but i can definitely see all of its weak points. i guess that's just part of the process of writing. it'd be worse if you wrote a giant novel and came out on the other side not more aware of your failings as an author.

i feel like raph isn't super well-realized in terms of character motivations. or... his relationships aren't shaded in as well as they could be. if i were redoing this whole thing i'd definitely include some chunks of raph pov just to lay out more concretely what he's doing & what his life is like when he's not in the same scene as mikey. i kinda included that raph+donny conversation at the very end just for jokes, but actually ending every chapter with a little section of non-mikey pov would've helped ground a lot of the characters. raph isn't super well-developed and leo is pretty much incoherent absent external familiarity with his character's deal. they're not conveyed super well, in part because, well, any time mikey is onscreen everybody is having to deal with mikey. it's a problem.

but something that absolutely could have worked as a secondary narrative to the story is the whole thing with raph working w/ the oroku. that was a bit of a late addition to the story. it's meant as a reference to, you know, all the times raphael ends up being compared to/assuming the mantle of the shredder in the comics. but as it is since we don't get any real looks into exactly what's going on in yakuza town when mikey's not around none of that got developed very well, imo.

it was very important to me that mikey not learn any lesson here. where things are at in the end are pretty much the exact same as where they were in the beginning. the bit in the pizza scene where he's like 'you guys get to live and i get a boyfriend' is very accurate. literally the only change in mikey's life through this entire thing is that at the end he is in a relationship w/ a guy who he can tell some of what his life is like to. not that it's a super healthy relationship, but it is there.

well, that, and also now he's maybe out of time. (uh, so the laughter at the very end of the epilogue is mikey realizing he's out of time. the whole epilogue really is about how he's got all these conflicting tensions of who-knows-what in his life, & then right in the middle of the tension it's like, whoops, the utrom aren't coming in 10 years or 20 years, they're coming now. and in a week you're gonna be getting some really pointed questions about how you know the utrom envoy. and in a few years, well, there's gonna be some planetary evacuation) like the whole story is about... anxiety. mikey feeling the weight of the future on him in every moment. actually seeing things collapse would be a relief; you'd get the release of all the potentiality collapsing into an actual problem. the moral of the story is you get what you get and in the end all mikey's actions, good or bad or otherwise, have bought him is nine more months of ignoring his problems.

anyway sorry to all the tmnt fans who were expecting a happy cheerful mikey/raph story. this is actually about the fundamental injustice of existence. whoops!

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