#i do frequently let emily do whatever she wants

[glitzandshadows]

hey there are like 12 of you that are active here so please i can't decide what color to dye my hair next you have an hour to vote because i leave for my appointment soon:

[g4rvez-r3id]

When You’re Lost in the Darkness, Look for the Light

Ex! Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU Reader

Synopsis: Your ex, Spencer Reid, has just lost his girlfriend due to her being murdered. When all else fails with the BAU team helping him get through this loss, the only person left to help is you.

Category: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: established past relationship, maeve arc, takes place after 8x12 “Zugzwang”, mentions of death and suicide, technically an AU for 8x13 “Magnum Opus”, spencer is obviously still mourning maeve, mentions of lauren storyline, mentions of breakups, reader was in a past relationship before spencer, kinda sad, hopeful ending(?) let me know if i missed anything! <3

Author’s Note: i feel like this was a bit rushed, especially towards the end butttt i might make a part two to this- just let me know if i should :)

It’d been a few weeks since what happened. Spencer witnessing his girlfriend being murdered right in front of him by her stalker. You knew that he was taking it hard, of course, who wouldn’t after seeing something like that?

The team had been frequently visiting him. Garcia had stopped by with her ninth gift basket on his doorstep, since he never answered. JJ had offered to bring the boys over to cheer him up but Spencer would never answer. Even Hotch, and Morgan tried to get him to get a breather outside of his apartment but of course, Spencer never answered. Blake and Rossi knew that he needed his space, knowing that a loss like this wasn’t easy.

Everyone on the team had tried, everyone except you. And honestly, why would you? Your breakup with Reid was enough reason not to go and see him.

You two had broken up when he’d found out you’d known about Emily taking her death. (You weren’t even supposed to know about it, you had just stumbled across Hotch and JJ having the conversation after you’d found out that your best friend was dead.) After she’d come back when they had a lead on Ian Doyle’s son, Spencer had later confronted you and told you he couldn’t forgive you for knowing for ten months and not telling him about it.

You expressed just how much it pained you not to tell him but that she couldn’t risk telling him. He had to understand that. Frankly, he didn’t.

And it seemed that he still hadn’t forgiven you since then.

It’d been over a year since you last had a full conversation with him since then, only opting for small talk or only talking when it was relevant to whatever case they were on.

And then you found out about Maeve. There were whispers around the office, Spencer was smiling more in the office, he was secretive and not to mention the case with the payphone that you and Blake took him to after needing answers regarding a case. You and Blake badgered him, wanting answers as to why he was being so secretive.

And then his words confirmed it for you — “Because I don’t want them to know about her, okay?”

And so, he had a girlfriend. And you were perfectly okay with that. Of course, it hurt that he’d moved on but someone had to, eventually, right?

Since then, you had avoided him any chance you had. If you two were alone in the kitchenette, you were the one who left first. If there was a spot on the jet open next to Spencer, you’d offer it to someone else quietly. You figured pushing him away — even professionally — was the best thing you could do for your own mental health.

But then Spencer’s girlfriend had gone missing. And you weren’t exactly forced to work a case but it sure felt like it when Hotch said that you guys would be working on your free time. You had half the mind to walk out of the bullpen right then and there. But then you looked at Spencer. Spencer, who looked like a kicked puppy dog with his sad eyes, messy hair and anxious stance and pleading, begging the team to help find her. And you knew that he’d always be your weakness, no matter what. And you’d like to think that maybe he’d do the same for you if the roles were reversed.

It’d taken a few to discover that Maeve’s stalker was Diane Turner, a research assistant at Mendel University where Maeve used to work. Diane applied and was rejected for a PhD after submitting a doctoral thesis about spontaneous cellular death in suicide patients, due to said thesis being biased as it contained references to her own parents, who’d committed suicide. She targeted Maeve, believing she was the one responsible for rejecting her PhD.

You remembered the minute you heard gunshots in the building, heart dropping at the possibility that it may have been Spencer who was shot at, since he offered to trade himself for Maeve. And thought it was better if the team were to wait outside of the building.

You remembered trying to talk him off the ledge but he simply ignored you and went into the building anyway without a vest.

You remembered Spencer trying to talk Diane down as she held a gun to Maeve’s head and growing anxious at the fact that Diane was getting more and more angry.

You remembered what Maeve spoke to him — her last words — “Thomas Merton, he’s the one you can never take away from us.” The proof of how much she loved him.

You remembered Diane pulling the trigger on herself and Maeve and Spencer’s painful pleading as both Diane and Maeve landed on the ground in a puddle of their own blood.

And you hated it but you remembered Spencer falling to his knees, sobbing over Maeve’s body. You could hardly believe it, even when it happened right in front of you. You’d fallen beside him, hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him the best way possible. And he grabbed your hand. Granted, he probably didn’t know or didn’t care enough to know who it was in that moment, but he took your hand anyways.

And since then, not a word from Spencer. And it was starting to worry the rest of the team.

But when you arrived in the office a few weeks after, staring at Spencer’s empty desk, JJ had spoken up and said — “Everyone else has tried but you. And I think you’re the person he needs right now.”

You’d responded, telling her that you’re probably the last person he wants to see right now in his time of mourning. But JJ had encouraged you. You’d known him in ways the team didn’t. Hell, you dated him. And you also knew what it was like to lose someone you loved.

A few years before you dated Spencer, you had had a boyfriend. You were dating him for three years until he lost his life in a car accident. You were heartbroken from the lost and you didn’t go to work for over a month after. The only person that gotten you through that had been Spencer. He always had a way with words and you remembered him being there for you the entire time you dealt with it. A couple of years later, you and him finally began to date.

And now here you were, standing outside of his apartment, wondering how the hell you got yourself in this mess. You’d told Hotch that you needed to take care of something and that you wouldn’t be joining them on this upcoming case. It was true and it wasn’t like you to just call out of work unless it was an emergency. It technically wasn’t a lie, Spencer was your emergency. And you knew that Hotch would understand.

You’d hesitantly knocked, so quietly. “Spencer? It’s me,” You’d spoken up, your voice hoarse. “I, uh, I know I’m the last person you probably want to talk to right now… but… I’m here. If you need anything, I’m right here.” You assured.

To make your point, you moved two of the gift baskets away from the door so you can plop right down on the floor to sit against the door. “And I’m not going anywhere.” You rested the back of your head against the door. “And we don’t have to talk. We can wait however long you need to. I’ll be here.”

“But, please, give me something so I know that you’re alive in there.” You asked and quietly pleaded, “Please.”

You’d waited thirty seconds before you lost hope entirely and then three soft knocks came from the other side of the door and you smiled to yourself in relief that at least he was conscious.

And soon the minutes turned into hours, with you resting your head against that door and shifting a couple of times to get comfortable. Spencer still hadn’t budged since he’d knocked on the door. You’d taken the opportunity to help yourself to one of Garcia’s gift baskets since Reid hadn’t seemed to claim them. You’d opted for one of the fresher baskets since the others had probably been sitting for about a few weeks now. There was a basket with the mini chocolate chip muffins that you snacked on while sitting there.

And after hours and hours of still waiting there with no peep from Spencer, your eyes began to flutter closed at how sleepy you were getting. Sleeping outside of Spencer’s apartment wasn’t the best place for your back or your neck but you had slept in worse places.

You’d probably succumbed to sleep at least a few hours later until you had a rude awakening involving Spencer finally opening his door.

You hit your head right on the floor, which had woke you up. “Ow.” You muttered and looked up, seeing Spencer’s ghostly figure standing above you. You could’ve sworn you were dreaming. “Spencer?”

“You’re still here?” He asked, confusion in his voice. You finally stood up from the floor and nodded at him to answer as he began to walk away from the door and went back to the couch.

It was then that you got a look at his apartment. There were books on the floor everywhere. If you knew better, you’d say Spencer may have thrown them out of anger, pain. Old takeout boxes on the kitchen counter and living room table. It smelt like death — (but it actually might’ve been Spencer). You had to squint to look around since it’d been so dark. “Oh, Spencer…” You mumbled and turned to him on the couch. He was in a fetal position on the cushions, his hair falling in front of his face with an evident frown engraved on his face. He looked like a fragile child and it ached your heart to see him like that.

You found yourself kneeling in front of him and brushed the hair away from his face — like it was second nature to you. Like you’ve done it before. And you have.

You looked around, wondering what you should do, what you can do. And you finally find something small to start with. “When was the last time you slept in your own bed?” You asked and Spencer didn’t answer. You expected that.

You stood up from kneeling in front of Spencer and walked to his room, grabbing a few clothes — a plain t-shirt, a pair of underwear, plaid pajama pants and a pair of mismatched socks. You then went into the hall closet to pull out a towel and a washcloth for him and walked towards the bathroom to start running the water. He always liked it not too hot or not too cold but just warm enough.

You walked into the living room and found Spencer sitting up on the couch. “Why don’t you hop in the shower? I’ve got it running the way you like it.” It took a few seconds but Spencer nodded at you and began to trudge to the bathroom. He’d left the door a crack and you wondered why he did. But then it occurred to you that maybe he didn’t want to feel quite alone for a minute and you were right there if he needed anything. And he knew you had a guilty conscience, knowing that if he had closed the door and he’d done something to himself, you’d never forgive yourself. And you wouldn’t want him trapping himself in the bathroom either.

As Spencer went into the shower, you’d taken care of the rest of the apartment. You started with opening the blinds to bring some sort of light in and then with the kitchen counter, clearing out all of the old takeout boxes and washing dishes and wiping down the table and putting the books back on the shelves. All except for one. The Narrative of John Smith, it’d been the one book that he was clutching onto the entire time she’d been here until you told him to get into the shower. You knew he needed to put that one away on his own terms.

You fixed the couch up, laying the throw blanket neatly over the couch and then walked to his room, setting up his own bed. Wanting for him to be as comfortable as possible.

When he finally exited the bathroom, you didn’t hear him. You hadn’t heard his footsteps as he looked around the living room, seeing how you tidied up the place while he was in the shower. He almost thought you left, until he heard your humming from the other room. You were singing to yourself, a habit you picked up often doing casual things like laundry or spring cleaning. He missed the nonchalance of your presence and as he walked towards the door and found you making his bed, he missed it even more. Missed you even more.

You finally noticed that you weren’t alone, looking up to see him in the doorway and you smiled towards him. “Oh, hi.” You said and he walked into the room, looking down at his newly made bed. “Are you feeling better?”

He didn’t answer verbally, just shrugged.

You didn’t know what to say to that. Instead, you look down at his perfectly made bed and say, “Why don’t you get some rest?”

Spencer nods at you weakly and gets under the covers. You almost want to tuck him in, like he’s a child, but you refrain from doing so. You look down at him and felt like you’ve done everything you could for him. Made sure he showered, tidied his apartment. Surely he’s sick of you being here now.

You ease the awkward tension, sucking in a breath and patting your knees. “Well… I’m just… gonna… see myself out. Get all of the rest you can, Spencer. No rush to come back, just take your time.” You assure finally and silently plead him to ask you to stay longer. Because you don’t exactly feel accomplished at the fact that you haven’t done anything except ask him to take a shower and clean his apartment. It didn’t really feel like a win. Instead, you felt more heartbroken for Spencer.

And somehow, by some miracle, you felt him grab your hand and you turned to face him and his gleaming eyes. “Can you…” The words trailed off from his lips as he stares into your eyes. “Can you stay?” You look at him, with wide eyes. It was like he read your mind. “Please?”

You look at him and try to maintain your composure as much as you can. Because this is the first time he’s asked you to stay the night since you two were together. “Yeah, of course, Spencer.”

He moves towards the other side of the bed to make room for you and you’re shocked by the gesture. You hadn’t shared a bed with him since you were together, either. You sit up against the headboard and he gravitates towards your thigh, resting his head on it and closes his eyes and your hand finds his hair, running a hand through it and trying to maintain his curls at the back of his neck.

Then, you remember. You look towards the drawer next to the bed on your side and wonder. You open the drawer and sure enough, there it was. The brown comb you left behind. You often used it to brush his hair, especially when it was shaggy down his shoulders and he’d often rest his head on your thigh like he was doing now and you’d run your hand through his locks until you’d finally bought a comb. It surprised you that he still kept it. You would’ve thought it ended up in his ‘Y/n box’ like how everything of his ended up in your ‘Spencer box’.

And like second nature, you began to brush his damp locks with the comb, trying your best to angle your arm to not interrupt his rest. You softly smiled at the scene, his eyes closed and nose scrunching every few minutes or so.

You’d suspected that maybe he’d fallen asleep to you combing his hair because his breathing evened and he was quiet with his eyes still remaining closed. But you still found yourself still combing through his hair despite getting the tangles all out.

“I miss her,” He admitted and for a moment, you stopped your movements, not only because his words shocked you but also because you thought he was asleep. “I miss Maeve.” He added and you notice as his lip quivers at his own mention of his dead girlfriend and you do everything in your power to keep your lip from doing the same.

“I know.” You say, your voice so soft and nurturing as you continued to comb through his hair.

Spencer doesn’t say anything else but you were glad he’d spoken out just what he was feeling in that moment. You lean against the headboard, wishing to say more but what Spencer really needed right now was someone in his corner, not someone who wanted to give their own opinion about the situation or relate to him — just someone to listen to him.

You continue brushing until you finally decide that his hair is silky smooth and place the comb on the table next to you and look down at his resting face and instead of the frown you’d seen earlier, you finally see some sort of look of peace. Of course, the sadness is still etched on him from a mile away. But you glad to grant him some form of peace in a time where he’s most desperate of it.

You begin to run your hand through his hair, massaging his scalp like you often used to do when you were together. And for a moment, it’s like you two are dating again and it’s like it’s casual, like you’ve done this before — which you have. But it’s been so long, you never thought you’d be in this position again.

Eventually, he falls asleep on your thigh and his soft breathing is more even than it was before and his mouth is slightly parted as he sleeps. And you don’t care about the crick you’re going to get in your neck from this headboard, you don’t care that your leg is dead and that your pant leg is slightly damp from his wet hair. What matters more than anything right now is him getting the rest he deserves.

And what mattered more than anything and your goal was that Spencer was going to fight through this gaping hole of darkness and find his light eventually. And somewhere deep down inside of you, though you’d never admit it out loud — you hoped that that light was you.

[ddejavvu]

i was using Spotify and I realized how u could see what ur friends are listening to atm on there and it would be so fun to have hotch discover this, and be surprised that the reader is listening to songs like “or nah” or j any explicit songs like that and is into it😋 could lead into something more like playing that song while they’re doing it later on

OKAY THANK YOU LOVE UR WRITING!!!

i love you! i just left this vague and open to whatever song you want to insert!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Being Spotify friends with Aaron Hotchner only came about because of Penelope's insistence on team bonding. And because she wanted to send everyone the personalized playlists she'd made for them, and sharing became much easier that way.

All it's yielded for you is the knowledge that, very infrequently, Hotch remembers he has a music app on his phone, and that he plays 2-3 Beatles songs before he inevitably gets called to another task and has to shut off the music.

Aaron is even less frequently informed of your tastes in music than you are of his, because the few times that he's used the app, he forgets to check what the other members of the team are listening to. Not that he really cares; Spencer's listening to classical and Derek has too-loud EDM playing in his headphones that Savannah teases him for. Rossi prefers records to his phone, and JJ plays mainly kids' songs for her boys. Emily is always listening to some mid-2000's rock song, but you, you he hasn't gotten a read on. You're all over the place, switching from singer to singer, genre to genre, language to language. All in all, his team's music taste doesn't affect him, but Penelope is far more eager to snoop on you all than he is.

"Ooh, nasty girl," She gushes, head bent to look at her phone as she waits in Aaron's office. He'd instructed her to let him have five minutes to finish a report before she briefed him on a new case's details, but she's proving very distracting. With a glance up at her, half-scathing, half-incredulous, he asks, 'What?'

"Oh! Y/N's Spotify," She holds out her phone as explanation, showcasing your profile with unfamiliar album art displayed over it. It's black and red, but Aaron doesn't recognize the song or the artist.

He raises an eyebrow at Penelope, and she huffily gives into his demand.

"It's a song about sex," She informs him, "Like- feral, sweaty, hungry, clawing-at-the-sheets, scratching-up-his-back, mouth-open-so-he-"

"Alright! Enough," Hotch snaps, glaring disapprovingly at her rather vulgar language, "I think I get the picture, Garcia."

"Sorry, sir." She looks only mildly sheepish, talking more to herself than she is to him as she muses, "Didn't know she was into that kind of thing."

Aaron doesn't think about the title of the song again until well after Penelope's gone, and he's taking his lunch alone in his office. He's more a fan of songs that, if they are about sex, don't outwardly mention any vulgarity, and he's not sure if he could handle explicit material being spewed at loud volumes directly into his ear. Call it morbid curiosity, call it Disapproving Boss Syndrome, but he fishes near-new headphones out of his desk drawer to find out what you've been listening to while filling out government paperwork all day.

He has the good sense to look it up on youtube without logging in. He doesn't want this attached to him in any way, and he certainly doesn't want eagle-eyed Penelope catching him on Spotify.

The beginning of the song seizes the ear right away, a unique beat that definitely doesn't sound sexually appealing. But when each different instrument filters in and the lyrics begin, he realizes that Penelope's description was not very far off.

It's filthy.

It's twenty kinds of vulgar, words that he's never even heard before being used to refer to genitalia. The only way he figures out their definitions is through context, and he thinks he may have been better off without knowing them. He's floored by the contents of the song; he knows sexual songs exist, even at this level of vulgarity, but he'd have never expected you to indulge in them. Certainly not in the workplace.

The song finishes out at three minutes and nine seconds, and Hotch feels a slight heat to his face as he unplugs his headphones and closes the tab. No one had caught him, but he feels mortified anyways, and decides he no longer has an appetite.

He puts the lid back onto the container of leftover pasta that he'd brought from home, keeping his head down as he treks to the kitchenette to refrigerate it.

Of course, his luck fails him as he nearly bumps into you, rounding the corner to the small, closed-off kitchen and finding you in front of the microwave in the doorway.

"Oh! Sorry, Hotch." You laugh, stepping out of his way to let him through. He notices an earbud in your ear and pushes away the knowledge of what song you're probably listening to, heading for the fridge instead.

"It's fine." He grumbles, electing to stay silent for the rest of your impromptu meeting if he can manage. He feels slightly guilty for being cold towards you, because it was his own curiosity that led to his embarrassment, but he can't look you in the eyes right now.

You see fit to fill the awkward silence with the tapping of your nails on the counter, and with a jolt of recognition, and something else far more intense below the belt, he realizes that you're tapping out the beat of the song.

He ignores your sharp gasp as he slams the refrigerator door perhaps a tad too hard. He doesn't have time to feel bad about startling you, though, not when he so desperately needs to be back in the confines of his office, away from the prying eyes of the team.

His sharp memory comes in handy as he calls upon the name of the song later that night, pretending to himself that he's only doing it because it's been stuck in his head. Not because every time he thinks of it, or rather, of you listening to it, his pants tighten slightly. He chooses youtube first, but something drags his thumb towards the spotify button instead, and he swallows the saliva that's suddenly pooled in his mouth when his suspicions are confirmed: you're listening to it, too.

At eleven-thirty at night, probably beneath the covers on your bed just like Aaron is, you're listening to a song about sex, and as he sinks a hand beneath the waistband of his pajama pants, he knows without a doubt that you're doing the same.

[pariahofpelicantown]

NSFW ABC (Emily)

(Minors DNI!)

A = Aftercare 

She is huge on aftercare, especially if things got a little rough. She will clean you up, get you water, or whatever else you may need. She is very attentive and caring and needs the same level of attention from you if you got a bit rough with her. Respect is key, and she is always attentive to your

B = Body part 

She loves your neck and shoulders, and loves leaving little love bites on your collarbone, just out of sight so you only you both know they are there.

On herself she likes her hands. They are delicate and always soft, and she likes to think she is quite skilled with them, both in and out of the bedroom.

C = Cum 

She can cum a few times in one go, but they are spaced out. When she cums the first time it will take quite a while for her to cum again, so she requires a bit more attention after the first time.

D = Dirty secret 

She knows that Clint frequently sneaks up to the farmhouse to spy on her, and as a result she will sometimes initiate sex with you right there in the living room. She whispers to you that he is watching, and wants him to see all of the things you can do to her that he can only dream off. At first you were a little unsure, but after she explained she wanted him to watch you take her and make her yours you came around to the idea. She cums so hard knowing that he is watching, and knowing she belongs to you.

E = Experience

She has been around the block a few times. She and Shane have hooked up on more than one occasion, frightening the poor chickens in his coop.

She knows what she likes and isn't afraid to tell you what she wants.

F = Favorite position 

She avoids bringing it up until she really trusts the person, as it has been a taboo topic with her partners in the past, but she actually really enjoys anal play. Rather full anal, or just fingering while she uses a dildo on herself, she loves the feeling of double penetration and feeling so completely full.

She will only broach this topic when she is fully comfortable with you as she considers it one of her dark secrets.

G = Goofy 

She can be extremely playful when it comes to sex, believing it should be fun as well as pleasurable. She can be serious if the mood calls for it but she prefers a more carefree approach, preferring to laugh and be free with each other.

H = Hair 

She lets it grow out a bit, but not to the point where is it unmanageable. She prefers to let it grow naturally but she keeps it well groomed and clean.

I = Intimacy 

She views sex as intimate regardless of how fast or slow it is. For her it’s all about the spiritual connection you share, and believes that can be achieved regardless of how fast or slow it is.

J = Jack off

She used to take care of herself every morning in the shower, but now she rarely needs to. And if she does, she makes sure to send you a video of it so you can see what you are missing out on.

K = Kink 

Voyeurism (with consent of course) she loves watching other people have sex. She also enjoys exhibitionism, and loves to be watched.

It's part of why she loves doing it knowing Clint is watching. It has nothing to do with any attraction to him, she just enjoys putting on a show and makes it clear she belongs to you.

L = Location

She really is down to fuck anywhere within reason. She doesn’t mind if it’s in public as long as you’re not getting it on in the middle of town square. The bedroom is fine, but she doesn’t view it as the only acceptable location.

M = Motivation

It drives her crazy when you bite your lip and beckon her with your finger. She finds it insanely sexy, and will melt as soon as she sees it.

N = No 

She will not do anything that is not consented to, believing it to be the most important aspect of your sex life. Permission is always sought with the other couple before engaging in voyeurism, and if she ever had an inkling you were uncomfortable with it, she would drop the topic completely. Same with exhibitionism, it's a kink but not a deal breaker.

She is also no willing to share you with anyone. Looking is fine, but touching is strictly forbidden.

O = Oral 

She loves both giving and receiving, but if she had the choice she would much rather give. She loves watching you fall apart as she uses her mouth on you, and will kiss you afterwards so you can taste yourself on her lips.

69 is also a good comprise.

P = Pace 

She prefers taking her time, if given the option, but sometimes when tensions are running high, she knows a good hard fucking is needed. She is more than happy to be an outlet for your frustrations (within reason, don't go overboard), and once in a while she needs to pull your hair and fuck you senseless to relieve stress.

Q = Quickie 

She is always down for a quickie, especially when the mood strikes her when she on a time crunch to get to work. She will press you against a wall, not even bothering to undress as her hand slides up your skirt or down your pants.

R = Risk 

She is always up to try new things, as long as you both agree to it. She isn't the type to worry about being caught, so she is always down to have sex in a park behind a bush or behind the Stardrop. She is not shy, and if someone happens to catch the two of you so be it.

S = Stamina 

She is usually down for more than one round, though it takes a lot longer for her to get off a second time. The first comes pretty easily but after that it takes a bit of work to get her to a second orgasm, and that is usually her limit.

That being said, she will spend as much time on you as you need, regardless of if she’s at her limit, she will always make sure you are properly satisfied.

T = Toys

She has a decent collection of toys, some accumulated before she met you and a few after. She is very open and experimental, and if she sees something you both might like she will buy it on the spot.

She loves using toys on you, especially a rabbit (for females) or jacking you off with a flashlight (male.)

U = Unfair 

She loves to tease you throughout the day. She’ll send you suggestive texts messages if you’re apart, and wear clothes that leave little to the imagination if you are together.

She loves the buildup, and will keep going until you are practically begging her to fuck you.

V = Volume 

She can get very loud, and doesn't care at all who hears her. As far as she is concerned, if they don't want to hear it then they don't have to listen. She likes that some people (Clint) knows exactly what you are doing to her.

W = Wild card 

She loves watching you fuck yourself, and also loves watching you fuck yourself. She also loves mutual masturbation, almost as much as she loves fucking you.

X = X-ray

She has small, perky breasts that are extra sensitive as her nipples are both pierced. She has a few scattered freckles across her chest that look like constellations against her pale skin.

Y = Yearning 

She has a pretty high libido, but she doesn’t need to engage in sex every night. She is usually down if you are, but she will never expect you to be on the same level as her. She is perfectly fine cuddling on the couch if you prefer.

Besides she is more than capable of taking care of herself if she has the need.

Z = Zzz

It usually takes her a bit to wind down afterwards. She loves basking in the afterglow with you and engaging in pillow talk before going to sleep. She wants to make sure your needs are met and will always ask if you need anything before falling asleep.

[cloudlessly-light]

The darkest parts of me (3/5)

Title: The darkest parts of me (3/5) Summary: They find each other in a dark world where they do twisted things. The only way things could have become more dangerous, is if they were together. Funny how life turns out.

Unsub!Hotchniss AU.   Word count: 2,2k Rating: Explicit Warnings (for most or all chapters): smut, descriptions of violence, descriptions of murder, gore (nothing too explicit), mentions of weapons

They’ve been traveling through the country together for close to a year now, Aarons system working. It had almost become too easy, him choosing their victim and then a night spent somewhere in between twisted torture and twisted pleasure. Emily had never felt so free, being with him and she knew that he felt the same, telling her how happy he was that they had found each other frequently.

They don’t kill too often, sometimes taking weeks or even months in between each kill, but Aaron notices the restlessness in her easily, she sees the need for it on him. It’s an addiction, they both know it, neither of them wanting to stop even when they probably should. But as he feels the rush of euphoria when a man stops breathing from his hand, or Emily’s need for power and control is soothed as she finishes someone off, neither of them wants to stop.

“Would you ever do it again?” Emily asks out of nowhere one night. They’re eating dinner, having just arrived in Texas and when Aaron looks up at her she clarifies. “Having a kid? A family?”

“No.” He answers bluntly, because there wasn’t any point in lying to her. “Having children while living this life, I don’t know if that would work.”

“Do you think you could give it up?” She takes a bite of her chicken and watches as he thinks about her question.

“Honestly, I don’t think the urge will ever go away. If I stop, I don’t think I’d be completely content, not like right now.” He takes a sip of the overpriced wine that she loves and then takes her hand. “What about you?”

“I never thought I would, considering how life was with Ian, he would have been a horrible dad. But I think I might want a child, someday.” She feels her cheek flush at the admission, she had never told anybody that before.

“So you could give up killing?” His tone of surprise is obvious and he watches as she smiles softly.

“I don’t know. I guess I always thought that I would some day, it’s impossible to live like this forever without getting caught.” She squeezes his hand and smiles softly before continuing to eat her dinner.

Aaron nods, but stays silent because he knew she was right. At some point they’d have to stop. And if there was anyone he could consider giving it up for, it was her.

*

“I think we have a serial killer travelling the country.” David Rossi says, throwing files onto Jason Gideon’s desk. “A team actually.”

He waits patiently as Jason looks through a few of the files in silence and when he looks back up at him he knows that his friend has caught the same pattern that he has.

“How far does these murders go?” He asks from behind his desk, still holding one of the files in his hand.

“If I’m right about this, they’ve been at it for months.” Dave urges the other man to follow him and he leads him to his office. “But I think before they were a team, one of them killed alone.” The two boxes of files on his desk made Jason pause.

“When did you get all of these?”

“I asked departments all over the country to send what might fit into the unsubs behavior to us last week after getting a call for a consultation. Something about the behavior told me there was more than a single case.

For a few seconds it’s silent, both of them looking at the number of files of unsolved murders that might be related.

“Let’s get to work.” Jason says then, a heavy sigh leaving him as he does.

*

They had gotten into a sick form of roleplay. Aaron finding their victim and Emily using her charm on him, luring the man back to whatever house they rented for their trip. There he would wait for them, sometimes with a knife in hand, sometimes a gun, tonight he had opted for nothing, needing to feel the life drain out of this man by his own hand. He had raped women, five of them so far, tied them up with piano wire and somehow police had never caught him, but Aaron had tracked him down.

He hears the key turn in the lock, followed by Emily laughing, something sickly sweet and fake, a laugh she’d never use with him. The sound makes him itch, the restlessness that had been growing for hours almost becoming unbearable the closer he was to get to feel his fists breaking skin and bones.

“You’ve got a nice place.” Hamilton says, his voice sending a shiver of disgust through her as his hand grips her hip tight as they enter the dark house.

“Thank you.” She turns and walks backwards, a flirty smile on her face that all but disappears when the lights are turned on and she walks into Aaron’s strong chest. “Meet my boyfriend.” She grins as Aaron’s familiar warmth presses against her back.

Hamilton barely has time to react to the third person in the room before a fist connects to his cheekbone and he falls to the ground. Emily locks the door while Aaron continues to punch the man that’s made her sick to her stomach all night. But now it’s different, satisfaction settling inside of her as she watches the man she loves beat a man that doesn’t deserve to live to death.

“He has a wife.” She tells him while Aaron is taking a break, the other man laying unmoving on the floor, but he’s still breathing.

“It doesn’t matter, we’ll be gone tomorrow morning, I booked us a flight to Florida.” He grabs her jaw and kisses her as she hums into it. “I know you said you wanted a little vacation.”

“You’re perfect.” She smiles into another kiss, this one interrupted by low groaning at their feet and she looks down at Hamilton. “He tried to feel me up all night.” She grabs the gun from the table and shoots his hand without a moment’s hesitation as Aaron laughs beside her.

“Easy sweetheart, don’t kill him too quickly now, I want us to take our time tonight.” He takes the gun from her and then spits on the other man. “However, I do not like knowing he dared to put his hands on you.” With that thought he stepped on his other hand, hard enough for bones to crack and break and he screamed out.

“That’s it baby, make him suffer.” Emily sighed contently and went to grab one of the knives from the kitchen. It was Aaron’s turn to kill, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun first, and ever since the first time using the knife, she had preferred it over her gun. Aaron had been right, if she thought she felt powerful with a gun, it was nothing compared to the knife. The rush of steel slicing through skin makes her laugh, something close to madness as Aaron grabs at her from behind, his hands driving her into a frenzy as he tells her to cut him again.

They fucked right next to him once they knew he would be too weak to get away. There was something about being watched getting them both off.

“He thought he could have you, but you’re mine.” Aaron groaned as Emily straddled him on the couch only a few feet from where Hamilton was laying, eyes half open as every ounce of energy was focused on trying to draw enough breath into his lungs.

“Show him.” She gasped and his hand wrapped around her throat. Sometimes she thought he imagined what it would feel like to kill her this way and the rush that went through her made her whimper. She wasn’t afraid of his darkness, because she had wondered the same, had fantasized about his blood on her hands. That’s what made it fun, the fear of knowing how easily they could kill each other a thrill unlike most.

By the time Hamilton was dead they were blissfully exhausted. It had been a while since they had created this kind of mess and as Aaron got rid of the body, Emily was cleaning up the blood from the floor. It had become a way for her to come down from her high, the mix of blood and bleach comforting and by the time Aaron joined her she was almost done.

“Everything gone?” She asks and he nods. He smells acrid from the lye, as well as blood and she scrunches her nose. “You stink, let me finish this and then we can shower?”

“Oh do I?” He wraps his arms around her with a smirk. “You don’t like the smell of a work well done?”

“I like the smell of you.” She kisses him quickly and then moves from his embrace and grabs the rag she had used. “I still don’t like the cleanup.”

“That’s because you’ve been spoilt, baby.” His tone is teasing and she looks up at him with a huff. “Would you rather have us be caught?” He chuckles when she rolls her eyes.

“Obviously not. All I’m saying is that the lye smells horrible.”

“But it works.” He reminds her as he removes his jeans that he had put on while getting rid of the body and goes to throw them away with the rest of their clothes to be burned and thrown away far away from their rented house tomorrow.

When he comes back, Emily is just about done and he watches her in silence while she cleans the last of the blood up, then they both go through the house to make sure not to leave any evidence, wiping doorknobs and watching out for any missed spots of blood.

By the time they’re in bed it’s late and they’re tired and sated in the way they only were after a night spent like tonight.

“So, Florida huh?” She asks, her words tickling his neck as she lays halfway on top of him.

“Yeah, I thought we needed a break.” He kissed the top of her head.

“You just want to get me into a bikini.” She teases with a grin and looks up at him.

“Well that too. But you can’t blame me for that.” When he slaps her ass with a grin she chuckles.

“I guess you can’t.”

*

It’s been weeks and they’re still no closer to catching the unsubs who’s been roaming the country. They were careful about not leaving any evidence, but the pattern was all too clear. And then they finally got a break, a young prostitute had come forward while being questioned about a disappearance of a man with a less than stellar record. Dave immediately knew that it was them, the victim fitting into their unsubs pattern flawlessly.

“It seemed like a couple.” The detective on the other line tells him as he holds the phone between his ear and shoulder while waving Jason into his office.

“Did you get a description?” He asks and puts the detective on speaker as Jason closes the door and sits down across from him.

“They’re white, both of them dark hair and dark eyes. Maybe in their mid-thirties. The man was tall, seemingly strong because he knocked out the victim with one punch. The woman carried a gun, had threatened our witness with it and told her to leave.”

“How did you find your witness?” Jason cuts in, this was the biggest lead they’d had since starting their investigation.

“She’s a prostitute, she knew the victim they had a… history.”

“So he was her pimp? Or a client?”

“Seems like it. She didn’t want to talk, had to drag it out of her. “

“That’s usually the case.” Dave agrees as he watches the wheels turning in Jason’s head as he figures out the puzzle pieces.

“How long ago was the murder?” Jason pulls out a notebook and takes the pen Dave is already holding out for him.

“About five months ago. We considered this a cold case until she was brought in on other charges, that’s when one of my men found out her connection to the murdered victim.”

“Okay, thank you. If you get any other information, please call us. And can you send over the sketch of the unsubs?”

“Of course.”

After the call ended, it was silent in their office for a long time. It wasn’t until Jason sighed heavily as he leant back in his chair that Dave looked up from his own notebook where he kept information about the unsubs.

“Who knows how many they’ve killed, but the victims are clearly a type. Are we dealing with vigilantes here?” He asks as Jason stands up.

“I think so. Funny thing is, a team, a team with a woman no less, shouldn’t be this violent and they most certainly shouldn’t be able to stay together without killing each other.”

They looked at each other, wondering how long it would take for this case to completely unravel.

[all-the-things-2020]

Late Night Talking

A Dieter Bravo x OFC fic

Notes: Title comes from the Harry Styles song. I heard it on the radio one day and the line “Now you’re in my life, I can’t get you off my mind” just screamed Dieter to me.

My Dieter is (mostly) sober and trying to put his life and career back together after hitting the bottom during the filming of Cliff Beasts 6. He is still a menace but he’s working on it. There will be comedy, angst, fluff and possibly some smut (not sure how explicit my narrator will get).

Narrator is an original female character loosely based on myself. She is around Dieter’s age, not thin, and introverted. He turns her life upside down and she’s not quite prepared for it.

Tagging @rhoorl because her Dieter in “Working Title” inspired me to start this fic!

Chapter One below the cut

I met him in a bookshop, of all places. Not exactly the environment you’d expect, but sometimes fate works in mysterious ways. Bookshops are one of the few places I frequented where it’s even remotely possible to meet a man. I’ve never liked bars or clubs; too noisy, too many creeps trying to be charming and getting too hands. As an introvert, I prefer quieter surroundings, like bookshops, museums, and botanical gardens. Not exactly hot spots for single guys, but I wasn’t trying to meet anyone. I was always open to whatever might happen, though.

I was in The Last Bookstore in downtown L.A. It was the first day of my summer break and I’d challenged myself to get out of my box a little and do things I’d never done before. I’d taken the train into the city, which I’d never done by myself. Of course, once I got into L.A., I ended up in my preferred habitat, surrounded by books.

I had spotted a book on my to-be-read list on the top shelf. Being petite (the polite way of saying I was short), I couldn’t quite reach it. I was debating whether the shelves were structurally sound enough for me to try standing on the bottom shelf to reach it when I heard a low, warm voice behind me say, “Let me.”

An arm reached up, easily plucking the book off the shelf and handing it to me. “Good choice,” the voice said. “That’s one of my favorites.”

I knew that voice. Turning to see the man who stood next to me, my suspicions were confirmed. It was Dieter Bravo. He was wearing a baggy gray t-shirt, a well-worn pair of jeans and some god-awful Crocs that had seen better days. His hair looked like he’d forgotten to comb it that morning and his scruffy beard and mustache could use a trim. But he was wearing glasses and his deep brown eyes were looking directly into mine, so that was all I saw.

“Thanks,” I managed to say, hoping I wasn’t blushing or anything ridiculous like that.

“No worries,” he said with a smile. He indicated the small stack of books in my hands with his chin. “You’ve got good taste.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” I said. Real smooth, doofus, I told myself. I tried to start over. “I read a ton of YA for work, so I’m trying to read more ‘grown-up’ stuff during the summer.”

He leaned against the bookshelf, his broad shoulders blocking the aisle. “YA?,” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Young Adult,” I explained. “I work in a high school library. A lot of it is really good, but after nine or ten months of dystopian love triangles and hot werewolves and teenagers with weird diseases falling in love, I find myself craving something more substantial.”

He smiled again. “I can imagine,” he said. “So, a librarian, huh? Oh, I’m Dieter, by the way.” He held out his hand and I shook it. It was huge and warm and made my knees melt.

“Um, yeah, I know,” I stammered. “I recognized you. I’m, ha, a big fan of your work.” I felt like a complete idiot as I stumbled over my words. “I’m Emily.”

“Well, Emily, this might be a dumb question, considering your line of work, but do you come here often?” He chuckled as he seemed to realize how cliched his questions was.

“Actually, this is my first time here,” I said. “I’ve always wanted to visit this shop, I never got around to it. I live out in the boondocks, so I don’t get into L.A. very often.”

“It’s great,” he said. “I don’t get here very often, though. Always too busy, it seems.”

We chatted for a bit, about the books we were buying, and favorites we’d both read (and made a few recommendations to each other when we mentioned titles the other hadn’t read). Then the conversation turned back to bookshops.

“I usually end up at Barnes & Noble,” I admitted. “There’s a good indie bookseller in Riverside, but it’s kind of small. My absolute favorite bookshop is Vroman’s in Pasadena. I don’t get there as often as I’d like, though.”

“Vroman’s,” he said, wrinkling his forehead. “I think I’ve heard of it but I’ve never been there.”

“Oh, you should go!” I said. I loved talking about my favorite bookshop and started rattling on. “They have all kinds of great stuff besides books. Plus a wine bar.”

“Whoa, books and booze? Sign me up.” He smiled that radiant smile I’d seen in a million photos, the one that always made me feel funny inside.

“Then you should definitely go.”

“Is that an invitation?”

I was stunned, but managed to speak without stumbling too much over the words. “Sure, why not?” Holy crap, he’s flirting with me!

Dieter pulled out his phone. “Let’s see,” he said, scrolling through the phone. “Um, I’m free Friday evening. I have a meeting at two, but I should be out of there by four at the latest. It’s in Burbank, I can probably make it to Pasadena by five, if that works for you?”

My tongue felt like it was swollen to twice its normal size. Was he actually asking me out? Or had I accidentally asked him? “Um, yeah,” I stammered. “Friday’s good, yeah.”

“Okay, then.” He tapped away at his phone and then slipped it back into his pocket. “It’s a date. Friday, five o’clock, Vroman’s.” He winked and now I knew I was blushing like a fool. He glanced at his wristwatch. “I have a meeting with my agent in an hour, so I’d better go pay for these and get going.” He pulled his phone back out and opened up the Contacts app. “Here,” he said, handing the phone to me. “Put in your number.”

I did and handed the phone back to him. He put it back in his pocket (oh, how I tried not to look too closely at that pocket, afraid he’d think I was checking out his crotch), then held out his hand again, wiggling his fingers. “Your phone?”

“Oh, yeah.” I pulled my own phone out of my purse and handed it to him. He opened my Contacts app and typed in his name and number. As he handed it back to me, our fingers brushed against each other and he smiled.

“See you Friday.” He turned and walked away, heading for the cash registers on the ground floor. I stood in the aisle for several minutes, staring at my phone. I had a date with Dieter fucking Bravo, and he’d given me his phone number.

I waited until he’d left the store, then went to the register myself. “Hey, you just missed Dieter Bravo,” the clerk said. “I got his autograph.”

I got his phone number, I wanted to say, but I didn’t. The kid behind the counter was thrilled to have had an encounter with a celebrity; he didn’t need me rubbing his nose in my good fortune. That didn’t keep me from texting my best friend Sam once I was back on the train headed for the IE. We’d been friends in elementary school before her family moved back East the summer before junior high. We’d kept in touch over the years, first by letters and now by text and Facebook.

<Went to downtown L.A. today. You’ll never guess who I ran into>

&lt;somebody I know?>

<Dieter Bravo>

&lt;Get out! Where were you?>

<The Last Bookstore, really cool shop.>

&lt;Were you cool about it? Please tell me you were cool about it>

<As cool as I could be, lol. Must have done okay. We have a date Friday night>

Sam replied with a string of emojis and punctuation marks. &lt;Don’t fuck with me, Em. It’s not funny>

<Totally serious. I have his phone number and everything.>

I clicked over to my Contacts and stared at the screen. The name “DB���️” stared back at me. It was real.

<I want details!>

I sketched out the encounter for her.

&lt;You’re living in a rom com, I swear. But be careful. Heard he’s a bit of a wild child. Make him wear a condom. You don’t know where he’s been>

<Shut up. I’m not going to sleep with him on the first date. Eww.>

&lt;I know, you’re Miss Sensible Shoes. LOL>

It was joke between us that Sam had grown up to love wearing stiletto heels and clubbing while I preferred flats and quiet evenings. We always said it was a good thing we lived so far apart or we’d never have remained friends. And yet Sam was the one who was married with three kids and a job in finance, while I was still unattached and basically living paycheck to paycheck.

<I’ll tell you all about the date, I promise. Luv u>

I put away my phone and stared out the window, watching the backyards and alleys of Southern California flash by. What a world, where I woke up in my tiny condo thinking the highlight of my day would be a new book and lunch at Olvera Strett, and now I had a date with a famous actor. Only in L.A. I mused. It really is La La Land.

[aneurinallday]

The Tragedy of James Steerforth

Chapter VII: Bottle

In the months that had passed since the storm, Ham Peggotty had begun drifting between his family home in Yarmouth and the Copperfields’ home in London. He was welcome at both, but found joy at neither. He no longer felt happy living on the beach where he’d grown up - it held too many bitter memories of Emily and Steerforth - but he felt stifled and anxious in the city. He cleaned fish and unloaded cargo and carried luggage and whatever jobs needed doing, but there was nothing that lasted - no work that kept him anchored for more than a week or two.

Upon his latest arrival in London, David greeted him as a dear friend, and Ham did his best to return the warmth. Part of him still resented David for bringing Steerforth into his life - into his and Emily’s lives - but another part felt guilty for harbouring so much bitterness. David had always been friendly to him, inviting him into his home, offering him a place to stay away from Yarmouth, and it was impossible to dislike him while sitting at his table.

After supper, Agnes - who was expecting her and David’s first child - excused herself early. Her pregnancy made her tired and listless, but as usual, she refused to let David fuss over her, insisting that he carry on his business as normal. She kissed his cheek goodnight and retired to bed, leaving David and Ham sitting awkwardly by the fireplace.

“I tell you what,” said David, “In celebration of your visit, let’s head out for a pint. There’s a pub I frequent not far away. Then Agnes can have some peace and quiet, and we can drink and sing without worrying about waking her.”

Ham shrugged, and off they went. It was only a few minutes’ walk to The King’s Arms, a rather upscale establishment compared to what Ham was used to. David paid for one of the upstairs rooms above the bar, and they were brought beer and gin. With a drink in his hand, Ham cheered up considerably.

“A toast,” said Ham, “to your career and to Agnes’ condition.”

David let out a laugh, as much from wonder as from happiness. He still couldn’t quite believe that he was going to be a father - that he woke up every morning next to a woman he loved - that his cursed childhood had turned into a life full of blessings. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve these good fortunes.

They clinked glasses, and for maybe an hour, simply talked. They spoke of London and of Yarmouth, of writing and fishing, of how the smells of the city differed from the smells of the seaside. They reminisced about their childhood together, about hazy days spent running on pebble beaches, small hands digging for molluscs and pretty shells.

At some point, they heard footsteps ascending the stairs, but thought nothing of it - it was probably the waiter delivering drinks to a different room.

“Do you remember when that fancy carriage came riding through town?” Ham chuckled, “The women with their big hats and little poodles - you could barely see them peeking through all the frills and feathers! Emily went running after them. She wanted so badly to be a proper lady.”

“I remember! She used to climb up the highest masts and look out across Norfolk, hoping to see the big city. London was her dream. She never liked Yarmouth.”

“That’s true,” said Ham ruefully, “When I look back, I suppose it was no wonder she ran off with…with him. I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve known she wouldn’t want to spend the rest of her life living in a boat, cleaning fish.”

“You can’t blame yourself, Ham.”

“Oh, I don’t. Trust me. I know who’s to blame.”

“There you are!” a familiar voice cried.

They both turned. James Steerforth was standing in the open doorway, his hat and cane in hand. He’d already been drinking - his face was flushed and his eyes sparkling with giddy energy.

“I overheard the barkeep saying there was a renowned author upstairs. I thought to myself, ‘that sounds like my Daisy’. So up I came, in search of answers. And lo and behold, it is you!”

He stepped into the room, rather unsteadily.

“Drowning your sorrows, Steerforth?” said Ham coldly, “I don’t think there’s enough beer in London to wash away your failure.”

“Ham, please,” said David quietly.

Steerforth approached their table. He dropped down in a chair, grabbed David’s glass, and helped himself to a swig. Seeing the look on David’s face, he laughed loudly.

“What is wrong with you?” David exclaimed. “First you ruin my publishing contract, then you gate-crash my wedding, then you make a scene at my book signing, and now you barge in on - ”

“Oh, spare me the self-righteousness, Daisy. You’re so very dull when you’re angry.”

Steerforth picked up a bottle off the table and took a swig.

“Poor little Daisy,” he taunted, “Daisy the orphan, Daisy the angel! Everyone loves him!”

“Don’t call me that!” said David harshly, “I’m not a boy any more. I’m a grown man. I’m David Copperfield - a writer, a husband, and a father-to-be.”

“Oh, but you’ll always be fresh as a daisy to me. So disgustingly virtuous, so sickeningly innocent.” Steerforth grimaced. “How utterly nauseating…I could vomit.”

“That’d be the alcohol,” said Ham.

Steerforth ignored him. Leaning back in his chair, he slung one leg up and over, resting his foot on the table. He continued to drink.

“You really are a disappointment to me, Daisy,” he said, “From the moment I met you, I saw your potential. I nurtured you, guided you, mentored you. I taught you how to make friends, how to be a proper gentleman, how to live the London life. Little did I know, you would throw me by the wayside in your quest for fame and glory. I always knew you were destined for great things - I just didn’t know the lengths to which you’d go to get there.”

David’s frustration finally boiled over.

“What are you doing, James?” he demanded, “What are you trying to accomplish with this idiotic feud? Because let me tell you right now, I’m not interested in taking part. If there’s a vendetta between us, it’ll be entirely one-sided. I won’t get in the mud with you.”

Steerforth leapt to his feet, but immediately regretted it - he grabbed hold of the table for support, visibly fighting nausea. David and Ham instinctively leaned away. Recovering, Steerforth donned his hat with a clumsy flourish.

“You stand there and pretend to be somebody,” he said, “But you’re not somebody. You’re nobody. A forgotten orphan - unwanted and unloved.”

His hat slipped down to cover his eyes. He fumbled to straighten it.

“You worked in a bottling factory. Imagine that - working! What kind of gentleman works? That’s the difference between us, Copperfield. I’m respectable and you aren’t. You’ve never been anything and you never will be anything!”

“You’re drunk!” David exclaimed, “Please, go home.”

Steerforth downed the rest of the bottle, and slammed it onto the table, rattling the glasses.

“I don’t have a home.” He swayed on his feet. “I’m not welcome anywhere. You made sure of that.”

“That’s not true. You’ve always had a home - you still do! Your mother is waiting for you at Highgate.”

“My mother,” Steerforth scoffed, “She’s just like you - just as stupid and useless.”

“How can you speak about her that way? She gave you everything! Your whole life of luxury and meaningless profligacy was thanks to her.”

“The only thing she gave me was an ear-ache, with her constant fawning and coddling. School was a blessed relief - I couldn’t get away from her fast enough.”

For a moment, Steerforth stared at the floor, as if lost in an unhappy memory. Then his attention snapped back to David.

“Anyway - it wasn’t she who ruined my life. It was you. It was you who brought me to Yarmouth, and exposed me to temptation. It was you who put me in your book, and made me the laughing stock of London.”

“You exposed yourself,” Ham interrupted, “You couldn’t help but cause mischief, and now you’re finding out that the world doesn’t have to bend to your will. People don’t have to love you. Davy did nothing wrong.”

“Oh, he speaks!” Steerforth exclaimed, “I nearly forgot your name - Peggotty, isn’t it? Did you find another woman yet, Peggotty? Another coarse-faced fish-wife to be the vessel of your illustrious bloodline? After all, what sane woman wouldn’t throw herself at you, with all the qualities you have to offer? I daresay, you’re the most desirable man in all of Yarmouth!”

“What would you know about fathers?” said Ham, “Yours died when you were a baby. You grew up with a mother who spoiled you rotten because she couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering a moment’s inconvenience. No wonder you don’t know how to behave yourself!”

“The boat-builder lectures me on decorum!” Steerforth marvelled. He flung his arms wide, holding aloft his almost-empty bottle. “How’s the view from the gutter, among all the fish-guts and seagull-shit? You must miss the smell terribly.”

“My God, you’re pathetic,” said Ham.

“Not as pathetic as that overturned boat you call a house,” said Steerforth, taking a step closer.

Feeling a prickle of unease, David and Ham both rose to their feet. It was obvious that Steerforth wasn’t in full control of himself, and was growing increasingly angry. Their instincts warned that violence was approaching.

“Tell me, did you start building a shack for your future offspring yet? I can see it now - what a proud father you’ll be! Such valuable skills you’ll pass on to your children - how to gut fish and hammer nails and die of pox. I assume there’ll be ten or twelve of the little brats, all as stupid and worthless as their papa.”

“James,” David interjected, “This has to stop. This behaviour is intolerable. For goodness’ sake, look in a mirror. What have you done to yourself? What have you become?”

Steerforth’s attention was diverted from Ham; he stood staring at David with glassy, glistening eyes.

“It’s not too late,” David went on, “You can still make things right. Apologise to Ham, now. Then sit down and write three letters: one to my wife, expressing regret for crashing our wedding; one to Mr and Mrs Peggotty, apologising for how you behaved under their roof; and one to Emily, seeking pardon for what you did to her. All of them are good people - I’m sure they’ll forgive you. Promise me you’ll do that, and we can shake hands and go our separate ways. We can finally move on with our lives.”

Steerforth said nothing. He swayed, and leaned heavily on his cane. Finally, he spoke.

“No,” he said, “No, I think I like this better. I make you angry, and that’s nice. It’s nice because you can’t do anything to me and you know it.”

David looked at Steerforth, and perhaps for the first time, saw him for what he truly was: a mess. His dapper elegance, lively vim, and charming manners had been stripped away, and what remained was repellant. A spiteful, petty little man who was thoroughly unworthy of anyone’s respect or admiration. David wondered why he’d never seen it before.

“Fine,” he said, “Have it your way. Go and stew in your bitterness.”

David turned and started to walk away. Something hard struck him across the back, almost knocking him to the floor. It was Steerforth’s cane.

“Have you lost your mind?” David shouted.

The silver-headed cane flashed through the air again. David shielded his head with his hands, and the blow landed on his forearm.

“I hate you, Daisy - I hate you!”

David crouched by the table to make himself a smaller target. Steerforth moved to strike him again, but before it could connect, Ham grabbed the cane and yanked it out of his grasp. Off-balance, Steerforth stumbled back.

“Get out of here, you snake,” Ham spat, “Get out before I beat you to a pulp.”

“You can’t talk to me like that,” Steerforth slurred. “You’re just a fisherman’s boy. I’m a gentleman.”

“You’re no gentleman.” Ham threw the cane at him in disgust. Steerforth tried to catch it, but missed. It clattered to the floor at his feet. “Now get out!”

With difficulty, Steerforth bent down and picked up the cane. He looked down at the object in his hands, then looked at David. He seemed to realise what he’d done.

“Daisy, I - I didn’t - ” he began.

“Get out!”

Steerforth blinked hard, his eyes struggling to focus. Slowly, he turned and staggered out of the room. They heard his uneven footsteps descending the stairs, leaving them sitting in silence, in a room from which the joy had been drained.

“Are you alright?” Ham said, “Your arm...”

“I’m fine.” David poured himself another glass and gulped it - but now he was drinking to escape, not to celebrate.

Their mood ruined, the two men finished their drinks without speaking.

Chapter VIII: Soho

[tapersco]

Hello ! What was Bill's first time "initiating" sexually with Lane and/or Charlie like ? How did the kids react to it afterwards ? This is one of my fave parts abt stories like these so I'm super curious ^_^ (if you want to share I'd love to hear abt the other kids too)

I hope ur have a good day today !

thank u, i hope you're having a good day too!! ^U^

Lane ends up sleeping in their dad's bed semi-regularly, especially when their nightmares start becoming more frequent. it seems like just being near Bill makes them less intense, but when they do happen, Bill is always right there to help. he doesn't mind; he looks for reasons to comfort Lane.

on one of these nights, Lane starts to get squirmy in their sleep, and Bill holds them until they calm down. their fidgeting only continues, though. something about holding them while their body unconsciously tries to fight him off likely ignites something in Bill... hushing and kissing them, as he normally does, only seems to stoke the arousal further.

it isn't long before Lane has actually woken up, but they're still caught in almost a dreamlike state, unable to move or understand their surroundings immediately. they aren't able to process what was happening by the time Bill's hands have wandered into their little pajama pants, lightly massaging them... it seems to work at calming them down, or at least distracting them. i think Bill realizes that he's let things go too far by then, and pulls his hand away. in their confusion, Lane doesn't know what to say, or whether it even happened. but they do try to recreate the same feeling on their own afterwards.. until they eventually end up asking Bill about it on some other night.

Bill wouldn't stop thinking about it either, and assuming this is his first time touching a child, he'd be horrified with himself, but hopelessly obsessed regardless. yippee 💜

~~~

I imagine the first initiation with Charlie happening on a rainy night, and for whatever reason she and Bill have ended up alone on the couch. Charlie gets nightmares too, so maybe she's wandered into the living room during one of her sleepovers.

the TV is on, but quiet. Charlie misses her dad but it's too late into the night to take her home, especially when the Aftons live a town away from the Emilys. Bill's best bet is to calm her down enough to get her back to sleep, much like he's used to doing with Lane.

just thinking about Charlie in her little night gown.. i think Bill would initiate something like a tickle attack that ends with her gown pushed up and his mouth against her thighs. still thinking this is part of the game, she'd be pushing him away playfully and that would only encourage him. he'd start "tickling" her with his lips, higher and higher. i think he'd just keep trying to push the boundaries... until finally pressing his mouth around the apex of her thighs, teasing her in ways she can't wrap her mind around. and then of course he'd tell her to keep this all a secret from Henry and everyone else. :)

and Charlie would, because she and her 'uncle' have many secrets already... Bill insists upon it. and he's so important to her. she'll be good and not breathe a word.

[ninjadeathblade]

On Melancholy Hill (A Hat In Time fanfic)

Summary: Life throws curveballs. None hits harder than that of losing a loved one.

Beginning | Previous | Next

Word count: 3,044

Warnings: Death, mention of injury, loss, grief, implied depression, overworking, sleep deprivation, swearing

Author's notes: This was almost fully written anyway, hence why it's out so quick. Anyway, haha, angst. So much angst. I'm sorry (not really but a little maybe). The title is based on the song "On Melancholy Hill" by Gorrilaz. Anyway, there's something that could be viewed as good in this. Enjoy!

Emily's shoulder ached.

She didn't really understand why she was forced to attend the gala.

Majesty would occasionally glide past with someone on his arm and whisper something to her.

Mostly threats of what would happen if she left before he allowed her to.

She wanted nothing more than to curl up at home with Badge.

But Badge wasn't even home, away on whatever trip they'd organised.

Her suit was made of some fancy-looking but uncomfortable fabric, the shades of purple scratching over her skin.

So she sighed, and smiled, and waved, and coped.

Their house grew busier.

Scarlett made another friend at school, a penguin by the name of Trisha who visited only a little less frequently than Conductor.

Claw spent most afternoons lounging around the house with Emily.

Scarlett, Claw and Trisha had formed a band, Emily managing them. The four would split the money they earned between them after each concert.

Badge-

Badge had returned from their trip… different.

Their limbs would spasm through the air sometimes, other parts of their body twisting at inhuman angles before returning to their original position.

Matilda was sick.

They all could tell it was the same as her usual coughs.

But she just seemed to get worse.

Badge juddered beside her, their paws glitching through the book they were holding.

It dropped out of their grip and through their legs, landing on the mattress underneath where they were sat.

Badge straightened and walked out the room with a mumble. “Be back…”

Emily watched them with narrowed eyes.

Badge returned a few minutes later, looking shaky as they picked their book back up.

Emily tentatively stretched their tail out to rest over his back.

Badge glitched again, letting out a sob as their book dropped back onto the mattress.

“Where did you even go?” Emily quietly asked.

Badge looked over at her, not quite believing the question. “Huh?”

She repeated herself.

Badge fiddled with the badges on their hoodie, the one item that seemingly didn't go away when they glitched. “Um, well, I went to the Subcon.”

“You didn't,” Emily whispered, hoping they were joking.

Badge nodded. “It's okay though, I got this cool badge. But I can't use it, I don't have the right thing for it to work properly. But I can probably make a good couple hundred Pons if I find someone to sell it to.”

They both kept eye-contact for a beat before Badge broke it.

“I can't believe you sometimes,” Emily murmured.

“I can't believe me sometimes either.”

Emily reached over and gently patted Matilda on the back as the owl broke out in a fit of coughs, sliding her a glass of water.

“Thank you Emily,” she croaked. “What would I do without you?”

Emily ran around frantically.

The concert was due to start any moment and she couldn't find Scarlett's microphone.

Claw grabbed ahold of her sleeve as she rushed past.

Emily let out a pained hiss as her arm was wrenched painfully.

“Sorry,” Claw said. “Found the microphone.”

Emily's eyes glittered and she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Yes! Thank you!”

Claw's fur bushed up. “Um, it's nothing, really.”

Oblivious to Claw's reaction she raced off to find her younger sister.

The concert had gone off without many hitches.

Scarlett was staying around Trisha's for the night.

And all Emily had to do was quickly swing by the Metro before heading home.

Something felt different as she arrived.

It didn't click until she walked by it.

The open space was no longer as dark as it had been; a few neon signs and light up advertisements were on the walls surrounding it.

Both Angels and Demons stood around, staring at the flickering displays in wonderment.

No one trying to kill anyone.

She supposed that spending so much time on the surface made her ignorant of how much of a miracle this sort of thing was to the cats who spent their lives down here.

Majesty flashed a knife-toothed grin when she got to his office.

“Emily. Just the girl I was looking for,” he purred. “You have my money, right?”

Emily nodded, reluctantly handing over the money she'd earned from the concert.

It was better than robbing places like the leader thought she did.

“And that's why you're my favourite,” Majesty said as he counted it up. “You can go. Just remember I've got another gala in a few weeks.”

“Thank you.”

The house was eerily quiet as she entered.

The lights in the art room were on.

Emily opened the door slowly before gasping and racing to Matilda's side.

The owl was unconscious beside her usual work, slumped onto the floor.

“Shit!” Emily swore, trying to turn her over with one arm while desperately tapping onto her phone.

It didn't ring for long before someone picked up.

“Emergency services, how can we help?”

“I need an ambulance. Fast.”

Emily sat in the waiting room, staring at the perfect white tiled floor.

Nothing out of place, everything as it should be.

The cold metal of her seat grounded her, kept her close to reality.

Despite it being early summer it seemed freezing cold.

Her head snapped up to look at the door as it opened.

A nurse smiled and waved her over. “She said she'd like to speak to you.”

Emily slowly crossed the room to stand beside Matilda's medical bed. “Hello ma'am.”

Matilda's gaze was unfocused but she smiled. “Hi Emily. Can you do me a favour?”

“Of course.”

Emily blinked away tears that forced themselves into her eyes while Matilda reached out with a shaky wing.

The cat moved her paw to hold it.

When had the woman she looked up to so much become so frail?

“On the table in my room there are letters for the three of you. I'm leaving my money to the three of you. I'm not going to be around anymore but I'd appreciate if you could look after the others for me.”

The tears were streaming now, running rivers down her cheeks.

“Why?” Emily's voice cracked around the word.

Matilda's smile dropped and so did her wing, seeming fatigued. “You're a good girl, Emily. You don't always like to show it but you do care for those two. And we both knew this day would come eventually.”

Emily shook her head, clinging to fraying strands of hope. “But- I can't. Y-you’re Scarlett's mum, she needs you.”

“She's got a great older sister, she'll be fine,” Matilda responded.

Emily's heart felt like it was fractured glass, impossible to piece back together.

The heart monitor beside them became less regular before stopping.

Emily dropped down onto the floor, grief crumpling her muscles into useless crumbs.

She vaguely registered being taken away by the nurse and the conversation that followed about organising a funeral.

It didn't matter.

Nothing mattered.

Matilda was gone.

The house was silent when Emily closed the door after arriving home.

Her voice clogged with emotion as she called out. “Badge? Scarlett?”

Silence.

Memories slowly drifted back to her.

Badge was away on another trip.

Scarlett was spending the evening with Trisha, due back later in the night.

Emily trudged to the kitchen, downing a glass of water before promptly throwing up.

Nausea seemed to be a side effect of loss.

The cat crawled back to the living room, curling up and crying on the sofa.

Matilda was gone.

The door closed loudly.

“I'm home!”

Emily straightened, stomach twisting into knots at the realisation she'd have to break the news.

Scarlett stuck her head into the living room, eyes brimming with concern as she spotted Emily. “You look like shit, what happened?”

Emily cracked, breaking into another bout of sobs.

Scarlett quickly crossed the room, enveloping her in a hug.

Quieter, she asked again. “What happened?”

Emily wasn't sure how long it took to compose herself before she could whisper an answer.

“She's gone.”

Scarlett broke that time, crumpling like paper.

Emily gently cradled the owl as both of them cried, mourning their loss.

Scarlett eventually formed a sentence. “What are we going to do?”

Emily tightened her grip around her surrogate younger sibling.

“We're going to survive.”

Matilda was gone.

Her room was quiet without Badge.

The house seemed even quieter without Matilda.

Emily's bunk creaked as she dropped down it, curling into a ball as her head hit her pillow.

Her chest felt hollow, her eyes heavy.

But she couldn't fall asleep.

She was plagued by Matilda's instructions to look after Scarlett and Badge.

“She's got a great older sister, she'll be fine.”

Emily flinched as if struck as the words sprung into her mind.

She slowly uncurled as Scarlett opened the door to her room.

The owl hesitantly spoke. “Can I sleep in here tonight?”

Emily nodded, moving over on her bunk to make room as Scarlett burrowed into the blankets next to her.

“I can't sleep,” the owl admitted with a forced laugh.

Emily picked up the TV remote on the floor next to the bed. “D'you want to watch something?”

Scarlett nodded.

Matilda was gone.

But at least they had each other still.

Badge returned home a few weeks later.

“I'm back!” They yelled into the house.

It was too quiet for their liking.

“Em? Scarlett? Matilda?”

“Scarlett is at school,” Emily called from what sounded like the kitchen.

Badge dropped their bag by the door, walking through to where his older sister was.

Emily sat at the kitchen table, one paw raking through her hair as her other rapidly wrote something onto a sheet of lined paper.

“Em?”

The older cat glanced up, eyes narrowing briefly at them before lowering to her paperwork. “Your voice.”

The black cat cringed, trying to keep their limbs still as their body began glitching again. “Is it that noticeable?”

Emily nodded before letting out a muttered string of curses. “Can you find my laptop please? It should be in the front room.”

Badge walked through the house, stopping dead as they got into the room.

The picture of Matilda and a very young Scarlett that sat on the mantelpiece had flowers in a vase beside it.

They quickly picked up Emily's laptop, taking it to her before asking.

“Where's Matilda?”

Emily froze, ears flattening back against her head. “Gone.”

“She wouldn't up and leave though-”

“She's dead, Badge,” Emily hissed before clearly regretting her aggressive tone. She repeated the words, quieter. “She's dead.”

Badge felt tears well in their eyes but they couldn't cry.

A sob tried to claw out their throat but all that came from their vocals was a screech of static that shattered the glass of water on the table.

Emily didn't seem to notice.

Or if she did, she chose to ignore it.

Instead the older cat merely sighed and moved to get the dustpan and brush.

When Badge's static-filled wail continued she eventually walked over and pulled them into a rough hug.

Her claws skimmed up and down their spine as they limpeted to her.

It only took a couple moments for her to try and pull away.

“Badge, I need to finish this work.”

Badge burrowed their face into her collarbone.”

“Badge.”

They squeezed their eyes shut.

“Badge!” Emily snarled.

They finally pulled away and looked up at her.

Emily looked down at them, something akin to sorrow in her eyes before her expression hardened.

She spun around, picking up the papers and laptop.

She began to head out the room before pausing in the doorway.

“Don't come bother me, I need to finish this up.”

Matilda was gone.

She wanted nothing more than to hold Badge as they wept.

Try and keep some semblance of a happy family.

But she needed to finish working out all these details.

Now she was in charge of the house and there was so much to do.

She'd taken Matilda for granted.

She wasn't going to do that anymore, not now she understood how much work it took to keep them all living.

Matilda was gone.

And now there was a role to fill.

A role she would never be properly equipped for.

She called in sick for the day of the gala.

“Sick? Sick?! You whiny bitch, I don't care if you're spewing everywhere, you shouldn't flake because you're a little under the weather!”

Emily hung up.

She knew it would cause problems in the future.

That was for later though.

Claw showed up.

Emily's attention snapped briefly to him before back to paperwork as he entered the living room.

“Hey Em. Scarlett said you weren't doing so good,” he tentatively said.

“What d'you mean? I'm fine Claw, go back to the Metro or whatever, I don't know where you live,” Emily murmured.

Claw slowly pried the papers from her grip, setting them down on the floor as he crouched in front of her.

“Em. Look at me. Em.”

She slowly raised her gaze to him, weeks worth of tiredness catching up to her.

Claw scooped her up as her eyes sagged.

“Come on idiot. You need to get some rest. You can't just run on coffee and grief. Trust me, it's not a good idea.”

Emily vaguely registered him carrying her upstairs to her room.

“I told her not to overdo it,” Badge whispered from the side of the room.

“She'll be fine, she just needs a proper night's rest,” Claw responded as he rested her on her bed.

Emily buried her face in her pillow and curled up as a blanket was placed over her.

The light switch sounded as the lights flicked off.

“Sweet dreams Em.”

Months passed.

The funeral rolled around.

Scarlett courteously greeted the guests that had been invited from her mother's side of the family.

Virtually everyone shot Badge, Claw, Conductor and Emily wary looks.

Conductor hung around the bar since he'd recently turned old enough to drink.

Badge and Claw chatted off to one side.

Emily wandered.

She got drinks at the bar.

She listened to Scarlett's family make snide comments about herself and her friends when they thought no one was listening.

She locked herself in the bathroom as she cried.

She came back out and kept Scarlett company.

She waved everyone off.

She drove all of the home.

She sat back down to go over more paperwork and instructions on how to keep the house properly clean.

She ignored Scarlett and Badge's insistence to rest.

She kept herself busy.

Because if she didn't, she'd have to focus on how she felt.

And that scared her.

Radiance was not the person she expected to show up at the house.

“Hey kid. Let's have a little chat.”

Emily let the opposing gang leader into her house, a little terrified as to what was going on.

The grey cat tutted as she looked around the house. “I am going to owe Splendour a huge favour for doing this.”

“What?” Emily asked, feeling groggy after another night of little sleep.

Radiance shot her a smile. “My twin, Splendour. She stands in for me when I'm away for long periods of time. No one notices a thing.”

Emily stared up at her. “Away for…?”

Radiance sighed and gave Emily a quick side hug. “I'm here to help you get back on your feet. Claw's been worried sick about you for months so I'm here to help you fix this place up.”

“Who is it?” Badge shouted from the upstairs hallway.

“Er-”

The younger cat thundered down the stairs before freezing.

Their hackles raised and their body distorted with crackling static noises. “I don't know who you are but you aren't wanted here. I suggest you leave before I do something I regret.”

Radiance let out a bark of laughter. “I'm assuming that's Badge. Isn't there an owl too? Crimson or Rouge or something?”

“Scarlett,” Emily corrected. “She's out with her boyfriend.”

“Em, who the fuck is this?!”

“Radiance. Don't worry, I'm not like Majesty. I'm just here to help Emily get back on her feet.”

Badge glowered but their body's glitching slowed until it stopped. “If you do anything suspicious, I will kill you.”

“I don't doubt it.”

Slowly, she was coaxed back into living her life.

Eating what she wanted to eat, not whatever was cheapest.

Taking care of her fur, which had long since matted while she grieved.

Going back to the theatre club.

Having days out.

Her shoulder properly scarred over.

Radiance felt comfortable enough to leave the house again and return to the Metro.

And of course, the one thing that her friends disapproved of.

But she'd spent long enough away from Majesty.

And longer and her friends might be hurt.

It was an ordinary day.

Or at least it felt ordinary.

The six of them - Emily, Claw, Badge, Scarlett, Trisha and Conductor - were out at the cinema.

Some trashy movie to do with murder mystery.

Claw leaned over and rested his head against her shoulder as they watched.

“Em.”

“Yeah?”

“I like you.”

Emily's ear twitched with annoyance. She wasn't enjoying the film but that didn't mean she felt like chatting through it.

“I like you too.”

It quietened and she refocused on the movie.

But Claw’s whisper interrupted her thoughts. “Would you go out with me?”

The grey and white cat whipped her head around to look at him.

“What?”

“Shuddup!” Someone behind them yelled.

Emily grabbed Claw's wrist, dragging him out of the cinema and to the quiet evening streets outside.

She looked down into his eyes, repeating her earlier reaction. “What?”

“I like you. I know you probably don't feel the same but I thought you should know,” Claw explained.

Emily's mind flitted through memories.

She had always enjoyed her time with Claw. He'd been supportive after Matilda died. Hell, he'd even gotten his boss - leader of the Chosen Demons - to help her.

Countless movie nights spent with each other, trying out food at restaurants together, laughing at the others' antics.

It showed he cared.

Maybe she did love him.

“You think we should date?”

Claw nodded shyly.

“I like you a lot as well. Let's give it a go.”

[poicynvenlocke]

AI story part 2

As the days went by, David didn't seem to learn from his mistakes. He continued to disrespect Emily, and their arguments became more frequent. One day, they were at home, and David made a thoughtless comment about Emily's appearance. She felt hurt and humiliated, and tears began to well up in her eyes.

Emily's father, John, was visiting them that day, and he saw his daughter's tears. He had had enough of David's behavior and decided to take matters into his own hands. "David, we need to talk," John said, his voice firm and commanding.

David, sensing that he was in trouble, followed John to the study. As they entered the room, John closed the door behind them and walked over to a closet. He opened it and pulled out a paddle, its wooden surface gleaming in the light.

"David, you've been warned before," John said, his eyes stern. "You've continued to disrespect my daughter, and now it's time for you to face the consequences. I want you to strip naked and bend over the desk."

David was taken aback by John's words. He had never been spanked before, and the thought of being paddled by his father-in-law was humiliating. But he knew he had gone too far, and he felt a sense of shame and guilt.

Slowly, David began to undress, his hands trembling as he removed his clothes. He felt a sense of vulnerability as he stood naked in front of John, who was watching him with a stern expression.

When David was fully undressed, John told him to bend over the desk. David hesitated for a moment, but then he leaned forward, his naked body exposed and vulnerable. John raised the paddle and brought it down on David's buttocks, the sound of the impact echoing through the room.

David felt a surge of pain as the paddle struck his skin, and he let out a cry of shock and discomfort. John paddled him several more times, each stroke landing with a loud thud. David's buttocks began to ache, and he felt a sense of humiliation and shame.

As the paddling continued, David realized that he had gone too far. He had disrespected his wife and hurt her feelings, and now he was facing the consequences. He felt a sense of regret and remorse, and he knew that he needed to change his behavior.

Finally, John stopped paddling David and told him to stand up. David slowly got to his feet, his body aching and his pride wounded. He looked at John, who was watching him with a stern expression.

"David, I hope you've learned your lesson," John said. "You need to respect my daughter and treat her with kindness and compassion. If you don't, there will be consequences. Do you understand?"

David nodded, feeling a sense of shame and humiliation. He knew that he had gone too far, and he was willing to do whatever it took to regain Emily's trust and respect. He slowly got dressed, his body aching, and left the study with a newfound sense of humility and respect for his wife and her family.

[nebulousfishgills]

Emily, Paris Paloma's "labour," and The Cacophany: An Analysis

Okay, so "labour" has been on Emily's original playlist for a long time, and I don't really think that's all that much of a surprise. I tend to liken it to Emily's inner monologue while she's trapped inside Hawkins Lab acting as a glorified babysitter to a dozen and a half children with super powers.

The ironic thing about this is that along with "labour" being a general feminist anthem, it's used very often in the context of Alicent Hightower, aka Olivia Cooke, aka Emily's face claim. That scenario uses a very literal interpretation of the themes presented, patriarchy, feminism, and womens' roles in a man's world. You could argue in circles about Alicent's treatment in the show, especially as the second season starts rolling out, but that's a very sticky conversation I'm not trying to hash out right now.

I, however, tend to slightly twist the lyrics so they're used in a more literal meaning with a slightly different context, the physical act of doing labor and the mistakes that led up to her current position. It's less about the patriarchy and more about the ways Emily has been used and abused over the years...

And then came the Cacophany variant that came out a few months ago.

When listening to that variant of the song that's virtually identical lyrically and thematically, somehow I was able to not only reapply this to Emily, but in a whole separate context...

Which made me realize that I'm actually more clever than I expected and that the story of Emily's so-labeled "Second Life" very much mirrors her original story, but with a few key differences.

So, let's break down the original version of "labour" as a baseline:

Naturally the POV character singing is Emily herself, that's a very easy thing to square away. There's only a couple of specific "characters" mentioned in the song, the POV character's husband, and this hypothetical daughter of theirs. The interesting thing is that there's no character we can easily match up to Henry, but there doesn't really need to be. Emily's very much speaking about herself in the song, but she could just as easily be including Henry within her grievances since they're shared plights.

It's extremely easy to rework the husband figure in the song into basically any male authority figure (which theoretically is the original point of the song; the husband is a representation of the patriarchy itself), so that's Doctor Brenner. The one keeping Emily stuck in this situation and who has total say over her and what she can or can't do.

Lastly, the daughter is Eleven. Again, it's not yet confirmed if it's biological thus far, but as usual I'm operating under the assumption that she is. The idea still works if it's simply a daughter figure rather than a full daughter, but we're operating under my domain of this universe, so it's a literal daughter.

Breaking the lyrics down, we can piece by piece figure out an entire story:

"this was an escape plan (this was an escape plan) / Carefully timed it, so let me go..."

Emily did not enter Hawkins Lab intending to become a human experiment, let alone be trapped for nearly two decades. She went there originally as a twelve year old child trying to run away from the storm, but also just running from being a street rat with nowhere to go and no future. But now that she knows the consequence of hiding in the wrong place, she just wants to be let out and escape.

Emotional torture from the head of your high table / Who fetches the water from the rocky mountain spring? / And walk back down again to feel your words and their sharp sting / And I'm getting fucking tired

Now, emotional torture also compounds with the literal, physical torture she and Henry undergo at Brenner's orders, tazers and solitary confinement being among the frequent offenders. Spring water isn't a literal task in Hawkins Lab, but in a broader context it represents whatever menial tasks they're told to do. Cleaning, babysitting, watching cameras, what have you, all just to do it over again the next day at risk of punishment.

If our love died, would that be the worst thing / For somebody I thought was my saviour / You sure make me do a whole lot of labour

There isn't really any love on either side of this, but Brenner kind of installs himself as a pseudo father figure for the experiments, i.e. them calling him Papa. And Emily, when she first came there, didn't know that's what was gonna happen. She thought he was offering her a genuine place to say, acting as a "savior" that turned out to be an abuser that pushes her, hurts her, makes her undergo grueling tests and experiments or acting as unpaid, overworked staff in the lab.

And the silence haunts our bed chamber

"Our" bed chamber referring to her and Henry's rooms in the lab. Yes, granted, sometimes they sneak around and spend nights with each other, but that's a very rare occurrance. Most nights they go to bed alone, in silence, and longing to be with each other because they're forbidden from carrying out a relationship.

Apologies from my tongue, and never yours... / ...I know you're a smart man (I know you're a smart man)...

When I imagine the animatic in my head (because, let's be real, we all do this), this line comes after a punishment Emily suffered for trying to resist, likely another tazing. Punished for violating Brenner's rules that he's never called out for because of this reign of terror, and yeah, he is a smart man, he's a doctor, that line's a given.

If we had a daughter, I'd watch and could not save her / The emotional torture, from the head of your high table / She'd do what you taught her, she'd meet the same cruel fate

This is about Eleven, obviously. El is under the same influence as Emily and Henry are, under Brenner's thumb and forced to follow his rules lest she risk punishment. And, clearly El's also been abused in similar ways, although probably not nearly the same amount as Henry and Emily have.

All day, every day, therapist, mother, maid / Nymph then a virgin, nurse then a servant / Just an appendage, live to attend him / So that he never lifts a finger

This, to me, is "wake up, eat, work, sleep, reproduce, and die" in a different font, Emily's supposed to have all these tasks and responsibilities forced on her, in fact this list is almost entirely literal.

Therapist - A listening ear for the children

Mother - A caretaker for the children / mothering Eleven

Maid - Cleaning storage rooms, mopping up blood and other bodily fluids, she does maid's work when not watching the children

Nymph - She's not exactly expected to be a beautiful creature all the time (that's just a bonus Henry gets to enjoy), but if you retranslate it to being pushed with her powers to be a more powerful being with her abilities, that tracks

Virgin - Bluntly, she's not supposed to be fucking around

Nurse - Adds to that caretaker aspect, she's probably bandaged dozens of cuts and was told to learn CPR and other life sustaining protocols

Servant - Same as the maid section

And the rest is about just existing at Brenner's whim. He never gets his hands dirty, a lot of the time he makes other orderlies punish her and Henry or hands off menial tasks to them.

24∕7, baby machine / So he can live out his picket fence dreams / It's not an act of love if you make her / You make me do too much labour

24/7 Baby Machine is simultaneously the most interesting line here and also the one you have to twist canon around the most to make work. Canonically, Emily's physically unable to get pregnant, she's not the literal baby machine. Eleven is her single spawn and Terry Ives was the one who carried her.

But it's not that far outside of the realm of possibility that Brenner didn't at least think about it. In fact, canonically he was thinking about it, "breeding her like some prize winning race horse" as Doctor Owens said. Brenner naturally didn't follow through with this, but the only reason was because he didn't wanna deal with the ramifications of dealing with spawns of Emily and Henry specifically. They themselves are the issue because they're both so fucked up and would fight the whole way.

But, hypothetically, let's say he didn't decide against it. It's not outside the realm of possibility that Brenner would have had his precious Number 001 breed with the less powerful but no less important Number 004 to create more children with powers to experiment on. The alternate universe where Emily becomes a baby machine and incubator for superpowered babies is not a distant one.

At this point, the lyrics repeat and get louder and louder, overlapping and growing more chaotic until the song ends, but the way I see it, it's Emily and Henry finally snapping under the strain and doing the Massacre. Emily officially lost her mind in that moment and it never fully fixed itself. There's a reason why Carrie White is a huge inspiration for her character, so much so that it's even mentioned during the Massacre scene as I wrote it. Emily snapped and her psyche never fully healed.

It's all very susinct, "labour" is a perfect theme for Emily's later years in Hawkins Lab as an orderly, almost to the letter.

So how was I able to just as cleanly match the Cacophany variant to Emily's arc in Diplopia/Necrosis? It turns out that there is *heavy* parallelism between her two stories that I didn't exactly plan on when I wrote it, but it completely checks out in my mind.

The important thing to keep in mind is both the context I imagine this in and where Emily herself is at in this point in time.

My playlists for Emily are organized in a rough chronological order. In my Emily playlist for her Twilight stories, "LABOUR - the cacophany" is sandwhiched near songs like "Dream Girl Evil" by Florence + The Machine and, as dumb as it sounds, the Busted song from Phineas and Ferb. These are songs I use to represent chapter 15 of Necrosis, the chapter where Emily puts on the courtroom prosecutor pants and formally accuses Aro of murdering his sister.

At this exact point in time, Emily herself has been growing as a character, this is one of the highest peaks of her arc. She chooses the interest of the collective and greater good rather than just letting chaos continue.

What the major difference between Emily and "labour" vs Emily and "the cacophany" is in the names. Emily is speaking about herself, ultimately, in "labour" (with Henry, of course, but there's only one singer). In "the cacophany," she's speaking for the collective. At this point in time, Emily is at a point in time where she's not facing the world by herself, she has this whole entire found family that backs her up, and that she can back up in return.

I can pinpoint the exact lines of dialogue "the cacophany" reminds me of:

"You're so desperate to hang onto your power that you use fear and manipulation of others to keep yourself leading this coven that you don't deserve to direct. You're a weak leader who uses enforcers to give off the illusion of level-headed-ness, using us and our strength to give the illusion of your own. You guarded this secret because you knew that it would be your undoing. And you threaten or take out those who might spill it."

Naturally we have to re-map who represents what part of the song, and, by extension, set up Emily's narrative parallels between her and her story companions.

Emily is still Emily, that's a given. She's a transplant from one story to the other. She's the one singing the song (at least for the most part), this is her being the one to call out bullshit.

Har dee har har, let's all for once ignore the obvious and don't everybody let out your shocked gasps all at once. Henry and Caius fill the role of Emily's partner in crime that happens to operate under the same thumb she does (more on that in a second). Their shared facial structures are entirely coincidental, please direct any and all questions to my lawyers.

The hypothetical daughter that Eleven represented in the original song has equal opportunity to represent either of the daughter figures Emily finds herself with in the Volturi. Mele, her sired newborn that she taught about vampirism and helped care for, and/or Jane... her telepathic blonde (sometimes) daughter figure named Jane.

Please tell me I'm not the only one who has pointed this out, I feel like a freak as it is.

But, both Jane and Mele are these daughter figures that also fall under this commanding thumb of influence that Emily's actively trying to resist both on her behalf, but also for them.

Now, I think Emily's biggest mistake was misunderstanding who her "new Eddie" was. This is separate from the song, but the thing is that for a long time Emily assumed or probably hoped that her new "best friend" figure was meant to be Aro. The hyperactive one who got on her nerves but ultimately she saw as one of her biggest allies...

That's not the case at all. The "role" of Eddie has expanded to basically the rest of the coven. Emily's not restricted to just one friend anymore, that pool now gets to be filled by the Guard and the others who make up the "core" of the coven. If we really want to get specific with it, I'd say that Eddie's role as "Emily's Best Friend" is best filled by Heidi and, even moreso I'd argue, Sulpicia

(Sulpicia, baby, I'm so sorry you were delegated to uncredited background extra and didn't have more screenshots avaliable)

They're the ones Emily's able to be vulnerable with outside of her partner. Emily didn't have any whatsoever intimate relationship with Eddie, but that's not the role he's meant to fill anyways, even if Emily was being exploratory at that point in time. She's exploring her feminine attractions with Heidi (and maybe Sulpicia but that has yet to break into full canon), but Heidi and Sulpicia also are her people she can just... be with. Emily annoys Eddie and he annoys her, but he's the one who lets her "be her freak" and paints shirts with her while teaching her how to play Dungeons and Dragons. The "human" experiences she indulges in.

Emily complains to Sulpicia in Diplopia about dress shopping and Heidi's the one who teaches her about the "feminine" experiences Emily rejected as a human. Eddie and Heidi/Sulpicia are the best friends and close confidants who help Emily learn to be herself and indulge in experiences she was barred from, be it on her own or because of her conditions.

(This does make me want a one shot where Emily teaches the coven how to play D&D because that would be fucking nuts, but that's a separate conversation)

But that doesn't have much to do with "the cacophany" in and of itself, that's another parallel that's just tangentially related. No, because we're still missing our male authority figure.

Emily's mistake was assuming that Aro was supposed to be her Eddie, when the reality is that he's her new Doctor Brenner.

The one who only sees her value as an asset, for her power. The one who keeps the whole operation under his thumb so he can maintain control. The "smart man" who "weaponizes false incompetence... dominance under a guise," The one who lured her in and aided in the "escape" from her previous situation...

Because let's be completely honest, Emily did stay for Caius, but Aro is really really good at keeping a handhold on things he sees as valuable. Her loyalty to Caius was primary, Aro ensured through this front of brotherly affection that she would help carry out the coven's (and by extension, his) will. I can't say for sure what role Chelsea played in this, but by the end, Emily's allegiance was with Caius and the coven, not necessarily to Aro.

I'd even argue that that applies to everyone in the coven at a certain point.

Not to mention, at a more literal level, Aro and Brenner are the ones who use others to present the illusion of their own control:

"You're so desperate to hang onto your power that you use fear and manipulation of others to keep yourself leading this coven that you don't deserve to direct. You're a weak leader who uses enforcers to give off the illusion of level-headed-ness, using us and our strength to give the illusion of your own." - Emily about Aro in Necrosis

"You're a supporting character needing validation from children because it's the closest thing you can get to the real thing. You're normal. Being in close proximity to special people doesn't make you special. Controlling greatness doesn't make you great. It just shows everyone that you're a parasite." - Henry to Brenner in Stranger Things VR

Those two quotes basically state the exact same thing in different fonts.

I'm not entirely sure where that leaves me when batting around the question I often bat around in my head, which is whether or not Emily made the right choice in staying. I think they were both playing subtle chess matches against each other for most of the time, except Aro believed Emily to be a pawn he could control instead of the queen who has more movement across the board. Slowly but surely wrestling people away from Aro that he saw as pawns that she made into more powerful pieces.

It's a weird metaphor and doesn't entirely follow the exact rules of chess unless I'm misunderstanding Promoting, the act of getting the pawn to the other side to give it more power. Emily turned those Aro saw as pawns into knights, rooks, and bishops, getting control away from him and showing them that they could be more than what he saw them as.

That's kind of how I see the crecendoing chorus of "the cacophany," the entire coven with Emily's assistance and leadership speaking up against the system that had kept them controlled for years. Aro never gets his hands dirty, he sends his guard to do the dirty work. As the song progresses, I saw more and more voices get added to the animatic in my head, much like how it went in the fic. Emily starts, Caius keeps her spirits up, Sulpicia joins in, the ghosts of those who became victims in the schemes for maintaining power (Didyme and Athenodora), and then the rest of them.

"And the silence haunts our bedchamber" even works because due to Aro's bullshit, Emily and Caius couldn't spend time alone. That's one of the main reasons why Emily snaps and finally decides enough is enough. It's much like how she and Henry weren't allowed to go to bed together because or Brenner's dumb rules, which was a contributing factor to them finally snapping.

I wish I was a better artist so I could draw out both animatics in my head because I feel like that would make these explanations make so much more sense. But, give the songs a listen with these contexts and maybe you'll be able to see what I'm trying to describe.

I've been meaning to write this out for a while and it's entirely possible I forgot a few details, but there you go.

[writtenbymisunderstoodnerds]

Friendsgiving (Christen Press x Reader)

Just a short little fic today. We don't have thanksgiving here, but I saw so much about it and this idea popped into my head. Happy thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates it :)

Words: 1.5K

"Babe! Hurry up, they're almost here." Christen yelled from the kitchen as I had just finished putting on my pants. I slipped on my button down without doing up the buttons and ran down the stairs.

"I'm coming!"

"Don't run down the stairs. Please tell me you're doing up that shirt."

"I thought I'd give you a present and keep it undone," I winked pulling her closer. Her hands ran along my stomach and around to my back. I shivered at the coldness of her hands before placing a lingering kiss on her lips.

She kissed my collar bone before pulling away and slowly doing up my buttons, "As much as I enjoy the view, this is for my eyes only. You look great Y/n. Don't worry, they're going to love you."

My hands covered her, squeezing slightly. I knew she was nervous about me meeting her team properly for the first time. We were having a slightly late friends-giving dinner at mine and Christens, it wasn't all her teammates, but the ones she was closest to and were able to fly in would be there. A few of them were going to stay and hangout with us for a few days to make a holiday out of it. I had met a few of them briefly here and there over the years, though it was never for very long. I wasn't all that nervous, it probably wouldn't hit until they got here. "Are you trying to reassure me or yourself? Whatever happens, will happen Chris. It'll be okay. Try and relax so you can enjoy the night. I know how much you love holidays like this."

In all honesty, I had never really celebrated Thanksgiving until about 3 years ago when I had been in country and invited by her parents. I'd lived in Spain since I was like 2, my parents were from there and moved back when to be closer to family. I had met Christen in college, we grew very close, but we hadn't started dating until Christen had moved to Sweden. It was never my intention to actually start anything with her, mostly because of the distance. We were talking everyday, I started visiting her regularly since she was closer and things just progressed from there. By time she moved back to the US, I wasn't ready to move with her yet, but I was madly in love with her and willing to do anything to make the distance work. 

It had been hard since we spent the better part of 10 years long distance with me still being in Spain and her being in the states. We had made it work with frequent trips to see each other and long FaceTime's. Thankfully, my job let me work remotely so I could visit her often. We'd gotten married in secret 3 years ago, but I hadn't moved here until 8 months ago. I had wanted to move years ago, and had been planning on it, then my dad died and I couldn't leave my mum alone. Christen had been nothing, but supportive when I broke down and told her I couldn't move. After my mum died at the start of the year, I had packed up my whole life in a couple of months and moved to be with Christen. It was an adjustment, but we couldn't be happier.

"You go get ready, I'll finish setting up."

---

When the first knock sounded on the door, the nerves finally hit me. Christen must have noticed because she wrapped her arm around my waist and placed a kiss to my cheek, "I love you so they're going to love you."

I pecked her lips before pulling away to answer the door. Emily, Lindsey, Kelley and Megan were standing there. Anyone would tell you that I was a very affectionate person, I liked giving hugs, but I knew some people weren't huggers so I held my hand out for them to shake, but I was pulled into hugs instead. "I'm Y/n, it's nice to finally meet you."

More people trickled in as I sorted drinks for everyone. They were all friendly and seemed to not instantly hate me so that was a win. We made small talk until everyone had arrived and sat down to eat. I was asked so many questions about anything they could think of. From what I do, life in Spain, how Chris and I met, and what it was like living in the US. Christen had warned me that they would ask me a bunch of questions so it didn't surprise me. I didn't mind either, they were curious and I understood that. Once we finished eating, everyone went around saying what they were thankful for. I may have only been celebrating the holiday because of Christen, but it was nice to be around the people who made her the happiest. I would do anything to make sure she was happy.

When my turn came, I kissed the back of Christens hand, "Um, I'm thankful for my wife, she's been my number one supporter through everything."

"Wife?!?"

Christen laughed, "Oh, did I forget to mention that part?"

"You didn't invite us to your wedding?"

"We didn't invite anyone except Chris's parents."

"When?"

"About 3 years ago."

The girls all had mixtures of hurt and disappointment. Christen looked somewhat guilty in response to their expressions. I laced my fingers with Christens and spoke up in hopes of diffusing some of the tension, "It wasn't planned at all, I had proposed then a few nights later we were talking and just decided to elope. We never intended to hide it or anything."

---

I was sorting out dessert in the kitchen while Christen was in the living room with the girls. I could still hear their conversations, but was more focused on what I was doing. One conversation caught my attention though. 

"I'm jealous Chris, that accent alone would make me fall in love with her."

"Don't even think about it, that's my wife. I'm not so secretly hoping she never loses it, I love it. Thankfully, she is regularly in contact with her Spanish speaking colleagues and I'm getting better with my Spanish, we plan to raise our children bilingual, so I don't think I have to worry about it too much." Even 3 years later, I couldn't get enough of Christen calling me her wife. I don't think that would ever change. 

"Children?"

Christen didn't say anything for a second, so I came up to sit on the arm of the couch next to her. Christen was already nine weeks pregnant, no one knew yet and I knew she was hesitant to tell them incase something happened. It would affect her ability to play, but she had always wanted to carry, while I wasn't that fussed about it so I easily agreed to it, "We're planning for kids in the near future. We've been talking about it for a while, but now that I'm here permanently, we're looking into it more seriously."

"Yes! I can't wait for little Press's to be running around," Kelley exclaimed receiving nods of agreement from the rest of the girls. Christen watched with a small smile as they discussed what our kids would be like and fighting over who would be the favourite. "I'm Chris's favourite, therefore I'll be little Press's favourite."

I laughed knowing that Tobin was in fact her favourite and would be the godmother of our child. If she agreed of course, "It's Y/L/N now actually."

"Since when?"

"Since we got married, I just never made the changed it publicly seeing as we keep our relationship private."

---

I was pretty much cornered by Tobin, Kelley, Lindsey and Megan while Christen was distracted by the other girls. It was a little bit intimidating though I tried not to show it, "We were all a bit surprised that you two made it this long with the distance and everything, but I can see how you did. You are great together. I know you've been together for 10 years and everything, but if you ever hurt her, we will hurt you ten times worse."

I glanced at Christen, an involuntary smile appeared as I turned back to the girls staring at me expectantly, "You don't have to worry about that, I love her more than anything in this world. I wouldn't be who I am without her, I wouldn't be where I am without her. I couldn't imagine my life without her." Arms wrapped around my waist from behind as I felt my face heat up, knowing she had heard me talking about her, "I love you Chris."

"I love you too Y/n. For the record, right back at you with everything you just said," Christen whispered the last part in my ear making me smile widely and turn to kiss her softly. There were instant gagging sounds, making Christen pull away with a laugh. We spent the rest of the evening getting to know each other better then watching movies. It was a great evening and something I could get used to. The girls were awesome and definitely people I could see myself getting close to the more I was around them.  

[bnwthinking]

I want to get more into classic literature. Any recommendations? Your taste is awesome. (I'm mainly interested in romantic literature. Major bonus points if it's gay. But I'm up for any kind of classic literature.)

omg thanks for this question!! i love giving recs on this shit lol

ancient queer stuff

'collected works of sappho' is always good place to start, i would recommend anne carson's translation. it is not the most literal in translation but it is the best version in my opinion for understanding the gay emotions that sappho was trying to to convey.

on that note, i would also recommend reading enheduanna's 'poems for the goddess inanna'. think of her as sappho's elder, she was a sumerian poet and the first person we know to have ever created a collection of poems and signed her name to it. she was also very queer.

'the iliad' is also very very gay!! i dont have a favourite translation, my fave greek translator hasn't covered it yet but deffo check homer out.

classic (or modern classic) queer stuff

'orlando' by virginia woolf - a book about a man that wakes up as a woman one day and also immortal. the book is a bisexual in everyway love letter to vita sackville-west, the arguable love of virginia woolf's life. also would recommend reading 'mrs dalloway' or 'a room of one's own' by woolf and literally anything written by vita who was an established writer, too.

'giovanni's room' by james baldwin - this book was really important in my coming out process when i was a teenager. its about letting yourself be loved when you've been raised in shame. james baldwin's writing is a gift. check out his poetry if you're into poetry fs. i also really like baldwin's 'tell me how long the train's been gone'

'the well of loneliness' by radclyffe hall - not a personal fave of mine but definitely an important piece of lesbian literature.

'maurice' by e.m forster - forster hid this book from the world until his death. its about gay happiness and he knew if publishers got their hands on it they would make it about gay sadness. it was publish how forster wanted in the 1970's even though he wrote it in like 1917 or something lol

'the price of salt' by patricia highsmith - the novel that the movie carol is based off of

'the city and the pillar' by gore vidal

'better angel' by forman brown

the dark bisexual quartet that is : mary shelley's 'frankenstein', bram stoker's 'dracula', oscar wilde's 'the picture of dorian gray' and joseph le fanu's 'carmilla'

'rebecca' by daphne du maurier - i love 'rebecca' because it so bisexual and nasty but anything by daphne is a big rec from me!! she was openly bi and it's very evident in her work lol.

'the bell jar' by sylvia plath - the original manic pixie bisexual. i try to read 'the bell jar' once every couple of years.

'the charioteer' by mary renault - mary renault was one of the first people to write gay fiction in the uk in a positive light and her work was frequently banned!!

'Q.E.D' by gertrude stein

'yellow rose' by yoshiya nobuko - she wrote a lot of lesbian lit but 'yellow rose' is one of her only stories translated into english

'tales of a mask' by yukio mishima

'patience and sarah' by isabelle miller

'the color purple' by alice walker - gay but depressing as all fuck however literary wise, the writing is incredible. taught me a lot about voice and perspective.

'the great gatsby' by f. scott fitzgerald - easy to read, so damn short and the most subtext to ever subtext. fitz was a shit but whatever.

non specifically queer classic stuff

'tess of the d'urbervilles' or 'jude the obscure' by thomas hardy - hardy owned my arse when i was a teenager lol, i would consider these two of my fave books ever.

'wuthering heights' by emily bronte - divisive as always. its a book people either love or hate. its also a confusing read and i would recommend looking up a character map if you do attempt it. however, i'm one of the people that thinks 'wuthering heights' lives up the hype and the first time i read it it broke me.

'pride and prejudice' by jane austen - like wuthering heights but fun!

'the mill on the floss' by george eliot - 'silar marner' is good, too but i like mill better. i wrote my entrance essay for uni on it and my ma used to read it to me when i was little.

'metamorphosis' by franz kafka - anything by kafka is good tbh

'the second sex' by simone de beauvoir - important read that helped me understand a lot about early 20th century feminism, the good and the bad. the book i consider the foundation for a lot of what has come since.

'the lord of the rings' by jrr tolkien - idk if you're looking for fantasy (if you are let me know i'll make another list lol) but if you haven't read lotr, i promise it is better than you can ever imagine. tolkien also lives up to the hype.

lovecraft. start with the cthulhu mythos and branch out from there. 'the call of cthulhu' or 'the dunwich horror' or 'the nameless city' are good entry points imo.

okay that seems like a lot, i have more if you need lol. hope this helps in some way!

[sequinsmile-x]

Advance happy birthday to one of my favorite Hotchniss writers! I’d like to request for the following from list #2: “Our kids are gonna be *mwah*!” and “You’re breathtaking”. Thanks 🥰

Ahhh thanks anon 🥺, always blows me away when someone says I am one of their favourites ❤️

-x-

Just some very pointless fluff for you all on this Friday evening

-x-

Vulnerability

Words: 1.8k

Warning: High risk pregnancy

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Why do we have to move the TV?” 

Aaron smiles as he turns to look at Jack, briefly turning from where he’d been unplugging the television, not missing the slight pout on his son’s face. 

“Emily has to stay upstairs in bed remember, buddy?” He says, turning back to the task at hand, ensuring nothing was plugged into the television before he lifts it. “So we’re taking it upstairs so she doesn’t get bored.” 

He knew it was like trying to put a bandaid on a bullet hole, his wife already anxious and on edge, the instruction of bed rest from her OBGYN already frustrating her. He was doing whatever he could to make her feel better, whilst also ensuring she stuck to medical advice for the remainder of her pregnancy. The last thing he wanted was for her to end up back in hospital again, the barely concealed fear on her face as multiple machines were attached to her belly when she was admitted the week before seared into his memory. 

“Because the babies made her sick?” Jack asks, his eyebrows creasing together. 

Aaron sighs, “She’s not sick buddy, but this will keep her and the babies safe, ok?” He explains as best as he can for his son, trying, not for the first time, to put everything the doctors had told them into a child-friendly format. 

Her pregnancy had been rough from the start, her morning sickness hitting her almost the moment the test was positive. Before they’d started trying Emily’s doctor told her about the risks involved. Her age made things tricker, as did her injuries from Doyle, but they wanted to try. Both of them looking longingly at the spare room in their house right next to their bedroom. The real estate agent’s comments about it being a perfect nursery echoing around their heads. In the end, they’d fallen pregnant quicker than they’d anticipated, and despite the smell of Aaron’s cologne and coffee turning her stomach, everything seemed ok.

Then they found out Emily was pregnant with twins. 

She’d required more monitoring from her doctors, frequent scans and visits, and was ultimately grounded to stay in Quantico just before she turned 6 months. She hadn’t even fought Aaron on that, the exhaustion of carrying two babies made her almost grateful that the decision was taken out of her hands. He felt better about it, anxiety he hadn’t been aware had been living in his chest easing as soon as she was no longer travelling with the team.

Then her blood pressure spiked suddenly, a very scary couple of hours that saw her admitted to hospital for a few days, released only that morning with instructions to remain on bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy. 

“Let’s take this up to her, ok?” Aaron says, smiling reassuringly at his son who nods enthusiastically, running for the stairs to go up and see Emily, “be careful ok buddy?” He calls after him, sighing when he hears the door to his bedroom tear open. 

It was going to be a long couple of months. 

___

She shifts in bed next to him again, groaning as she tries to get comfortable, whining in frustration when she doesn’t succeed. 

“Em-” He whispers, reaching out for her, not missing how she tenses, her reply cutting over him before he could go any further. 

“I’m fine, Aaron,” she says, her voice tight, “sorry for moving so much, you can go back to sleep.”

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, sitting up to turn the lamp on his nightstand before placing his hand on her shoulder, “you have nothing to apologise for. Can I help?”

“No, it’s ok,” she says, shifting just enough to look at him, “I just can’t get comfortable,” she smiles weakly at him, “something to do with being 30 weeks pregnant with twins.” 

He smiles at her, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Want me to go sleep in the spare room? The extra space might help.”

“No,” she replies quickly, reaching for his hand and linking her fingers with his, “I like having you here.” 

“Ok, I’ll stay,” he assures her, squeezing her hand. She moves their linked hands and places them on her bump, pressing his hand into her belly, sharing a smile with him when he feels a kick against his palm. “That’s him, right?” 

She nods, humming her agreement in her throat. “That’s baby boy,” she replies, moving his hand to the other side of her belly, a sharp jolt that he thinks must be an elbow pushing outwards, “and that’s baby girl,” she grimaces slightly, just like she had every time she referred to the babies since they found out what they were having, “Derek and Pen really have ruined that for me.”

He chuckles, laying down so he was facing her, his hand gently rubbing at her belly, skin she had told him felt like it was going to burst open. 

“We could solve that if we came up with names for them.”

She grimaces, “It is so hard to come up with names when you’ve dealt with so many criminals,” she complains, her eyes meeting his, “everything reminds me of a case.” 

“We’ll get there, love,” he says, smiling at her.

“Easy for the man who accidentally named his son after Jack the Ripper to say,” she quips, her eyebrow raised at him. He presses his fingers into her side slightly in retribution, not surprised to feel one of the babies respond with a movement of their own.

“What I’m saying is,” he continues as if she hadn’t spoken, “we might just have to see them before anything feels right.” He sees her smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and he wanted nothing more than for the next 7 weeks to fly by, her scheduled c-section circled on the calendar on their fridge. “Hey,” he says, hooking a finger under her chin to make her look at him, “Our kids are going to be-” he punctuates his sentence with a kissing sound, and she laughs at him, the sound making his heart soar.

“Did Pen teach you that?” She asks, an affectionate smile blooming on her face.

“Maybe.” he replies, cupping her cheek and kissing her, his lips soft against hers as he tries to push everything he felt into it. How much he loved her, how in awe of her he was. How he’d spend the rest of his life trying to pay her back for this, for what she was doing for their family. “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep if we get you comfortable?”

She shakes her head in response. “Not when they are this active.”

“Seven weeks to go,” he says reassuringly, his thumb delicate at her cheekbone.

“Yeah, seven weeks to go.” 

He kisses her again before reaching for the remote for the television on his nightstand, switching it on as he talks to her. 

“I think that Real Housewives show you’ve been watching is on at this time of night.” 

She smiles up at him as she settles into his side, putting some of the extra weight she was carrying onto him.

“How do you know that?” She asks, her hand resting on his chest as she looks at the screen, the correct channel coming up just as the housewives appeared to be in the middle of an argument. He puts the subtitles on and turns the volume down a little, not wanting the sound to wake Jack up. 

“You like it, so I wanted to make sure I knew when it was on.” 

She places her hand on his cheek, making him look down at her as she kisses him. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he replies, leaning the side of his head against the top of her as she settles down against his side, “so what’s going on here? Every time I watch this with you they are always arguing.” 

“Ok so,” she says, using the same serious voice she would use when delivering a profile, “Dorinda and LuAnn used to be friends.” 

___

Aaron couldn’t stop looking at her. 

Emily had always been beautiful to him, from the moment he first saw her he’d been enraptured, captivated in a way that had initially come out as hostility. Chastising himself for being so attracted to her when he was still married to someone else, when he was sure she was Strauss’s spy. 

Now she was his wife, his partner in everything, and it sometimes still didn’t feel real. Like a dream he never wanted to wake up from. 

“You’re staring,” she says, looking up at him, briefly tearing her eyes from the newborn babies in her arms, both asleep and settled against their mother. She was tired, but glowing. She smirks at him as he clears his throat, his cheeks flushing slightly. 

He stands up from the seat next to her bed and gets his phone out of his pocket, switching on the camera to take a photo of Emily and the twins, Penelope already harassing him for updates. 

“Aaron, no,” she complains, scrunching her nose up at him, “I look awful.” 

Her hair was braided, strands escaping the hair style he had done for her whilst they waited for the surgeon to be ready, calming Emily’s nerves as her anxiety built. She was exhausted, the last night she’d slept well somewhere early on back in her second trimester, lines under her eyes that gave it away to anyone who looked. 

But she was beautiful, and he wouldn’t have her believing anything else. 

“You’re breathtaking.” He replies automatically, smiling at her when she rolls her eyes at him before looking back down at the twins. 

“You have to say that, I’m your wife,” she smiles at their daughter before doing the same at their son, looking at them like she couldn’t quite believe they were real, “and I just had two of your kids.” 

“It’s true,” he says, leaning down to stamp a kiss against her lips, smiling at the two sleeping newborns against her, “come on, Em. Garcia won’t give me a moments peace until I send a picture, and then we’ll never get round to naming them.” 

She groans slightly, nodding before she kisses him. 

“Fine,” she says, a smile on her face that lets him know she’s grateful, that this was a memory she’d eventually be glad they had pictures of. She smiles at him as he takes a few photos, both of them relieved when the sound from the camera doesn’t wake either of the twins. She encourages him to join her on the bed when he’s done, shifting over to give him room as he eases their daughter out of her arms. “Do you think they’ll always be this quiet?” 

“Oh not at all,” he replies, kissing the side of her head as he looks down at his little girl, “we really should name them though.” 

She groans and presses her forehead into his shoulder.

“Did you bring the list?” 

-x-

Tag list:

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[jjtheresidentbaby]

Criminal Minds character classifications? Like who are CG or littles or both and who takes care of who.

criminal minds classification headcanons

(Realizing I hc most of them as flips 💀)

Derek Morgan- flip major caregiver lean, he loves taking care of people and would do anything in his power to protect his little. He’s such a big teddy bear that would happily hold his little into his chest for hours while death glaring anyone even close enough to wake them up. When regressing it’s always rare and probably involuntary, he stays around Garcia, Jj or Reid when small. He’s very happy to sit quietly and hold their hand as opposed to running around playing. He’s very loud and athletic when big or a caregiver so being small is all about de-stressing

Jennifer Jareau- flip with little lean, I’ve talked about this so many times I feel like I don’t need to say much. She’s just a doll and loves to be around her people when small. She favors Derek and Garcia but Hotch and Reid are her second favorites. When she’s in caregiver mode she is so good at it, just pure love, her little could do nothing wrong that ends in anything more than a timeout, she’s extremely gentle and neutering. I love her all around.

Spencer Reid- flip with little lean, much like Jj he likes being around his people when regressed. He sticks to Jj, Garcia and Blake. He’s extremely smart so going small and being able to ignore that all is amazing for him. It also lets him get some of the love he feels is lacking with how quickly he grew up. Then when he is a caregiver it’s all about teaching his little things, he takes care of Ashley a lot and she loves hearing any statics he has to share. He loves curious littles, showing them new things like magic tricks or book brings him immense joy. He’s also pretty use to watching Sean so he gets his fair share of random facts back, they share them, it’s great

Aaron Hotchner- caregiver, it helps him relax more than some would assume. Yes he’s in control all the time but he prefers to be in control of whether or not his little wears two left shoes or not compared to how stressful work can be. He spends a lot of time with Prentiss, Jj and Sean obviously. His brother is probably one of his favorite people to watch since he knows the hell the both of them went through so seeing him carefree is great. But Jj and Prentiss never fail to make him melt just the same.

Penelope Garcia- flip with caregiver lean, a lot would assume she’s a little but Garcia loves to take care of people. She’s a natural at it, helping people and solving problems is something she’s always been good at. When she regresses I think she’d go to Derek and maybe Spencer or jj but mostly Derek. She has nothing against anyone else but Morgan is the easiest person for her to be her true self around. He’s also the perfect cg for her, just lovable and listens very intently

David Rossi- caregiver, but it’s the uncle way. He’d make his little amazing food and get involved in whatever mischief they wanted to do. Definitely the type to say “okay one more” after five times of trying to get his little to bed while watching a show. Emily’s the only little that regresses around him frequently, the others have no problem being small around him but all have their preferred people, Rossi loves that he is Emily’s proffered person. It never fails to make him get a bit teary eyed when he sees a regressed Emily sprinting over yelling his name because she missed him that much.

Emily Prentiss- flip, she doesn’t have a specific lean but she is drastically different between headspaces. When she’s small it’s all about fun and roughhousing while when she’s a caregiver it’s sweet and gentle. She prefers her little side to her caregiver side, just basking in the freeness of living out a childhood she never had. I think she’d lean towards Rossi being her caregiver or maybe Hotch, someone she knows is trustworthy. She’ll happily be around Rossi and Hotch though, hanging out at Rossi’s big mansion with the two of them pleases her little side like no other

Sean Hotchner- flip with little lean, he doesn’t talk about it with anyone but Aaron and Spencer. That’s it. He’s usually pretty happy when small but can have a tough time when it is bent regression. He tends to go small around Reid when stressed whereas he tries to stay happy with Aaron. When he’s taking care of a little it’s always with the most protective energy ever, he would snap anyone in half that so much as breathed differently around his little. I think him and Reid switch between watching the other while they regress so Sean’s very comfortable around him.

Alex Blake- flip caregiver lean, Alex my beloved would only share her classification with Spencer, Hotch and Garcia. She just tells everyone else she’s a caregiver, she has nothing against her little space but gets very worried that someone might doubt her abilities for it. She loves regressing around Garcia, they’re so opposite that Penny seems like a magic princess to little Alex. She also adores regressing with Reid and being able to talk about certain serious stuff she wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing with others. When she’s taking care of someone (usually Spencer) it is very motherly. She’s also very serious about taking her little out to do activities not just the normal “let’s go to the park” but more so a “let’s go to the park and try to find all the different types of trees” she likes list making, that lets her jott down what her little can find. She also likes to try and teach her little words in her different languages, not ever something hard but a little phrase or how to say a favorite food they have

Ashley Seaver- little, talk about sweetheart. Omg would she just adore to curl up against someone’s side and stay there for as long as they let her. She enjoys mind working games when small, puzzles, cards, counting games, matching, things that work her brain. I think she’d be closed off about her classification but if she trusts someone she’ll have no issue being open to them. She stays around Rossi, Reid and honestly Jj, yes they don’t end up working together but they meet at some point and become fast friends who will hang out small together or Jj taking care of Ashley

[kj-1130]

Tierra davidson x R request

R and tierna are married but it’s a secret from the team, R isn’t in the nwsl. they’ve been dating since highschool. Camp is in the same city R is in and it’s their anniversary. T leaves before dinner that day the whole team is wondering where she is going. The girls follow her and End up at R’s house where they are celebrating. In short The girls get caught and meet R as T’s wife and they all kind of freak out bc it’s Wife and not Gf.

(you can shorten this up it’s pretty long)

Main Masterlist

     Tierna had been very distracted recently. She was on her phone more and hanging out with the team less. 

     As slick as she thought she was, it wasn’t hard for the team to figure out that something else was at the front of her mind. 

     Right now, everyone was gathered in the hotel lobby, trying to figure out what to do for the night since it was a free day. 

     “Hey T,” Emily bounced up to her. 

     Tierna was quick to shut her phone off and stuff it in her pockets. 

     “What’s up?” 

     “We were gonna head to the mall, then dinner. Wanna join?” 

     “Uhh..” the woman trailed off as she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. Pulling it out she saw a text from you. “I-I think I’m gonna skip tonight. Yeah, I have some things I need to do. By myself. All alone.” 

     Emily looked at her strangely and backed away slowly. 

     “Alright,” she muttered and watched Tierna practically sprint out the door.

     The blonde headed over to the rest of her teammates with a contemplative look on her face. 

     “Has anyone else noticed Tierna acting weird this camp?”

     The question had everyone thinking about the defender’s behavior these past couple days. 

     “I say we follow her.” 

     “Kelley,” Christen exclaimed. 

     The woman only shrugged. 

     “What? We’re all curious and you can’t tell me you aren’t the least bit worried.” 

     The forward glanced away before letting out a sigh, knowing that there was no way she could convince the woman otherwise. Once Kelley had a plan, she was able to convince anyone she needed to join in and it was obvious that this time wouldn’t be any different.     

-

     When you and Tierna heard that the next camp was happening not far from your residence, the two of you were excited. With your anniversary so close, it was nerve wracking, trying to figure out how you were going to make things work or just completely reschedule. 

     The two of you had mutually agreed that Tierna should stay at the hotel, though. As much as you both enjoyed cuddling up to each other at night and waking up to kisses peppered across your face in the morning, you still wanted your relationship to be private. 

     You wanted your guys’ relationship to be yours and you couldn’t do that if you had 20+ women and millions of fans bombarding you with questions everytime they see you together. From the stories you’ve heard from T, her teammates sounded like pretty good people, but right now, meeting them just wasn’t your top priority nor was it frequently on your mind. 

     Now that your anniversary had finally arrived, you and the defender had been texting today more than usual. You were setting up last minute details and getting conformations from her, wanting to make sure everything was perfect for today.

     Before you knew it, she was coming in the door with that huge smile on her face. Immediately, you hopped up from the couch, and wrapped your arms around her tightly. 

     “I missed you so much,” you muttered into her shoulder. 

     Tierna placed her hand under your jaw and tilted your head up, giving you a passionate kiss that made your head spin. 

     “Missed you too,” she mumbled against your lips. 

     She moved forward to press another kiss against your lips but you moved back. 

     “I made dinner; your favorite.” 

     “Yeah? What about dessert?” 

     “Whatever you’re in the mood for,” you replied, gently biting your lip. 

     She moves forward once again but you place a finger against her lip. 

     “Food’s gonna get cold. C’mon.”

     Before either of you could move, there was a knock on the door.

     “You expecting anybody?” Tierna asked with a raised brow. 

     Shaking your head you pushed her towards the kitchen. 

     “You go ahead to the table; I’ll see who it is.” 

     With a little reluctance, Tierna followed your orders while you went to answer the door. 

     Taking a look through the peephole you groaned.

     “You have got to be kidding me.” 

     It was obvious you weren’t as quiet as you thought you were as arms wrapped around your waist and she questioned what was wrong. 

     “Take a look for yourself,” you grumbled, moving out of the way. 

     “You have got to be shitting me,” Tierna groaned, dropping her head onto the door. “Maybe if we ignore them, they’ll leave.” 

     “Not a chance Baby T!” 

     With great frustration, the defender yanked the door open. “What do you want?” 

     “We just wanted to see what’s been taking up all your attention,” Kelley says, standing up on her tiptoes to peek into the house. “I can safely say I wasn’t expecting this.” 

     “Look,” Tierna starts. “Can we do this later? I’m busy right now.” 

     “Maybe,” Emily says. “Only if you let us in and update us.” 

     “Okay,” you interrupted. “Our anniversary dinner is getting cold. You will see her tomorrow and you can ask your questions then. For now, I’d like to enjoy this limited time with my wife. Bye.” You ended your little rant with a sarcastic wave and slammed the door shut before locking it. 

     The two of you heard multiple exclamations of surprise and confusions, but you were only focused on one thing. 

     “Can we hurry with dinner?” Tierna asked, pulling you closer to her by your waist. Leaning towards your ear, she whispered, “‘Cause I’m really looking forward to dessert.”

-_-_-_-_-_-

Taglist

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