#living in the headquarters must be a NIGHTMARE

[doctorwyvern]

sensory seeking gum gum vs sensory avoidant mudd. the autism brothers

[etherealphosphor]

Bluebell

⟡ Contains: Dottore x Gn!Reader, Sfw, Angst to set the scene, Fluff otherwise, Dottore has amnesia, Reader is married to Dottore

You and Dottore had always been the envy of Snezhnaya, your relationship being quite the popular topic among its citizens. Everyone in the Fatui, from Cicin Mages to the Harbingers themselves, knew about your marriage. It was impossible to be out of the loop, as gossip spread like wildfire in the headquarters. Even if one were to live under a rock, the way Dottore looked at you with pure and unmistakable adoration was a dead giveaway.

For approximately a year, things were peaceful. You spent every day by Dottore’s side, and every night in his embrace. Until one fateful day, when one of Dottore’s experiments failed, and awfully so. The explosion could even be heard from the offices on the upper levels. You also worked in the headquarters, and your heart lurched in fear when you heard the loud bang.

Running down the stairs leading towards his lab, you could feel the panic setting in. There was nothing you could do to help, as Dottore never let you into his lab in fear of something happening to you. Your eyes began tearing up as you saw the walls of his lab completely collapsed, and your blue-haired husband trapped under the rubble. In the past, Dottore had made it very clear to his assistants that, in case of an emergency, they were to hold you back. They honored his request, and you could only watch in horror as the medical staff rushed in to save him, struggling against the arms keeping you from your beloved husband.

In the aftermath of the explosion, Dottore was rushed to the nearby hospital. You sat anxiously in the waiting room, tears streaming down your face. Your heart was beating faster than ever before as you silently prayed to the Tsaritsa to spare his life. Eventually, after what felt like hours, you were given permission to visit Dottore.

When you walked into Dottore’s hospital room, he was asleep on the bed, his chest and the top of his head mostly bandaged up. It pained you to see your husband like that, and as you sat down next to him, he began to slowly open his eyes.

"Darling?" You asked tentatively before reaching out and stroking his cheek.

Dottore looked up at you, his red eyes filled with confusion. "Sorry, who are you?"

Your worst nightmare had come true.

The months following the incident had been difficult; however, you were relieved to find that Dottore’s affection for you hadn’t disappeared. The hospital staff had informed you that there was indeed a small chance for him to regain some—if not all—of his memories. That possibility was like the light at the end of the tunnel for you, and no matter how long it would take, you vowed to help Dottore remember your past together. You swore to stay by him in sickness and in health, after all.

One night, as you lay in bed together, Dottore turned over to face you. "Love?"

"Yes darling? What is it?" You asked, a little worried that something might be wrong.

"I’m sorry that I can’t remember anything right now; it must really hurt you. My memories—they’re all so hazy. But I do recall how I felt, and I want you to understand that my feelings haven’t changed a bit." Dottore said, a comforting look in his eyes.

You smiled at him. "Dottore, you’ve reminded me of that nearly every night since you got back from the hospital. Don’t worry; I know you still love me, and I’m very glad to have you in my life."

"I know I’ve told you many times, but I feel like I need to assure you, or else you may fret about it." Dottore spoke softly, reaching out to stroke your hair.

"Love, I won’t. What’s most important right now is that you get a good night’s sleep. Tell you what, I’ll take you to where we first met tomorrow morning; maybe it’ll help your memory a little."

Dottore smiled at your words and nodded. "That’d be great." He paused for a second before hesitantly asking, ".. may I hold you?"

Something about his strangely shy tone evoked an odd feeling in your chest. Even after all the years you spent together with him, he still found new ways to stir the butterflies in your stomach. Without even answering his question, you wrapped your arms around his body, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

Dottore gently put a hand on the top of your head, calmly stroking your hair. The warmth of your husband’s skin and the rhythm of his heart made you slowly drift off to sleep. No matter how difficult things got, you’d always have him.

When you woke up in the morning, Dottore was still sleeping soundly next to you, a peaceful look on his face. Your eyes fell to the scars on his chest left by the accident, a constant reminder of the time you nearly lost him. Despite all of Dottore’s strength as the Second of the Fatui Harbingers, one mistake could have ended his life.

Your mind began to race at the possibilities of what could have happened if even one little factor had been changed. Would he not be lying next to you right now if he’d been even a foot closer to the explosion?

Unconsciously, you reached out to touch those rough patches on his skin, accidentally rousing him from his sleep. Your breathing was a little shallow as your brain spiraled. Despite just waking up, Dottore instantly recognized your distress and pulled you into his arms.

"Darling, can you breathe deeply for me? Hyperventilating will only make you feel worse." Dottore said softly as he stroked your back, trying to soothe your anxiety.

After about a minute, your breathing slowed down with much encouragement from Dottore. His gentle words and touch grounded you; he was here, not back in the accident. And he never would be, because things were okay now.

"I’m sorry for waking you, Love. I was just overthinking again; that’s all." You spoke quietly, with a tinge of guilt in your voice.

Picking up on it, Dottore began to reassure you. "It’s not your fault for being anxious, [Name]. What happened back then was very traumatic for you; it’d leave a lasting impact on anyone. So don’t apologize to me for anything; you don’t need to. Plus, I don’t need to sleep in any longer than I did; if you’re feeling that way again, please don’t hesitate to ask me for help, even if I’m asleep."

Dottore knew exactly what to say to calm your mind; he always had. Cuddling up next to him once more, you breathed in his scent as he brushed through your hair with his fingers.

"We should get ready soon, darling. I promised to take you to where we first met, after all."

"Don’t feel obligated to; if you’d prefer to stay at home today, that’s fine." Dottore said as he continued to run his fingers through your hair.

"I want to go as well, Dottore. My offer to take you still stands." You assured him as you began to get out of bed.

Once you two had gotten ready, you led Dottore out of the house. Due to losing his memories, Dottore was unfamiliar with the streets he once knew so well, so you had to show him the way.

After a short stroll through the main city of Snezhnaya, you stopped at a large building made from grey stone bricks of varying lengths and shades.

Reading the sign on the front of it, Dottore asked, "We met at the library?"

"Yeah, we did. It was by pure coincidence that I even talked to you in the first place." You replied with a soft smile on your face. It had been so long since that day, and oh, how things had changed.

Hand in hand, you brought Dottore into the library and up the stairs to the second floor. You led him over to a small reading corner surrounded by large windows, which contained a singular round wooden table with two plush chairs on either side. A strong sense of deja vu washed over Dottore as he walked closer to the room.

You motioned for him to sit down, then took your own place next to the table. You gazed fondly around the room for a brief moment, before resting your eyes on your husband, who sat in front of you.

"I was sitting in this very chair when we had our first conversation." You paused, thinking back on that day. "You know, I was scared of you at first."

"You were... scared of me? Why?" Dottore asked with a confused look on his face.

You chuckled. "Darling, have you forgotten you’re ranked second out of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers? Of course I was terrified."

"[Name], I’ve been reminded of what my title entails, but nothing of the reputation it holds." Dottore explained. "What exactly do you mean?"

"Let’s just say... You were a very intimidating man back then. Everyone who didn’t know you properly fled in terror when they saw you."

"Really? Have people changed how they view me since the accident?"

"Not exactly; you’ve kept your status and title, after all. That’s what people are afraid of."

Dottore thought that over for a minute, then hesitantly asked, "Love, was I wrong to you in the past?"

Surprised by his words, you responded, "Archons no, what would make you think that?"

"You kept saying how frightening I was back then—and how I apparently still am. I can’t help but worry that I did something awful to you."

You reached out to gently stroke Dottore’s cheek, assuring him. "Oh, darling, I’m sorry I didn’t make it more clear. I don’t think you’re any of those things. Sure, back when we first met, I was scared by your title like everyone else. But as we got acquainted, I saw a different side of you, one which was nothing like the man the public viewed you as."

"I’m glad." Dottore paused, before asking, "Could you possibly tell me about the day we met, since we’re here?"

"Of course, I’d be happy to." You continued, "It was a particularly gloomy day, and a heavy blanket of snow covered the ground—the amount being more than it usually was. Despite all of that, I couldn’t stand being inside; I instead decided to go out into the storm. Many of the buildings and stores in the city were closed, but the library wasn’t."

"Oh dear, I hope you didn’t freeze to death; Snezhnaya is already a harsh place as it is." Dottore said softly.

"You worry too much, my love. I was perfectly fine." You replied, assuring him.

"Alright, I’m simply making sure. Isn’t that what a husband ought to do?"

"Darling, that happened six years ago." You chuckled, but you could feel your heart fluttering at his concern.

"Well, I’m still going to express my worry regardless of how much time has passed, and that’s final." Dottore smiled at you, before saying, "anyway, please go on. I’d love to hear the rest of the story."

That smile of his only made your heart beat faster. "As I said, the library wasn’t closed, so I decided to head over to warm up inside. After all, I went there a lot back then to relax. Coincidentally, when I climbed up the stairs, you were there, sitting in my usual spot.

"When I saw the Second Harbinger himself seated in that chair, I really did consider turning around and walking all the way back to my apartment through the deep snow. However, hearing my footsteps, you looked up from your book towards me. Once you’d sensed my presence, I figured there was no turning back. After all, it would’ve been highly disrespectful to run the opposite way when you looked at me.

"So, despite my shaking legs, I made my way over and sat down across from you. Despite having your mask on, I knew you were looking directly at me. Though terrified, I attempted to make small talk to fill the silence. That small talk turned into a full conversation, and then another, and another; we barely realized how late it was, and we were only alerted to the time when it had gotten quite dark outside. You gently took my hand in yours and walked me home to make sure I was safe, only bidding me farewell when I was at my door."

Dottore silently listened to your story, smiling softly as you finished telling it. "I wish I could remember that day; it sounded like it was a truly lovely one."

Noticing the slight falter in Dottore’s smile as he said that, you gave him a quick kiss. "It’s okay, darling. Don’t fret; we’ll make many more beautiful memories together in the future. Anywhere you want to go, I’ll take you."

Without another word, Dottore stood up and pulled you into his arms, fully picking you up off the ground.

"I—wha—what are you doing?" You stuttered, quite flustered as well as a little confused.

"Taking you home, like I did back then." He simply said.

"Darling, you held my hand to lead me back to my apartment. You didn’t carry me!" You replied, chuckling.

Dottore continued walking, his grip on you firm yet comfortable. "Hm, well, I prefer it this way. So I will have it this way."

You sighed, nuzzling closer to him. "You’ve always been like this, and I love you for it."

That night, you couldn’t bear to leave Dottore’s embrace for even a second. Comforted by his scent and the warmth of his skin, you drifted off peacefully. For a moment, it was easy to forget that the accident had ever happened. He still held you the exact same way as he used to, after all. Some things truly never change.

When Dottore woke up the next morning, he noticed that you weren’t cuddled up next to him as you usually were. "[Name]..? Where—"

"I’m right here, darling. Don’t worry." Just then, you walked into the room, holding a mug in both hands.

Dottore looked at you as you sat down on the bed next to him, his tone still a little sleepy. "What’s in the mug?"

"It’s coffee; you’ll like it. I swear." You said, offering it to him.

Dottore hesitated, unsure. "I don’t want to take something you made for yourself."

"No, no. Darling, I made it for you." You chuckled, smiling at him.

"You did?" Dottore looked a little surprised. "You’re too sweet, darling. Are you suggesting I drink it because I liked it back then?" Dottore took the cup, staring at its contents.

"You’re right, my love. It used to be your favorite."

The drink was as dark as the abyss, and smelled quite strongly. Dottore put the mug to his lips, and tentatively took a sip. Instantly, his eyes lit up, and he drank nearly half the cup.

Dottore’s expression made your heart skip a beat. He looked so happy to be experiencing his drink of choice for the first time again.

Dottore then downed the rest of the cup, and looked up at you with a sparkle in his deep red eyes. "Darling, could you make me another? Or, even better, teach me how to make such a lovely drink?"

"Love, if I teach you, you’ll make yourself crazy. Too much caffeine can give you anxiety. However, I'm sure another cup won’t hurt you." You smiled at him, and then walked out of the room to brew him another drink.

Day after day, Dottore woke up with you in his arms, and each morning, you made him coffee for him to have with breakfast. Life had been very lovely, but there had been little to no progress in recovering any of Dottore’s memories.

Even so, you refused to give up.

One evening, when Dottore had gotten back from work, you seemed quite eager to show him something.

"Darling, quick, follow me!" You said, grabbing his hand and pulling him upstairs.

Although Dottore was a little dazed at your enthusiasm, he followed you to the second floor of the house. "What is it, my love? Do you have something to show me?"

You dragged him over to a window in the bedroom and began to unlock it. Once you were done, you pushed it open and began to climb out onto the roof, leading Dottore along with you.

"[Name], are you sure this is safe? I wouldn’t want you to get hurt." Dottore said as he carefully stepped out, holding onto you tightly.

"Actually, coming up here was your idea in the first place. Back then, at least." You replied, sitting down on the roof, dangling your legs over the edge.

Dottore sat down next to you. "Even so, you need to be careful, darling."

Ignoring his words, you nudged him and pointed up at the sky. "Look."

As the sun began to set, the clouds were dusted with a beautiful pink color, painting a stunning picture. Dottore was not particularly intrigued by beautiful landscapes, but even he was enamored by such a scene. Especially if his beloved was watching it with him.

While Dottore was gazing at the sky, you pulled a small bunch of bluebell flowers out of a pocket in your coat, and extended your arm to offer the gift to him.

Noticing the sweet smell, he looked down and saw the pretty blue blossoms in your hand.

"..Are these for me..?" Dottore spoke, a blush rising in his cheeks.

You nodded, smiling gently. "They are. Back then, you loved to give me bluebells on any occasion you could."

Dottore closed his eyes and put the flowers to his nose, breathing in the scent. Suddenly, his eyes shot open, and he turned to face you. "Darling? Did I.. did I ask you to marry me up here?"

You looked at him in surprise. "Y—you remember?"

Dottore’s deep red eyes were shining with happy tears. "I do! I remember!"

Dottore wrapped his arms around you, and kissed you deeply. Draping your arms around his neck, you reciprocated his passion, letting yourself melt into his embrace.

Unexpectedly, Dottore pinned you down, and pushed your head to one side. Softly, he began to bite your neck all over, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine. Oh Archons, he knew how to drive you crazy.

"Darling, didn’t you say to be careful? Aren’t you afraid we might fall?" You teased, a little out of breath.

Pausing for a moment, Dottore replied, "I would never allow you to fall."

Dottore moved his face away from your neck, instead pressing his lips to yours once more. He tilted your chin up as he fervently kissed you over and over, pouring all his love into the act.

The sun had long ago set when you two finally climbed back through the window.

In bed, Dottore pulled you into his arms, and whispered in your ear, "Sweet dreams, my lovely Bluebell."

"Found a new petname for me, huh?"

"Indeed, it suits you. You’re sweet-smelling, pretty, and you help me get my memories back." Dottore said softly.

You chuckled. "Where in the world did you ever learn to be this charming?"

Yet again, you spent the rest of the night cuddled up next to him, sleeping soundly. His body next to yours was something you were forever grateful for, and you hoped you’d never have to sleep alone again, like you did when he was being treated all those months ago.

You slept, knowing there was hope. Maybe, one day in the future, Dottore would truly recall all those years you spent together. But for now, one memory is enough.

[triglycercule]

in a just kidding kinda mood. canon nightmare is so serious and then i made her. she's a total dweeb she thinks that she's allat just because she ate a black (rotten) apple once and it was so bad she thinks she she's a goopy monster. that's not actually how she got to this (she got bullied in elementary school and wants to express her true self now in high school) but the black apple was involved (she ate a rotten apple and it was so bad she remembered her embarrassing elementary school fantasy and realized she liked it).

she's totally goth but she doesn't realize it (and i CANNOT be bothered to draw a goth esque outfit combined with the jk uniform). the book club is her headquarters and whoever joins the club becomes part of her gang (friends! because she's terrible at socializing and this is a way of being more outgoing) and then they have to do usual stuff goons do like helping nightmare study for tests (so she can further her insatiable quest for knowledge) and going to the mall with her (carrying her bags obviously. a queen cant be seen with shopping bags.) her goons MUST call her lady night or else she'll get upset. god jk!nightmare you're such a goddamn loser how many more dumb ideas can i come with for you

comments from..... oeople??? here's dream. they're on good terms because i hate dreamtale angst and i want them to be happy and healthy siblings. nightmare also uses her gang to moniter dream and make sure she's not getting in trouble. but then she also gets to play villian with dream where dream is the damsel in distress. or the hero. depends!

"well, one day nighty just came downstairs for breakfast dressed like... that. she spoke in a different way and acted different and especially looked different. needless to say, the family and i were confused."

"but, after she explained it, it actually made a surprising amount of sense despite the... change. nighty used to get bullied back in our old elementary school, and she claims that now that we're in high school, she wants to "embrace the true self that's been whispering pleas of freedom". er... whatever that means."

"of course i support it, she's my sister and all! i'd even say this persona of nightmare's is much funnier to interact with, and she's even made some friends thanks to her new self of the sort. honestly, as her sister? i couldn't be more happy to see nightmare thriving compared to before."

"but my only concern... is her makeup safe for long-term use?"

all of the mtt (most of the school actually) did NOT fall for the little act nightmare's putting up. even killer. no matter how brainrotted she is from the internet even she wouldn't fall for that. nightmare invited them to the gang (club) and both killer and dust were on board to join. because killer found her funny and dust likes books. and then horror was dragged along because of course she was. live laugh love jk!mtt

"nightmare?? oh, you mean lady night! yeah, i know her. pretty well, in fact~ she's appointed me as her right hand woman, which means i get to do all sorts of cool things, like coming up with literature recommendations and organizing when the gang meets up! she's pretty cool, y'know? i just gotta make sure to stop laughing whenever she calls me a "goon", hehe..."

"nightmare's nice. she likes reading, i like reading, so obviously i had to join the gang. she likes more fantasy style stuff, but i prefer sci-fi. not that big of a deal though, considering we read a variety of books in the clu- i mean, her "gang". sorry. don't tell her i said that, or else i'll be sent on a "mission" to "battle her homework" or whatever."

"oh, "lady night", "queen of negativity"... she's hilarious. it's so funny seeing her act like she has magical powers and all the yada yada about "the black apple" and "multiversal conquering". i mean, not many people in the school really believe her little schtick she's got going on, but most humor her. 'sides, she's a genuinely good person under all that makeup and acting anyways, so i like her. all i wanna know is, why does she keep her shoelaces untied?"

this idea is SO DUMB IM DYING. feared multiversal terror turned into a high school girl with the worlds most EMBARRASSING delusion. what universe are we in (the jk!universe dummy!). anyways dream design in the works (i already have the design done just need to color it!) and then quite possibly more aus will be jk-fied. ink may possibly be the first sans to NOT wear a skirt. who know,,,,s,,,,,,

[tnsophiaonly]

"Depths of Despair, will soon come rooting out."

A warning that shan't be ignored. For it's far too dangerous.

Deja vu

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

—n—i—a—t—r—e—c—n—U—

Primogems is the most voted!

Ability: Charming Fate★

With this current ability, you are able to charm people rather easily. And if you're talking with your awakened acolytes, you'll charm them in no time! But be wary, because the more you talk to people with visions or delusions or any element, the more you lose yourself. You'll lose your mind in hysteria. It'll give you a new life!

It felt so unreal. So painfully true.

You see yourself, mourning a beloved.

They died from war. Correction. He died from war.

Was it your father? No. It can't be. You don't live in Teyvat. You never did. You have no memories of this world. You didn't belong here. You were never here. Never ever.

But who was he? It was child you. Child you was hoping he was still alive and when we found out they're not we were mourning. The place looks a lot like Inazuma.

For some odd reason, the nameless man who the child you is mourning, feels like they were important to you. You felt your heart tighten at the sight. It just felt like it just had happened in your life.

But that's not true. You were never in Teyvat. You never had a life here. You were never meant to be here. You don't belong here.

A thunder strikes you down.

—d—e—t—n—a—w—n—W—

You gaped for a breath of air. Electrifying yet fresh air fills your lungs. And you exhale. You recognize where you are currently. I'm at the Kujou Encampment. The headquarters of the Shogun's Army under the control of Tenryou Commision.

Despite winning against the argument whether you stay to get patched up or you just patch yourself, you still ended up getting patched up by her.

Why did it feel like this was an order? It must have been just you. Cause no way Kujou Sara would do this without it being an order. I think.

Well either way, you were still patched. So you were thankful. Right now, you're thinking what to give back to her, just so that you can ease that one feeling deep inside you of her using that one tiny thing against you. Maybe you could activate her C6?

You look around, you find no one around, you open the screen menu, open the wish menu and see all of the banners are there! It's just like Silly Wisher... you look at your primogems amount and wow that made your jaw drop.

2,684,290 primogems... And it's continuously going up! You convert 300,000 primogems to an interwined fate. And went to a banner that has Kujou Sara in it and pulled 10x.

It turns purple and ah, you hear something outside. You look outside and oh that's so pretty. It was your wishes in the sky!

It's like shooting stars! No it is shooting stars! You see the purple star falling down and the screen appears and it gives you a Kujou Sara constellation. (PS. I still don't have her C6...) A commotion happens because of what you just did..

And for some reason they all thanked (S/M) for it. Oh, she happened to be praying for Kujou Sara's sixth constellation. It was a coincidence.

Well, that's great? No no no it's bad. It's giving more proof that she's an oracle. It should be you, who acts as the oracle. You don't even feel any connection to the oracle! No nothing! You don't even know who she is! She is no oracle, she's a fraud.

You sighed and went back to sleep in the comfortable futon prepared for you.

—n—i—a—t—r—e—c—n—U—

You woke up in cold sweat, another nightmare... It's making me lose my mind.

The way it started off as dark, dull, saturated then with no warning it explodes with solid and flashing colors, hurting your eyes, your brain! It was hypnotizing. It was driving you insane.

You held out a hand and oh. It was, fake.

You walked around, it was heavenly. The more you walk, the more you notice that it drips like water.

How ethereal... How mesmerizing.. don't you just want to stay here forever? In heaven.

The more you stay the more people that'll love you. Stay. Stay for the sake of your beloved followers. Stay like a good creator.

For them.

—s—e—i—r—o—m—e—M—

[anniebeemine]

sacrifices- s.r

Summary: After spending some time away from the BAU, Spencer must decide on the path he wants to take. A certain student makes his decision clear. Student!reader

Dr. Spencer Reid sat alone in the small, dimly lit office, the glow of the computer screen casting long shadows across the room. The file on his desk remained untouched, a stark reminder of the decision he needed to make. Outside, the bustling sounds of the FBI headquarters echoed faintly, a constant hum of activity that contrasted sharply with the silence of his solitary refuge.

After his final assignment with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, Spencer had been granted a rare period of leave. It was meant to be a time for him to reflect, to recover, and to decide his next steps. But as the days turned into weeks, the weight of that decision only grew heavier.

The last case had been brutal, even by the grim standards of the BAU. A sadistic killer, a labyrinth of clues, and the relentless pressure to prevent further bloodshed had taken their toll on Spencer. The nightmares were a persistent reminder of the lives lost and the horrors he had witnessed. His brilliant mind, always a source of strength, now felt like a prison, replaying the gruesome details over and over.

Taking a deep breath, Spencer leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Memories flooded his mind, each one a fragment of the life he had lived. He thought back to his childhood, a time of loneliness and isolation. His mother's schizophrenia had cast a long shadow over his early years, leaving him to navigate the world largely on his own. Books had been his refuge, a gateway to knowledge and understanding that set him apart from his peers but also marked him as different. His photographic memory and exceptional intellect had earned him multiple degrees by the age of 21, but they had also made him an outsider. Joining the FBI had been a turning point, offering him a chance to use his unique abilities to make a difference. The BAU had become his family, a place where his skills were not only valued but essential. He had forged deep bonds with his colleagues, each one a lifeline in the often dark and dangerous world they inhabited. But those bonds had come at a cost. Over the years, Spencer had seen friends and teammates wounded, both physically and emotionally. He had been kidnapped, tortured, and forced to confront his deepest fears. His addiction to Dilaudid, a desperate attempt to escape the pain, had nearly destroyed him. And yet, he had persevered, driven by an unyielding commitment to justice and the unwavering support of his team.

Spencer opened his eyes and glanced at the framed photos on his desk. There was a picture of the BAU team, taken during happier times. Hotch, with his steely resolve; Rossi, with his seasoned wisdom; Garcia, with her infectious energy; JJ, with her unwavering empathy; Morgan, with his fierce loyalty; and Prentiss, with her unshakeable strength. They were more than colleagues—they were family. But family could also be a source of pain. He thought of Maeve, the woman he had loved and lost. Her death had been a devastating blow, one that had left him reeling. He had struggled to move on, to find meaning in a world that seemed increasingly devoid of it. And yet, he had continued to fight, to seek justice for those who could not.

Now, faced with the decision of whether to return to the BAU or take time off, Spencer felt torn. The BAU was his home, the place where he felt most alive and most useful. But the relentless demands of the job had taken a toll on his mind and body. He needed time to heal, to rediscover the parts of himself that had been overshadowed by the darkness of his work.

A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to see Penelope Garcia standing in the doorway, her vibrant presence a welcome contrast to the somberness of the office.

"Hey, boy genius," she said with a warm smile. "Mind if I come in?"

"Of course, Garcia," Spencer replied, returning her smile. "Please, have a seat."

She sat down across from him, her eyes filled with concern. "How are you holding up?"

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's been... challenging. There's a lot to process."

Garcia nodded, her expression empathetic. "I can only imagine. You've been through so much, Spencer. It's okay to take time for yourself."

"I know," he said quietly. "But the BAU... it feels like my purpose. It's hard to step away."

"You don't have to make a decision right now," Garcia reminded him gently. "Take the time you need. We'll always be here for you, no matter what you decide."

Her words were a comfort, a reminder that he wasn't alone in this. He smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Garcia. That means a lot."

But now, for the first time in years, he found himself in an entirely different setting: the hallowed halls of academia. He had accepted a position as a professor, teaching a range of subjects from physics to psychology, and even occasionally delving into the realms of chemistry and mathematics. His multifaceted expertise had made him a beloved figure among students and faculty alike.

Spencer's new life as a professor provided him with a sense of stability and routine that had been absent during his years with the BAU. Every morning, he would wake up at 6 AM, a habit ingrained from his FBI days. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains of his modest apartment, casting a warm glow on the stacks of books and papers that filled his living room. He would make himself a cup of black coffee, savoring the quiet moments before the day began in earnest.

His mornings were spent preparing lectures and grading papers. Spencer took great care in crafting his lessons, drawing from his extensive knowledge and personal experiences to make each class engaging and informative. He found immense satisfaction in teaching, in seeing the spark of understanding ignite in his students' eyes. It was a different kind of fulfillment than he had known before, but no less rewarding.

By 9 AM, he was on campus, walking through the ivy-covered archways of the university. The familiar sights and sounds of students hurrying to class, the rustle of papers, and the hum of academic life had become comforting to him. He would often be greeted by enthusiastic waves and cheerful greetings from his students, a stark contrast to the grim faces he had encountered during his time with the BAU.

His first class of the day was typically his criminology course, a course that had quickly become one of the most popular on campus. Spencer’s unique perspective, having been on the front lines of criminal investigations, brought a real-world relevance that textbooks alone could not provide. He would start each lecture with a case study, guiding his students through the intricate details of criminal behavior and investigative techniques.

“Good morning, everyone,” Spencer would begin, his voice calm and measured. “Today, we’re going to discuss the psychological profiles of serial offenders and how understanding their motivations can aid in their capture.”

The room would fall silent as students hung on his every word. Spencer thrived in these moments, sharing his knowledge and passion with eager minds. He encouraged open dialogue, often posing thought-provoking questions that sparked lively debates. The classroom became a space of learning and discovery, a stark contrast to the life-or-death scenarios he had once faced.

After his morning lecture, Spencer would hold office hours. Students would line up outside his door, seeking advice on their research projects or simply wanting to discuss topics that intrigued them. Spencer welcomed these interactions, enjoying the one-on-one engagement. He took the time to get to know his students, offering guidance and support beyond the academic realm.

Lunch was a solitary affair, usually taken in the quiet corner of the campus café. He would use this time to read or to catch up on correspondence with his former colleagues. Though he missed the camaraderie of the BAU, the stability of his new job had worked wonders for his mental and emotional well-being. The nightmares that had plagued him for so long had become less frequent, and he found himself smiling more often.

The afternoons were reserved for more specialized classes. One of Spencer’s favorites was a seminar on the intersection of psychology and literature. Here, he would explore how literary works reflected and influenced societal views on mental health and human behavior. His students were captivated by his insights, and the class often ran over time as discussions continued.

“Take, for example, Dostoevsky’s ‘Crime and Punishment’,” Spencer would say, pacing the front of the classroom. “Raskolnikov’s internal struggle and justifications for his actions provide a profound exploration of guilt and morality.”

His students would eagerly contribute, offering their interpretations and engaging in spirited debates. These sessions were a highlight of Spencer’s day, a chance to delve into the intellectual pursuits that had always fascinated him.

By late afternoon, his official duties were complete, but Spencer often stayed on campus, immersed in his own research or attending guest lectures. He found solace in the academic environment, a sanctuary from the chaos and violence that had once defined his life. The university had become his refuge, a place where he could rebuild and rediscover himself.

Evenings were spent in quiet reflection. Spencer would return to his apartment, prepare a simple dinner, and settle in with a book or a stack of papers to grade. He had developed a routine that brought him peace, a stark contrast to the unpredictable nature of his former life. He maintained contact with his BAU family, often exchanging emails with Garcia, who never failed to brighten his day with her colorful messages.

Despite the stability and contentment he found in his new role, there were moments when Spencer felt a pang of longing for the BAU. He missed the thrill of solving complex cases, the camaraderie of his team, and the sense of purpose that came with bringing criminals to justice. But he also recognized the toll that life had taken on him, and the importance of prioritizing his own well-being.

One evening, as he was preparing for bed, Spencer received a call from JJ. He answered with a smile, her familiar voice a welcome sound.

“Hey, Spence,” JJ said warmly. “How’s the professor's life treating you?”

“It’s... different,” he replied, choosing his words carefully. “But good. I needed this.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” JJ said, her tone sincere. “We miss you, though. It’s not the same without you.”

“I miss you all too,” Spencer admitted. “But I think I’m where I need to be right now.”

They talked for a while longer, catching up on life and sharing memories. When the call ended, Spencer felt a sense of reassurance. His friends understood his need for this time, and their support meant the world to him.

As he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, Spencer reflected on the journey that had brought him here. He had faced unimaginable horrors and had come out the other side stronger. Teaching had given him a renewed sense of purpose, a chance to shape young minds and inspire the next generation.

It had been just over a year when he made a deadline for himself. With classes ending, finals being taken, and a group of students awaiting Commencement, he would give himself one more month. 

The decision weighed heavily on his mind. He enjoyed teaching, the stability, and the opportunity to inspire young minds. Yet, there was an undeniable part of him that missed the BAU—the thrill of solving cases, the camaraderie of his team, and the profound sense of purpose that came with bringing criminals to justice.

On this particular afternoon, Spencer sat in his office, reading a book on forensic psychology. The sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on the bookshelves that lined the walls. His office had become a haven, filled with volumes of knowledge and mementos from his travels and experiences.

A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. He glanced up and called out, “Come in.”

The door opened, and Y/N stepped in, a laptop in hand and a determined look on her face. Spencer smiled, recognizing her immediately. She was one of his most promising students, having taken three of his courses this semester and two in the fall. Her enthusiasm and dedication had not gone unnoticed.

“Professor Reid, I’m glad I caught you,” she said, her voice a mix of relief and excitement. “I was hoping you could help me with my research project.”

“Of course, Y/N,” Spencer replied, gesturing for her to take a seat. “What can I do for you?”

She sat down, placing her laptop on his desk and opening it to reveal a lengthy document. “It’s a 250-page research project, and I’d like to run it by you before submitting it to the institution. I’ve put a lot of work into it, and I want to make sure it’s up to standard.”

Spencer nodded, appreciating her dedication. “I’d be happy to help. Let’s take a look.”

For the next few hours, they delved into the intricacies of her project. Spencer provided detailed feedback, pointing out areas for improvement and offering suggestions to strengthen her arguments. Y/N listened attentively, taking notes and asking insightful questions.

As they worked, Spencer found himself impressed by her intellect and passion. Her project was ambitious, tackling complex issues with a level of depth and understanding that was rare for an undergraduate. He could see a bit of himself in her—an insatiable curiosity and a drive to uncover the truth.

When they finally reached the end of the document, Y/N leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smile on her face. “Thank you so much, Doctor Reid. Your feedback has been invaluable.”

“You’ve done an excellent job, Y/N,” Spencer said, his tone genuinely appreciative. “Your work is impressive, and I have no doubt it will be well received.”

She beamed at his praise, but then her expression turned slightly hesitant. “I was wondering... would you be willing to write me a letter of recommendation? I’m applying for a fellowship in graduate school, and your endorsement would mean a lot.”

“Absolutely,” Spencer replied without hesitation. “I’d be honored to write you a letter of recommendation. You’ve shown exceptional dedication and insight in your work, and I believe you have a bright future ahead of you.”

Her eyes lit up with gratitude. “Thank you, Professor. That means the world to me.”

As they wrapped up their discussion and Y/N prepared to leave, Spencer felt a sense of fulfillment. Helping his students, guiding them, and watching them succeed brought him immense satisfaction. It was a different kind of fulfillment than what he had experienced at the BAU, but it was no less meaningful.

The decision loomed large, but for now, he decided to focus on the present. He had time to weigh his options, to consider where he could make the most difference. Whether he chose to stay in academia or return to the FBI, he knew he would continue to seek justice and knowledge, guided by his unwavering commitment to both.

Commencement had passed and Spencer once again found himself in his office. He’d spent a big chunk of the morning talking with the new graduates, meeting their families and wishing all of them well. In his moment of reprieve, a soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up to see Y/N standing there, holding a paper copy of her final project. She still wore her formal wear, her cap tucked beneath her arm and gown laid over her arm. She had a confident, yet slightly nervous, air about her. 

“Professor Reid, here’s the final version of my project,” she said, handing him the neatly bound document. She had written a personal thank you note, specifying that this is his own copy. “I wanted to thank you again for all your help.”

Spencer smiled, taking the project from her. “You’re very welcome, Y/N.”

She blushed slightly at the praise and reached into her bag, pulling out a small wrapped package. “I also wanted to give you this. It’s just a little something to show my appreciation.”

Spencer unwrapped the package to find a sleek, elegant ink pen set. He was touched by the gesture. “Thank you, Y/N. This is very thoughtful.”

Just as he was about to say more, the door to his office opened, and Emily Prentiss walked in. She was dressed in a sharp black suit, her hair neatly styled, and her eyes holding a mixture of determination and fatigue. Spencer’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of his former colleague and friend, a living link to his past life.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Emily said, a hint of surprise in her voice. “The door was open.”

Y/N turned to Emily and smiled. “No problem at all. I was just leaving. Minivan outside? That’s my mom. Have a good one, Professor Reid. Hopefully I’ll see you next year.”

Spencer nodded, feeling a mix of pride and a twinge of guilt. “Have a great summer, Y/N. I look forward to seeing you in the fall.”

Y/N waved goodbye and left the office, leaving Spencer alone with Emily. The ink pen set she had given him felt heavier in his hand as the two worlds he inhabited collided in that moment.

Emily stepped forward, her expression serious as she placed an FBI file on his desk. “Reid, I’m sorry to drop in like this, but I need your help. I’m desperate for fresh eyes that I can trust.”

Spencer’s gaze shifted from the file to Emily’s face, his curiosity piqued. Her eyes, though weary, held a determination that he remembered well from their years working together. “What’s going on, Emily?”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, the action betraying her stress. “We’re dealing with a case that’s been giving us a lot of trouble. Multiple victims, no clear pattern, and the usual leads have gone cold. I know you’ve stepped away from the BAU, but we could really use your expertise.”

Spencer felt a familiar surge of adrenaline, the same rush he used to feel when faced with a challenging case. He opened the file and began skimming through the details, his mind already racing with possibilities. The contents of the file pulled him back into a world he had tried to leave behind, a world filled with darkness but also with a sense of purpose that had always driven him.

Emily continued, her tone earnest. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, Spence. We’re running out of time, and I need someone I can trust to look at this with fresh eyes.”

He took a deep breath, weighing his options. The stability of his life as a professor had been a balm for his frayed nerves, but the pull of the BAU, the sense of purpose, was hard to ignore. “What do you need from me, Emily?” he asked, his resolve firming despite the conflict within him.

Emily’s expression softened, relief evident in her eyes. “Just your brain, Spence. Go through the file, see if you can spot something we’ve missed. I’m not asking you to come back full-time, just... help us catch this guy.”

Spencer nodded, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. “Alright. I’ll take a look. But I can’t promise anything.”

“That’s all I’m asking for,” Emily replied, her gratitude clear. “Thank you, Spencer. I knew I could count on you.”

As Emily left his office, Spencer leaned back in his chair, the ink pen set from Y/N still in his hand. He glanced at the gift, a reminder of the life he had built here, and then at the open FBI file, a symbol of the life he had left behind. The ink pen set, a token of appreciation from a promising student, contrasted sharply with the cold, clinical details of the case laid out before him.

Spencer left his office soon after, the file clutched in his hand. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows on the university campus, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees lining the pathways. 

Returning to his modest apartment, he settled into his favorite armchair, the file spread out on the coffee table before him. The quiet of his home, usually a source of comfort, now felt oppressively silent as he delved into the grim details of the case. Victim profiles, crime scene photos, and forensic reports—each piece of information drawing him back into the familiar yet unsettling world of criminal investigation. Hours passed as he meticulously reviewed the file, his sharp mind piecing together fragments of evidence, seeking patterns where none seemed to exist. When the clock struck midnight, he realized he needed to discuss his findings with Emily. He picked up his phone and dialed her number.

“Emily, it’s Spencer,” he said when she answered. “I’ve gone through the file.”

“Of course, Spence. I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Emily replied, the relief in her voice palpable.

Twenty minutes later, Emily arrived at his apartment. She looked tired but determined, her dark eyes reflecting her gratitude and trust in him. Spencer welcomed her in and led her to the living room, where the file lay open on the table.

“Take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the couch. “I’ve found a few things that might be relevant.”

Emily sat down, her eyes scanning the spread of documents. Spencer began explaining his insights, pointing out inconsistencies and possible leads. As they talked, he could see the gears turning in her mind, her focus sharpening with each new piece of information.

“I need to find a book that might shed more light on this pattern,” Spencer said after a while. “It’s in my study. I’ll be right back.”

As Spencer left the room, Emily’s gaze wandered to the desk where Y/N’s research project lay, neatly bound with a small note attached. Curiosity getting the better of her, she picked it up and began reading the introduction. The title caught her eye: “Attachment Styles and Relationship Satisfaction: An Empirical Study.”

Emily was soon engrossed in Y/N’s clear, insightful writing. The project explored the intricate links between attachment theory and relationship dynamics, drawing on a wide range of psychological literature. She found herself impressed by the depth of analysis and the maturity of thought.

Just as she was about to delve deeper, Spencer returned, holding an old, well-worn book. He noticed her holding the research project and smiled. “Y/N’s work is impressive, isn’t it? She’s one of the best students I’ve had.”

Emily nodded, placing the project back on the desk. “It’s remarkable. She has a real talent for this. Maybe we should consider recruiting her for the FBI.”

Spencer’s face tensed for a moment. He had grown fond of Y/N’s academic prowess and her genuine spirit. The idea of her being drawn into the dark world he had known for so long was unsettling. “She’s very talented, Emily, but I think she has a bright future in academia.”

Emily caught the look on his face and quickly changed the subject. “You’re right. Anyway, let’s focus on the case. What did you find?”

Spencer relaxed slightly, opening the book to a marked page. “There’s a section here that discusses a similar pattern of behavior in a series of unsolved cases from the early 2000s. The methodology the unsub uses matches some of the anomalies I found in our case files. It’s a long shot, but it might give us a new direction to explore.”

Emily leaned in, her interest piqued. “That’s exactly the kind of lead we need. Thank you, Spencer. This could be the breakthrough we’ve been looking for.”

She stood up, gathering the files and her belongings. “I’ll take this back to the team. We’ll start working on these new leads first thing in the morning.”

Spencer walked her to the door, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. “I’m glad I could help, Emily. Keep me updated, okay?”

“Will do,” she replied, giving him a grateful smile. “And Spence... thank you. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

He nodded, watching as she left, the weight of his two worlds pressing heavily on his shoulders. 

He saw so much of himself in Y/N—a bright, curious mind eager to jump at the next step. Y/N had a double major in criminology and psychology, and she had expressed a desire to use her degree in counseling, specifically to help those who had been to prison pick up the pieces of their lives. Spencer admired her dedication and altruism. He knew all too well the aftermaths of prison life and the profound impact it had on individuals.

The idea of Y/N going through even a fraction of what he had endured made him feel protective and uneasy. He respected her aspirations, but the thought of her facing the darkness he had known was troubling. Her passion for helping others was inspiring, and he wanted to support her dreams, but he couldn’t shake the worry that she might encounter dangers she wasn’t prepared for.

Spencer knew the world of criminal justice was not just about the pursuit of knowledge and helping others; it was also about confronting the darkest aspects of humanity. He had faced serial killers, dealt with the emotional toll of victims’ families, and experienced the psychological strain of constant exposure to violence. It was a path that had taken its toll on him, and the last thing he wanted was for Y/N to be burdened by similar experiences.

-

The following Monday, his phone rang. It was Emily, following up on their previous conversation. He picked up the call, and they discussed the latest developments in the case. Emily had made progress with the new leads Spencer had provided, and the team was moving forward with their investigation.

“Spence, I can’t thank you enough for your help,” Emily said, her voice filled with gratitude. “We’re making headway thanks to your insights.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Emily,” Spencer replied. “If there’s anything else I can do, just let me know.”

“There is one more thing,” Emily said, her tone becoming more serious. “I wasn’t kidding about considering Y/N for the FBI. We could use someone with her talent and dedication.”

Spencer felt a knot form in his stomach. “Emily, she’s a brilliant student, but I’m not sure the FBI is the right place for her. She has a lot of potential in academia and counseling.”

“I understand your concerns, Spence,” Emily said gently. “But we’re always on the lookout for bright minds who can make a difference. Think about it, okay?”

Spencer sighed, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on him. “I will, Emily. But right now, I think she’s where she needs to be.”

“Alright, I won’t push it,” Emily replied. “Thanks again for everything, Spence. Take care.”

As the call ended, Spencer sat back in his chair, staring at the ink pen set from Y/N. The crossroads of his life loomed larger than ever, but for now, he had made a choice. He would continue to support Y/N’s academic journey and protect her from the harsh realities of the world he knew so well. 

-

The phone rang twice before Y/N answered, her voice filled with curiosity and warmth. “Hey, Dr. Reid! What’s up?”

“Hi, Y/N,” Spencer began, his voice measured. “I wanted to talk to you about something important.”

Y/N’s interest was piqued. “Sure, what is it?”

“Well,” Spencer continued, carefully choosing his words, “I shared your research project with Emily Prentiss, my former colleague at the FBI. She was very impressed with your work.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Spencer could almost hear Y/N’s thoughts racing. “Impressed?”

“Yes,” Spencer confirmed, his tone gentle yet serious. “Emily mentioned that they’re considering bringing someone with your talents and background into the FBI. She wanted me to pass on their interest to you.”

Y/N was silent for a moment, processing the unexpected news. “Wow,” she finally said, her voice filled with a mix of shock and excitement. “I... I don’t know what to say.”

Spencer understood her hesitation. “It’s a big decision, Y/N. You’ve mentioned your interest in using your degrees in criminology and psychology to help others, perhaps in counseling. This could be an opportunity to make a significant impact.”

“I know,” Y/N replied, her voice uncertain yet hopeful. “It’s just... I never imagined something like this happening.”

“I understand,” Spencer said softly. “Take your time to think it over. If you have any questions or need advice, I’m here to help. I can also put you in touch with Emily if you want more information about what the role entails.”

“Thank you, Professor Reid,” Y/N said sincerely. “I’ll definitely think about it.”

After saying their goodbyes, Spencer hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. The conversation with Y/N had stirred up memories and emotions he had tried to bury. He cared deeply for his students, especially Y/N, whom he saw as a reflection of his younger self—bright, eager, and full of potential.

As he stared at the ink pen set from Y/N, a symbol of her academic journey and the stability he had found in teaching, Spencer realized that his decision was already made.

With a resolute nod, Spencer reached for his phone once more. He dialed Emily’s number and waited patiently for her to answer.

“Spencer,” Emily greeted warmly. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve made a decision,” Spencer replied, his voice steady. “I want to come back to the BAU.”

Emily took a deep breath on the other end. “We take off in two hours.” 

He hesitated for a moment, mentally preparing himself for the whirlwind of activity that awaited him. "I'll be there."

"Good," Emily said, a hint of a smile in her tone. "We'll catch up on the way. See you soon."

The call ended, leaving Spencer with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Returning to the BAU meant stepping back into a world of relentless pursuit, where every case was a puzzle to solve and every decision had profound consequences. It was a life he had chosen, driven by a relentless determination to understand the minds of criminals and protect the innocent. Glancing at the ink pen set from Y/N on his desk, Spencer paused for a moment. He hoped she would find her own path, one that would lead her to fulfillment and happiness without the shadows of his world. His decision to return to the BAU was not just about duty; it was about ensuring that others could live their lives without fear.

[sophiacloud28]

Burn Out (One-Shot)

One-shot, Rise Leo, Apocalypse Timeline

Prev || Next

Taking Mikey's advice is both a blessing… and a curse.

You're hard to approach. Just like his twin, you're always working. Always making yourself useful, always listening, always helping. You look like you're dancing across headquarters, giving smiles, advice, time. Time you don't have as he watches you joke with Donnie while you both head to bed, his lights go out, and yours… don't. You are a mess of schedules atop of schedules, catching the slack he used to barely notice and now watches you destroy yourself over.

You're difficult. Not impossible, just… horrendously difficult as his own work catches up with him. Because as he watches you, he can't help but try harder. Try to make a difference in this infernal nightmare that he wishes would just… end.

It doesn't. It doesn't as he plans strategies and sends recon missions with some of them never returning. It just gets more, and more, and more until he finds himself carrying as much work outside of meetings as in them. Until he tries to catch a breath, realizes he can't, and finds himself in the same situation he can see you struggling in.

Funny. A horrible joke. And he's not sure what to make of the fact that it's this that guides him to your room as he feels absolutely beat.

"Still mending?"

Neither does he know what to make of the fact that you jump and look at him like he's caught you doing something you shouldn't be doing.

And, in a way, he supposes he has. He doesn't recognize the fabric you're working on, making him wonder where you got it and what you're doing with it. Hell, it makes him wonder what other secrets you've been keeping from them even if it's a question he already has the answer to. He's been watching you nearly break yourself for everyone, giving weight to Mikey's words and making him wish there were more hours in the day.

"Can I come in?" he asks and he's grateful when you shuffle and offer him a spot. He still drags himself in, though, beat and so completely washed out, he can't even look at the papers he's holding. Instead, he sits on the floor next to you, looking at the fabric in your hand.

It's blue. He kinda likes it.

"That's what's been keeping you up?"

And while he knows you probably won't say much, he hopes it's enough to carry something of a conversation if only because he needs it. Something you need too from the nod.

So he lets himself snort and hopes this takes him somewhere.

"Eh, serves me right for thinking that you never stop, then, huh? Then again, those bags definitely don't look Gucci, I'll tell you that."

"You're one to talk."

Only to chuckle when it not only does, but it gets him somewhere familiar. Somewhere he hasn't been in months.

Talking to his twin has been a strained affair. Donnie is too busy, just like he is.

… Dear god, he wants a break.

"Oh, yeah? How bad?”

“I could carry groceries with yours.”

Then again, as he chuckles and catches you smiling, if only a little, this could be seen as a break. A pause in the insanity that is their lives if only just to laugh and enjoy each other.

After all, while he is holding onto all that paperwork, he hasn’t taken one look at it yet. And you, who’s been carrying your weapon all over the place, have finally set it down even if…

Even if he can see the scabbard at your side.

He should not feel flattered. It’s a weapon. A method of self-defense. It’s nothing sentimental.

“Do you ever take it off?”

Yet, as he watches you blink and shuffle your work to look, he can't help it. He can’t help but almost smile as you pause in your sewing to put a hand on the blade, Mikey’s words ringing in his ears.

Yours and his. Forever intertwined. He can live with that.

“No, I — I keep forgetting it’s there.”

God, can he live with that.

“Probably a good thing even if I hope you don’t forget it when you need it.”

“I don’t. It’s kind of strange.”

He snorts, “Nope, that’s actually pretty standard. Feels that way to me.”

“Must have been rough when you lost one of your katanas, then, huh?”

He checks at his side. The blade he’s been left to carry now has an actual scabbard thanks to his twin, although sometimes he still reaches for his back, looking for both. It has been rough. It is rough. And he hates the fact that it chips at him.

Probably why he concentrates on your work instead of answering, even if he can’t help but frown at it.

“That’s new.”

“What is?”

“The thing on your finger.”

Although the fact that it makes you pause to look at the green, metal thing on your middle finger is a nice plus. Along with you chuckling, “It’s called a thimble and Donatello insisted. Said he had some scrap metal to spare after giving it to me like the perfect “fait accompli”. I wanted to punch him.”

“Fe…?”

“French for done deal.”

“You know French?”

“A little. And some Spanish.”

He gets up, unable to help the smile on his face. He wonders for a moment if he should, if it’s too out of left field.

Yet, as you finish the side and cut the thread, he can’t help but bring your face up so you look at him. As he watches your face struggle with emotions, he’s unable to stop himself from smirking as he says, “A woman after my own heart. Wouldn’t you say, hermosa?”

Just like he can’t help but laugh after you manage to take him by surprise and knock him back before covering him in the fabric you were working on.

Still got it. Could go without getting kicked, though.

He hears you sigh and paper getting shuffled around. He lifts the fabric over his head to watch you pick up the work he’s scattered around. And he blinks as, when you’re done and holding out the stack to him, you giggle in a way he’s sure he’s never heard before.

It’s light. It’s warm. It feels like sun rays on a balmy Spring day. It reminds him of better things, things he should fight for.

“What are you laughing at?”

And it makes him wonder if he can maybe, just maybe, have it.

“Sorry. I just… It matches your mask.”

If he can tell you that you don’t have to apologize for laughing like that as he frowns in confusion while taking off the fabric and trying to see if you’re right. If he can tell you not to look away when he takes off his mask to check your claim only to chuckle himself when the old fabric blends in with the new one. If he can get up while thanking you for the stack, putting it on your nightstand for the moment as he holds onto his mask and the fabric you’ve just finished working on from the hem work.

“Hey. You can look.”

So much so that he can feel his heart break a little when you wince before carefully, hesitantly looking up, your face a mixture of embarrassment and almost reverence.

You understand the importance of the masks. It makes breathing difficult and his heart a mess as he hands you back your work.

“Here.”

Only for the latter to near jump out of his plastron when he feels your hand touch his own to curl his fingers around the fabric.

“… For the tantō…”

… Oh.

It’s hard to breathe. Hard to think. It only gets harder as he asks for your help and you do, making him realize what the fabric is for.

It's a cape. Something to keep him warm, keep him somewhat safe when fighting. Something to allow for those grandiose entrances he’s been envious of Mikey for for a few weeks now. Something… to keep you close by.

He can smell you. Your scent is all over it. You’re right there in front of him, but you’re also…

Hugging him. Keeping him warm. Trying to keep him safe.

Oh. Oh no.

He thanks you. Your brittle smile as you respond nearly shatters his heart as he puts his mask back on before gathering his paperwork.

“You — You should get some sleep.”

“You should, too, Captain.”

And his own smile feels barely there at your reply, unable to help himself from sinking a little into his shell.

Your scent gets stronger. His face feels like it’s on fire. He… He wants to hold you.

He can’t. It’s too late. He fucked this up.

But maybe…

“Hey, hermosa?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What? Got a problem with being called beautiful, beautiful?”

“When I haven’t taken a shower in months, yes.”

Just maybe…

“I guess my point of view counts for nothing, then.”

“… Leo…”

“Not important. Just… if this… rips. Can I come to you?”

“The people –”

“I know. I just… I want it to be you. Please.”

“… Okay.”

“Thanks… hermosa.”

Mikey was right. Maybe he can give back what he stole. ‘Cause god does he want you to have it.

Prev || Next

[tareqdokhan]

Urgent!! Help Tareq's Family Escape Gaza's Devastation

Dear Friends and Supporters,

Introduction:

Could you help us meet our goal?

Emergency Fund for Gaza War Victims

Story:

Hello, I’m Tareq Dokhan, reaching out for urgent help for my family in Gaza. Our home has been destroyed by the ongoing conflict, and we need immediate assistance to escape the violence.

The Situation: My wife, Reema, our children Nabeel Dokhan and Samar Dokhan, and I are caught in the crossfire of violence and instability. Our home has been destroyed, and every day is a struggle for survival amidst the chaos and danger surrounding us.

Why We Need Help:

As the situation in Gaza worsens by the day, we have no choice but to flee in search of safety and refuge. However, we lack the necessary resources to make this journey ourselves. We urgently need financial support to cover the costs of transportation, accommodation, and necessities for our escape.

"We were besieged by the occupying forces when they stormed the UNRWA headquarters in the industrial area for seven days. During this time, we were forced to flee our home more than five times, enduring severe malnutrition, especially with my young children, aged 7 and 3. The ongoing conflict has taken a significant toll on our family; my son Nabeel missed an entire academic year, and now we are facing a second year without education.

The relentless war has devastated our lives, leaving us in a constant state of fear and uncertainty. Our children are growing up in an environment of violence, without access to necessities, education, or a sense of stability. The psychological impact on them is profound, as they have been exposed to the horrors of war from such a young age. We desperately seek a way out of this nightmare to provide a safer, more stable future for our family."

About Us:

I am a hardworking father who only wants to provide a better future for my family. My wife, Reema, is a devoted mother who has been doing everything in her power to protect our children from the horrors of war. Our Life Before the War:

Nabeel Dokhan

Samar Dokhan

How You Can Help:

Your generous donation can help us access the resources we need to escape the Gaza conflict and rebuild our lives in safety.

We must raise $100,000 to cover essential costs for our evacuation and new start. Your support will be crucial for transportation, temporary shelter, medical expenses, and rebuilding our lives.

*Breakdown of Needs:*

- *$35,000* for transportation to a safe zone.

These are the expenses we've outlined:

* My Coordination (Tareq): $5000

* My wife(Reema) : $5000

* My Son Coordination (Nabeel): $5000

* My my daughter (Samar): $5000

Additionally, we've allocated $2500 for expenses such as passport stamping.

- *$20,000* for shelter upon arrival.

- *$5,000* for immediate medical care. I humbly ask for your support. Your donation or sharing of our campaign can make a world of difference to us. Donate here: GoFundMe or Here : Paypal

As a dedicated father, I am committed to ensuring a safer future for my wife Reema, and our children, Nabeel and Samar. Your donation will directly impact our ability to escape the conflict and start over safely.

We are incredibly grateful for any support you can provide. Each contribution brings us closer to safety and a new beginning. Thank you for your generosity and kindness during this critical time.

With heartfelt thanks,

*Tareq Dokhan and Family*

[blondiest]

mello isn't dead: neallo edition

hi! to accompany my rec list mello isn't dead, a small collection of post-kira fics in which mello either survives or comes back from the dead, i am going to list out here the works that i have which fit this criteria <3

my only one, my smoking gun

[part 1 of our love is god]

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 4/4 | words: 3.3k

For as long as he can recall, he’s ached over Near. It wasn’t always like this, though; he didn’t realize he wanted Near until it was too late to actually have him. He should be grateful, really, because he’s been able to linger here after death, and that’s more than he deserves, but God, Mello would give anything to kiss him just once.

heaven is a place on earth with you

[part 2 of our love is god]

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 1.4k

There is no blood or body of Christ, no priest and no pews, but it’s here and now that Mello finally rediscovers a long-lost sliver of faith. Hands on Near’s hips, Mello lowers his face and presses his mouth to Near’s soft abdomen. “I love you,” he murmurs, head bowed and eyes shut as if in prayer.

i know i’m gonna lose you (but god, i don’t want to)

[part 1 of together (always)]

rating: E | category: F/F | chapters: 1/1 | words: 3.5k

Near’s bedroom— her tidy little suite in her untidy little makeshift headquarters in a high-rise hotel in Tokyo— is lit only by the shine of the city and the glow of the moon. Because the moon is full and because the city is bright, Mello can see her perfectly. Every little hair on her arms and legs catch the light as she sheds her soft, simple bra. The only thing Mello has taken off so far are her gloves. -- In which Mello rings in 2010 with some good old-fashioned lesbian sex and a minor emotional crisis. prequel to it's you and me, that's my whole world.

it’s you and me, that’s my whole world

[part 2 of together (always)]

rating: T | category: F/F | chapters: 1/1 | words: 3.5k

Once she reaches the first floor and steps out of the elevator, Near hears a voice floating down the hall. It’s a woman’s voice, so it must be Lidner, but the pitch of it and the cadence of speech seems painfully similar to the way Mello talked, even without being able to hear the actual words. The closer she gets, the more it sounds like her dead lover, and Near curses how cruel her mind’s tricks are. She has to grit her teeth and breathe in deep to get herself to push through the door into the main office, feeling almost nauseous with grief again already. A blonde woman in a red winter jacket stands with her back to Near, but she turns when the toy in Near’s hand clatters to the ground. Mello’s eyes are tired, underlined by dark circles, but she grins. “Hey, Near.”

starry eyes sparking up my darkest nights

[part 1 of you got your eyes from the stars]

rating: T | category: F/F | chapters: 1/1 | words: 930

Near has a nightmare on the flight back to New York after the end of the Kira case; Mello, still tipsy off of the red wine they served in first class, is unexpectedly tender.

fireworks somewhere far away

[part 2 of you got your eyes from the stars]

rating: T | category: F/F | chapters: 1/1 | words: 2k

It’s the fourth of July. Or, rather, it’s still the fourth of July in the United States, which is where they live, but they’re in Madrid at the moment, so technically where they are it’s the fifth. It’s not hard math to figure out what time it is back home— it’s a little before six in the morning here, so it’ll be a little before midnight in New York. Somewhere on the West Coast or in the Rocky Mountains, though, there are fireworks going off. That’s what Near is thinking when Mello kisses her for the first time.

early arrival

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 1.5k

It’s one in the morning and Near is wide awake, talking to Mello in hushed tones as the other passengers sleep soundly around them. According to the small screen on the back of the seat in front of him, they’re more than halfway through the flight, but it’s far from almost-over— it will be another three hours before they touch down in London.

there’s an ache in you put there by the ache in me

rating: T | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 975

The snow angels are, in all honesty, an excuse, a shameless attempt to get Near alone, to talk with him away from all these fucking people. He didn’t expect so many of their classmates to come back to Wammy’s for the holidays, but maybe he should have— after all, he hates this place, and yet here he is, half-drunk and dragging his ex-rival-turned-ex-something-else out into the cold.

[world-of-horrors-au]

Horrors au X TMA - Mere Misunderstandings

'Somewhere else' turns out to be a lot different than Martin could've hoped. Awakening in a strange forest, with Jon nowhere to be found, it's not long to discover he's not as alone as he first thought. Then his kindness gets the better of him. But maybe that's not so bad. Maybe this is a good thing.

Is this the beginning of a happy ending, or the start of a whole new nightmare?

AU shared between me and @whatadandydemise

She breathed, and again, was grateful for it.

Overhead the bleak gray of the sky stretched thin between the dark tree branches, a suggestion of rain, not a promise. Couldn’t take anything at its word in this life. Even the environment could, and would, betray the unwary. Knowing that, and all other evils in their fallen world, Briar smiled at being alive.

As the youngest, the weakest, of the group, none of the guys wanted her to leave their little sanctuary alone. She did it anyway. She’d been pretty damn good at surviving, when she was human - she could handle checking traps, or gathering wild fruit, on her own. And this close to their headquarters, there was only one person that might show up uninvited.

Briar left her bat by the bed and took the old plastic basket instead.

Today, she thought, looking up at the sky, would be a boring day to die.

Good thing she wasn’t going to.

-

Martin gripped the woman’s arm tight and did not look back. The trees muffled their footsteps as they ran, and if they were followed he couldn’t hear it over the crunch of leaves and branches, the pounding of his own, bloody bleeding heart.

“What’s going on?” The woman cried out, but didn’t try to stop. “Where are we going?”

This poor woman. She didn’t understand what he did. What he’d saved her from.

He’d woken up under the trees, the knife still clutched within his fingers, sticky and red with Jon’s blood. Jon wasn’t there with him. Jon should have been with him, in this… what was this place? Was it a Fear Domain, like he’d first thought? But this woman shouldn’t be here. She wasn’t an Avatar. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that.

“Jon?” He called out again. “Jon!”

“Hello?”

That wasn’t Jon.

The woman stepped out from between the trees. Shorter than Jon, somehow, with black hair like Jon’s from before this nightmare started. The resemblance ended there. Her skin was too pale, and her eyes were unguarded. In fact, as she looked between his face, and the knife in his hand, she actually relaxed, and a smile spread over her freckled cheeks.

“That’s a nice knife,” she said.

Martin blinked and looked at the item in question.

“... Thank you?”

She took a step closer.

“I’m Briar,” she said.

“I…” He looked around, hoping Jon would step out into view, or call his name, but the trees around them were still so quiet. “I’m Martin.”

Her smile grew wider. His stomach sunk. No, no, no, he was not sticking around. This woman was not an Avatar, she must have been marked by - by something. Some awful fate waited for her, and he was not going to stick around and find out what it was, and he was not going to get involved.

“I need to go,” he said, “I need to find someone.”

The Lonely wrapped around him and he left, and he did not look back. Even when he returned to reality, he did not. He would not become involved with some stranger when he needed to figure out what happened and find-

She - Briar - cried out in fear. Martin turned on his heels and ran back towards her, cursing himself with every step.

He’d been right. She’d been marked by the Stranger. Martin found her locked in the arms of a stuffed nightmare, a masculine creature with a painted porcelain mask and cloth hands that gripped her tight. He could have just left then. Maybe he should have just… left her there, to be dragged off to the monster’s master.

Instead, he held on to her and ran for both their lives.

… He should have stabbed the thing instead of slamming his head into it. He could still taste the cotton in his mouth where he’d bitten it. What was he thinking?

(He didn’t want to die before he found Jon.)

(He didn’t want to die.)

His lungs gave out before the rest of him. Martin dragged in a desperate breath and released Briar, leaning against a tree for support. Briar didn’t move, her panting softer and controlled.

“Are you alright?” She hurried for her basket, still grasped in her sweat-slicked hands. “Here, I have water-”

Martin laughed. The sound rushed out of him between his gasping breaths, his closed eyes watering.

“Am I… Am I-- He wheezed, he held his chest. “You don’t know.” His shoulders shook, the smile stretched without humor over his face. “You really don’t know.”

“Know?” Briar echoed. Martin straightened, pushed away from the tree and stared at her with his wet eyes. He must look so unnatural, so inhuman, and yet, she looked at him without fear. She still didn’t know she should be afraid.

“You…” Martin struggled to breathe, to speak. “You don’t know what that thing was. You don’t know what it was going to do to you! But I… I do. And I won’t let that happen to you. I won’t let it!”

Briar stared at him, and he must sound completely mad, he knew he must sound mad. Martin dragged in another breath.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “It’s just - I thought I would be dead right now. I’m still trying to understand - I mean, I don’t understand what’s going on but I will. And I promise, I’ll explain everything. Maybe not now, but when we’re safe -”

From the corner of his eye, movement. Martin jolted towards it. The doll-like creature threw itself forward, the porcelain face unmoving as it lunged.

The blade in its hand glinted in the dim sunlight.

He couldn’t do anything, it moved too fast. But Briar, behind him, would be safe.

Briar, behind him.

Briar, moving away from him.

Briar, in front of him.

The long black hair, like Jon’s black hair, in front of him. Like Jon in front of him, like he’d done so many times-

Metal met flesh, sliding into meat and scraping against bone.

Briar did not scream but the wet sound that choked from her mouth locked Martin in place.

The doll creature released the blade.

She still breathed. She reached for the handle of the weapon, feeling up from where the cold metal buried into her shoulder.

“Briar!” Martin shouted.

“Briar.”

The hair on the back of Martin’s neck stood up. The doll-creature spoke.

“Briar,” it repeated, a man’s voice. Not the echo of another person’s voice, not a shallow replica of a beloved friend or family member - a living voice, full of living horror.

Her breath, so wet, as she gripped the handle of the blade.

“I think,” she said, “There’s been a misunderstanding.”

“Don’t,” the doll-creature said.

Briar twisted in her spot, facing a tree. Martin understood a moment too late.

“Wait!”

She ripped the blade from her flesh. Blood splattered the dark bark. The young woman stumbled, the handle dropping from her wet fingers into the grass.

The doll-creature caught her before she could fall. Martin stood, hand over his mouth, and couldn’t tear his gaze away. The doll-creature held her so gentle, so tender, the clothed fingers brushing through her hair. It’s eyes looked towards him. Now that the being was closer, Martin could see, it actually did have eyes, still so human, still so alive-

“You’re not one of those creatures!” Martin blurted. “You’re still alive!”

Both turned towards him. Briar’s face, twisted with pain, still managed to smile at him. The doll… the man, actually, held her closer to his body.

“Figured it was something like that,” Briar said, her voice weak. “It’s alright. Masky’s fine. He’s not gonna hurt anyone.”

“He tried to stab me!” Martin said. “He did stab you!”

“I’ve been through worse,” Briar said.

“You attacked me first,” the man said, voice somewhat muffled by the mask.

“I did,” Martin said. “But I thought…”

“It’s fine,” the man grumbled. “Proxies don’t have a great reputation. Guess I should just be glad you didn’t use your knife on me.”

Knife. Martin looked at his own. Looked at the blade on the grass.

“Your shoulder!” He cried, looking at Briar. “We have to stop the bleeding!”

Briar recoiled from the man’s arms.

“Oh shit!” She said. “I got my blood all over you again!”

Masky laughed, his shoulders shaking, eyes closed with amusement.

Martin gaped. She was going to bleed out, why was he laughing? He looked at Briar, still holding her shoulder like she’d bruised it. She looked back. Shifting her fingers, she smiled as she revealed the wound.

The bleeding already stopped.

“I'm not that young a Horror,” she said with a grin. “My healing isn't as fast as my mates’ but it's still pretty good, I'd say.”

Martin stared at the wound. So she was an Avatar? Of what? Did they call themselves Horrors here? She didn't look or act like any he'd ever met before. She just looked like… a sweet, completely normal woman.

None of this added up. He'd gotten too used to how things worked in London.

This wasn't London. This was… someplace else. And if Jon had been taken here too, then… had they somehow been given a second chance?

Briar limped towards a tree, and Martin followed a few steps behind. So did the masked man. It would be hard to ignore the glance the man (Masky? What kind of a name was that?) shot him.

His legs were grateful to sit down beside Briar. Martin leaned against the tree and sighed.

“Sorry about all that,” he said.

“You're fine,” Masky said, sitting down on Briar’s other side with a grunt. “I shouldn't have lost my temper. But when I saw you grab Briar like that…”

Briar patted Masky on the leg. The man's gloved hand found hers and intertwined their fingers together.

Oh, Martin thought. They were… oh. Now he really felt bad.

“Don't feel bad,” Martin said. “I would've been just as upset if I saw someone grabbing my Jon, even though I know he can take care of himself.”

The dark eyes behind the mask looked over Briar's head.

“Jon?”

“Is that who you were looking for?” Briar said.

“Yes,” Martin said. “My boyfriend. Jonathan Sims, the Archivist.”

He said the words and held his breath.

Briar frowned. “I don't think I've heard of anyone named that before…”

Masky shook his head.

“But I bet the others know about him,” Briar said, perking up again. “And if they don't, that's okay too. We've been looking for other Horrors for months now - you're the first new Horror I've seen since I became one myself. We can help you find him!”

Martin paused.

“You… you would help me?”

“Yeah!” She said.

“But - but you just met me,” Martin said. “You don't know what I've done or-”

“It's okay,” Briar said. Her eyes shone with a warmth Martin wasn't used to. “We Horrors have to stick together. My mates won’t care about what you did or didn't do. We'll find your Jon.”

Masky shifted, wrapping an arm around Briar. He sighed as she looked at him.

“I'll… see what I can do about the other proxies,” he grumbled. “I can't promise anything, but if they've heard about your mate, I'll let you know.”

“I…”

This was what they’d wanted, wasn't it? Unconditional support. People who understood. People who got it. They wanted a world without the Fears, without the threat of the end of the world but…

Was this some kind of heaven? They certainly didn't deserve a reward after all they'd done. But looking at these two, these strangers, offering their help.

It's too good to be true, Martin thought.

But what if it is? Martin thought.

I'll do whatever it takes to find Jon, he thought.

“Thank you,” he said.

Briar closed her eyes and rested her head on Masky’s shoulder. Her body heaved with a heavy exhale. Masky sighed as well.

“You're lucky,” he said in a quiet voice.

“What for?” Martin said.

“That it was Briar who found you first.” The eyes behind the mask moved to look at him. “The rest of her pack might not have been as kind as she is.”

Martin swallowed, a chill running through his body.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean you're about to meet some very, very dangerous people,” Masky said. “And because of her, they aren't going to hurt you.”

She'd fallen asleep. Somehow though, she still smiled. Briar shifted against her partner. A rumble came from within her body.

The eyes behind the mask narrowed. Martin couldn't tear his eyes away from Briar, listening to the noise she made.

Purring.

… Avatars didn't purr.

“They won't be able to tell you're not one of them,” Masky said. “But I can. And they'll kill you if they find out.”

Martin didn't say a word.

Masky looked away.

“I wouldn't worry, though.” Masky said. “You're not going to last long as a human.”

His fingers ran through Briar’s hair.

“Everyone is a monster here. You're just gonna need a little more time to prove it.”

This was my first time writing Martin, I apparently did well enough according to my friends. I hope you enjoyed this! Please reblog or share if you did! Or just leave a reply, that's excellent too. I'd love some honest feedback!

[ask-team-galactic]

Idk if I'm alone here but when I first played DPPT I always thought the one book in the Veilstone library that mentions that Mesprit can erase the emotions of anyone who touches it was specifically meant to explain Cyrus's behavior and his hatred of emotion. Especially since he literally has Mesprit held captive at one point, surely it wouldn't be too hard for him to just go to the basement and slap it across the face or smth. That always kinda felt like a missed opportunity to me. Not that I don't like how USUM and Masters handled his character but it would have been interesting to see.

Sorry, but I don't think that would have worked as an explanation for Cyrus' actions and attitudes, nor would it have been a good direction for his character.

For one thing, Cyrus isn't particularly unemotional in the DPPT. He speaks with a lot of exclamation marks, fights you for no reason other than because your compassion for the lake trio annoyed him, and becomes very angry and promises to crush you after his defeat. In Platinum, he even goes on a tirade about how angry he is due to his incomplete spirit. Some of that happened after the capture of the lake trio, so he must not have touched it.

Even aside from that, though, Cyrus' actions aren't rational at all. It isn't logical or rational to want to get rid of emotions, because they're what cause living beings to do things like tend to their young, form communities, and avoid danger. If Cyrus was truly a logic-driven machine, it would carry the implication that everything he did was rational, which, considering that his actions include terrorism, self-isolation, and being a dick to his underlings, would either demonize logic excessively or worse, imply that human decency and connection isn't logical.

Finally, I don't like the idea of Cyrus being an emotionless husk because I find the psychological aspects of his character, such as his desires to avoid pain, make himself into his idea of perfect, and prove himself, to be more interesting than if he were just a robot with no real desires. Saturn really said it best when he said that Cyrus is fascinating for his will, passion, and hypocrisy, all of which he hates in himself.

For those reasons, I don't think it would be a good idea to do that in canon. However, it would be very interesting to look at in fanfiction, and that could go a number of different ways:

Cyrus does touch Mesprit while he has it captive. As he gradually loses his emotions, he finds it soothing but is also rapidly losing his will to do much of anything. Towards the end, he realizes that he only wanted to eliminate emotion because he was in pain, and his perfect world would be a nightmare. His final order before handing the commands over to Saturn is to stop the New World project immediately.

This wouldn't be the most compliant with canon or with what I think a cursed person would be like, but it would be interesting to explore what it would be like if Cyrus had actually been touched by a Mesprit as a child. Distractions like his rotom no longer appeal to him, abuse and exclusion no longer affect him, and he can do whatever his parents ask of him. Except make friends... or love them... or understand concepts like love or friendship in general... or conform to a standard understanding of morality... or understand why others are so irrational. But that's alright. Without distractions like that, he has a grander goal in mind.

Cyrus seeks out Mesprit to be cursed after his plan fails. Days later, his commanders find him lying inert on the grass and drag him back to headquarters to take care of him. It's tragic.

Thanks for the opportunity to ramble! Sorry if it's not quite what you wanted to hear.

[birdiewrites78]

Dangerous Desires: Chapter One

This is Chapter One of a multipart series. The story includes violence inspired by Criminal Minds and touches on sensitive topics such as domestic violence, racism, and misogyny. If any of these topics make you uncomfortable, please refrain from reading. This chapter only briefly mentions racism, and each chapter will have specific warnings. Thank you for reading, and feel free to provide any feedback through my inbox.

This Chapter is dedicated to Isis because without her I would have never had the courage to finish writing. 

August 1, 2005, 6:03 am, Woodbridge, Virginia 

Natalie was out on what was shaping out to be the hottest day of the year; she would much rather be in bed trying to forget her nightmares or even in the living room that had air conditioning watching South Park Reruns. But dogs don't care about your feelings; they only want to go outside. So Natalie was watching over her small Yorkie, and as she used the bathroom, the sun was coming out in the distance. Once Bella was finished, the pair walked back to their townhouse. The small dog was clearly in a good mood, wagging her tail and sticking her dog out; the same couldn't be said for Natalie. Today was her first day at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. She wasn't a profiler or anything important like that; she was just the media liaison who was tasked with making sure that more people joined the BAU because many agents were lost six months ago in the bombings.

Natalie mindlessly walked, occasionally checking around her to make sure she wasn't being followed. As she was about to reach her townhouse, something drew her attention. She must have missed it earlier as the sun hadn't fully risen, but she could see it now that her neighbor had grown tulips. The pink blubs had fully matured and were undoubtedly beautiful. It had been a long time since she had seen tulips, and her day got a little better.

The rest of her morning consisted of changing into her work outfit, which was a white button-up with a white t-shirt underneath. Her pants were black slacks and a black suit jacket. Natalie searched through the jewelry box to find her pearls. Natalie didn't grow up rich; she was far from it, but her mother saved up to give Natalie pearls as a gift when she turned eighteen. Natalie blinked away the tears in her eyes and put on the matching earrings and necklace set. The rest of Bella’s morning consisted of getting Bella food and making herself some coffee and toast. After finishing up her breakfast, Natalie went to the powder room to check her appearance. She entered the small bathroom and averted her attention to the mirror. Natalie had inherited her father's darker skin and often had to hear negative comments about her complexion, so she became good at pretending that the comments did not bother her.

She studied her reflection, looking for any glaring flaws in it. She just saw her soft, doe-like, dark brown eyes, which were covered in dark brown eyeshadow. She made sure to check that her false lashes were on properly, next to her thin, arched brows, scanning for any extra hairs that were out of place. She checked her lipstick next; her lips were in the shape of a cupid's bow, and the lipstick color was a combination of blush pink in the center with a dark brown lining her lips. She smoothed down her long, pin-straight hair and made sure that none of her tracks were showing. The final thing she did was adjust her pink broach, which was in the shape of a ribbon.

The commute to work was dull. Natalie didn't bother to turn on the radio; she just listened to the sounds of the outside world. She slowly watched her surroundings change from the dense greenery to the industrial compound of the FBI’s headquarters. After going through security and getting her badge, Natalie made her way to the elevator. She was nervous but she couldn't let that show, she took a deep breath and started to pretend. She strutted into the hallway from the elevator, her So Kates making a small click on the white carpet floor with every step she took. Her steps were graceful but purposeful; she exuded confidence everywhere that she went. Her eyes were drawn to the receptionist's table, and she continued walking up to it, stepping carefully on the now-light beige carpeted floors. There was an older black woman with short black hair working the desk; she had smiled lines edged into her face; there were also semi-recently dark circles under her eyes. The receptionist looked up at the woman coming towards her, smiling brightly at her.

“Can I help you, dear?” The receptionist questioned the young woman.

Natalie  took a deep breath before she started, "Hello, ma'am, I'm here to see Agent Hotchner.”

The receptionist turned to her computer, and the younger woman presumed to have confirmed that Agent Hotchner had scheduled meetings.

Looking up from the computer screen, the receptionist asked, “What's your name?"

Natalie always dreaded this question because of the temptation to say the wrong name.

She cleared her throat and continued, “Natalie, Natalie Price, Miss, I am the new media liaison."

The woman smiled at Natalie and chimed, "Yes, Ms. Price, welcome to the behavioral analysis department; I’ll show you over to your desk, and Diane is just fine."

Natalie often felt that she had a resting frown, which often made her appear unfriendly, so she tried to smile frequently to overcome this barrier.

Natalie spoke up as Diane started getting up. ''Thank you, Diane. I'm excited to be here, and you can just call me Natalie.”

Diane grinned at Natalie's words; she fully stood up and ushed for Natalie to follow her. Natalie grabbed her light pink rolling bag and walked behind Diane through the large office. The thing that stood out to her was just how empty the office was despite this; the office was beautiful and definitely, the nicest Natalie had ever seen. It was covered in floor-to-ceiling windows, surrounded by metal desks with wooden tops. The walls that didn't have windows displayed old certificates and awards that the BAU won.

The agents that were there had piles of documents on top of their desks mixed in with empty coffee mugs. Except for the clicking of keyboards, the sound of pens writing on the paper, and the turning of pages of reports, the office was silent. Natalie noticed how the walls were a mixture of concrete and dark blue paint; there was an intricate pattern on the ceiling, with overhead beams that stuck out from the ceiling.

When Natalie finally reached her desk, what drew her attention next were the stairs with an attached metal railing. There was an imposing room on the second floor that was also covered in large windows. Natalie couldn't look into the windows, though, because of the large blinds covering it. Diane spoke again, which made Natalie slap out of her thoughts.

“Here is your desk, honey; once you get settled, just go up to the conference room up those stairs, and to the left, you’ll meet the team along with Agent Hotchner there.”

Natalie looked at her desk; it was the same as all of the others except for the fruit sitting on top of it. Natalie froze when she saw a note attached to it, and she felt panic surge through her.

Diane must have noticed Natalie's unease because she spoke again: 'You're not allergic to fruit, are you? Oh boy, I’ll get this cleared away. Sorry about that, dear.”

Natalie visibly relaxed at the revelation; she told herself that just to try to relax, he wouldn't find her again.

Natalie began to speak before Diane left. “No, I’m not; I just am not the best with surprises, but thank you, Diane; it's lovely.”

Natalie finished, trying her best to smile back at Diane. She knew she probably came off weird, but if Diane was thinking that her face didn't give it away,

“Well, I’m glad you like it. I should probably get back to the desk. Let me know if you need anything else, dear.” Diane concluded as she started to walk away.

“Wait, Diane, I just have one more question: whose office is that?” She asked while pointing to the large office on the second floor.

"Oh, that's Agent Hotchner’s office. He is finishing a call, but he will meet you in the conference room.” Diane replied.

“Oh, thank you,” Natalie responded, watching as Diane made her way back to her desk.

Natalie sat on her swivel chair and started to unpack her rolling bag. She made a mental note to get Diane a gift card as a thank you, maybe for a spa. She took out of her rolling bag what she needed most: her black Fendi spy bag, her silver laptop, and her planner with a pink pen attached. She reached inside her Fendi to pull out her silver compact. She opened it and looked at her reflection. She took one last look, smiled at herself, satisfied enough with her appearance, and shut her compact, putting it back in her purse. She moved her rolling back under her desk, then gathered up the things she put out on her desk, putting them under her right arm. She walked to the stairs, holding onto the railing, and took a deep breath before proceeding up them.

She walked to the left, just as Diane told her, and opened the first door that she saw. Unlike the rest of the office, this room didn't have windows in it. Natalie mumbled to herself a small mantra before she opened the door: “Don't let anyone make you feel inferior; you deserve to be here.” She opened the door and was greeted by a room filled with six people sitting around a circular table. They immediately looked up at her, in confusion, and said, “Hello, I'm Natalie Price, the new media liaison for the BAU.” She announced it to the group. She noticed a black man with a buzz cut and a goatee dressed in casual clothing smirking at her. He spoke up first. “Welcome to the team Price, we go back by last names for the most part here, I’m Morgan, that's Reid,” he said, motioning to a young man with brown hair touching his neck with one side tucked behind his hair. He briefly looked up at Natalie and gave a quick half-smile.

Morgan then motioned to a young white woman with long blond hair. “This is-"

The blonde woman interrupted, introducing herself: “I’m Agent Jennifer Jareau; you can call me JJ. I was the previous media liaison, so let me know if you need anything.” Natalie smiled at her, feeling a little more comfortable knowing that the previous media liaison was still working there. Morgan simply smirked and started again. “Would anyone else like to introduce themselves?” He asked for the room, but no one else spoke up. So he decided to continue. “This is Prentiss,” he said, motioning to a white woman with dark brown hair and bangs cut. Prentiss looked at Natalie and smiled at her. "Finally, last but not least, this is Agent Gideon.” Morgan finished pointing at an older white man in the corner with short brown hair that had sprinkles of gray; he wore a striped button-down shirt and black slacks. Agent Gideon looked up from staring at the small window overlooking the scenery outside to greet Natalie with a half smile.

Morgan sighed at Gideon's actions and muttered something under his breath. Natalie could sense a little bit of tension between the two. She decided to speak up again to clear the air. “It is nice to meet all of you; I am excited to..." Natalie’s sentence was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. In walked a white middle-aged man who had shorter brown hair, with pieces of it falling onto his face. It reminded Natalie of Leonardo Dicaprio’s hair in The Titanic. He had dark brown eyes that seemed to pierce into her soul. Natalie knew she would be working with profilers, but it never occurred to her that they would try to profile her. His face had a mixture of frown lines and wrinkles in his temple, and Natalie also noticed a beauty mark on his cheek. Natalie had only experienced what could be described as love at first sight; she couldn't deny what she felt when she looked at the man; her heart started to beat quickly, time came to a stop, and she froze for a few minutes just staring at him. He was so handsome that it hurt, she thought.

Aaron was having similar thoughts. He couldn't look away because Natalie was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She took his breath away and scrambled his brain. He was undeniably attracted to her, which terrified him because he had never felt this way. Sure, he had loved his ex-wife and felt an intense attraction when he met her as a teenager, but he had never felt anything quite like this. The man felt an urge to know everything about her and do anything for her. He had read about sirens in Greek mythology using their songs and looks to lure sailors into their untimely deaths, and he felt the same way about the woman. He wanted to do anything for her already, and he started to profile her. His thoughts were interrupted, however, by Morgan smirking and speaking up again. “Hotch, didn’t you say that we had a case?”

Aaron reluctantly tore his eyes away from the woman and looked at the team, who all had knowing smiles on their faces.

Aaron spoke in a commanding tone, “Yes, we do, and it's time-sensitive, so we should get started."

He paused before starting again because he would have to look at the woman again. “And you are?” He asked, looking back at the woman.

“I am Natalie Price, the new media liaison; I just transferred from Narcotics,” Natalie responded not looking into his eyes.

"Right, well, I'm SSA Agent Aaron Hotchner, but you can call me Hotch.” He paused. Normally,  he would reach out to shake someone's hand, but he feared that he would turn into a lovestruck teenage boy if he touched Natalie.

He felt frustrated by the hold Natalie already had on him, so he decided to be an asshole as he continued, “Truth be told, I'm not completely convinced that we need a new media liaison quite so soon.”

Natalie looked up to face Hotch with a condescending smile; she didn't appreciate him questioning if she was needed.

"Duly noted… anywhere in particular that I should sit?” Natalie quickly responded.

Natalie felt better that he was rude; it would be easier to ignore her feelings if he were.

Throughout his life, Aaron has often been described as serious. If his team had to choose one word to describe him, it would be "serious." They would also acknowledge that he was good at his job, but Hotch, as he was known, often felt like that was all he had. He was an absent father and an absent husband, and his frown seemed to be his constant companion. Despite this, Aaron had grown accustomed to his busy schedule and his role as a team leader. 

But for the first time in his life, he was speechless, Natalie did not seem afraid of him, and the monotony of his life quickly changed.

He responded slowly, trying to collect himself. “No, anywhere is fine; welcome to the team you are about to witness your first case.” He responded.

 He pushed his thoughts aside and decided to focus on a woman's life at stake, and as the boss, he had to remain professional. He cleared his throat before starting up the projector and directing everyone’s attention to the large screen in the office.

He started speaking. “Today’s Case is in Seattle, Washington. Before twenty-three-year-old Heather Woodland left for lunch, she downloaded an image with a time-delay virus attached; it left this image on the screen.” Hotch paused, pressing the clicker to show the next image.

The text read, “For heaven's sake, catch me before I kill again," repeated several times. Natalie felt a little sick. “At most, we suspect this woman will have about thirty-six hours to live, wheels up in 30.” Hotch finished his thought. The team grabbed the files sitting on the conference table and headed off to get their bags.

Natalie headed back to her desk, and with her stuff in her arm, she realized that her desk was close to Morgan and Reid’s. She grabbed her pink rolling bag. She was glad she decided to pack a week's worth of clothes, along with all of the toiletries and her medication, last night. She opened her flip phone and sent off a quick message.

Natalie: "I will be gone for about three days; please take care of Bella and don't burn the house down."

She felt bad about leaving Maria and Bella because they had rarely been apart for that long, but she knew what this job required when she took it. Natalie felt a ping in her hand, so she looked down to read it.

Maria: "Will you take care of the dog? I can't promise I won't burn the house down. You have renter's insurance, right?”

Natalie smiled. She felt lucky to have her best friend Maria in her life; she always managed to make Natalie smile even on her darkest days and was the one person she could never get tired of.

Natalie: “Yes, I have renters insurance, Maria, but if I come home to a burned-down house, I'm busting the windows out of your car."

Natalie laughed at her message and then put her phone, along with the things she took to the conference room, in her rolling suitcase.

Morgan must have noticed her smile from her texting Maria because he smirked as he spoke up, “Message from your boyfriend?'

Natalie looked up at him; he couldn't tell if he was curious or was trying to flirt with her. "No,” she stated, pulling her bag off of the desk and wheeling it.

"But you didn't deny you had a boyfriend.” Morgan inquired, and Reid spoke up next: “I’m sorry about him, Natalie; he was dropped on his head as a baby."

This made Natalie laugh as she replied to Reid, “Thank you, Reid, and no, I don't have a boyfriend, Morgan."

Natalie started to walk off in the direction of JJ and Prentiss, where she hoped to find the direction of the plane. Natalie was feeling anxious about flying; she had only flown once in her life, and she hated it. She thought maybe this could be a sort of exposure therapy for her. She went outside to the small runway, and as she walked on the concrete, she was happy at the sound her heels made. Natalie pulled her rolling back until she reached the outside of the large white plane. “This is it,” she thought. She pushed down the handle of the rolling bag and carried it like a regular bag; it was heavy, but luckily, her time in retail and dance made her strong and muscular. 

She touched the outside of the plane as she walked up the stairs, being careful not to fall, especially not on her first day. Natalie looked around the plane; it was glamorous, and JJ and Prentiss were already seated next to each other towards the front of the plane. The seats were plush and made out of leather, with ample leg room, and there was a beige curtain hanging leading off to the back area.

Natalie also noticed a large couch placed near the cockpit; she mentally thought about the taxpayer money that bought that. Natalie moved to the back, right by the curtain, opting to sit close to the aisle, away from the window. Natalie opened her rolling bag this time, taking out her laptop and her iPod; luckily, she made sure to charge them last night. She put in her headphones and put on one of her favorite albums, I Brought You Bullets, You Brought Your Love, by My Chemical Romance. 

She had somewhat of a scene phase back in 2002 when the album first came out; it helped her through losing her mother, so it became a comfort to listen to her. Derek and Reid filed into the plane, laughing to themselves about something; they sat towards the middle; Gideon came in next and sat towards the front; and finally, Agent Hotchner entered the plane. 

Natalie looked up for a brief moment and then went back to her computer screen. She couldn't handle looking at him at the moment. Agent Hotchner sat across from Natalie, which made her wonder if she accidentally stole his seat.

After that, the plane ride was mostly uneventful. Natalie kept to herself and started working on outreach to encourage people to work for the BAU. It used to be one of the biggest departments until the bombings that occurred six months ago. Natalie didn't know much about exactly what happened; she was on a need-to-know basis with Agent Strauss. There were discussions about the case, and the team bounced around theories about the profile. Natalie wrote down what was essential, but the rest she left to the profilers. Aaron looked at Natalie a few times and wondered what she was listening to, but after his comment, he felt like he had made a bad impression, so he didn't ask. Eventually, the plane started to land, which caused Natalie to grip the armrests. She hated this part the most.

The plane descended smoothly, however, and Natalie scooted over to the window in amazement. She was in Seattle for the first time. Despite the nearly 6-hour plane ride, there was still light outside because of the time difference, which was good for the case. Natalie put her things back in her rolling suitcase and followed after JJ as they walked off the plane. They were going to have to split up to be the most effective with the small amount of time they had to find Heather. Natalie was assigned to ride with Hotch, Reid, and Gideon to get a profile for the suspect, while the others were going to talk to Heather's family. Natalie followed the others to one of the black SUVs waiting for them. Natalie felt nervous that it would be her first press conference, and while it had been years since the last incident, she wanted things to go differently this time.

They pilled into the SUV, with Natalie and Spencer sitting in the backseats while Gideon and Agent Hotchner took the front. Hotch drove, and Natalie noticed a few times when their eyes met as he looked into the internal rearview mirror. Natalie decided to look out the window to take in Seattle; naturally, she wished that she was here under happier circumstances. Natalie couldn't get over how beautiful Seattle was. Natalie especially appreciated all of the greenery; her mother had instilled a love of gardening in her at a young age, and since none of her other siblings were interested in it, eventually it became their thing. Eventually, they reached the Northwest Field Office; the building was large and imposing and covered in windows. Natalie followed Reid out of the car and into the building. He held the door and genuinely seemed surprised when Natalie said thank you, probably because no one else did.

After they went through security, Natalie trekked through the halls to reach their office. Natalie was surprised when Gideon corrected Agent Hotchner to say that Reid was a doctor; she figured he was intelligent, but it made her have even more questions. When it was time for her to be introduced, Hotch avoided her eyes and simply stated, “This is Natalie Price, the media liaison for the BAU.” Natalie gave a small wave paired with a smile. What shocked her, though, was Agent Hotchner's dry sense of humor. While she wasn't a profiler, she could already tell from his frown lines that he didn't often joke. They went over the profile. Natalie made sure to write down the key details on her laptop. She was impressed by how quickly they figured out the profile, and she had a million questions she wanted to ask about how they figured it out so fast.

After delivering the profile, Natalie had a million questions she wanted to ask, but they had to leave. Natalie scurried out first after packing up her laptop behind the men, following them back into the SUV. She started to get nervous because it started to sink in her head that she was going to be on national television and be hounded by reporters. She used to be a reporter, so she knew firsthand how vicious they could be. Even though the team already had a few leads on the suspect, they needed to come together to discuss what everyone had found before they tried to narrow it down. Natalie decided to get her mind off of her anxiety and tried to strike up a conversation with Spencer. "Reid, how old are you?”

She questioned him, turning to him in the car. Agent Hotchner gave out a dry chuckle at Natalie's boldness. Maybe someone who didn't know Natalie well would think she was making a poor attempt at flirting. However, Natalie was very inquisitive and enjoyed learning about other people, and while objectively Reid was attractive, Natalie wasn't that interested in dating, and she preferred older men anyway.

Spencer smiled at Natalie's question. “I’m 23;  how old are you? And that is certainly an interesting question to ask.

Natalie gave a half smile at that. “23? I thought you just had a baby face or something and you were secretly like, How are you a  doctor?" Natalie skipped over his questions; she needed answers now.

Spencer laughed at this. “I suppose I am technically a genius; I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187, and I noticed you didn't answer my other question."

Natalie smiled again, looking back at Spencer. “I’m 25, but I turn 26 in a few months, and I'm sorry for asking so many questions, but I think that you are amazing."

Natalie responded to Spencer, and he in turn gave a genuine smile. Spencer could tell already that Natalie was very kind; of course, Morgan was his best friend, but secretly he knew that everyone would get tired of his random factoids and his tendency to ramble. But Natalie made him genuinely feel appreciated, and that meant a lot to him. There was no denying that she was beautiful, but he honestly felt a sibling connection to her, and he gathered she felt the same. Reid also gathered how Hotch gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, and his frown got a little bigger while Natalie said that he was amazing.

Reid smiled to himself at how his normally stoic boss was slowly becoming attached to Natalie. Natalie and Reid continued to talk until they reached a small white courthouse. There was already press swarming the area; Seattle was considered one of the safest places to live, so naturally, the deaths of four young women plus the kidnapping of Heather Woodland gained the attention of every news outlet. Police officers had to escort the team up the white marble stairs to the podium and microphone set up for Natalie. Her hands started to sweat, and her anxiety started to kick in. Natalie took a deep breath and took out her notepad from her computer. She touched her pin, which calmed her down. 

It almost felt like a touch from her mother, which made her more confident. The press swarmed her, which caused the officers to have to tell them multiple times to stand back. Aaron helped them control the press, which made her feel a little bit better as well. Some of the reporters gave her weird looks; she knew that they were probably used to seeing JJ, and they were naturally going to be tougher on a black woman, so she mentally prepared herself for any misogyny.

Natalie approached the podium, tapping the microphone to make sure it was on. She cleared her throat and started to speak, "Hello, I am Natalie Price, the New Media Liaison for the Behavioral Analysis Unit for the FBI. We are here to give the public some information on the suspended suspect and general safety advice for the women of Seattle watching.”

Natalie took a deep breath and continued, “We are looking for a white male in his late 20s, someone who could most likely blend into any crowd. This perpetrator is highly intelligent and most likely has a previous history with law enforcement. We believe that the suspect drives a Jeep Cherokee with tinted windows. Finally, we believe the suspect will mostly try to insert themselves into the investigation. If you have any tips for the FBI, please report them to Crime Stoppers, which you can do anonymously. And for the women of Seattle, we recommend reporting any suspicious activity, going out in groups for the time being, and being alert to your surroundings at all times.” Natalie took another breath. “That is all at this time, and we will not be taking questions."

Natalie finished. She stepped away from the podium, proud of her delivery, and walked to be escorted back to the SUV. The reporters naturally followed, asking a series of questions: “Does the FBI have any leads?” One woman asked, “Do you believe Heather Woodland is still alive?” Someone else shouted, as Natalie reached the car an older white man, with silver hair yelled out “Another Colored Person Taking away the jobs of white people. What's going to be next for an all-colored FBI team?”

Natalie just slammed the car door, she was seething she had felt so proud of herself but it was now tainted by some racist prick. But she refused to let her new co-workers see her cry. Hotch glanced at Natalie; he was going to speak up, but Gideon said something first: “Don't let that asshole ruin your day, Price. You did a great job."

Natalie gave a half smile at Gideon. “Thank you, Agent Gideon; I won’t.” Reid chimed up next, "I'm sorry that you had to deal with that.” Natalie appreciated how the team was trying to comfort her “It’s okay Reid, I’m used to it.”

 Reid frowned at that “But you shouldn't be, that wasn't okay.” 

Hotch chimed in. “No, it was not. I will make sure he is banned from all future press conferences when we get back to Quantico; you have my word.” 

He looked over again to Natalie, who was a bit surprised but ultimately grateful. “Thank you, Agent Hotchner.” He gave a head nod to Natalie. She decided to just look out of the window again until they reached a police station, where the other agents were waiting. JJ approached her first once she stepped out of the car. “Price, Congratulations on your first Press conference you did amazing.” Natalie smiled at JJ and responded, “Thank you, JJ; that means a lot."

JJ gave a quick smile back as the rest of the agents cross-referenced the list of suspects compared to the profile they had developed. Eventually, the team narrowed the suspect list to one person, Richard Slessman, and started to discuss the best course of action. “I can call over the SWAT team; they will most likely be ready by nightfall, and considering that Slessman lives with his family, hopefully, that means he won't put up a lot of resistance.” Hotch declared.

Natalie panicked at that thought. She suddenly spoke up, “No, you can't raid the house if children live there.” She realized speaking up so boldly on her first day wasn't the best move, and it aggravated Agent Hotchner. 

“Need I remind you Price, that you are not a profiler but simply the Media liaison, therefore you have no stake in this conversation.” Agent Hotchner harshly responded, Natalie was glad he was an asshole it made it easy to overlook whatever feelings she thought she may have had for him.

 Prentiss spoke up for her though “Hotch, there is no need to speak to Natalie that way, did you have a suggestion Price?” Natalie appreciated the girls on this team, she genuinely hoped they would become friends now.

 “Yes, I do, and while I may be the media liaison Agent Hotchner I would like to remind you that I came from Narcotics and, therefore have useful knowledge on raids.” She paused taking a second to think and then she continued “I suggest you lure him out, that way the children aren't traumatized and we avoid a repeat of WACO” Natalie looked into his eyes when saying this.

 She was pissed by how she was treating her but she couldn't deny how her heart skipped when she looked at him.

 “Very Well.” Agent Hotchner responded he was staring at her again with his jaw clenched. 

Natalie was right in her original assessment, this morning, it was a miserable day, and it was going to be a miserable year.

[vividviverrid]

the reposing force of the great lakes;

---by kael knoxton martin, a (real) wip intro.

genre - science fiction, superhero fiction.

age range - adult.

status - working on first draft.

content warnings - child abuse, drug use (marijuana), discussions of homophobia and transphobia, unhealthy relationships, gore, suicidal ideation.

summary.

In the fictional city of Knife's Edge, Michigan, home to the headquarters of the Reposing Force of the Great Lakes, a superhero collective is tasked with protecting the Great Lakes region from any supernatural threats or metahumans misusing their powers. The Reposing Force is massive, and its heroes are treated like celebrities, as if they're above reproach. The Great Lakes Reposing Force is largely corrupt, preferring publicity and self-gain over the actual goal of helping citizens that the Force was founded with.

Metahuman Ivy White is on her way to a recruitment appointment, with the goal of becoming a member of the Reposing Force. She lives in her car, struggles with mental health issues, and generally views membership to the Force as a last resort attempt to improve her life. Ivy meets Kingsley Henneth and Rowan James during the interview; both of them have powers almost as unique as her own, and all three of them get embarrassingly rejected for having "useless and embarrassing powers". Kingsley and Rowan invite Ivy to stay with them after her car breaks down. At roughly the same time, the leader of the Reposing Force, Graham Case, is making a deal with the queen of the demonic dimension Xulthea to trap his best friend, Soren's wife in the main city for eternity so she is unable to expose proof of a gay adulterous affair to the public.

After finding out what Graham had done, Soren, secretly an extremely powerful metahuman himself, believes his wife to be suffering in Xulthea, so he kidnaps the entire Reposing Force and tricks the queen of Xulthea into giving him free passage between Earth and the parts of Xulthea that are so unpredictably nightmarish that no one lives there. Trapping the Force in what is essentially endless psychological torture, in a realm that naturally must use their deepest fears against them, Soren tells Graham that he and his friends will remain there until his wife is freed. Meanwhile, his wife, Jessica, is unexpectedly bonding with the queen of Xulthea, perfectly safe, watching her husband destroy the city they both once loved.

Also, it turns out Soren missed one member of the Reposing Force. Kira Ramos, the Force's second-in-command who was out of the country visiting family at the time of the kidnapping, returns to Knife's Edge a day later, and must pick up the pieces and retrieve her friends before any supervillain senses an opportunity and decides to wreak havoc in the city. She recruits Ivy and Ivy's new friends to save the Reposing Force, promising high ranking membership and immense fame if they can complete the task.

characters.

main.

ivy white, 26, she/her, cis + bi. superpower: super strength when a certain amount of thc is in her system.

rowan james, 26, he/him, gay trans man. superpower: think waterbending but with cheese.

kingsley henneth, 27, he/him, cis + bi. superpower: fashion and accessories manifestation.

winter westbloom, 26, she/her, unlabelled. superpower: can see into someone's past when touching an object they owned.

kira ramos, 28, she/her, nonbinary lesbian. superpower: fire manipulation.

zee the bee, ageless-adult, he/him, nonbinary male-aligned heterosexual. superpower: flight, due to being half-bee; can manifest anything from nightmares into reality.

minor.

xorna, around 4000 (or 40 in earth years), she/her, nonbinary lesbian. demon queen of the dimension xulthea.

jessica hollows, 34, she/her, cis bisexual. not a metahuman; soren's wife.

antagonists.

soren, 35, he/him, cis bisexual. superpower: can manifest anything from his daydreams into reality.

domino ferncutter, 32, she/her, cisgender bisexual. creates an ai called oculomancer that becomes sentient; she tries to use ivy as oculomancer's host body.

graham case, 55, he/him, cis gay man (closeted). superpower: invisibility, accelerated speed.

excerpt.

The picture fizzles out, fading slow back into a void-black screen, and she’s gone. The secondhand store employee’s words echo through her mind: fucking Reposing Force, I swear to God… But the gates open, swift and fast like a predator. Ivy looks up into the skies, watches the building as it goes up and up and up, boundless above her. She takes a deep, deep breath, and begins walking again. She’s always walking, always transporting herself between what is real and what is fantasy and what is dreaded. When she isn’t walking literally, her body exhausted from its nomadic nature, she’s walking metaphorically, through the graveyard of her past, her former self an angelic statue fixed above a headstone. Ivy is adept at pushing through obstacles of any kind. She moves forward whether the universe likes it or not. She enters the building, and her boots make a thudding sound on the teal tile beneath her. There’s a mural behind the front desk—scenery of Lake Michigan that is too vibrant, too dreamlike, to be real or accurate. The state of Michigan is never that serene. But regardless, she approaches the desk. It’s a different secretary; how many fucking employees does this place have? She asks for Ivy’s name with a monotone voice, thanks her for it in a monotone voice. Ivy cannot help it. Her mind wanders to situations, to possibilities unknown. Are these employees super=powered too, are they considered lower than the heroic division? If she gets this job, will she be doing boring secretary work for the rest of her life? If she manages to get this job, will she get the opportunity to disrespect others, just as they have done to her? Would she ever get the opportunity to do true good, or will they stick her at a desk for eternity? She wouldn’t be able to handle that.

taglist :

ask to be added/removed.

[chidoroki]

I already asked officiersnicker about it but i would like another opinon and also i love to speak with my fics with people. And I love yours analysis of Ray and Isabella.

Still about the Isabella has twins after the escape AU

Ray has been under a lot of stress// emotional mess moments// grief since the attack of the bunker right? And everything here happened in like…one month? October - Novemnber 13th? I'm not sure than Ray has sleep enough during all days. Except for few nights where he was able to rest, like in the Paradise. Same with food, probably. Except wome good meals, he has not had the best diet. And before that, he and the rest of the team were just coming back of exploration and were probably already tired.

And then after their arrival in the human world, Emma vanished + the worry for his mum + the discovery that he has blood siblings + he's forced to live with them.

Then Ray will work to pass all the exams in the human world for be freed of the scholar system since school is obligatory for a 13 years old child. He has to finish all the exams to not have to worry about it. I don't know if he will pass it as much easly than Norman. I guess yes. But maybe not as quick. He barely study in almost 2 years after all. or it will be super easy for him. Who know. He's super worried for Emma. He barely sleeps and eats because he's so focused on his search. 100% not enough sleeping time for his age. He drinks too much coffee. He also help Norman with the creation of his entreprise.

He's almost never at home or goes to work very early so nobody is awake or return very late so everyone is asleep.

So he barely interact with Isabella or the twins. Which make him feel bad. While orther GF kids visit their mum and the babies very often. ((The babies quickly learn to say "Noma" when they see Norman =) and gave such nickname to a lot of GF kids)) Ray will feel awful *of course they love more Norman than me. I'm such a bad son and bad brother but i must find Emma, she count on me to find her, i will make thing better as soon i find Emma*

And i decided that, around 18th December, he will collapse from (physical/emotional/mental) exhaustion, and suffer from overwork. So he'll be forced to stay at home until half January. To rest, to have a better diet, to babysit the twins (Gilda will have to show him how change a diaper because he didn't know and he refuses to ask his mum because he's ashamed to not know already XD). At the end, he'll work at home but with Isabella to control his working hours.

"You can't tell me to go to sleep, mum. I can decide myself

"Like when you decided that three hours of sleep by night were enough for you?"

Do you think that it's believable that he collapses from exhaustion and suffers from overwork after only a little more than one month? He's only 13 after all. Physically he's a child.

Correct. The shelter blowing up, losing Yuugo & Lucas, invading a farm to steal medicine for Chris, the journey to the paradise hideout, the Seven Walls, the trip to the demon capital where all of Norman's annihilation plan takes place, followed by the trip back to Grace Field to take over headquarters and finally crossing over into the human world all happen with a month. I often find myself looking back at the full timeline Tag once put together because everything these kids accomplished in the span of a couple years is insane.

Oh, Ray definitely doesn't get enough sleep. If there's any possibility that their family could be in danger, he's on guard to protect them.

And it's not like this is a new behavior either. I'm sure he spent many nights studying everything he can in order to successfully prepare the escape plan to save Emma & Norman as well.

Not to mention that he's suffered countless nightmares during his years at Grace Field (and probably afterwards too).

So yeah, safe to say that Ray was absolutely paranoid once in the human world and everyone set out to search for Emma. The poor guy was already a mess during the three weeks without her after Goldy Pond, not only from keeping a constant watch over the rest of the kids but worrying whether or not Emma was alive and safe as well.

Just imagine the amount of stress, panic, heartache and anger (towards demon god and possibly himself) Ray felt during those two years. It's amazing he doesn't look completely exhausted during ch181 because he totally should be after all the hard work and effort he put into finding our best girl. (okay, so it depends on the panel really, but he looks relatively normal for a majority of them! here he does look tired though.)

I would hope he doesn't become so immersed in looking for clues during the Emma search that he misses out on meals, but if he's out with others then I'm sure he's keeping track of when his family eats so they don't collapse and taking a moment for himself to do the same. With him being the team chef, he's gotta know that eating will allow him to keep his energy up to continue searching.

(now that I think about it.. searching for Emma in the human world is kinda like the Sevens Walls; it's a totally new, unknown place for him, where he has no idea if progress is being made or not. it may not play intricate mind games on him like the Seven Walls, but he's surely losing his mind all the same. biggest difference is that his number one support is not beside him trying to solve this mystery, which add a whole new level of difficulty to this trial.)

Anyways, add all that on top of the elements in your story and this boy will be lucky if he manages to sleep a half hour a day. I still believe Isabella would provide as much assistance as she could while she recovers, but then the idea of caring for the twins will probably hold Ray back from searching for Emma as often as he would like to.

I have little doubt Ray would have any trouble with passing some exams with all the knowledge he's retained from the endless supply of books he's read throughout his entire life. Only problem might be exactly when would he actually have time to take such exams in between worrying about everything else going on with mom, the siblings and Emma.

Coffee will definitely become Ray's new friend during all this.

(as if he wasn't a fan of it already. at least, i'm pretty sure it's coffee considering the steam coming from the cups. s2ep3 has them drinking water but the next ep shows ray's was colored brown as well as during that moment in the paradise hideout. so.. apologies. i'm rambling about nonsense.)

I can see how he might prioritize looking for Emma rather than care for Isabella and the twins. Not only are there other people who are more suited for those roles (our medics Zack & Anna looking after Isabella and Gilda watching over the twins since she used to help looking after the babies while at GF along side Emma. not to mention she is that Mom Friend) but also because Ray's relationship with his blood family is kinda rocky at the moment as well. He would feel bad about kinda ignoring them though.

Pfftt, I imagine Norman acting so smug whenever he's around the twins with Ray as they would prefer to spend time with him rather than their actual brother.

MHHMM exactly! Gilda would totally teach Ray how to handle the twins better. He's already a decent brother since he's had to look after everyone else since the escape, but never to children that young (that I'm aware of).

I live for any sort of interaction between Isabella and Ray just acting like a typical mother and son. Of course they would both try to mend the bond they have to a more normal state but they would be so snarky with each other too and I would literally die if we had the chance to see them act this way.

It would absolutely be believable that Ray would crash after that chaotic last month the demon world. It's honestly amazing that he didn't (from what we've seen anyways). I have no doubt that once Emma is found and they return home that night, Ray passes out instantly and stays asleep for a good day or two. It'll be the first time in his entire life that managed to sleep soundly without any sort of worries.

[ashdreams2023]

Haha, Its that mf you forgot, making a comeback with a request. XD

Alrighty, so basically. Reader (Gender does not have to be specified) stays with Sirius at 12 grimauld palace to keep him company (and lets say for plot purposes they're good friends. Romantic or platonic is up to you, I do not care.) While reader does have there own house they can stay at, they insist on staying at 12 grimauld palace with Sirius. And to quote from the harry potter wiki 'During his time confined to the Order's headquarters, Sirius fell into a deep depression. When Harry and the Weasleys arrived at Grimmauld Place just after Arthur was attacked by Nagini, Sirius was unshaven and still in his day clothes late at night. He also seemed to have taken to drinking, as he had a "Mundungus-like whiff of stale drink about him". However, Sirius made a complete turn-around when the Weasley family and Harry decided to stay at Grimmauld palace over the Christmas holidays for its proximity to St Mungo's, and at one point was heard singing "God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs" at the top of his lungs.' So lets say reader is a member of the order of the phoenix and is the orders healer, so they have an excuse to stay at 12 grimauld palace just incase they are needed.

(I'm sorry this is so long, the brainrot is strong.)

That’s ok, I got the idea! And I saw your other one 👌

Living with Sirius as a healer

First time you to visit Sirius you found him in his bedroom laying like the dead

He seemed more than happy to have somebody he can talk too but less happy when you mentioned how he stinks

After a long shower and a proper check he starts asking about everyone and insists on you letting him visit Harry which will not happen

Kreacher has definitely got on your nerves a few times before Sirius forbid him from walking an inch to the upper floor

You had to wash him as padfoot as some point and let’s say never again

"Are you leaving?" "You must be out of your mind to think I’ll leave you to injury yourself*

He gets grumpy most days because he feels trapped but you introduce him to some muggle games and ask what his plans after the war

Makes decent tea although it comes out too sweet at first tries

Almost strangled kreacher because he added something to the tea ones

The elves heads are taking down because that’s just depressing

He has nightmares, resulting in his staying up at night and sometimes coming into your room to talk

"Can I get one of those bandaids with puppies on them?"

Since he’s so bored, expect a lot of pranks, harmless mostly

"Sirius turn back my slippers!" "I don’t know what you’re talking about"

When Harry writes back it’s like Christmas morning every single time

And on rare occasions…padfoot goes out for a walk with you if he behaves

There’s a lot of music playing, mainly to cancel the sound of his mother’s screaming portrait

He helps you prep medicine just in case anybody needed it

Whenever anyone comes by he’s like an energetic puppy or a wild stray dog if it’s snape

All in all Sirius does appreciate you staying with him, even though he can be too much sometimes

"You gonna miss me padfoot~" "oh please you’ll die of boredom without me around!"

[ilovewhiteroses]

You cast a spell on me - Part 4.

Pairing: The Corinthian x Female Witch Reader Genre: Angst, Romance, little Fluff and Smut Warnings: horror and adult themes Rating: 18+ Notes: - I was listening to the Sandman Soundtrack by David Buckley while I was writing and it was quite an emotional rollercoaster           - Reader's dream scene was inspired by my dear friend, @thecorilove86​‘s Corinthian fanart (https://www.tumblr.com/thecorilove86/704070510011662336/im-really-tryin-not-to-be-completely-lame)

A pleasant feeling goes through your body. You see The Corinthian. You move closer to him and kiss him. You feel naked and wet. You look down and you are sitting in a tub full of blood and eyeballs…

Sweating, you woke up from your nightmare, your heart was beating fast. You have had terrible dreams before, but never one that was both horrifying... and beautiful. You always believed that dreams and nightmares had meanings, and there was a reason for this one too. Corinthian. He was with you, which is understandable, because he himself is a nightmare. Weird. You have known each other for a while, yet you have only just dreamed about him for the first time. You had an unpleasant, inexplicable feeling that you wanted to push away, and then you tried to go back to sleep.

The next day you went shopping with Cole. He will attend a charity event and asked you to help him find a nice suit, in return you asked him to go shopping with you and carry the bags. "Thanks Cole for coming with me. I can never reach the high shelves.” you said. "A gentleman helps where he can. And thanks to your help, I will be the most handsome guy at the event!” Cole said laughing. You knew that looking good is important to him because he wanted to flirt with the rich ladies.

On the way home you saw Corinthian in the distance with a handsome young man. They stopped at a front door, presumably where the guy lives. There they started kissing and then went inside. The sight made your heart ache, and you felt a punch in your stomach, but you were perfectly aware that he was sleeping with other people as well. Even though you knew every inch of each other's bodies, you were not a couple.

After you and Cole got home, he helped you unpack and left. Thoughts started racing through your head. Corinthian is not your boyfriend, so why should you care what he does when you are not together? What you have between you is something like friends with benefits. Still, you did not like it when you saw him with the guy.

Jealousy. You also felt this in addition to your aching heart. You realized it must be because you have feelings for him.

"This is stupid. It’s true that he has behaved like a gentleman with me so far and he is fantastic in bed, but… he is a nightmare with teeth eyes for Christ sake! Which woman in their right mind would want to be in a relationship with a guy like that?" you tried to convince yourself. "If he can be with others, then I can also meet new people!" you said and started to prepare your dinner and then tried to get to bed on time. Tomorrow you have a meeting with your publisher at her office and you tried not to think about what Corinthian is doing with that man…

At 10 o'clock the next morning, you went to the book publisher headquarters, where your publisher's office is located. She told you that even though your current book, "You Attract What You Loathe" is still being written, a film studio heard about the story and liked it so much that they already want to buy the movie rights. You told her that you would only give the rights to the best studio and the best director and that you want to participate in the filming process as executive producer. When you were done, you got into the elevator. "Can you hold it, please?" you heard a nice man's voice while the doors were closing. You did as he asked, and a tall, dark-haired, handsome man stepped in. "Thank you. I see you're a writer too, judging by your laptop bag." said the man smiling. "I'm a writer too." "Really?" you asked curiously "Yes. My name is Jack Warner and I write crime fiction.” After you got out of the elevator, you left the building and went to your car together. You learned that Jack writes crime novels because his father was a cop and he has always been interested in what is in the mind of a killer. When you arrived to your car, Jack told you that he likes you and asked you out for dinner, to which you said yes. The dinner went well, Jack told you, among other things, that he had read some of your books and that he really liked the fantasy theme. You were able to pay attention to him the whole time, you did not think about Corinthian not once. Why would you even? He is probably fucking someone, you thought to yourself... Jack took you home at the end of the night, you kissed him on his cheek as goodbye. He was very nice to you and deep down you could not wait to see him again.

A few days later, in the evening, the doorbell rang. You could not imagine who it could be, because you were not expecting anyone. You went out and saw Corinthian. "Hi!" you said to him surprised. "Hi." he said in a nonchalant tone. You let him in and he literally stormed into your apartment. "What's all the fuss about?" you asked as you closed the gate and went after Corinthian. You crossed your arms in front of you, you did not know what was wrong with him. "Sorry to break in like that, but....I drove by a few days ago and....Who was that guy?" he asked, running his fingers through his hair. "What?" "I saw you talking to a guy and you gave him a kiss." he said disapprovingly. Was he stalking you? He seemed nervous. You realized that he was obviously jealous. "Oh, that? I'm sorry, but this is none of your business. If you don’t mind, I'd rather not tell you his name, I don't want him to get killed." you said slightly mockingly. "You really think I would be capable of killing him?" he asked, stepping closer to you. "As a matter of fact, yes! And anyway, I don't understand why you're making a scene, because I recently saw you with a guy. You were kissing on the street! And I also know that when we don't see each other, you sleep with a lot of other people!” you said almost irritated. Corinthian scratched his head nervously, apparently searching for words. "You want to know the truth? Fine, I'll tell you. Yes, I sleep with so many people because that's my nature. I only fuck them once and I'm always in control because it gives me power. And I kill them and consume their eyes because I want to know what it feels like to be human and see their lives through their eyes.” Your heart nearly broke for a moment when Corinthian said that. "And you are the first that I slept with more than once. I thought that you, being also a non-human, a witch, would understand me. You're special and I don’t like the thought of another man being near you!" You could not believe your ears. "Wait, what? So you think it's okay for you to go around having sex with everyone, but you're upset with me wanting to date a nice guy?" you pointed at yourself as you asked him indignantly. "Y/N, that's not what I meant," Corinthian said while frowning. "Then how? What do you want?" you wanted to grab him by the collar. "I don't know, I don't fucking know!" he snapped, "My feelings are complicated. I've never felt anything like this before, and I didn't even know I was capable of it." he said tensely. You were both furious. You thought it would be better if you stopped now, so that it would not turn into an even bigger dispute. "I think it would be better if we both think over what we want." you said, in a slightly calmer tone, hoping that he would calm down soon as well. Corinthian took a deep breath. "You're right…I need to clear my head." he said quietly. He then walked up to you, kissed you and left. You just stood there. Tears rolled down your face.

Since that night, you felt awful. You could barely sleep or eat, you did not even feel like writing, and you did not want to clean at all, so you said a magic spell that instantly made your home tidy and clean. I wish I could change my feelings this easily, you thought to yourself. All you could think about was Corinthian and the last time you saw him. Although you resented him at first, you realized that you missed him. You went on late-night car drives, called your mom, hung out with your friends to somehow take your mind off of him. You told Jack that if that was his intention, you were not ready for a relationship right now, luckily he was understanding and accepted that. You checked your phone to see if Corinthian texted or called you, but nothing. You drove by his house several times, hoping to see him. Then you realized that maybe it was better to forget him.

After a few weeks, you started to feel better, and your life went back to normal. You made good progress with your book too. However, one day you had a strange feeling. You knew that there was usually a reason why you get that feeling. You felt like you had to go to the beach. You have not been there since your quarrel with Corinthian. You went to Venice Beach with taxi. The weather was unusually cloudy, as if nature was projecting your feelings. There were not many people on the beach and the waves were breaking dramatically. You stood near the water and looked into the distance. Your instincts told you something was coming. Or someone. You looked to the side and saw Corinthian. The sight of him filled you with joy and sorrow at the same time. "Hi Y/N. I knew you'd be here." He said kindly. So that is why you had to come here. You felt that he would be here too. "What do you want?" you asked timidly. He sighed. "First of all, I want to apologize for my behaviour the last time we met. Second, I want you to come to my place. There are a few things I want to tell you." Your stomach suddenly lurched, but you agreed to go with him. As you walked to his car, you wanted to reach out for his hand, but you did not dare. You arrived at his house. You went to the large balcony, candles were burning next to the infinity pool, which you did not understand. Corinthian offered you a seat on the outdoor sofa. "What would you like to say?" you asked him. Even though his body radiated warmth, you were afraid of what was he going to tell you. "Look" he said, took your hands and looked into your eyes. "I've been thinking a lot since we last saw each other. You must think I've fucked and killed a lot in that time. That's not entirely true. It only happened a few times, but when I did them, I didn't feel the thrill that they used to give me. I felt an emptiness inside. As if something was missing. YOU. All day long I just lay in my bed, wandered around the house or walked aimlessly in the city. And I thought of you all the time. You know, I've been enjoying life in the Waking World for a long time, but deep down I've always been lonely. Who am I and where I came from no one would understand. Then that night I met you. I told you that I went up to you at the bar because I felt that you were different from other people. To be honest, I toyed with the idea of what would it be like if I tried to kill you, but I realized that there was no point and anyway, it's been a long time since I've felt that good. I let myself go with the flow and when we had sex, I didn't want to control like I usually do. I really enjoyed it and I wanted it to be good for you too. I wanted to experience this feeling again and again with you. It's true that I had other sex partners alongside you, but they didn't mean anything, they only brought quick satisfaction. Moreover, after them, for the first time in my life, I always felt guilt. I thought, what if I stopped hunting for meaningless enjoyment and tried to be with you... After all, that's what it means to be human, isn't it? To find someone who understands you and who can maybe love you...despite these." Corinthian said, then took off his sunglasses and placed them on the outdoor table. You knew what was behind the dark lenses, yet you were not horrified. Instead of his eyes, he actually had teeth that looked at you sadly. You started to cry at his words and gesture, Corinthian gently wiped away your tears "God…I didn't know you felt this way about me." you said through tears "I really mean it. It's an unusual feeling for me too and I'm afraid, which is ridiculous. A nightmare who is scared of the tender feelings he has for a beautiful, kind witch?" He asked. "I'm scared too, believe me...But I want you to know that I feel the same way about you. My mind told me that there would be nothing more between us, but in my heart I wanted to be with you." Corinthian caressed your face, then held it in his palms and looked deep into your eyes. The fear of losing him was over. You became a part of his life and he became a part of yours. A nightmare. A nightmare with feelings. Your foreheads touched and then you kissed each other. He stood up and took out his phone. He pressed a button and the song "Lady In Red" by Chris de Burgh started playing from the speakers. "I'd like you to dance with me." Corinthian said simply and easily, holding out his hand to you. "Can you be romantic?" you asked smiling then you took his hand and he pulled you close. "A little romance never hurt anyone." Corinthian said with a sweet smile. Now you understood the role of the candles: they were needed along with the music for the romantic mood. Your heart melted. Slowly, hugging each other, you danced like this for a while to the emotional melody. You placed your hand on his chest and looked into his eyes. You could feel his soft heartbeat. "I want you." Corinthian whispered. He kissed you then picked you up and carried you into the bedroom in his arms. As you were going upstairs, you said a spell that caused the candles to float and follow you, then nicely surround the bed to create an intimate atmosphere. You and Corinthian laid down on the bed and started kissing, then gently took off each other's clothes as if you were fragile. He slowly kissed all over your body, and then you kissed his. The previous wild, passionate romps has now been replaced by slow, romantic love making. He was on top and you wrapped your arms around him. Soft sighs filled the room. Corinthian buried his face in your neck and you were flooded with emotions. You feverishly embraced each other, you soared higher and higher together, and in the moment of pleasure, your fingers intertwined and you crossed the border of sanity together. You don't know what the future will bring, only that he alone matters. And your love...

[missiodei]

True Order (Surface Level Information)

(This is publicly known information, and what all followers know about the church. This post and the Google Doc are subject to minor changes in wordings or additional details if needed. If you would like your troll to be affiliated with this church you’re welcome to that if we are mutuals, but please contact me and let me know. Especially if there are questions. )

Cw religious trauma, religious abuse, drug use, general manipulative tactics

Tl;dr: Heavy emphasis on suffering = good. A young religion at around 400 sweeps yet somehow has amassed hundreds of millions of followers and a few denominations. To the public eye, and most followers, this church is run by the ten Cardinals; there is no one above them.

The True Order religion is centered around an entity presenting as a sort of Goddess with six wings, seven heads, and several other winged yet flightless entities called 'Watchers' or 'Angels'. These are entities who stem from the Goddess, as a means of spiritual and psychological subjugation. They attack in the dreams of the members, testing the faith and devotion to the Goddess and torment those whose faith wavers on some Freddy Krueger shit (yes, if you are wounded in your dreams you are wounded for real). To those who pass this spiritual vibe check, the Watchers rarely may bestow upon them fortune, foresight, voodoos if they did not have any previously, or amplified voodoos. The Watchers/Angels are seen as a sign of blessings to come to those who are particularly devout, and an omen to those who live in fear. 

There is a heavy emphasis within this church on suffering. Suffering is considered one of the greatest goods, as they believe to know and understand goodness and perfection like the Goddess, one must also know agony.  It is taught that through suffering and understanding, one can be with the goddess forever in peace when they die. They usually bring in trolls from the caverns and raise them in the church, or they pick up young wrigglers from their hives and either convince them to join or brainwash them. Overall, this church believes themselves to be the one true religion; they have their own books, rituals and prayers, and believe that by feeding their Goddess they can finally end all life (including their own) and join her. 

All blood castes are welcome into his church; they do have a lot of jades who are the ones smuggling grubs to their churches.

This is a major religion though relatively young - it’s been around for 400 sweeps. Its ‘headquarters’ is a massive complex called The Sanctum, and consists of several buildings for each of the Cardinal divisions all centered around a larger structure. Tours are permitted during specified hours and nights. The population of this church body is approaching the number of Catholics/Christians in our world, and varying churches in different regions can have different outlooks on the teachings. Think about the difference between Methodists and Baptists, or Catholics. There are different denominations and the most common two are the Astral and Umbral denominations:

 The Astral Churches are known for openly torturing their members. While many trolls willingly subscribe to Astral churches, there are many trolls who are coerced to join, and many who were brought in from the caverns. Activities in Astral churches to keep members loyal include brainwashing, and a lot of fear mongering, particularly promises of physical and mental anguish in the form of physical punishment, persistent nightmares, as well as eternal damnation.  Other methods involve psychedelic drugs to subdue trolls and keep them malleable. Members of these churches are heavily secluded and isolated; only trolls of certain status or 'devotion' are allowed to venture outside of the church grounds, and even those trips must be within reason (ie, supplies/food for the members, recruiting (kidnapping) new members, etc.). There is an enforcement of worship with strict schedules meant for prayers, emphasis on meditation and keeping the mind busy (aka keeping glory on the Goddess). These churches often require quadmates to be sought within the group, any outside relationships are considered frivolous and unholy. Those who leave these types of churches are considered excommunicated, and suffer severe repercussions if they ever return.                                                                          

The Umbral Churches are more passive. In other words, they'll teach that suffering is good and will help you to understand the goddess, but also say that life itself is suffering so you don't have to do anything extra. If you're sick they will do the bare minimum to keep you alive, they will not help with pain or discomfort. If something bad happens to you in general they're just like well, this is all for you to understand the goddess etc.  The Umbral churches view the Watchers as divine beings who make sure one suffers even in sleep. They are often plagued with nightmares, though they view this as a blessing and often openly like to discuss their dreams with each other. These churches are generally much more relaxed than the Astral churches, and do not seek to control who dates who.

Activities of all members, regardless of denomination, include a focus on black magic, dark arts and blood sacrifice. They believe by doing these things they can show their devotion to the Goddess, and pacify the 'Watchers' who haunt their dreams. Gaining new or enhanced abilities as a result of one's devotion is believed to be a gift, and such trolls are ascended into higher ranks of the group as they are seen to be closer to the Goddess. Those with particularly 'special' gifts are likely to ascend ranks faster, but at the cost of having little to no life during their upbringing besides studying and torment. While the Astral Churches take measures to keep their members subservient, they, like the Umbral Church, will not hunt down members who have escaped.                                                                             

HIERARCHY

Cardinal

Second in command. They reside in or near the Sanctum, and are the only trolls who are supervisors to the Priests. They are trolls who are to make themselves available to assist ‘God’ upon request, and serve life sentences once they reach this position. New Cardinals are only welcomed when one dies. In many cases, the Cardinals are the public face of the church, and are charged with maintaining the integrity of the church and passing laws and regulations to their followers. As far as the public knows, the Cardinals are the ones who run the church; there is no one above them. Cardinals are the only members who know ‘God’ by face(s) and name(s), and they are bound by a spell that keeps them from uttering their names in any context.  Each Cardinal heads a specific division. (XXX means a Cardinal has not been made and named for the position yet.):

0 - Executioners: Headed by Cardinal Juuzou (什造枢機卿 [Juuzou Suukikei]).

I - General Oversight: Headed by Cardinal Axeron.

II - Medical: Headed by (XXX). Often collaborates with Division V.

III - Literature/Arts: Headed by Cardinal Cybele.

IV - Intel: Headed by (XXX).

V - Science: Headed by Cardinal Stygia. Often collaborates with Division II.

VI - Weaponsmiths/Armorers: Headed by (XXX).

VII - Enforcers: Headed by Cardinal Shiver.

VIII - Legal Advisors: Headed by Cardinal Uriyen. He is the longest and oldest sitting Cardinal. 

IX - Couriers: Headed by (XXX).

Priesthood

Priests have dominion and authorization to perform sacred rituals, as well as act as a mediator between the followers and their deities. They oversee religious rites, sacrifices, and punishments. These are the trolls who work directly under the Cardinals in the divisions they are chosen for, and is a highly revered position. They answer to all Cardinals, but specific duties fall under the jurisdiction of their respective division.

The Priests are selected randomly at a young age (3.46 sweeps to be exact) to be trained and earn their title as Priests. They go through very extreme training methods, being pushed to their absolute mental, physical, and spiritual limits. It is not uncommon that some trolls die during this training period, and thus being chosen to become a Priest can be both exciting yet very unnerving to many. They are isolated in the first stage of training, a means to sever their attachment to the world. Secondary stage of training involves further studies and physical/spiritual combat, often involving tests of one’s loyalty and devotion. Trolls learn of the ‘universal truth’ at stage 2, though they retain the knowledge that the Cardinals run the church. If devotion falters, they are killed. The second stage will also involve shadowing established priests or a Cardinal who chooses them as they learn the proper methods and processes for the tasks they’ll be assigned to. In the final stages, they may be pinned against one another during a test. These are fights to the death in which the winners become priests.

The life of the Priest is permanent. Going awol or betraying the church is punishable by death and only death, if they ever return to the church. Traitors and deserters, when caught, are brought back to the Sanctum property where they trained, in which they are ceremoniously executed. Many followers travel to see this in person, though it is still broadcasted to all churches across the globe.

Trolls who escape at stage 1 are not hunted or pursued, because they are not yet official. They are simply excommunicated - this is why Cilian gets to live a relatively peaceful life.

Archbishop

They hold positions of power and authority, primarily acting as overseers of all those under them. They are charged with appointing Bishops and electing new Archbishops, as well as nominating trolls for the Cardinal position. They usually govern specific regions and report to the Priests and Cardinals.

Trolls(s):

Minister/Bishop

Trolls who are authorized by the church to teach beliefs and the gospel, to lead services such as baptisms, and generally acting as spiritual counselors and offering guidance to their communities. They are preachers and encouragers of commitment to the gods, researchers of religion and Scripture, supervisors to prayer and discussion groups, and charged with mentioning prayer and salvation to nonbelievers and heathens.

They are usually trolls driven to this lifestyle by a strong sense of calling, as if they were meant to hold such a position. They are trained by Archbishops, and given the title of Minister only after their devotion and spiritual knowledge have been formally recognized by the Archbishops of that region. One must usually maintain the title of Minister for a minimum of 6 sweeps before one can be nominated to become Bishop.

Troll(s): Morgan (formerly)

Sacristan

    Appointed by the Minister, these trolls care for the sacristy (room for keeping vestments, church furnishings, sacred vessels, and records), the church, and its contents. They are charged with preparing a church for congregations, feasts, decorations for different festivals and ceremonies, ringing of bells, etc. Altar trolls are in this section.