#rebellious birds

[oftheriverseine]

Redcrackle… Pose Study…

(Original pose referenced from this Scarian fanart by @.3000-200-grains-of-salt)

[jaycrakhead]

CARMEN OPERA (Comic)

This was done in 27 days, for college. This my version just to post on social media. The opera being on the youtube helped a lot. This was done to be in spread format but well it is what it is-

[bioshock-2-was-a-good-game]

My friend and I are having a BioShock infinite conversation and she whipped out "Bioshock infinite is good! When it's not trying to be a 'better' (in Ken's eyes) version of Bioshock 2" and she's right.

[shy-girl04]

Carmen and the other women workers exit the cigarette factory and gather in the town square. Groups of soldiers already in the square begin flirting with the women, including Carmen. They ask her specifically when she will love them and she replies with this aria...

Love is a rebellious bird

that no one can tame,

and if you call for it,

it'll be quite in vain

for it's in its nature to say no.

Nothing helps, neither a threat nor a prayer

one talks well, the other rests silent

and it's the other one that i prefere

doesn't say a thing, but pleases me.

Love! Love! Love! Love!

Bizet : Soprano - Maria Callas

[supurman]

this continues to be one of the best character designs dc did off drop ever. and the #1 character design for a super character. like... cooked so hard

[that-one-enby-possum]

Thinking about how Charlie went from rebelling in a goth/emo way to rebelling by choosing to be kind

[genderdryad]

thxy/bird/zie atlasian genderfaer bellusarojump masc lesbian flag!!

pls credit me if you use- thnx!

[lhrry]

can you rec fics to read when heartbroken asking for a friend lmao

[rustbeltjessie]

Rust Belt Jessie’s NaPoWriMo 2023 Prompts: #5

love is a rebellious bird

“L’amour est un oiseau rebelle,” from Bizet’s Carmen, is one of my favorite arias. It moves me, bodily; sets my blood on fire.

Translated into English, the title is: love is a rebellious bird. Those words give me almost as strong a visceral reaction as the aria itself. Partly because of their meanings—I’m a poet, of course I write about love and birds, and I also write about rebellion because I am that sort of poet—partly because of their sound, when taken all together. 

(True confession: I already wrote something from this prompt, several years ago—but it was a piece of micro-fiction, not a poem, so I may do it again and attempt to approach it wholly differently.)

There are a couple ways you could go with this prompt:

Listen to the aria*, and write on the feelings it inspires in you. Or:

Write about whatever you think of when you hear the phrase “love is a rebellious bird,” and/or “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle.”

—

*The link above is to the traditional version, but this techno remix is pretty great, too.

[naomiknight-17]

Not a woman or a girl, but a secret third thing (chick)

[lalage]

love is a rebellious bird none can tame. if you love me not, i love you, and if i love you? watch out

-- L'amour est un oiseau rebelle, Carmen

[constellationcrowned]

~"Loosen the proverbial leash a bit, he's sulking! The poor thing." (for Flynn about young!Kariom)

"And what then, mh? LET HIM RUN WILD WITHOUT RESTRICTIONS like Bo does? Bah...!" He's trying not to sound aggressive---they were the ones' who asked this of him in the first place after all; this duty, this burden, this sacrifice, all for the King and The Flat and all of the Tsourai---and yet Flynn is angry. Angry on Kariom's behalf, even.

"I'm the one lookin' after him, ishul? Me. Every time those stars start calling out to him and THAT DOOR OPENS A BIT WIDER he's off an' running and I'm the one who has to go after him willy nilly! I'm the one who has to pull him out of bushes and ditches and Stryhas knows where else even when he doesn't remember who I am....! So yes, he's 'on a leash' and he'll stay that way if it KEEPS HIM CLOSE AND ALLOWS ME TO PROTECT HIM."

Flynn huffs briefly; his tirade faltering as the immortal hears the topic of discussion beginning to approach the manor, no doubt his feline companion in tow. Flynn spares the half-blood a glance and offers a brief sign of recognition before turning back to Miche, his previously erect posture easing slightly as Flynn lowers his voice. Calm and reasonable, deep breaths in and out. Inhale on one---

"......I understand that th' kiddo needs space and I, believe it or not, give that to him same as you and Bo but there comes a time when he needs a firm hand and SOMEONE TELLIN' HIM NO. If we want to have our kiddo alive and well at the end of all of this we need to start doing that more often." This wasn't his fault. This wasn't his fault. This wasn't his fault. No matter how foolish, obsessive, or foolishly obsessive he could be sometimes this wasn't Kariom's fault in the slightest. He was doing what he thought was right---BECAUSE KARIOM LOVED THEM ALL DEARLY---and Flynn understood that, too.

"We're on the same side, Miche. Don't go forgettin' that now, NOT WHEN HE NEEDS ALL THE HELP THAT HE CAN GET." They wanted him safe---they wanted him alive---and for it to be neither a burden nor a sacrifice.

[nerdieforpedro]

It flowed beautifully ❤️❤️❤️

55 and 93 with Ezra & F Plus sized reader. Angst or fluff, maybe a little bit of both? Whatever you feel works with the prompts :)

A request by @insomniamamma (enjoy!) 

Words: 1,053 | Credit to gif owner | Angst & Fluff, kissing

Love Is A Rebellious Bird

Ezra x F Plus size reader

See prompts in bold

Friends to lovers, lovers to friends; you were not entirely sure how to categorize what you and Ezra were.

While he was away, you thought of all the ways to tell him how you felt. In movies, confessions of love always seem so grand, at times carefree. Could it be that way for you and Ezra? Once you spoke your truth, would he feel the same?

It was not in the plan to fall in love. You were on a mission to keep things light and to have fun. To tap into your sensual and adventurous side as you finally came to a place of feeling confident and comfortable in your skin.

Then he appeared. The silver tongued casanova with stories in his eyes and a rogue tuff of blonde hair among his dark curls. Your meeting felt so perfect, cosmic really. By the end of the first date, you felt like old friends meeting again.

Everything was easy and natural, like riding a smooth wave. Until your heart got involved. Now, you sat on a confession that was ready to burst through your skin. Your mind spun wildly with the possibilities, so much so, you worried yourself dizzy by the time he showed up at your door.

The last time you saw him was 5 months ago. Usually, these visits made you feel excited. Now, you were nervous. It was common for him to stay with you after his jobs, filling your days with laughter, tales, and sensual moments.

With each visit, he worked his way deeper into your heart. Ezra's flowery language was like being serenaded under the moonlight. He called you the most beautiful yet strange names while planting kisses on your lips and whispering into your skin.

Of course you fell in love with Ezra. But, did he feel the same?

You didn't notice how long you drifted off, not until Ezra speaks. His voice breaks your dazed state of mind.

"Where have you gone, starlight?" He asks, his head lowered as he sticks his fork into his food. You feel tongue-tied. The words you fear speaking linger on your tongue.

Your eyes wander over to the small table by the window where all of Ezra’s gifts have turned into some kind of altar. Rare gems, a book of poetry, rock formations, dried flowers...even now, in your state of worry, you smile. It always makes you smile.

Ezra hums loudly and puts the fork down. “Gem, you’ve outdone yourself again. My taste buds are alive with flavor! My stomach sings in delight at-” Ezra slows down, the concern in your eyes worries him. “Gem?”

Slowly, you turn your head and meet his gaze.

Ezra was the definition of a free bird, he was a wanderer, a space cowboy. What if one day, the handsome rugged prospector tired of you? Then taking someone else as his lover?

You can’t hide your concern, Ezra sees right through you and leans a little closer. He starts to say your name, but you cut him off and speak first.

“Ezra, sometimes I look at that door and I wonder when the last time will be. I wonder when…” you trail off and slouch in your chair.

Ezra pushes the plate aside and turns his palms up, he waits for your hands. When you place them in his, he curls his fingers and gives them a gentle squeeze.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what crawled into your mind and convinced you of such thoughts Birdie. I assure you, I’m not going anywhere.”

He sounds so confident, his eyes honest. You want to believe him; for the most part you do. But that pesky little voice inside of you still questions it.

Ezra pulls your right hand up to kiss your skin, then does the same to the left. You press your lips together and try to suppress the emotions welling up in your chest.

“Ezra, I know what this is. I know it has an expiration date. Even with all the passion in the world, a lover can only remain a lover for so long, yes?”

Ezra frowns. You wonder if it's because what you said is true, or if what you said bothers him.

Ezra clears his throat. “I sense there is something more you want to vocalize, Angel. Before I inquire, I must make it clear, though you are most certainly my lover, and I yours, you’re more than that.”

Ezra releases your hands and stands. Rounding the table, he kneels before you. You push the chair out to give him more room as he rests his hands on your thighs, his eyes on yours.

“I confess, I came to our reunion tonight with a heavy heart as well. I too have secrets to declare, “ his eyes search yours, “my feelings for you have been clear to me for quite some time. The nature of my profession gives me pause when it comes to such matters. Even so, love is a rebellious bird no one can tame. And I do, indeed, love you.”

Your eyes light up as shock washes over you. “Ezra, “ you whisper with a smile,” I love you too.”

He’s grinning ear to ear now, and those dimples your love so much make their appearance. Reaching out, you caress his face with your palm, his eyes close as he leans into it. You kiss the top of his head, savoring the moment.

After a few seconds, Ezra releases your hands. He stands and beckons your closer with his hands.

“Come here.”

You stand and step into his arms, nearly purring at how good it feels to be held by him.

Ezra plants kisses on your face before continuing, “Little bird you are the muse, the inspiration that floods the hearts of poets and painters. You are the fresh blossom of a flower in spring and the sound of music that soothes one's soul. How divine you are, how heavenly. I indeed am a prosperous man to have your heart, as you have mine.”

Moved beyond words, you crash your lips into his. Ezra smiles into the kiss before parting his lips to have more of you. 

A feathery feeling washes over your body, you feel elated and relieved. Your heart didn’t lead you astray, it guided you right where you needed to be.

More from this prompt request series ( now closed) 

More Ezra 

Permanent @readsalot73 @phoenixhalliwell @buckysalefty @roxypeanut @laketaj24 @lovinglokiforever @nerdypinupcrystal @tephi101 @wigwitch @gallowsjoker @autumnleaves1991-blog @jedi-mando @ladylothlorien @lilangeldevil006 @rosiefridayrogersunday @idreamofboobear

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Ezra: @agirllovespancakes @oldstuffnewstuff @opheliaelysia @voteforpedropascal @engineeredfiction @buckstaposition @holographic-carmen @readsalot73 @cinewhore @charming-merlin @viktorialukowski

[mycartoonmonster]

With the context of the Book of Bill and the characterisation of Bill, I ended up finding that all the members of the Zodiac have a thing or two in common with Bill Cipher.

Six fingered hand-Stanford Pines

-Both have a genetic mutation which they got ostracized for but made them interested in the worlds beyond.

- Both are egocentric and smart.

-Both have a thirst for revenge to prove the people around them they were wrong about them.

-Both didn't mean to endanger their dimension (Ford wanted knowledge and Bill wanted to show them the stars)

-Animals aren't safe around them (Ford set a bird on fire by mistaking it as a Phoenix and Bill ripped out a deer's teeth in his debut and in the storyboards of Weirdmageddon P1 he uses a deer to forcibly kiss Ford's statue as if they were his Barbie and Ken)

-Both have a weird sense of humor

-Both are considered criminals in the multiverse (Theft in Ford's case and Manslaughther, Murder alongside other stuff like mass property destruction in Bill's case)

-Both project onto others they see as similar to themselves (Bill with Ford-and on a minor scale Pacifica-and Ford with Dipper)

-Both ended up getting tricked by a conman (Ford by Bill and Bill by Stanley)

-Both are authors! (The Journals and the Book Of Bill, which are essentially diaries that talked about what their lives were, a bit about themselves and the creatures they found through their life)

Crescent symbol/Fish-Stanley Pines

-Both are scammers

-Both share mannerisms, one of them being referring to Ford as Sixer(which led to people theorizing Stan was Bill's reincarnation)

-Bad relationship with their parents but seem closer with their mom (Bill's parents tried to make him blind to the 3rd dimension but it seems Bill genuinely loved his mama Scalene while Fildbrick didn't value Stan as much as Ford and Caryn was the only one worried about Stanley and was one of the 2 persons that assisted his fake funeral)

-Both were seen as a bad kid growing up (Bill by the people on his dimension due to his mutation and the habilities this granted him while Stan was seen as lesser than Ford due to the latter's gigantic IQ and his rebellious nature)

-Both made one mistake that heavily affected the course of their lives and can never return home because of it (Stan ruining Ford´s project and Bill setting his home ablaze)

-Both didn't mean to push Ford away from them nor put their families in any danger initially(Bill wanted Ford to continue with the portal and got sad after their fallout and Stan did what he did in a moment where he wasnt thinking rationally and it cost him 30 years of loneliness and guilt)

-Both went to jail on different occassions (Stan on Colombia and Bill after going on a rampage in the bar while drunk after the fallout with Ford and the Theraprism if you wanna add it)

-Both tend show only 1 eye to people as well as a cane (Bill only has 1-although he can shapeshift and have multiples as seen in his demon form- and he uses the cane mostly in Dreamscappers, a bit in Sock Opera and in the intro for Weirdmageddon while Stan uses a patch and an 8 ball cane for tourists during his mystery man persona)

-Both used their art to influence people (Stan with the Mystery Shack's attractions and Bill using animation and figurines which failed, unlike Stan's works, unless you count the Lil' Stanley comic)

-Both have used a red demon costume once (Bill in the book and Stan in a picture in Gideon Rises)

-Both wanted to set the journals on fire (with Bill actually doing it in Weirdmageddon Part 1)

-They find Dipper's disstress/fear and annoyance hilarious (Stan teasing him vs Bill terrorizing him)

Glasses-Fiddleford McGucket

-Both end up going insane after a traumatic event (The destruction of his home dimension in Bill's case and McGucket taking a peek into Bill eating his own exoskeleton after crossing the portal)

-The times they helped/aided people it ended bad for them (In McGucket's case, Dipper with his new voice and the Gideon Bot that ended up getting destroyed in the scuffle with Dipper and in Bill's case; Dipper became Bill's puppet and Gideon didn't get the Shack's signature hence he had to use dynamite as a plan B and Weirdmaggedon only lasted 4-5 days for the Henchmaniacs while in McGuckets case's Shacktron didn't survive against Bill as they didn't consider protecting the arms and legs the same way that the Shack was protected)

-Both played a part in the creation of secret societies (Fiddleford by creating The Societyvof the Blind Eye and Bill by the Ciphertologists and inderectly creating the Anti-Bill Cipher society by terrorizing 4 persons)

-Underneath all that insanity and very deep in that broken mind, there is one very smart broken guy.

-Both lost their families (At least Fiddleford could reconciliate with some of it but Bill doesn´t have the same chance anymore)

Bag of ice-Wendy Courdory

-Both are rebellious and dislike authority figures.

-They like to do what they want with no regard for rules

-Both abused their power on more than one occasion (Wendy by stealing snacks and throwing water balloons at the elderly when working at the pool and Bill throughout his deals and in Weirdmageddon)

-They've had guts to face powerfull creatures (Bill the Time Baby and Wendy stuff like the ShapeShifter, the Unicorns or the Eye Bats in Weirdmageddon)

-Both lost a mom when they were young.

Questioning Mark-Soos Ramírez

-Both are smarter than what they look like upon first sight.

-Both lack a dad (Bill's died while Soos's left him)

-They have a funny side to them (Bill more leaning to sadism though)

-Both had their eyes damaged by Mabel (Soos by getting attacked with glitter in Stan Is Not What He Seems and Bill by getting sprayed with graffiti paint in Weirdmageddon Part 3)

Stiched heart-Robbie Valentino

-Both had their relationships ruined by their own arrogance, negligence and dishonesty (Bill being an abusive partner while Robbie was immature).

-They did not take the fallout with their partner well (at least Robbie would never dare to do anything similar to what Bill did)

-They tried to pursue their partner after the break up but to no avail (Bill with threaths and later on with offers of power and Robbie by using music as seen in Gideon Rises and both actually using messanges-Bill wasting Ford's Post-it notes and Robbie sad emails and texts to Wendy)

-Both are good with music (Bill can play the piano and xylophone as seen in his apology video and Robbie can play the guitar and both can sing)

-Both insulted Soos or referred to him in condescending ways (Robbie called him Big Dude and Bill adressed him as "the fat one")

-Both had beef with a 12 year old and wanted to harm them (Robbie wanted to fist fight a child aka Dipper and Bill planned to commit suicide in Dipper's body, turn the mystery twins into corpses, disassamble their molecules and almost kills Mabel in the series finale)

'Both got turned to stone at one point in Weirdmageddon (Robbie when it started and Bill at the end of it)

One eyed Pentagram-Gideon Gleeful

-Having too much power that they acquired at a young age which heavily affected them and began their rise to villainy

-Both have a hatred towards Stanley Pines for meddling with their plans to obtain absolute power and ultimatetly ruining their plans which ended with them in prison.

-Both burnt a picture of the object of their affections; destroying the section with the rest of their family and leaving their faces untouched.

-Both planned to use Mabel and Dipper to get one of the original mystery twins to give them what they wanted

-Both left the Pines Twin they were interested on imprisoned during Weirdmageddon.

-Both deep down craved adoration and attention.

-Both lead a gang of criminals but dont treat them with a much respect as the one Pines Twin they are pining on while hating the other twins for thinking they turned them away from them when in reality it was their actions that did.

-Both got punched in the face by a Pines Twin in a season Finale inside someone´s head (Gideon Bot's and Stanley's)

-Both seem to care about their appearance (Gideon worrying about his hair the most and Bill about his bowtie, given the scream he lets out when Dipper blasts him and him readjusting it a couple of times during Weirdmageddon)

-Both ended up in prison after acquiring a position of absolute power where they do art therapy

-Both are snappy dressers and use their charm to trick people

Llama-Pacifica Northwest

-Both had messy childhoods that turned them into who they are now.

-Both are pretty good liars and can trick people very easily (Bill with his deals and Pacifica in the Lost Legends comic)

-Both look down on people they see as inferior to them(Bill with humans and Pacifica with the working class, hillbillies and the Pines before the events of The mystery of the Northwest mansion and Weirdmageddon)

-Both see themselves as monsters that cause havoc no matter where they go or what they do (Pacifica in dreams and Bill due to what he did in his home)

-Both were forced by their parents to act in a certain way (Bill´s at least loved him and were good intentioned)

-Both are fighters (Pacifica by defying her parents wishes, facing against the ghost and the face stealer in Lost Legends and refusing Bill's deal in her dream and Bill could stand a fight with Shacktron which he ended up defeating and in his book its implied he can fight easily against demons or ghosts)

-Both have wore a crown (Pacifica in her debut episode and Bill in his portrait in the Penthouse suite of the Fearamid)

Shooting Star-Mabel Pines

-Both are agents of Chaos (Mabel being Chaotic Good/Neutral and Bill Chaotic Evil).

-Both enjoy partying and to have fun.

-Both have a wild imagination and a sense of style.

-Both like karaoke and have had a karaoke night with one of the original mystery twins

-Both have eaten stuff normal people shouldn't eat/gross things(Bill his exoskeleton and illegal punch and Mabel getting wasted with Smile Dip, a leaf, huge amounts of sugar that would end with her sick, Mabel juice and she once got hospitalized by eating sniff and scratch stickers)

-Both like makeovers (as seen in a part of the book of Bill where he talks about hiding the blood of his past)

-Both think highly of themselves (Bill's bottomless ego vs Mabel being secure about her talents, qualities and appearance)

-Both have social skills that made others attracted to them, mostly loners or freaks (Bill with his Henchmaniacs for their shared love of chaos and Ford with his smarts and cosmical knowledge and Mabel with Candy and Greta by being weirdos and not being as popular as Pacifica and her posse)

-Both adress Ford as "Fordsy"

-Both have rolled in the grass in Gravity Falls(Bill while possesing Ford during puppet hour and Mabel in Tourist Trapped)

-Both put their wants over other people's and/or their needs (Like in Sock Opera but even if Mabel is sometimes selfish at least apologizes and learns from her mistakes while Bill doesn't care who he hurts and would never apologize)

-Both use white out to exclude certain stuff they dont like from reading material to "fix it" or crayons/markers to cross them (Mabel with the dialog in the Comix Up story in Lost Legends or certain things such as her summer romances and in the Mabel´s guide to color with the picture and Bill with a section where part of The Great Gatsby is shown on his book where he mentions assigned reading or stuff like his exes and his former friend The Oracle/Seven eyes)

-Both became gods of destruction, first time by accident and the second with full intention(Mabel by accident with the rift and ending with MabelLand and Bill with the accidental destruction of his home and with Weirdmageddon)

-You could argue they're awfull when it comes to romance (Mabel's attempts always end in failure and Bill fumbled Ford so so hard)

Pine Tree-Dipper Mason Pines

-Both are good at decoding codes and solving mysteries and have good academic skills.

-Both didn't have many friends growing up and were picked on as kids (Bill for his mutation and Dipper for his birthmark)

-The times they wanted to prove themselves to others ended badly for them (Dipper caused a zombie apocalypse and Bill destroyed his dimension by accident)

-The names they use aren't their real names (Bill confirmed in an AMA years ago that Bill Cipher is just a name he picked so humans could converse with him without going bonkers upon first contact and Dipper's name is actually Mason but everyone refers to him as Dipper due to his birthmark)

-Has cloned himself (Bill's are a natural hability for him while Dipper made copies of himself via paper-rest in piece Tyrone)

-Both were adorable as babies.

-Both got obsessed with someone to the point of messing with their personal lifes (Dipper with Wendy during her relationship with Robbie and Bill with Ford and his relationship with McGucket)

-They changed hats at different points in their life; Dipper in Tourist Trapped changes from his green hat with a five point star to the classic blue pine tree while Bill sported a multicolor hat as a kid before changing into a tophat (if we take the theory that Bill's hat was originally his father's then both Dipper's and Bill's were owned by a family member before being passed on to them, Dipper's belonging to Stan)

I know this is probably just a coincidence (save the stuff with Ford as some were meant to highlight the bond these two had and establish parallels between the two, making them doomed soulmates and adding another layer of sadness over the toxic yaoi) but a fun one still.

Thanks for reading!

[charliemwrites]

Part 2!

Finally finished moving house so hopefully I’ll be updating semi-regularly again.

Content: brief and non-descriptive explanation of Rasputin’s backstory (injury and illness)

Agatha is over again.

You don’t know why. She doesn’t like you, your cats, or anything as far as you can tell. It seems her primary motivation for talking to you at all is to exercise her role as neighborhood matriarch. She “keeps tabs” on everyone, but especially you - the unmarried woman living alone that keeps odd hours.

A rebellious part of you wants to roll your eyes and make snarky comments whenever she sniffs at your life choices. The same part of you that would make scenes at holiday dinners or slam doors when you were a teenager. That girl has long been smoothed and polished - or maybe just worn down. It’s so much effort to make rude, nosy, traditionalists clutch their pearls. Much easier to smile in their face and do what you want anyway.

Still, that part of you itches at the surface sometimes. Makes your eye twitch.

“I know your generation is different but that’s just not the type of neighborhood we live in,” she’s saying.

You’re a bit foggy from a late night patching plotholes and haven’t registered much of anything she’s said. You really just want to go inside and stare at the TV until words make sense again.

“What do you mean?” you ask, for once not feigning your confusion. But of course this is the one time she doesn’t buy it.

She looks down her frail little nose at you, cornflower blue eyes baleful. You don’t feel scolded, but you sense that you’re supposed to.

“Now you know just what I mean. People will talk.”

People always talk, it’s an unfortunate byproduct of the human condition. Like a deaf bird, you’ve never understood all the chatter.

“Talk about… the buttercups?” you wonder, pointing at the blossoms. You’re quite proud of them actually.

Agatha puffs up and hisses out a breath. “You ought to keep to this side of the street. Away from those men.”

You blink. Men…?

A bang comes from across the street, followed by rough German cursing. (At least you think it’s cursing.)

Ah. Those men.

“I was just welcoming them to the neighborhood.”

It comes out of your mouth automatically, innocent excuses for something you remind yourself you don’t need to justify.

“I’d rather they didn’t feel welcome,” she snips. “Better they sell that awful house and go somewhere else.”

You flick your eyes over her bony shoulder. Konig passes by a window, massive biceps on display as he lifts something outside of view.

“They’re nice,” you say. Nice to look at. Krueger’s face alone quite makes up for his conversational shortcomings.

“The only reason men like that act nice is because they want something,” Agatha snaps. “This is a respectable neighborhood.”

Yeah, soooo respectable when Bertram rifles through your mail or Lisa looks into your backyard.

“Well,” you muse, “better to be on good terms with them, I think. They're not the type you want to piss off.”

That defiant streak lights up at the way her face sours. If only she knew what sort of words you use when it’s just you and the cats.

“You’ve just proven my point. Those are not the type of men young ladies should associating themselves with.”

You have to try very hard not to scrunch up your face. One blessed day, people will stop referring to you as “young lady” in that insufferably condescending tone. You can’t wait for that day.

Some of your mounting irritation must show on your face because she takes on a sickly sweet “teaching” tone.

“Neighborhoods are like gardens. Everything grows best when the rows are kept separate. That’s why the farmers plant them that way.”

You glance pointedly at your own yard, where the flowers are blooming in haphazard sprigs wherever you tossed the seeds. Agatha’s lips get thin.

“Best that you stay on this side of the street, missy. That’s the last I’ll hear of it.”

She spins on her heel and stalks off like a particularly drab bird. You stand on your porch for a second longer, face contorted in annoyed confusion. You don’t even have strong feelings about the three men; the simple act of someone - Agatha of all people - labeling them as “Off Limits” makes them instantly more appealing.

Maybe you should see someone about that or something. Then the pathetic cries of Guy through the window lure you back inside.

It’s nearly sundown when there’s a knock at your door. Still agitated from your talk with Agatha, you puff up like Shithead when Rasputin sits on her favorite toy. March up to the door, fling it open - and come up short when you see the three men looming on your doorstep.

Before you can recover, a little gray blob scrambles past your ankles, crying like the sky is falling.

“Oh!” Konig gasps in pleasant surprise. “Hallo, Bubchen!”

And all 6-foot-plus of Austrian instantly folds to scoop Guy up. You’ve barely managed a now-useless shout of alarm when Shithead wedges her fat head between your calves. Behind you, Rasputin politely screeches his little chainsmoker call.

And somehow, in the chaos of fumbling for furballs, you end up with all three men in your foyer.

Guy is purring away in Konig’s thick arms. Shithead is attempting to scale Krueger’s tight cargo pants. And Rasputin is pawing the air at Nikto, visibly calculating the jump to his wide shoulders.

Which leaves you with the clean serving platter you dropped off just yesterday. You blink at it for a moment, then glance at them.

“So… the cookies were good then?”

“Very good!” Konig rushes to say. Krueger and Nikto each nod, almost comically solemn.

“We have no baking or cooking skills,” Krueger continues, “so tell us what needs fixing.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he means. The house. He wants to fix your house. It’s surprisingly sweet, and you laugh a bit, shaking your head. “You don’t need to do that, I was just-“

“Is custom,” Nikto interrupts.

Konig nods with all the enthusiasm of a bobblehead as Krueger crosses his arms. (Whatever effect he’s going for is ruined by Shithead clinging to his pocket and screaming.)

“In our country, we bring gifts as guests. Our gift is repairs,” he explains.

You arch your brows playfully. “I don’t remember inviting you to be guests.”

He arches his brows right back. “We did not invite you either.”

Well shit.

“Okay, okay. I guess there’s a couple things…”

Konig perks up. “We would be happy to help, Biene!”

It’s strange having men in the house. You think you should be more nervous about it, can’t remember the last non-family man allowed into your space. Especially alone.

There’s a sharp awareness, of course. Hard not to be aware of them. It’s not just that they’re big, dwarfing all of your you-sized furniture. There’s a presence to them, something felt but not seen by your untrained eye. Maybe it’s in the set of their shoulders, the way they stand with both boots firmly planted. Maybe it’s the precise way they speak and move, not just separately but as a unit. Acting more like a collective consciousness than as individuals.

Whatever it is, you couldn’t ignore them if you tried. And you’re definitely not trying.

You set Krueger to work on the kitchen cabinet you’ve been meaning to replace. He clicks his tongue at the tape-and-lean method you’ve been using to keep the old one in place. Shithead immediately sets to work helping by gnawing at his shoelaces.

Konig is stationed in the guest bathroom, where the sink doesn’t run right. Guy comes mewing into your arms when he’s set down, effectively tattling that his new friend is mean and awful for withholding affection for even a moment.

You try not to visibly hesitate when you corner yourself in your own laundry room. Nikto has followed you right in, seemingly unaware that he’s invading your personal space. He’s not even looking at you though, eyes zeroed in on the dryer you point to.

“It’s not heating up, so the clothes stay wet or take forever to dry,” you explain.

He grunts in acknowledgement, then nods to Rasputin, who has taken up residence on the washer. His one golden eye blinks slow and serene at the two of you.

“What happened?” he asks.

You hum, softening in pleasant surprise at the question.

“I’m not sure how he lost his eye. It was infected when I found him. But I know for sure the tail and leg are from getting hit by a car.”

You sigh, scratching at Rasputin’s chin. A rusty purr starts up as he tilts his head, revealing some nasty scars around his throat.

“The vet said that that’s probably from a fight with another cat,” you add.

Guy steps from your arms to cuddle up to Rasputin, shoving his face into his ragged ear. Grooming time, then. That’s as good an indication as any that Nikto’s probably safe enough.

“I ran down from an office building to save him.” You blink hard, eyes stinging just from the memory. “But anyway, he gets to rest and be pampered now.”

When you glance up from Rasputin’s happy little face, you almost startle at the sharp blue eyes pinning you in place. Your face feels warm, even though you’re not embarrassed.

“I’ll, um, get out of the way,” you say, clearing your throat. “Keep an eye on things, Ras.”

With the men occupied, you find yourself once again at loose ends. You drift towards the den, but it feels awkward to sit on your ass watching TV while your neighbors fix your house.

You check the time on your phone - ignoring the text from your mother - and figure it’s not too early to start dinner.

“Will I be in the way if I start cooking?” you ask Krueger.

He flicks you a dimissive glance. “A little thing like you?”

You scoff and cross to the fridge. “You could have just said no.”

“Nein,” he snorts.

Rude bastard, you think - though not without fondness, unfortunately. The surly attitude is already growing on you.

There’s meat and spare boxes of pasta and veggies - that’ll work. You start tugging out ingredients, mentally doubling portions for your guests. They look like they work out even beyond the construction labor, hopefully you’ll have enough to satisfy their appetites.

“So what’s the plan with the house?” you ask as you get to work. “Just fixing it up to sell or…?”

“We will live there, the three of us,” Krueger answers. He swipes a screwdriver from Shithead’s batting paws. “Somewhere to stay when we are not working.”

You hum, biting back the next obvious question, loathe to become as nosy as the rest of your neighbors. Still… getting to know people, right?

It sounds like they expect to travel a lot. You can’t imagine them as business types - not in the traditional sense anyway. Though the image of Konig sitting in a tiny cubicle does make you smile a bit. Between their statures, their clothes, their shoes, and the occasional nasty scar, you take a guess.

“Are you guys military?”

“Contractor,” Krueger corrects.

You perk up. “Wait, really?”

He scowls. “Does it sound like a joke?”

You huff and turn back to the veggies you’re cutting. “No, no. I just - you know about guns and knives and things, then?”

He pauses. You shoot him a curious glance, only to quickly look away at the intense scrutiny directed your way.

“Yes,” he answers slowly.

“Then… could you maybe answer some questions…?”

His eyes narrow. “Questions?”

You keep your gaze on the cutting board. “Okay, wait, it's not suspicious. I’m a writer and it’s hard to google very specific questions sometimes. It’s just easier to ask an expert in person.”

Never mind that majority of your readers would never know the difference. It bothers you when things aren’t accurate.

He makes a considering noise. “A writer?”

You flush. “That’s what I do. Why I’m always home? I publish fiction.”

He stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. You peek his way, shocked to see a task you’ve been putting off for weeks already done. Hell, it looks sturdier than the rest of the cabinet doors, too.

“And your fiction requires knowledge of guns and knives and ‘things’?” he asks.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Sometimes…”

“Fine. I will answer your questions,” he allows.

You beam. “Thank you!”

He grunts, snatches a slice of pepper and pops it into his mouth.

“What else needs doing?”

Dinner ends up much more pleasant than expected. Nikto abstains from eating, you assume because he doesn’t feel comfortable removing his ever-present mask, but he sits at the table with Rasputin in his lap. He speaks little, and has that intense gaze that prickles at your freeze instinct, but you grow used to it as the meal progresses.

Konig, however, becomes chattier with food in his belly. He’s much more forthcoming when he answers your polite and totally casual questions - though you notice Krueger kick him under the table once or twice.

You suppose he gets you back by effectively announcing to the others what your career is. Which just kicks off the usual line of questioning about how and why you got into writing. Still, there’s no judgment from these men that make their living in labors of blood and sacrifice, where you expected censure. You only find genuine curiosity and intrigue, good-natured questions. Not even Krueger makes backhanded comments about it not being a “real” job.

Before you know it, the moon is high and you’re sending the three of them off, bellies full and a little friendlier than before. Nikto nods to you (and Rasputin) as he leaves, a big Tupperware of his dinner portion in hand.

You tell yourself it’s not anticipation that goes through you, knowing they’ll be back with it soon.

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Masterlist

[mariasont]

Parent-Teacher Conference - A.H

a/n: inspired by the show the nanny! major lover of mr sheffield and fran fine

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

summary: you are not happy with jack's teacher flirting with your boss

warnings: hotch staring at your ass!, jealous reader, flirty reader, would prob def get a complaint against her in the real world, but alas!

wc: 0.8k

I'm terribly sorry, but my cat died before I got here.

I actually was in a car wreck on the way. I know I look fine, but it was super traumatic.

Mr. Hotchner you look so good today! Me? Late! Never.

These were the series of apologies and excuses that you were rehearsing in your mind as you navigated your way through the school hallway. In your defense, your tardiness to the parent-teacher conference wasn't without reason. Jack's newfound rebellious phase had him ruining your pantyhose with deliberate runs. He found it hilarious. You found it anything but.

You mentally prepared for that all-too-familiar, intimidating glare from Mr. Hotchner, the kind that could make you feel like you were plummeting from a cliff. Not only were you running late, but you also anticipated a less-than-glowing report from Ms. Thompson about Jack's recent antics. And in the back of your mind, a nagging voice whispered that Mr. Hotchner would somehow find a way to blame you.

"Oh, Aaron, you're something else!" 

You stopped dead in your tracks, gaze locked on the scene unfolding before you. Ms. Thompson's voice took on a higher pitch, full of animation, her elbows subtly drawing her tits together, leaning into Mr. Hotchner's space with an ease that bordered on disrespectful. At least in your eyes.

Aaron? The casual use of Mr. Hotchner's first name sent your mood from sour to downright acrid. You strode into the classroom, inching your skirt higher and affixing a practiced, beaming smile to your face. It was all charm and no sincerity.

"So sorry I was late," you began, allowing a gentle sway in your step as you glided into the room, your heels clicking a measured tempo against the linoleum floor. You mustered all your willpower to not shoot daggers at the blonde headed teacher. "I didn't miss anything did I?"

As you stepped into view, both Ms. Thompson and Mr. Hotchner turned their eyes to you. Ms. Thompson's showed a flicker of surprise, while Mr. Hotchner's were like slits, scrutinizing. But even his discipline gaze dipped, albeit briefly, to the curve where your skirt ended. 

"Oh, I... I didn't realize you were married, Mr. Hotchner," she mumbled, her hands fumbling gracelessly with the papers on the desk, her lips pinched in a straight line.

You could nearly hear the thoughts churning in Mr. Hotchner's head as his lips parted to correct her. Hastily, you cut in, "An innocent mistake, I'm sure."

He raised an eyebrow, a wordless question hanging in the air. Ignoring it, you flashed a saccharine smile and took the seat by his side, linking your arm with his. His muscles tensed, a reaction that almost coaxed a giggle from you.

It was all too easy to get a rise out of him.

"My wife, the epitome of timeliness,"Mr. Hotchner states dryly, his grip of your arm tightening just a tad more than called for. 

To your astonishment, the remainder of the conference proceeded seamlessly from that point on. Ms. Thompson restrained herself, both in wardrobe and word, and unexpectedly showered Jack with praise.

Exiting the classroom alongside Mr. Hotchner, you noticed he paused just long enough to ensure Ms. Thompson was out of ear shot. That's when you felt the squeeze of his hand on your side, coming to rest on the curve of your lower back, the pressure didn't move even as you found yourselves alone in the hallway--and you were far from objecting.

"Really?"

Your shoulders rose and fell in a pretense of innocence, well aware that his perceptive eyes weren't fooled. You tilted into his shoulder, doing a mental victory dance when he made no move to distance himself.

"What?" you asked, clutching your purse tighter against your side as you paced forward. "I was just helping you out. She looked like she was about to jump your bones at any second."

Mr. Hotchner's face was unamused, per usual. "Your generosity knows no bounds."

"Right?" You were aware of his sarcasm, but that didn't deter you. Your shoulders bumped together as you made it to the exit. "Consider yourself lucky."

An eye roll was his immediate response, but you could almost sense the smile he was staunchly holding back. He would never admit it.

"Yes, how could I ever manage without you?"

He paused to open the door for you, following behind as you stepped outside. You squinted against the sun's harsh kiss before giving him a teasing wink over your shoulder. He looked really good in the sunlight. He could use more of it.

"You wouldn't."

You caught his eyes lingering not on your face, but lower--fixated on your skirt, more specifically your ass. You raised your brows in question. 

"I think you sat in something."

You let out a startled gasp, hands flying to the material of your skirt. It was your favorite. "What? Where?"

His hands found their way to your waist, gently pivoting you for a better view, while your eyes settled on the stretch of road before you. "Oh, nope, my mistake. Looking good."

Your laughter spilled out uncontrollably, realizing just what he was doing. Cheeky man. And completely out of character, but you liked it. "Mr. Hotchner!"

 "I take my role as husband very seriously."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna