#so sorry for all these down in the dumps venty posts i need to try and Not do it often…

[serenadeofsunshine]

cannot believe today was such a great day until the last minute THEYRE OUT TO GET ME. I SWEAR. whatever. i’m going to draw. watch the moose for me Make sure he gets into no hijinks

[themetaphorgirl]

IT’S MY SWEET BRENNA’S BIRTHDAY!!!

we were just talking yesterday about how writing birthday posts can feel super awkward, so I wrote a drabble instead!! She loves Hotch and we were just talking about how Patron Saint Hotch is probably terrible with blood, so here’s some teenage Hotch shenanigans (with a Wonder Twin spin).

everybody go tell @thesassprincess happy birthday!!!

(also warnings for blood!)

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Aaron Hotchner had developed a fairly nuanced reputation at St. Thaddeus School by the time he reached his senior year. A short fuse and a bad temper (mostly rectified once he finished tenth grade). An ever-present scowl. A workaholic with straight As and perpetual dark circles under his eyes. All in all, a tough teenager who seemed to have no chinks in his armor.

Which was why his friends were a bit caught off guard by the incident at the library.

The library had become one of their go-to places once it got too cold to wander across campus, especially since Alex didn’t mind letting them in outside of established hours. She did mind, however, when Derek and Emily knocked over a photo frame on her desk and shattered the glass. 

“Guys, are you serious?” she complained as she swept up the catastrophe. 

“We know you hide snacks in here somewhere,” Emily said. “Why won’t you tell us where your stash is?”

“Because you two will eat everything I have, and leave nothing for me,” Alex said.

Spencer hovered in the doorway. “I know where it is, but I’m not telling!” he called. Derek stuck his tongue out at him and grinned at his indignation. 

“Thank you, darling,” Alex said. She dumped the bits of broken glass and cracked wooden frame into the trash. “Don’t come in here, okay? I might have missed some pieces.”

Emily scooped him up under her arm. “Come on, nugget, let’s go see if Rossi and Hotchner are still arguing over Monopoly,” she said. Spencer shrieked with laughter as she threw him over her shoulder and hauled him out of the office.

“Please don’t jostle him, you just let him drink a venti latte,” Alex said. She sighed heavily as she put the pan and broom away. “Just once I’d like to be able to have fun and not have to be everybody’s mother.”

“You’re usually just Spencer’s mother,” Derek suggested. “You’re a big sister to everybody else, if that’s any consolation.”

“It is not,” she said dryly. 

She didn’t mind mothering everyone in their little group, for the most part. And Derek was right, Spencer needed her a lot. But she did have to admit that this wasn’t how she envisioned her senior year. 

The vaulted ceilings of the library echoed with Hotch and Dave squabbling over Monopoly rules. “Are they still doing this?” she asked as she sat down beside James. “

“Yep,” he said, tossing his arm around her shoulders. “They’re so distracted with their fight they haven’t noticed that JJ has stolen most of the money out of the bank.”

Penelope stuck out her lower lip. “I’m just mad they wouldn’t let me be the thimble,” she said.

“That’s it,” Hotch said, pushing himself up from the couch. “That is it, I’m done arguing with you.”

“Why, because I’m right and you don’t want to admit it?” Dave said. 

“No! I’m just done with this stupid game!” Hotch said. “Whose idea was it to play this, anyway?”

“Mine,” Emily said. 

“You’re not even playing. You just picked the thimble and told Spencer to play for you.”

“I know. I figured this would devolve into chaos.”

Hotch huffed in frustration, blowing his dark hair off his forehead. “Well, you can play for me now and you can be the one to argue with Rossi,” he said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and his scowl deepened. “Shit. My phone’s dead. Alex, do you still keep an extra charger around here?”

“Top drawer of my desk in the office,” Alex said, leaning her cheek on James’s shoulder so he could kiss the top of her head.

JJ spread her play money across the table. “All right, whose turn is it now?” she said. 

Dave frowned. “How did you get so much money all of a sudden?” he said.

“Wise investments.”

Spencer jumped so he could lean over the back of the couch between James and Alex, the tips of his toes dangling above the ground. “Did you know that Monopoly was originally called The Landlord’s Game?” he asked. “It was created in 1903 based on the economic theories of Henry George, particularly his theories on taxation.”

“How do you know that?” Derek asked. “How do you know so much random stuff? Where does it all fit in that tiny little fourth-grader brain of yours?”

“The hippocampus, most likely,” he said, frowning. “And technically, I’m a ninth grader.” 

“A ninth grader in a booster seat,” Derek said half under his breath, and JJ hid a laugh behind her hand. 

Spencer’s jaw dropped. “That’s not fair!” he said. “Alex said that teasing me about the booster seat is off limits!” 

“All right, all right, I’m sorry, pretty boy,” Derek said as Spencer clambered awkwardly over the side of the couch and slid down to nestle between Alex and James. “Really, though, how do you know so much stuff? You don’t even use the internet.”

“I read a lot,” Spencer sulked, tucking his cheek against Alex’s arm. 

Something clattered in the office and Alex jumped. “Did something else break?” Penelope asked.

“God, I hope not,” Alex said. “Hotch? Did you break something?”

A long pause.

“No?”

“That didn’t sound reassuring,” Emily said. 

Alex tilted her head back. “Seriously, did you break something?” she called. 

“Uh...can you come here for a second?”

She rolled her eyes. “Just tell me what you broke!” she shouted. “Jesus. This is the last time I unlock the library on a Saturday.”

“Alexandra! Come here!” 

Alex blinked in surprise. “Oh, you got the full name,” James said. “That’s not good.”

She hoisted Spencer onto James’s lap. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “Hopefully whatever he broke is fixable. Unlike my picture frame.”

“I already ordered you a new one,” Emily said. “Can’t you just tell us where you keep your snack stash so we stop snooping around?”

“Nope,” Alex said. “But thanks for replacing it.” She walked behind the desk and opened the office door. “All right, what did you do?”

She stopped dead in her tracks. Her chair had been knocked onto its side, and Hotch was leaning against the wall clutching his arm. “What did you do?” she repeated, this time with genuine concern. 

“There was, uh, something sharp on your desk,” Hotch said. His face was paper white. “I didn’t see it.”

“Did you cut yourself?” she asked.

He nodded frantically. “I don’t do blood,” he said. “I don’t do blood at all.”

“Okay, okay, well...don’t look at it,” she said. She grabbed him by the arm and forced him to sit down at the desk next to hers. His knees buckled and he sat down a little too hard. “Are you going to pass out?”

“Not sure yet,” he said, squinching his eyes shut tightly. “Oh god. Oh, god. How bad is it?”

She took his hand in both of hers. “I don’t know, you have to let me see it,” she said. But she could already see the blood seeping through his fingers, and she wasn’t surprised to see a long cut across his palm when he stiffly unfolded his hand. 

“Do I need stitches?” he asked faintly. 

“I don’t think so,” she said. She grabbed a handful of tissues off the desk and pressed them to his palm, then gently bent his elbow until his hand was level with his shoulder. “Please try to give me some kind of advanced warning if you’re going to pass out on me. I can’t catch you.”

“I’m not gonna,” he mumbled, his lips slack. 

“Yeah, that sounded super convincing,” she said. She adjusted her pressure on the bleeding cut. “Keep your eyes closed and breathe, bubba. It’s okay.”

Hotch leaned his head against her stomach as she stood over him. “How bad is it?” he mumbled. 

She took a peek. “Not bad, it’s slowing down,” she said. “Your shirt is probably a lost cause though.”

“Oh, god,” Hotch groaned. 

Alex stroked his hair back from his forehead. “I have to say, I wasn’t expecting this,” she said. “Aaron Hotchner, the most intimidating boy in the eleventh grade, spooked by blood.”

“I hate it,” he groaned. “I can’t help it. You won’t tell the others, will you?”

Alex glanced back at the glass office door. “Uh…” she said. “It might be a little late for that.”

“Oh, shit,” Hotch said, his eyes still closed. “They’re not all-”

“Staring at you through the window? Yeah, they’re all there.”

Emily rapped on the glass. “Are you okay?” she shouted. 

“Don’t tie a tourniquet, he might lose the whole arm!” Spencer said. 

“He’s fine, it’s just a little scratch,” Alex said. “And he doesn’t need a tourniquet, just a bandage. James, can you get the first aid kit from the circulation desk?”

“Already on it.”

Hotch exhaled slowly. A little bit of color had returned to his cheeks, but he was still a little too pale and clammy for her liking. “Thanks for helping me,” he said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t pass out,” she said. “But don’t worry. I’ll always help if you need me.”

He smiled, his eyes still closed. “You’re a really good big sister,” he said, almost teasing.

She grinned. “Twin sister,” she corrected, and he laughed. 

[ilovemygaydad]

Dance, Dance

Part One: Introductions

Based off this post that you really need to read for context!

Pairings: Analogical and Royality (past sleeplogical)

Characters: Virgil, Patton, Logan, Roman, Sleep/Remy, Deceit/Dominic, October/Toby, September/Ember

Warnings: domestic abuse, swearing, sexual humor, crude comments, bullying, making out, abusive deceit, i can’t think of anything else but tell me if you want me to tag something

A/N: Thank you to @wisepuma23 for being excited about this for me! Also, if the scenes seem weird, it’s because I’m trying to incorporate a bunch of povs because the movie is like that and it’s!!! important!!! oh and uhhhhh sorry for not writing since literally before the new blog but i’m dumb so yeah

Masterlist | Ask Blog | READ ON AO3

The shrill call of the intercom startled Virgil awake. It beeped, but no voice came out. Frustrated, Virgil slammed the talk button and spoke through gritted teeth. “What?”

“Virgil, do not get sassy with me. Your phone privileges are still on thin ice,” Dominic drawled.

“Of course. Sorry.” Virgil wanted so, so bad to bludgeon the damned intercom.

“Get me breakfast. I want eggs benedict and a grande in a venti cup of nonfat vanilla chai tea filled to the top with cream and three Stevias. THREE! Oh, and bring it here in five minutes. And get the twins their breakfasts.” The intercom clicked off.

Great! Virgil thought. What a totally realistic goal for me to accomplish. Fucking kill me.

And, needless to say, Virgil didn’t have the stupid eggs and the even more stupid drink in five minutes, so Dominic made Virgil cough up his phone for the next two months. And then the twins dumped their smoothies onto him because they weren’t right. Virgil had to change his clothes and then make new smoothies.

Virgil barely made it out the door in time due to his chores, and then he almost forgot his skateboard, so by the time that he had rolled up to Patton’s beat-up van, he was late. Patton gave him a quizzical look, but he just shook his head and climbed into shotgun.

Once they started their journey to school, Virgil actually took in what Patton was wearing. The top half was pretty normal looking; Pat’s purple-streaked curls were neatly swooped back, and he had on one of Virgil’s old flannel shirts. On his bottom half, he had—

“Patton, are you wearing a blue tutu?”

The friend in question grinned. “Yeah! I think that it perfectly fits my playful personality!”

Virgil suppressed a smile. “It sure does, Pat.”

“I think I’m going to add tutus to my future fashion line. It’s a winner for sure. And then I’ll get famous, and you’re going to become an all-star dancer, so I can pick you up in my private jet for lunch in Paris!” Patton spoke animatedly, flinging his hands around and ignoring the road. Virgil, practically used to it already, took the wheel in his own hands to make sure they wouldn’t go off road.

“Dude, I have to get into dance school before I can become famous.”

“Yeah, but you’re gonna!” Patton waved dismissively at Virgil’s worries. “Oh, anyway, did you hear that Logan Parker is coming back today?”

“Obviously. I live—turn right—with Toby, Ember, and Dominic. I never hear the end of that shiiii… stuff. Never hear the end of that stuff.”

Patton shrugged. “Fair.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and began to rummage around his pocket for a second, pulling out a pan of black eyeshadow. He flipped down the visor to use the mirror, but as he let go, the whole visor clattered to the floor, completely unhinged. “Fuck, Patton. Would it kill you to fix this thing?”

“Don’t upset her! She’s sensitive, and I don’t want her breaking down on me!” He paused for a second before smirking at his best friend. “Plus, it’s not like you really need the mirror to apply your eyeshadow, anyway.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh, you love me.”

“I wish you were dead.”

Patton just smiled pleasantly, pulling into the parking lot. “Okay, dear.”

It took a whole ten seconds to swipe on the eyeshadow under Virgil’s eyes. As soon as he was done, he stepped out of Patton’s awful van and took a step onto the sidewalk.

“Honestly, Ember. I can’t believe you still drink those awful frappuccinos! They’re so full of sugar,” Remy Sinclair drawled, driving his silver convertible with his two cronies. “Black coffee is obviously superi—oh.” Remy had spotted Virgil.

Shit!

The black coffee in Remy’s hand flew right onto the front of Virgil’s shirt. The boys in the car all laughed; though, it sounded more like a cackle. “Oh, Virgil. I’m so sorry!”

From the van, Patton started to yell, “You’ll be sorry when I shove my fist up your—”

Virgil rushed to put his hand over Patton’s mouth, and Remy just drove away.

“Loganloganloganloganloganlo—”

“Roman, I swear to god. If you don’t stop that insufferable babbling, I will throw you out the window of this limousine on the 405.”

Roman pouted. “You won’t pay attention to me.”

“Yeah, well,” Logan muttered as he flipped over his schedule again. “I would like to know where my classes are so I don’t look like an idiot on my first day back.”

“You’ve read that thing a billion times! Can’t we get hyped for all of your fans—”

“Roman. For the last time, I am here to learn. You are free to spend your time frivolously flirting with every guy with a pulse; however, I am dedicating this year to my education.”

“Ugh, fine. You’re no fun!” Roman huffed, crossing his arms. “Are you at least excited for school?”

Logan smiled at Roman for the first time during their ride. “Yes, actually, I am. Thank you for asking. Are you?”

“I’m excited if you’re excited. You know how much I love to see you smile, man.”

“It almost sounds like you’re into me, Ro,” teased Logan. Roman’s eyes widened for a second, but when he saw Logan’s tiny smirk, he calmed down.

“Mr. Parker?” The driver was looking at the duo in the rearview mirror. “We have arrived at the school.”

“OH MY GOD, IT’S LOGAN PARKER!”

“Oh my god, Pat, Logan Parker is here. What a surprise! It’s almost like he goes here again,” Virgil mocked, turning as a swarm of people ran to the entrance. When he wasn’t being shoved around, he was able to see Logan Parker’s tall, lean figure looming above most of the students fawning over him. Someone else—a slightly shorter and far more muscular boy in clothes more fancy than should ever be on a teenager—stood at his side, a charming grin on his face. But seriously, who wore black dress pants, a white button up, and a red vest to school? This kid, apparently.

Patton both physically and mentally tore Virgil from the scene. “C’mon, let’s get to class before we’re literally run over.”

Logan shot a panicked glance at Roman as the hoard of kids surrounded them. He was used to crowds, sure, but not at his freaking school! He was trying desperately to be a normal teenager for once, damn it! He couldn’t even arrive at school without making a scene.

“Hey, hey, hey, friends and fans!” Roman shouted. Logan recoiled away from the noise, physically feeling all of the love that he felt for Roman drain out of his body in one fell swoop.

The crowd screamed in response:

”I love you, Logan!”

“I’m your biggest fan!”

“Logan, I wanna fuck you!”

Gross. Why couldn’t people understand that he was ace?

“Right, well, I know that you’re all super excited to see Logan, but we’re here to learn! Well, he’s here to learn.” Roman made eye contact with a handsome boy and winked. “We’ll be doing a meet and greet after school—” Oh, and there was more of that screaming— “For now, though, we’re going to get to class! Part ways, everyone! Roman Ellington and Logan Parker coming through!”

Somehow—and Logan had no idea what kind of witchcraft that Roman pulled—the crowd made way for them to pass. As the pair walked into the school, Logan pulled Roman close.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘we’re having a meet and greet after school,’ Roman?” he snarled. His bright smile never faltered.

“I had to placate them somehow! And it worked, didn’t it? It’ll only be an hour, and then you can go home and do whatever it is that you asexuals like to do.”

“God, don’t phrase it like that—and you owe me big time, Roman. Like, Crofters for a month big.”

Roman muttered something about how expensive that would be, but he cut himself off. “Shit! Logan, watch out—”

SMACK!

All of the books and papers that Virgil was carrying flew out of his hands, fluttering to the ground like snow as he was bumped to the floor. He had stopped paying attention for, what, two whole seconds, and someone just happened to slam into him. Not to mention that he probably had a concussion with how aggressively he was flung to the ground.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” The voice paused for a second, and another one yelped. “Roman, what the hell did you push me for?” Virgil groaned and looked up.

Oh. It was Logan Parker. Great.

“It’s fine. Uh, don’t—fuck, ow—don’t worry about it.” Virgil vaguely waved his hand and shoved himself up into a sitting position.

“Here, wait. Let me help you up.” Logan held out his hand for a moment, but it was pulled away to spin him towards—what a fucking surprise—Remy. Who then pulled him into a deep kiss. Right in the hallway.

“Logan! I’ve missed you so much!” Remy squealed, ignoring the way that Logan winced and tried to protest. “Oh my god, I’ve got to show you the dance studio. You’re going to love it.”

And they were gone in a flash.

The weird dressed guy who was always with Logan stepped into Virgil’s line of view with an apologetic smile. “Uh, sorry about Logan, kind sirs. Things are still very wild after the move, though I’m sure you can tell.”

“Yeah…” Virgil said, rubbing his head.

The boy’s eyes flicked to Patton, and he smiled more genuinely. “Nice tutu.”

“Thank you! Uh, I think…” A light dusting of pink spread across Patton’s cheeks, and Virgil was already loathing having to deal with a crushing Patton.

“Of course! Oh, where are my manners? I’m Roman Ellington, Logan Parker’s best friend and manager. You guys can call me The Prince.” He winked at Patton.

Virgil decided that enough was enough. “Yeah, sure thing, Princey. Oh, and you might want to go after Logan. It looked like Remy was planning to drag him to the studio for some, uh, ‘dancing.’”

“Yeah…” Roman winced. “I’ll see you two later, um…?”

“Patton! And this is Virgil.”

Roman took Patton’s hand gently. “Until next time, dear Patton.” Roman kissed the hand as punctuation and walked away.

“Oh my god… Virge, I think I’m in love.”

“Jesus. Come on, Patton. I need to get you to a cold shower before homeroom.”

Part Two