#we put that thing back where it came from or so help me

[mommyeater2000]

The hunt

i haven’t wrote in such a long time, and i’m soooo sad about yellow jackets so i needed to write about mari because she’s to sexy to die:(

Mari x Reader

Description: The hunt where Mari is supposed to die, reader decides that they aren’t gonna let that happen. instead of mari falling into the pit, reader pushes her out of the way.

We stood in a circle, but it didn’t feel like one. Circles are supposed to be safe. Closed. Equal. This wasn’t that. It was uneven, jagged—like the shape had been broken and hammered back into place. Cold seeped through the animal skin and unusual outfits that everyone wore during their hunts.

My fingers itched against the hilt of the dull knife at my side. Not to use it. Just to feel it. To have a sense of safety I shift my left foot to my right fidgeting with my fingers on my left hand

Mari was across from me. Her hair was pulled back, jaw locked, eyes half-lidded in that way that looked bored but meant the opposite. She always looked like she was about to say something sharp. I meet her eyes.

We weren’t touching. But she kept glancing at me, and I kept looking back.Everyone knew about us. We weren’t secret. But I don’t need to be with her all the time I can feel her presence from a mile away like she’s a part of me, a part of my soul.

A wind moved through the trees—long, low, curling—and the sound of it stirred something deep in the group. The way dogs start whining before a storm.

misty took a step forward. The deck was in it. Worn playing cards, stained in places I didn’t want to think too hard about.Everyone quieted. You could feel the silence pressing down on our skin.

One by one, the cards started to pass.

I watched each girl as she drew—quiet, cautious, fingers twitching as they turned the cards over looking at it then turning it to the group. each time i see their face relax, like a weight has been lifted off they’re shoulders. i could just feel a bigger weight on mine. my chances to get the card are higher.

van first, then natalie, lottie. who almost looked disappointed, taissa.

And then it came to Mari’s turn. but Shauna steps beside her and Taissa.

“Shauna you don’t have to take any extra risk. you can go back to you’re spot. ”taissa spoke

shauna smirks, tilting her head slightly. “how’d you get into AP stats? it doesn’t change the odds. besides. i trust whatever it wills. Misty, keep going.” she looks back to the group. Mari spoke up. “No, go back to your spot. That’s not how this works, you get what you get.” Shauna grins at her, and looks eyes with you. she knows something. her shit eating grin doesn’t flatten. “Misty, the cards.”

Her hand didn’t hesitate.

she took the card holding it up to the group, a smug look on her face. she’s safe. Mari gives her a nasty look.

Mari looked at me.

Just for a second.

Then, without a word, she reached her hand forward. grabbing the card, her breath stuck in her chest. But, Her expression didn’t change. She turned it over with two fingers. The motion was almost lazy.

The Queen of Hearts stared up at us.

And nobody breathed. van gave her a sorrowful look. Mari almost wanted to put the card back and refuse to play. like a little kid you say’s they’re not playing anymore after they get tagged.

“Oh…tough break. Mar. take off your cape.” the steps in-front of her. a nasty look on her face. Mari bite her lip, looking at me. Almost like she needs reassurance, but I can’t help. she begins to untie her cape. refusing eye contact as Shauna put’s what once was the lucky necklace that jackie gave her, now is just full of bloodshed. she start’s to count, Smiling.

“one…Two.” Mari lounges at her with a knife she swiped from Shauna’s side, as van and some others hold Shauna back. while gen, Akilah and me help Mari up from the ground she was just thrown on. my hand goes right to her’s. she returns the gesture with a squeeze. “you’re going to be fine, okay. every thing will be fine.” i say breathing heavily. I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince me or her that it’s going to be okay. “Better Me then you, right?” she pulls me into a short hug the side of my cheek resting on her shoulder.

Lottie speaks up. “Three, Four, Five, Six….” She look’s towards Shauna who lets out a small laugh.

Mari cuts Lottie and Shauna off. “You deserve everything that’s coming to you!” she let’s go of my hand, running towards the wood’s. Mari didn’t look back as she began her sprint, weaving through the trees with that eerie, calculated grace. Her figure was a blur of movement.

Lottie Keeps counting as everyone sits there and watches.

everyone gets there weapons. i don’t move to grab any, i don’t need any.

Mari is far ahead of me.

She always is, in some way or another—quicker with comebacks, faster on her feet, somehow always a step ahead even when she’s pretending not to care. I lose sight of her somewhere after the second ridge. Just flashes of movement now, the white of her dress darting between trees like a flicker of lightning in a dark sky.

It feels like it’s been hours. Or maybe minutes. The woods stretch and bend time around you until nothing makes sense except the pounding in your chest and the cold gnawing your fingers.

There are others behind me—I can hear them. The loud breathing, the slap of feet against frozen earth, rustling fabric and muffled voices. But they all feel distant now.

I don’t know what I’ll do when I reach her. I don’t know if I’m supposed to stop her or hide her or just… see her. Make sure she’s okay. the second Shauna forced that switch with Mari, She didn’t even react. No wide eyes, no trembling hands. Just that dead expression. Blank, almost bored. Like she was already somewhere else.

And then she ran.

in the same direction of the pit me and Travis set up, The pit she once fell into, but has no memory or where it is. and the pit that’s completely covered, filled with wooden spikes.

i skid across a patch of ice under the snow and nearly fall. I don’t stop. I’ve already lost too much time. My lungs burn. My hands are numb. My thighs ache with every sprint uphill, and my throat feels like I swallowed glass—but I keep going.

Somewhere ahead, a branch cracks.

I spin toward the sound. There—movement, sudden and sharp. I catch the shape of her, just her back, the white dress bright against the dark trees. She’s stripped everything else off—her jacket, her pants, her boots. Left a trail like breadcrumbs.

I push harder.

“Mari!” I shout.

She doesn’t stop. Doesn’t turn.

Of course not. She probably thinks I’m someone else. One of the others. Another girl high on frenzy and frostbite, chasing down blood in the name of ritual. Maybe part of her still doesn’t believe I’m not one of them too. Maybe part of me doesn’t know.

She slips between two evergreens. I veer right to intercept her, trying to circle around. My boots sink deeper into the snow, and I stumble but recover. I hear her breathing now, quick and sharp. She’s close, too close.

i can see her running from the side, i just need to speed up. I come up beside her, angling from the left—not directly behind, not where she’ll expect. She’s not even looking in my direction. She’s focused on moving forward, on outpacing whatever madness is nipping at her heels.

It’s just snow. A patch of it, like all the others. Soft and untouched. Quiet. There’s no warning. No edge. No dark hole in the ground. “Mari!” I yell.

She doesn’t hear me. Or maybe she ignores me. She’s too focused. Too fast. Her foot lifts—she’s about to step into it.

I throw myself sideways and Time slows.

My shoulder slams into her ribs. Her breath leaves her in a grunt. I watch her stumble, caught off balance, arms flailing. Her bare feet scrape across the snow. She falls sideways, not forward. into the whiteness.

I hit the ground hard beside her. Hard enough to make my vision rattle.

But I keep moving.

I’m rolling. Something shifts beneath me—like a breath held too long suddenly letting go. The snow caves. The earth disappears.

I slide.

No, I drop, i swear i could have felt Mari try to grab my hand. but It’s to cold to tell.

I open my eyes and try to move, but everything feels distant. My leg pulses with heat and pressure. Something’s crusted to the side of my head. My mouth tastes like copper and dirt. I blink again—slow. The light above has changed. Dimmer now. Or maybe my eyes are just fading on me.

I don’t know how long it’s been.

Minutes?

Long enough for the adrenaline to drain out of my veins and leave only the ache behind.

I hear footsteps.

Not imagined ones—real. Crunching snow, breathless voices, shapes moving at the edge of the pit. Someone swears. A sharp intake of breath.

She’s in there,” someone mutters.

“Is she moving?”

Another voice. Closer. Familiar.

Mari?

No. It’s not her. Not yet.

i hear Lottie’s voice cut through the air, and i could almost see her head looking down at me.

“i don’t think she’s going to survive, if she does then the wilderness rejected her, rejected them. the hunts called off.”

I try to say something, but it catches in my throat. My tongue is heavy. My body is heavier.

More noise now. Ropes. A branch cracking. Someone’s lowering something—maybe a jacket, maybe a rope tied together with scraps of fabric. I can’t tell.

“She’s bleeding—don’t yank her.”

“Careful—watch her leg.”

Mari’s voice cuts through it all, clear and too close.

“Move. You’re not touching her.”

It’s not a request.

And just like that, they do.

I feel her more than I see her. The shift of shadow. The snap of her breath in the cold air. from above the pit. Then her hands. Rough, shaking slightly. Warm. and then my eyes close.

When I wake up, I don’t know where I am.

There’s something heavy pressed to my leg. A weight. A dull pressure.

The ceiling is wooden. Slanted slightly. The air smells of blood, pine, and smoke. I’m in the hut, Mari’s hut. where is Mari?

I don’t remember how I got here. Only pieces. The cold. Mari’s voice. The feeling of being lifted, swaying. Maybe someone carried me. Maybe they used a sled or a tarp or their bare fucking arms. I don’t know.

My leg’s wrapped, tight. My hip aches like it’s been stabbed and sewn shut. I don’t look yet. I don’t want to see.

Mari’s sitting on the floor beside me, leaning against the wall. One knee up, one arm draped across it, her head tilted back—exhausted, but alert. Her eyes are half-closed. She hasn’t left.

Her jacket’s still off. Her hair’s a mess. There’s blood on her hands—not hers.

Mine.

She moves instantly, leaning forward, expression hard.

“You’re awake.”

It sounds like an accusation. But her voice is quieter than usual. Rough with something unspoken. “Hi,” I manage. It comes out hoarse.

“You fucking idiot,” she mutters, and looks away. And stands up. Staying in the same spot.

I try to push myself up a little, but the pain flares and Mari shoves me back with a hand against my shoulder—not gentle, not rough, just firm.

“You have a hole in your leg the size of a fist and you’re saying ‘hi’ like you tripped on a goddamn tree root? you could’ve died.”

“I saved you.”

“No, you almost died for me!”

That silences me. Not because I disagree, but because of the way she says it. Her voice breaks hard on the last word, and she turns away from me like she can’t stand to look at me right now.

“I saw you fall in. I thought you were dead. I thought—” She cuts off, swallowing something jagged. “There was blood everywhere. You weren’t moving. And I thought… That’s it. That’s the last time I’ll ever see you move.”

“Mari—”

“No. Shut up.” She turns back toward me, and this time her expression is all fire. “You don’t get to talk right now. You don’t get to make this okay. Because it’s not okay. You scared the shit out of me, and I hate you for it.”

I breathe in, trying to find the words. “i rather it be me the you. i helped you.”

Her hands ball into fists at her sides. “are you stupid? You think I want to feel like this? You think I like trying to get you out of a death trap. everyone else tried to help you get out. what if you did die? were you just gonna leave me alone with some kind of fucking survivors guilt?” There’s something wet in her voice now. Not tears yet, but close.

“They helped me out?” I ask gently.

“Yeah. Eventually. After I fucking snapped at them. Lottie kept saying you weren’t meant to survive.

“and you didn’t listen?” She scoffs. “I don’t listen when it comes to you.”

That shuts me up again.

We sit in silence for a long minute. Her hand drifts closer, fingers brushing mine. Not taking it—just near enough that I could if I wanted.

I do. She doesn’t pull away.

“what happened with the hunt?”

She snorts once—bitter. “they ended it. You crashing into a pit sort of ruined the mood.” I almost laugh, but my ribs hurt.

I squeeze her hand.

“I knew the pit was there, me and Travis came up with it. He was gonna come up with a plan to make Lottie walk on it. That’s how I knew it was close.”

“That’s pretty Dark, didn’t take you as somebody to do something like that.” she say’s Half joking.

She hasn’t let go of my hand.

Not really. Not fully.

Even when I shift a little, the pressure changes—less grip, more presence—but it’s still there. The way she anchors me. My whole body hurts, but it’s the kind of pain that tells you you’re not dead. The burn of healing starting too soon. My leg throbs, wrapped in something rough, and the bandages are already soaked through with the edge of blood. My side feels swollen and heavy, like the skin there isn’t mine.

But it’s Mari’s hand that keeps me grounded.

I try to adjust my breathing, but it stutters. She notices instantly. Her gaze flicks over me—sharp, assessing, worried in that way she pretends isn’t worry. “How bad is it?” I ask.

She doesn’t lie.

“You missed most of the spikes. But one caught the side of your thigh and it… it opened up deep. You lost a lot of blood. Honestly you’re lucky, there’s almost 0 Chance of you landing like you did.”

“And my waist?”

She hesitates. Her jaw tightens.

“You were lucky,” she mutters. “It tore through the side, but it didn’t hit anything vital. Or… at least I think it didn’t.”

“You think?”

“I’m not a doctor, genius.”

I try to smile. It doesn’t quite land.

“Still,” I say. “You got me out of there.”

She looks away, jaw working like she’s chewing through guilt.

“you didn’t hesitate. You didn’t think.” Her voice sharpens. “You just threw yourself in after me like some kind of—”

She cuts herself off, breath ragged. Her eyes go glossy again, but she blinks it back fast.

I want to say something. I want to tell her I’d do it again. That it wasn’t a decision, it was instinct. That there’s never been a single second since we crashed here where I wouldn’t risk everything for her. But the words get stuck. Not because they aren’t true—because they’re too true.

Mari isn’t the type to let her guard down without a fight. So instead I say, “You were about to fall in. You didn’t see it. i got lucky.”

“No,” she says, low and certain. “You got hurt. That’s not being ‘lucky”

She finally meets my eyes again. And there’s something in hers I’ve only seen a few times before—back when she thought I was sleeping, or when she thought no one was watching. It’s not softness exactly. It’s more like fury at the idea of losing me. “I didn’t know if you were going to wake up.”

“I didn’t know either,” I whisper. When she finally speaks, it’s lower. Rougher. “You keep doing this. Putting yourself in the fire like it’s your job to make sure the rest of us come out okay. And I love you for it and I fucking hate you for it.”

The words land like a punch. I can barely hold them.

“You love me?” I whisper.

Mari finally meets my eyes again—and there’s no escape in her gaze now. Just rage, exhaustion, and something too bright to name.

“You already knew that,” she says. “Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

I try to reach for her, but my fingers shake. She sees it, and without another word, she takes my hand and presses it flat against her chest. Her heartbeat thuds against my palm. Unsteady. Real.

“You’re not allowed to die before me,” she says. “Got it?”

“I’ll try,”

she brushes her hand on the top of my head.

It’s not affection, not exactly. It’s something rawer than that. Like she’s holding me down so I don’t slip away again.

“Does it hurt?” she asks after a long pause.

“Yes.”

She nods, and I swear she looks almost relieved to hear it.

“Good,” she mutters. “Means you’re still alive, and you deserve it for being careless.”

“stop with the angry act. You stayed,” I say.

“Of course I did idiot.” she crosses her arm

I close my eyes.

It’s not peace. It’s not safety. Not here. But it’s something.

Mari, alive. Me, alive. Barely. Together.

That’s enough for tonight.

[oddballwriter]

Hey there, i love how you write Ena! If you’re still doing BBQ Ena requests, could you one of a reader thats kinda of doting on Ena when they’re together? Not in like a super clingy sense but it’d be super cute to see a fic where reader kinda reminds Ena that although work is important, burning herself out isnt good for her and that it’s okay to ask for help. Like maybe Ena’s been on edge bc of a particularly difficult job that has an extremely naggy and judgmental client and it’s kinda getting to Ena but shes trying to suppress it and the reader notices and comforts her. Some hugs and cuddles maybe while Ena tries to be more comfortable with being vulnerable as she’s most likely not used to it bc of how other entities tend to be hostile towards Ena(s). Fem or Nuetral reader is good!

Doting

BBQ ENA x doting!reader

Summary: ENA can work herself to the point of collapsing, literally, and sometimes you need to help her calm down and take a minute for herself so that she doesn’t make herself worse.

Warnings: ENA being a people pleaser and not being able to say no to people and exhausting herself. Gender and pronouns of reader is never specified or mentioned. Reader doting on ENA. But of angst that turns into some super sweet fluff.

Author’s Snip: This was actually so nice to write. I hope I did your request justice anon! 🤍♥️

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 1.5k

You swear, people give ENA stupid and hard jobs on purpose. There was this southern-sounding lady made completely of knit yarn complaining about how her sheep got loose and she can’t catch them. That wasn’t too bad. If anything you felt for her a bit. But it was when ENA came up to her to ask questions about the new task she was given that the lady seems to completely turn around and be extremely rude.

“Oh, ENA? Ha! What are you doing ‘round here, huh? Causing no good, I bet. Why don’t you go botherin’ someone else? Can’t you sees I’m doin’ somethin’ important?” she spat.

“My apologies, Miss.” her salesperson side said, “But I fear me and my partner here are at a bit of a short end conundrum. We require assistance to get back in the right track-” she said before her meanie side butted in, “SO TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW SO I CAN GET OUT OF THIS DUMP!”.

“Ha! Yelling like a little child again, are we? Tuff tarts, spitfire. I have rampant sheep to attend to and I can’t waste it on a two-colored-hussy like you.” she said before a thought seemed to cross her mind. “On second thought… you look like you can run just fine. What do you say about being the one to catch all my sheep for me and I tell you what you wanna hear?” she suggests. You immediately try and demand that she just tell you and that her sheep will most likely come back on their own, but the worst happens.

“This seems like a great exchange if you truly mean your offer of currency.” you hear ENA say.

You cringe, knowing that she already has a million other tasks that she’s taken from millions of other people who wanted to take advantage of her salesperson’s need to please ‘customers’. You know for a fact that all the other things on her plate are stressing her out.

The paper crane who wants a good fortune.

The merchant who complains about how someone stole the fabric that covers his stand.

The geisha doll who stole the fabric from the stand to cover herself from the sun and refuses to give it back unless ENA finds her parasol that got blown away in the wind.

The lady hiding in the cave who’s just her upper torso, saying that someone put salt on her lower half while she was flying around last night, and wants ENA to find it walking around somewhere.

The sentient wad of chewed gum that’s covered in a bunch of trash and wants it all off.

The monochromatic mermaid swimming in the fountain with the shrill voice who demands something shiny or else she’ll keep splashing the people who pass by. You’re still a bit wet by the way.

Oh! And there’s even a little boy who just gave ENA the grocery list that his mom sent him out to do, which just says salt, because he didn’t want to do it.

And a ton more.

With that, the lady of yarn hands ENA an old lasso and tells her to get to work and that she’s got six sheep and a lamb to collect, “And they’re the running type.” she says. And the running type they were.

That’s why ENA is running around all over the place as she chases the first sheep, with you trying to help by attempting to flaunt them. But they knew how to avoid the both of you and your tricks.

You can tell that ENA is getting flustered and frustrated at this job. You could hear it in her meanie side yelling and shouting as she lost the sheep again, and again, and again.

You’ve tried asking the lady for some more advice or suggestions on how to catch them, but she’s still being snarky and rude. Saying that ENA was a sore and lousy cowgirl and couldn’t catch a snail even if it was heading towards her.

Apparently, she’s got a horse that she usually uses to catch the sheep when they get loose, but it’s “got a sniffle and needs rest”.

You seriously think she just finds ENA running around chasing the sheep funny.

As you head back from trying to beg for a crumb of advice, you see ENA in a pile on the ground. Her limbs are all disconnected from her body and you see her pale side is active while her red side is just gone and covered in black. She groans and mumbles things to herself, some of which you can only decipher as cuss words. She’s exhausted. But when she sees you standing over her she tries to hide her face by turning it.

“Don’t look at me like that.” she demands weakly, her detached arms slinking toward her head to shield her face from your gaze. “I just… need to...”, her pieces shake like she’s trying to pull herself back together, but she can’t do it even with all her might. She gives up and groans in defeat. “I’m so pathetic. I can’t even wrangle stupid sheep.” she grumbles.

You sigh and sit down on the ground just above where her head and upper torso lay. Gently leaning the torso against your chest and then picking up ENA’s head to place it on her torso.

“Put me down!” she barks. “I can do it myself!” she says. “I - just - need - to -”, she tries pulling herself back together again but she just ends up exhausting herself even more.

“Damnit!” she shouts. Her hands clenched into fists, grabbing and ripping out some of the grass as she slams her fists onto the ground in frustration.

You gently shush her, petting her hair and telling her it’s alright.

“We’ve been running around a lot today. I’m pretty tired. Aren’t you?” you ask her. She wants to say no, but she can’t argue this time since her current condition proves otherwise. “Why don’t we take a minute, hm?I’m sure the sheep are fine. I don’t see anything here that would eat them. They can run free a little longer.” you suggest as you continue to pet her hair. You look around and eventually find your gaze looking up towards the sky, which is just a generic sky blue color with drawn clouds images that drift by above you. “The weather is nice here. I wonder if it ever rains.” you comment.

You feel ENA’s head tilt up, following yours. She doesn’t speak, but you feel her let go a bit.

“Maybe, if we decide this job with the boss isn’t suiting us anymore, we can build a farm here somewhere and enjoy the easy life.” you say, semi-jokingly. “We could herd hourglass dogs and let them roam freely on a big plot.” you suggest. “Or walking trees and we can see what birds come and perch on them.” you add.

“Or am I thinking about a ranch? I always get the two mixed up.” you question before shrugging and saying “We can have both. Live off the land and be away from all these weirdos and no one can bother us. Just you, me, our little human board, and whatever we decide to have on our ranch.”.

You let a few beats pass by and feel like your jabbering about a nice calm life is helping ENA relax and take her mind off all these tasks she needs to complete. So you continue.

“Or maybe, if we save up enough chocolates on both our retirement funds, we can buy a big fancy house by the blood ocean and watch the legs swim around and migrate when it’s hatching season. Or a cottage. I don’t like big houses. Too much space and it’ll really only be us walking around it.” you ration out.

“Maybe we can travel.” you suggest. “Why stay in one place when there’s a whole lot of digital space out there? Am I right?” you pitch.

“I hear the pop-up-ad meadows bloom so pretty this time of year.” you mention.

“You’d really like to do that?” you hear ENA ask. You look down and see her staring up at the sky longingly, seemingly envisioning everything you were saying. “Yeah!” you answer. “Though, we might have to plan to go next year instead. I hear pop-up-ads come all at once and wilt within a week or three.” you add.

“I’d like that.” she says, no more, not less. But you can tell that she’s fond of the idea of maybe getting one break to see something nice with you.

You both sit in a nice silence, with ENA’s lower torso, legs, and arm slowly making their way back together and joining her upper half, and her salesperson half regains its signature red color.

You both get up, but ENA stumbles a bit since she only seems to have her red arm when she tried using both to help her get back up. Confused, you look around only to find that the sheep had, at some point, come near and picked it in an attempt to eat the clump of grass that was still clutched in its hand.

“That’s all we had to do?!” you hear ENA shout, “Lure it with some stupid grass?!”.

It feels so nice to hear her back to her usual self.

[silens-oro]

Hold on to the Thread (Well Enough Alone Companion Piece)

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Prologue Cut the Loss (companion piece) Part I Part II Chicken Hawk (companion piece) Part III Part IV Trespassing (companion piece) Part V Part VI Slowly We Unfurl (companion piece)

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist

Title Credit: Oceans by Pearl Jam

General Synopsis: Hawk and Pope have a discussion regarding kids of their own. Word Count: 1.4k Content Warning: talks of having kids & pregnancy. Spoilers for A Cure for Wellness? AN: I am child-free to the bone, but Pope does something to me, man. I'D CONSIDER IT FOR A BRIEF SECOND IS ALL I'M SAYING 🫢 please comment & reblog :)

“She’s seven. You put her in front of a TV all day. Maybe she’s trying to get your attention.” Pope pointed out like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Got any other parenting tips for me, man?” Baz asked rhetorically, but Pope -in Pope fashion- still answered him.

“Yeah, I know kids don’t like it when you scream at them.”

“You know what, Pope? Why don’t you figure out your own shit before telling me how to raise my kid?” Baz snapped.

“Her mother left and you’re banging some woman she’s never seen before in her mother’s bedroom. It’s not Lena’s fault that your girlfriend doesn’t like your kid, Baz.” It was harsh, but it needed to be said.

“You don’t know shit and you never will.” Baz said defensively. “Do you get that? No one's ever gonna have a kid with you. You think Hawk wants that? Give me a break, man. She already raised Julia’s kid. You think she wants to raise yours too?” She’s raising yours, Pope wanted to say, but knew it wouldn’t help anything. If anything, Baz would cut his time with Lena out of spite, so he kept his mouth shut. 

“Come on, Lena. Let’s go.” Was the only thing Pope ground out in response before escorting his niece out to his truck.

Pope would never outright express it to anyone, but what Baz said earlier in the day really bothered him. The thought lingered, burrowing itself in him like a parasite that couldn’t be removed. Hawk could tell Pope was stuck in his head as they lounged on the couch, watching some horror movie where a young stockbroker went to a wellness facility in the Swiss Alps to bring his company’s CEO back to New York. There were eels involved. It was…a lot. 

When he came back to the house with Lena earlier in the afternoon, he was off. He brushed off any of Hawk’s attempts to get him to talk, so she gave him his space. He’d talk to her when he was ready. Now that Lena had been put to bed for the night, they decided to throw a movie on and relax, but Pope was doing the opposite of relaxing and that in itself was not letting Hawk relax.

Pope’s hand had been absentmindedly rubbing Hawk’s waist, then moving over to her stomach where he’d lay his palm flat against it for a while, moving up or down ever so slightly just below her belly button, before going back to her waist. The more she noticed it, the weirder it felt because he kept doing it as the movie went on when that wasn’t something he did previously. 

“You alright?” Hawk tilted her head up from her spot notched in his side as he brought his hand to her stomach once again. This time she raised a brow at him. 

“Fine,” Pope’s voice was clipped and he cleared his throat, breaking free of whatever was going on in his head. He looked down at Hawk then back to the movie. His other hand tapped on the sofa’s armrest, a tick Hawk picked up on that he had when something wasn’t quite right. “Is that an eel?” Pope asked, his face scrunching at the screen.

“There’s been eels, Andy. They’ve been in the water and now they’re growing inside of the patients. Where have you been for the last hour?” She asked with a laugh, not wanting to stir the pot, but definitely wanting to know what was going on with him. He got a pained look on his face and Hawk knew right then that something was bothering him. Hawk grasped the hand on her stomach in hers and held it up to her chest, tenderly kissing his forearm. “Something’s up with you. You can talk to me.” She encouraged softly.

“I don’t want to scare you off.” Hawk wanted to laugh so badly at that, but she knew that if she did -not with the intention of being mean about it- he’d close up like a goddamn clamshell. So she kept it in, biting her lip to ground herself so it didn’t slip out accidentally. 

“You won’t. I promise.” He analyzed Hawk for a moment before nodding to himself. She gave him all the time and patience to gather his thoughts so he could say what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. 

“Have you ever thought of…having kids of your own?” He intentionally left the ‘with me’ out of the equation. He didn’t look at Hawk when he asked it, feeling much too vulnerable at the question even leaving the confines of his mind. Hawk blinked, not expecting that to be what was bothering him, but the question combined with his handsy mannerisms that night suddenly made total sense to Hawk. 

“I don’t know,” She shrugged, her fingers playing with Pope’s. “I think at one point maybe I had the urge, ya know? Right after J started going to school. I missed having him with me all the time and the thought did cross my mind, but I was nowhere near a stable enough relationship with anyone to even consider it. But it’s been a long time since I felt that way.” 

“Would you ever reconsider it?” His voice was so quiet, like he was afraid if it was any louder, it would shatter the confines of the conversation. He tried to sound blasé, like her answer wouldn’t bother him one way or the other, but he had to know. Baz’s voice rang over and over in his head and it was eating him alive from the inside out. 

Hawk felt Pope’s stomach clench and the arm he had around her twitched in her hold. She only held onto him tighter to let him know she wasn’t running from the conversation. 

“I feel like I’m a little late in life for that now,” Hawk answered honestly. “-but I’m not completely closed off to it. There are some aspects to pregnancy that scare the shit out of me though. I was there when Julia had J and both pregnancy and childbirth are…traumatizing.” 

“Women your age have kids all the time.” Hawk shifts on the sofa, looking up at Pope with curiosity in her eyes. “You’re not old by any means.” He pushed and winced again when he realized how that sounded. Hawk squeezed his hand to let him know that he was fine.  

“What’s got you so worked up about kids? Do you want them?” She didn’t ask him in a judgmental way, merely out of genuine curiosity. They’ve never broached the subject, but his shift with Lena, and J in more recent times, was noticeable to her. Very much so. 

“I used to think a kid didn’t deserve a father like me and the fucked up life I would give them. They didn’t deserve what I would pass on to them, this shit I have in my head. I don’t wish that on anyone, much less someone who didn’t ask to be here.” Pope spoke from experience, Hawk knew.

“Both of my parents had no business having a kid, not with what they had going on, but maybe…if the kid was only half of me," Half of the crazy, is what he implied, and Hawk didn't care for that one bit. "-then they’d have a better chance, you know? If their mom was normal, then they’d be able to have a normal life.” Hawk felt her heart break at Pope’s admission. She brought his hand up to kiss the back of it affectionately. “I’ve thought about all the things I missed with Lena when I was locked up.” The baby years, Hawk said mentally. “And I think about what it would be like to hold something so small that was a part of me. Something good I’ve given to the world.” And a part of you, he wanted to say. “To love them so much and to watch them grow. Do things with ‘em that my dad never did with me. Give them a life that I never had. Being with you and Lena, it’s opened my eyes to what we could have -what we could’ve had this whole time. If that’s something you’d even want.” We, Hawk’s heart skipped when he finally said it. He tacked on that last bit when the vulnerability became too much and the self consciousness set back in. 

“We’ll, I’ll tell you this -I’m not against it, but we are still in the early stages of this relationship. Let this thing grow some roots, focus on Lena and J for the time being, and then we’ll revisit this conversation, alright?” Pope looked down at her, his eyes a little glassier and his cheeks flushed just enough for Hawk to notice in the dim living room, and he nodded. “Come here,” She pulled him down gently by the front of his shirt so her lips could meet his.

please comment & reblog :)

[chloe-skywalker]

You Know This Guy? - Bucky Barnes /Alexei

Bucky x Fem!Reader

Alexei x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 659

Summary: Bucky called you to help manage these guys, he didn’t know Y/n would personally know Alexei.

Authors Note: Part 2 ? I wrote this before the movie came out so once I see the movie part 2 would be possible to write. Okay so I wrote this in february and didn’t find out till articles came out and said it in April but this fit almost the mental health theme of the movie. Definitely want to do a part 2.

Masterlist

Avengers Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Ah Y/n!” Alexei exclaimed in pure excitement at seeing the young woman enter the room with Barnes. Y/n and Bucky immediately looked towards the man in question and Y/n stood in shock and Bucky in confusion.

“You know this guy?” Bucky tilted his head towards Y/n but kept his eye’s on Alexei. Bucky didn’t trust anyone in this room, besides Y/n.

“A long time ago.” Y/n answered Bucky as well as copying him and keeping her eye’s on the man she hadn’t seen in a very long time. Not since she was a child.

“Oh my sweet, Y/n.” Alexei smiled as he approached her wrapping her up in his arms lifting her off the ground, hugging her to his chest.

“Okay, let me down.” Y/n squeezed out at how tight his hold was and she didn’t particularly like being lifted off the floor.

“I’m so happy your here. And you know Barnes!” Alexei put her back down on her feet moving his hands up to cup her cheeks, squishing them in the process.

“Yeah, yeah I know Barnes.” Y/n answered with a nod as she reached up grabbing his wrists to lower his hands from her face.

“Fantastic.” He clapped smiling looking between her and Bucky.

“May I talk to you for a sec?” Bucky asked placing a hand on Y/n’s lower back to get her attention, but to also provide her with comfort having noticed how tense she had become.

“Uh huh.” Y/n nodded leaning back into his hand as they left the room.

“How do you know this guy?” Bucky nodded back towards the room where they had left everyone else as he referred back to the burly man weathering a to tight suit. A suit neither one of them was sure ever really fit that man.

“I know pretty much all of the Bucky. John from when we helped Sam, Yelena from the Red Room-” Y/n started listing how she knew a couple of the people in the other room, but she was actively avoiding giving a straight answer to his question for as long as she could.

“How do you know Alexei?” Bucky clarified knowing her well enough to know she was stalling.

Y/n sighed, she didn’t like bringing up the past, especially this. “I was part of that undercover family with Nat and Yelena when we were kids.”

“Yeah you told me.” Bucky knew the story, she had told him before. It was the only family experince the 3 girls ever had for most of their lives.

“He was our undercover father.” Y/n stated biting her lip and let out a shaky breath.

Bucky’s eyes widened a she lifted his arm and pointed back to the other room in shock, needing extra comfirmation. “He was?”

“Yeah. A decent one to.” She nodded looking away, she didn’t like the feelings that were coming up when talking about it sure she told Bucky about this before, but not into to much detail.

“Are you going to be okay with this?” Bucky was worried with how being around Alexei could effect Y/n menatly and emtionally.

“Do I have a choice?” Y/n shrugged, it’s not like they really had a say in the matter.

Bucky hated that he felt helpless in this situation. “I don’t want you to feel-”

“We don’t have any say in the matter Bucky. I just have to. . . be okay with it.” Y/n cut him off shaking her head as she does so. There wasn’t anything they could do.

Bucky rubbed his none metal hand down his face not liking their lack of options. The only thing he could think of was to get their job done as fast as possible. “Let’s get this done fast so we can go back home.”

“Yeah.” Y/n agreed hoping they wouldn’t hit anymore snag’s so they could go home.

Taglist: @padawancat97 @maryvibess @gruffle1 @starkleila

[peanutbutterandbananasandwichs]

Sam Week 2025: Day 5 - favourite Sam arc / Sam & music / psychic powers

I'm SO happy how this one came out! I think it's my favourite so far :D I feel it's really nailed the tactic I wanted to take of these prompts of coming at the a little sideways/not the first thing you'd think of. Shout out to @aliusfrater - for always helping fuel my Soulless Sam fascination/obsession - and also inadvertently inspiring this fic by including the quote below in an ask response about "favourite Soulless Sam lines".

-

Also on Ao3

-

"Dean, I am still me – same melon, same memories. I-I still like the same music. I still think about Suzie Heizer . . ."

Creed - With Arms Wide Open

Sue Heizer. “Biology class”, Sue Heizer. Weirdest possible way you could have remembered that, by the way, you hadn’t been in school in years. Front seat of her car. Volkswagen Jetta. You and Dad loved to gripe about “modern cars”. Some things don’t change. My hands were fumbling with her tits, and hers were in my hair and this ring she was wearing kept getting caught in it. And it was the hottest thing that had ever happened to me. Seventeen, ten times more hormones than experience. More than made up for that this last year. I tried to flip us so she was on top, and my foot hit the radio dial. Turns out the very last song you want to hear whilst finally getting to fuck the girl you’ve been mooning over for weeks is one about finding out you’re gonna be a dad. I had to endure that song for the next three weeks, it was at Number 1. I hated it then, and I hate it now. I can’t feel embarrassed anymore - I just think it's cheesy. This was a bad place to start. Let’s try again.

---

Digging in the Dirt - Peter Gabriel

Flagstaff. I bought a week’s supply of junk food. Last five dollars from the money Dad gave me to live on two hunts back. The one where dad sent you back after three days while he went lone wolf and you bitched about it every hour of every day until he got home. Funny how fast you shut up the second he walked in the door. You had cash on you, so we used that for food instead, and I squirrelled the note away. And waited. I don’t know why Flagstaff. Actually, I do. You were hogging the TV and wouldn’t let me watch anything I wanted to, and I got fed up, and grabbed the remote while you were in the kitchen, and wouldn’t give it back. And you hit me. It wasn’t the first time, but I didn’t think it was normal yet. The kid at the register in the 7-Eleven was singing along, and he gave me an extra bag of Funyons. Before heaven, I’d hear it and feel free. After, it made me want to vomit. Now? I like it again. Must be all that emotional growth I’m not having.

---

Landslide - Fleetwood Mac

Bus to Stanford. It stopped for an hour somewhere in Nebraska. Everyone else got off to stretch their legs, use the bathroom, grab a shitty reststop sandwich. I stayed. It was like I was afraid that if I stepped off before we got there, everything might disintegrate; it all felt so fragile. Stupid way to think. The bus driver came back from their smoke break. I remember she smoked the same brand as Dad, the smell, it was the closest I ever came to turning back. She saw me in the mirror. “Mind if I put the radio on, honey?” I knew I was doing the right thing, really knew, for the first time. I used to do that, second-guess things that were blatantly fucking obvious. Guess having a soul really slows you down. It always made me feel strong. Stevie’s voice is still beautiful.

---

The Captain and the Hourglass - Laura Marling

You were dead. You were dead, and I was in the car with Ruby. And I had that laser focus that you always found unnerving, although that wasn’t the way you said it, “Sammy’s an obsessive freak” were the exact words. And still, I decided to take the time to put an iPod jack in the car. I’m still like that. Moreso. Sammy got so scared of his own melon, he started agreeing with you on the freak part. I was in the car with Ruby, and she told me she was impressed at how quickly I was learning my powers. And she made me feel in control of myself in a way I never had before. And completely at her mercy. We stopped by the side of the road, and the song came on, and she opened up and vein in the top of her thigh, didn’t give me the option of anywhere else. I always felt kinda felt like running when I heard it again, even though I loved the song. I could never quite place why. I can now. Lack of a soul gives you a strange kind of clarity about a lot of things. You should try it sometime. “He's done with all this bullshit, he's going back to war” means something different now. 

---

Whole Lotta Love - Led Zeppelin (kinda)

First gig I ever went to. You and me, and those ridiculous fake IDs. I was so sure we’d get arrested or something, I was fourteen, and the shortest kid in the class, who were we kidding? Should have known you’d found the shittiest, dingiest, divebar in town. Maybe they didn’t care. Probably, they just couldn’t see me through the fog of cigarette smoke. I think they’re still the worst Zeppelin tribute we’ve ever heard, and we’ve probably got some kind of World Record for bad cover bands by now. They’re like roaches, everywhere, and hard to kill. It was the last song of the night and, somehow, barely recognisable. And you turned to me, and you were so mad that they were butchering your favourite song. But the music was so bad, and your face just looked so cartoonishly angry, and I laughed, and then you were laughing, and we couldn’t stop. It doesn’t seem funny when I think of it now, but I remember feeling it. Dad couldn’t play it in the car for months after without one or both of us corpsing, and we couldn’t tell him why. Our own private little joke. I think you forgot about it eventually, but I never did. I didn’t think it was possible to hear it and not feel that asinine, childish joy. Still love that guitar solo.

---

Sorrow - The National

The song playing in my ears on the way to die. For once, you didn’t complain about me using headphones to listen to my own music in the car. You’d given me this big speech about how I wasn’t a kid anymore, you had to learn to let me go my own way. Guess this was part of that. Didn’t last, did it?

----

@seasononesam @suncaptor

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part twenty-three

Once again, don't say a word, yes I'm uploading AGAIN, I can't help it!! I want to get to the fluffy weekend chapters!!!

Warnings: some good big brother bonding with Morgan and reader, Derek talks about the events of s2e12 "Profiler, Profiled" here, more curveballs lowkey I'm getting whiplash here (you'll see), apologies in advance (it felt too easy!!! so sorry!!!)

When you peel yourself away from Hotch, it’s only because there’s a knock at his door. The sound makes you jump and him stand to his feet, his hands slipping from yours automatically. 

He walks to the door and opens it a crack, pausing. He looks over his shoulder once at you before opening the door further.

Rossi eyes you both as he walks into Hotch’s office. “Am I interrupting?”

“No,” you say immediately, standing up. “I was just leaving, actually.”

Rossi gives you a look that tells you he sees right through you, but he doesn’t press as you weave through them and exit Hotch’s office. 

The team is just coming out of the conference room when you step out, pausing as you stare at one another.

You don’t know what to say. If you can even say anything. 

“Should we um…” You pause to clear your throat. “Should we go back to looking at all the evidence?”

“In a minute,” Morgan says. “Let’s take a walk first.”

You open your mouth, but Morgan hears none of it, shaking his head as he comes toward you, leading you out of the bullpen.

“Where are we going?”

“To get breakfast for everyone for the long day ahead of us,” Morgan replies, pressing the down arrow on the elevator. “And to get you calmed down.”

“I’m plenty calm.”

“You’re shaking.”

The elevator doors open and you step inside, glaring at the buttons on the wall instead of your team member. You press the ground floor button with a huff, crossing your arms over your chest to hide the fact that you are definitely not shaking.

Neither of you say a word as you walk to Derek’s car in the parking garage, parked in his same spot as usual. Derek breaks the silence with an insane question.

“Do you…want to stop somewhere for…cigarettes?”

You can’t help but laugh loudly at the way he says it. “No, dude, I’m fine.”

“Alright,” he says, turning the key in the ignition. “Was just asking.”

“Why?” you laugh again. “Last time that was brought up you were horrified.”

“Well,” he shrugs, not arguing with that. He pulls out of the space and heads for the exit. “That was before everything started imploding.”

You scoff. “Imploding puts it a little too nicely. But no, I’m fine, that was my one pack for the year, so I’m cut off.”

Morgan raises an eyebrow. “One a year?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “A rule I had with my mom. She never liked that I picked up the habit �� didn’t find out why until later, but my dad smoked, too, and tried to hide it from her — so we made a deal. One pack a year.”

“And you stuck to it?”

“Surprisingly, yeah,” you reply. “Some days I don’t know how I did it, but I guess I just didn’t want to let her down.”

Morgan hums. “That feeling can run deep.”

“Especially after what happened with my dad,” you agree. “I knew she couldn’t take another thing, so when we compromised and made promises, we stuck to them.”

Morgan nods. “Mine too.”

A comfortable silence fills the car as Morgan drives into town, to one of the chain coffee spots that has a drive-thru. They know the BAU well from their frequent — and sometimes random — orders.

As you wait in one of the nearby parking spaces for your order to be prepared, Morgan starts talking again.

“Did I ever tell you about a case in my hometown a few years ago?”

You shake your head. “I don’t think so.”

“I was arrested as a suspect for the murder of one of the neighborhood kids,” he explains. “I was in town for my mom’s birthday, and one of the detectives had always had it out for me, he saw a connection and booked me. Hotch and everyone came to find the real unsub and get me out of there.”

“Oh my god,” you say, unsure of how else to respond to this. “But they did figure it out, obviously, right, because you’re here, and still at the BAU?”

Morgan nods, keeping his eyes focused ahead of him. “They did. But the team had to do a lot of digging into my past to find answers. Because I wasn’t willing to share those parts of my life.”

“Right.” You look down at your hands, seeing exactly where he’s going with this now.

“Garcia unsealed some of my records, Hotch practically interrogated me as if I was the unsub,” Morgan laughs, the kind of bitter sound that tells you it wasn’t funny then, it isn’t exactly funny now, but it’s less painful than it used to be. “I kept secrets because I wanted my privacy — and I still do. I still think we each have a right to our privacy, no matter how much we see each other all the damn time,” he smiles. “But I also know things might’ve gone smoother if I had opened up a little more.”

You shake your head. “That’s not on you, Derek. Just because things might have gone smoother doesn’t mean you were wrong for trying to salvage what little privacy you had left.”

“I know that,” he says. “I’m saying two things can be true at once. You can be mad at Hotch for going behind your back and digging into your past without your permission. And you can let yourself accept that he was doing what he thought was right and what he thought had to be done in order to help you.”

You sink further into the passenger seat, resisting the urge to glare at Derek. “How’d you know I’ve been battling that one in my head?”

Morgan smiles then, wide and mischievous. “You’re an open book whether you like it or not.”

“Or maybe we’re just so similar that you’re projecting and it just happens to be correct.”

“Like I said, two things can be true at once.”

You roll your eyes that time, playfully shoving his shoulder. “I hate you.”

“No, no you love me.”

“Barely.”

“Ouch.”

“Quit being dramatic and put your window down, they’re bringing our food out.”

Once the bags of breakfast are safely tucked at your feet and the drink carrier is secured in your lap, Morgan heads back for the BAU.

“Thank you,” you finally say. “For the Big Brother talk.”

He glances at you, looking only slightly surprised. “You’re welcome. Anytime.”

“Did you and Hotch ever talk about it?” you blurt.

Morgan is unfazed by the question, though. “Yeah. We did.” He pauses. “I’m assuming you guys haven’t?”

“Well,” you scoff. “We haven’t exactly had the time.”

“Touché,” Morgan nods. “I think you should. At some point.”

Like this weekend, your mind fills in for you. It would be the perfect time. The two of you will be alone, with Rossi’s entire place to yourselves. It would be easy for you to pitch the conversation or try to steer one in that direction — or, fuck it, blurt it out at one point just to rip the bandaid off. 

“Yeah,” you say. “At some point.”

+++

“Everything okay?” Rossi asks Hotch after they watch you practically bolt from the room.

Hotch shuts the door. “Fine. I was going to ask you the same, since you followed Erin out of here.”

Rossi’s on-again, off-again relationship with Erin Strauss is no secret, at least not to Hotch. It’s something he’s known about for years, having confronted Dave about it after noticing one too many not-so-subtle gestures from his friend.

But that’s not what this was about this time.

“She wants us to get to the bottom of this. Like, yesterday,” Rossi says.

“Well,” Hotch pauses to rub the headache brewing under his eyebrow. “Tell her she can join the club.”

That makes both men let out an incredulous laugh.

“What the hell are we doing here, Aaron?” Dave finally asks. “It feels like we get thrown a curveball every single day. Richard Monroe just breaks out of prison out of nowhere? Are we supposed to think the unsub helped him? Are we supposed to think Richard is going to go after Lila now?”

“I don’t know,” Aaron admits. “I don’t understand any of it. And nothing that we find seems to land us any closer than we were to figuring out who is doing all of this.”

“I know,” Rossi sighs. “I asked her last night if she remembers anything about who kidnapped her.”

“And?” Hotch sounds too hopeful, he knows he does.

Rossi shakes his head. “She might have seen his face, but she has blocked it out. What she remembered was him telling her to put the clothes she was wearing the day he took her back on, so that she’d match the description when we found her. But he was taking care of her. Giving her changes of clothes, food, water, letting her shower with a lock inside the bathroom door. She said she felt safe, despite everything. If she did see his face, she blocked it out, and it’s been two decades, Aaron. There’s no way she’d remember it now, and if she did, we couldn’t trust it to be accurate, not after this long.”

Hotch hates it, but Rossi is right. With so much time having passed, it’s no use. 

“There’s something we’re missing,” Hotch turns and heads for the window, gazing at the horizon as he thinks. “When we spoke to Richard in prison, he said his daughter was supposed to be left out of it.”

“Okay…”

“So, if the unsub we’re looking for is the same person who kidnapped Lila, and the same person from twenty years ago,” Hotch talks himself in circles, “and Richard recognized her in the interrogation room that day— he’s the heart of this, but how?”

“And now he’s missing,” Rossi muses.

“Or running,” Hotch adds, then turns around to face Rossi, something clicking in his mind. “Richard had someone framed. He admitted to that.”

“But we checked on that, the man was out on parole, it was lifted once Richard admitted to everything.”

“Where is he now?”

The pair stare at one another before Hotch practically leaps for his desk to make the necessary phone calls.

As it rings, Hotch turns to Rossi, “Get Garcia to bring up everything on him — including whatever he was doing twenty years ago — and meet us in the conference room.”

Rossi nods and leaves so Hotch can handle the calls. It’s not a definite lead, but it’s something, and it’s someone that they can potentially speak to.

+++

When you and Morgan arrive back at the BAU, you don’t expect to walk into such a flurry of chaos when you enter the bullpen.

“We might have a lead,” Prentiss explains. “Come on.”

You nearly drop the drinks as you hurry up the stairs to the conference room, joining JJ, Garcia, and Reid. “Where’s Hotch?”

“On the phone,” Rossi answers from behind you. “He’ll be in in just a second.”

Garcia starts anyway. “Does anyone remember Maxwell Herman?” She barely gives anyone a second to answer before continuing. “I doubt it, because we looked at him for all of two seconds when you were investigating Lila Monroe’s kidnapping, but here he is.” 

She points the remote at the screen and pictures fly onto it, one being Maxwell’s mugshot. The one next to it being his arrest record.

“This is the man Richard Monroe admitted to having framed,” Garcia continues. “Was on parole, that was lifted once Richard admitted to everything, you know the rest. Now, what you don’t know is that’s not his real name.”

She clicks again and a new mugshot appears, one of a younger man. Twenty years younger. 

“Meet William Easton from Georgia, with such a crazy rap sheet that I have no idea how he was able to change his name and entire identity without someone catching on. But anyway, he was arrested for anything you can name. Including but not limited to: Attempted arson, attempted armed robbery, actual armed robbery, DUI, domestic dispute, aggravated assault, and the kicker, attempted homicide.”

“Attempted?” Reid blurts.

“They never quite found enough evidence to convict him, but—”

“He was a suspect,” Rossi says. “In the original murders in Atlanta, before we connected them to Adkins. Before the BAU stepped in.”

“What?” you blurt, that being the absolute last thing you were expecting to hear, despite knowing somehow that your father was connected.

“They caught him in the area one too many times,” Rossi continues. “They thought it was because he was the unsub, but it turned out he was just a creep with a record who was fascinated by the killings.”

“Wanna see something else crazy?” Garcia adds. “Here’s the sketch that the artist came up with after speaking to Lila.” She clicks again so the sketch is side by side William’s most recent mugshot. The likeness isn’t exact, but it’s enough to be worrisome.

Hotch comes into the conference room, phone pressed to his ear. “Thank you.” He ends the call to fill everyone in. “Officers are on their way to William’s home, they’re going to call once they’ve apprehended him.”

“For what?” you ask. “If he was on parole, he couldn’t leave the house to kidnap a child.”

“No, but he could convince a child he was their father and make them come to him,” Morgan answers. “If he had good behavior, he could leave the house for a short period to meet her somewhere and grab her.”

“Exactly,” Hotch agrees. You can feel his eyes on you as you stare at the screen, at the mugshot and the sketch. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head. “Just…strange that we might have a face to put to all of this now.” Too easy, almost. Though nothing leading up to this point has been easy, this feels too easy.

You wish you hadn’t had that thought. It’s almost like you jinxed it somehow, even though you didn’t speak it out loud.

Because no less than ten minutes later, Hotch’s phone rings, and you can see on his face that it’s bad news.

“Alright, don’t— Don’t touch anything. My team and I will be there as soon as we can.”

When he hangs up the phone, everyone waits, their breaths held, for his next words.

“They found William dead in his apartment,” Hotch says. “Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, I want you with me, we’ll be leaving in ten minutes. Everyone else,” he conveniently avoids your eyes, “stay here and continue digging. Richard Monroe might not be missing, he might be running from our unsub.”

“How do you know that?” you ask. “And why am I not going with you?”

“Because the unsub left a note on William’s body,” Hotch replies, ever firm and clinical. “And I need you to stay here.”

“Hotch—”

“I don’t have time to argue about this, we’ll be back before the end of the day,” he says, his voice softer, but that doesn’t help. Just because he doesn’t yell at you doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt — once again being shown by his actions that he thinks you can’t handle something.

“Fine, then, just go,” you look back up at William’s face on the screen. “We’ll be here when you get back.”

Everyone leaves quickly, except Hotch who lingers a bit in the doorway, like there are words just at the tip of his tongue. He calls your name once, but you shake your head.

“Go,” you repeat, just barely looking at him over your shoulder. “Take some food for the plane,” you gesture to the breakfast that is nearly forgotten. “Go.”

[shaibonbon]

Was there a particular event in Bonbon's life that caused her shift in personality from happy Minibon to current adult Bon?

(For the lazy readers) Yes. As much as I say it was a gradual change, I can divide it up into 4 major events and from those events, the 3rd one is (imo) the most impactful one on her personality shift. Tdlr, in 7th grade she ends up changing classes and ends up with no friends and with falling grades, that spills into disaster. Warning, Big lore dump bellow:

(Now the yapping answer for Edu, since you are the only one reading all of it. If you aren't Edu and read all of this, please say something I will give u a cookie). To talk about it, I need to give some context about the previous stages. Her life doesn't happen in a vacuum, so the events that came beforehand, already changed shaped in ways that matter (and we have to be on the same page here).

I want to say, this is all a bit WIP, I don't have good names for the events despite having somewhat clear timelines, it goes: Birthday Party, School change, 7th grade, and graduation.

Birthday Party

This takes place when Bonbon is very young (the bon on the left in the drawing). It is also what I was drawing on that unfinished comic 💔. I still plan to BUT, I have been thinking, and I will probably draw some simpler episodes before that comic. Anyhow, the consequences of that party is in a way where it all began. Like I did put in the sheet, Mini Bon is a very energetic cute bunny, and in almost natural way she tried talking with the entire class and considered everyone, even some outside of it, as friends. That all stops after the party. Kinda like a harsh dose of reality is injected all at once on her special day. Her trust with everyone, including her closest friends, suffers greatly and she gets hugely upset. From the this point forward, she kinda pulls back from interacting with most of them. She becomes more cautious, more insecure and far less extroverted. And welp, from the pov of an outsider you would look at her after a few weeks the effects might seem "subtle", but they linger on for the next years and have an impact, even if she doesn't realize it or thinks about it. (This event is probably the one I need to work out more, so if it feels a bit empty thats why)

School change

it's fairly obvious how impactful this one can be. Bon unlike her former classmates, ends up changing to a school in a different on village. It's scary, new environment, new schedules and routines, lots of new people, teachers and expectations. Bon doesn't handle it well. For example, the new schedule means she has to wake up way earlier while arriving home later. While this isn't that bad, it does mean she is more tired and has less free time to have fun. While the new routine it's a bit brutal for her initially, she struggles a lot. Getting the wrong bus, leaving the wrong bus stop, missing the bus, and many other things she screws up that I won't dive rn (future comic episodes perhaps) Trying to make new friends is not easy either. All classmates already know each other and have their friends group formed. It leaves her into this situation when the bell rings, she is left awkwardly alone. Bon becomes more anxious, shy and bit more withdrawn.

It's not all bad luck, Bon gets "adopted" by Cinnamon (who's design I haven't shown yet) and they become such good friends they turn into besties. At this moment you see the previous event affect how she behaves, no longer being the extrovert, she was and being far more cautious with who she chooses to be friends, she ends up focusing on just this one friendship. Quality>quantity way. This for real helps her survive the next 2 years in that school. Sounds good eh? Still, the silly nerd mini bon you see me post around, only exists to those who are closest to her (Cinnamon). Rest of the class knows nothing about her, to them she is just a quiet ghost during class and outside nobody. They don't really care either. Neither does bon, she already has what she wanted.

7th Grade

Ah the breaking point! (middle bon in the drawing) After 2 years, due to the school system works and the subjects she picked, she gets shuffled to a total different class. Cinnamon, despite still being in the same school, stops passing most time with Bon. Not only their calendars don't match up, them having no means of contact outside of school, and having classes in different blocks of school meant they really only saw each other a few times a week. Cinnamon meanwhile just made new cool friends, ending up passing time with them instead. (dw bon, at least you had to be replaced by like 5 people) Bonbon on the other hand fails to connect with any new people (partly a lot due to the 2 previous phases). it's not for a lack of trying mind you, she really doesn't connect with anyone the same way she did with the fox, she got extremely unlucky.

Another factor into play, 7th grade is when school gets more serious. Bon is a intelligent person, but that actually backfired on her. She never felt the need to study or work outside of school. What she learned in class was usually enough for her to get average-good grades. But from this point onward you had to study and practice. But when you pass most of your life without studying, you don't learn or get the motivation to do it from one day to the other. Nor do you make it a habit. (hint: she starts falling) To make it worse, school calendar just got brutal, she could be waking up at like 7:00 and arriving home at 19:40. Aside from being extremely boring, it sucks the energy out of you. You arrive home and the last thing you want to see is a freaking textbook. You just want to relax and have fun for once, so you you game a little too much.

I want to put yourself in her boots. You have basically no friends, your grades in school plummet, no matter how hard you try. At the same time you arrive home constantly tired and drained, also you are a teen, puberty is a thing and it does affect your behavior. How would you feel? Welp, for this poor teen bunny girl, saying she got very upset is to put it lightly. It nukes her self-esteem, everything just starts feeling hopeless to her. Small things change, thinking of a pretty outfit becomes an annoying chore, and no one would care either way, so you skip that for the extra minutes of sleep. Quickly, trying to talk with people at school takes too much energy and feels like a waste. You become grumpy, closed of and rude sometimes. Hard to find reasons to smile when life sucks am right? I could go on but you probably get how this is the most significant "major point" bc she gets very similar to how Bonbon is later in life. It's basically the middle ground between the 2 phases, you can still make her smile, she still would appreciate if you talked to her. Her eyes will light up if you bring a topic she likes. This phase lasts for around 2 years, think of it as a big storm. (in the drawing this is Bonbon on the right) Afterwards she manages to enter contact with Cinnamon outside of school and they reconnect again. Her grades are no longer going in into hell, heck some improve. Later on she gets lucky and even lands in the same class of Cinnamon again. Life starts to look up til-

Graduation, it is the final one, which I will leave for another day or ask. The final piece for how she becomes nowadays Bonbon.

I hope you enjoyed reading this very WIP, cringe, badly written lore dump. Hopefully it gives y'all a clearer picture of what I'm aiming for tho, and that I in fact do have in mind a clear story and episodes layed out for Bonbon. (Granted i have to write them and draw them). Of course I didn't go into much detail, I mainly explained the consequences of each phase. I didn't go through the episodes of those phases, since many of these "events", (or the correct word would be "phases") last a few years and are a lot of episodes together. Welp thank you<33.

[pankowcrumbs]

Skirt X Eddie Munson

MasterList

Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist

It had been an oddly quiet evening. The kind that stretches long and slow like honey dripping from a spoon. Outside, rain tapped gently at the windows like a metronome, the occasional rumble of thunder making the lights flicker ever so slightly. The kind of evening where you couldn’t help but want to be tangled up in someone else and in this case, that someone was currently hunched over his guitar, scribbling notes in a worn, coffee-stained notebook.

Eddie Munson, the love of my life and bane of my current cuddle-starved existence.

“Baby,” I called from the sofa, stretching like a cat, my arms above my head as I nestled deeper into the throw blanket. “Come cuddle me. It’s practically written in the rain.”

“I will in a bit,” he muttered distractedly, strumming a chord and frowning when it didn’t sound the way he wanted it to.

“That’s what you said twenty minutes ago.” I pouted, poking my toes out from under the blanket. “You’ve been working on that same verse for hours.”

Eddie glanced up briefly, curls messy, pencil tucked behind his ear, that little furrow in his brow that always formed when he was stuck. He was frustratingly beautiful when he was focused. He looked like trouble incarnate with his tattooed fingers and wild hair, and yet, right now, I wanted nothing more than for him to drop that damn guitar and wrap his arms around me.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, “I just need to finish this one thing. I’m nearly there, I promise.”

I paused, watching him. The way his lip curled as he muttered the line under his breath, the frustrated scratch of his pencil on the page. I knew he meant well. But I also knew how to get his attention.

“Fine,” I said, voice sugary-sweet. “Come cuddle me, and I’ll let you put your hand up my skirt.”

That made him look up.

I didn’t stop there.

“We can even make a game out of it,” I added, lazily twirling a lock of my hair. “See how long I can go without making a sound.”

Eddie blinked once. Then again. His pencil dropped.

“You’re evil,” he said, his tone hoarse with sudden interest.

“You love it.”

He set the guitar down so fast it thudded against the carpet.

In three long strides, he was across the room, dramatically tossing the blanket off me and sliding onto the sofa like a man possessed. His hands found my waist instantly, tugging me toward him as he buried his face into the crook of my neck.

“You really play dirty, you know that?” he murmured, voice rough and low.

I giggled, already breathless. “I learned from the best.”

“Is that so?” His fingers skimmed down my thigh, slow and teasing. “What else did I teach you, hm?”

I leaned back against the arm of the couch, legs draped across his lap, heart thudding against my ribs. He was warm and solid, the scent of him familiar leather, smoke, and something distinctly Eddie. His hand slid under the hem of my oversized tee, the tips of his fingers brushing my skin like he was memorising it.

“You okay?” he asked gently, his voice a notch softer.

I nodded, cheeks already flushed. “Yeah. Just… don’t rush.”

“I’d never,” he whispered. “You lead. I follow.”

And he meant it. That’s what I loved about him his patience beneath all that chaos. He might have had the swagger of a rockstar and the mouth of a sailor, but when it came to me, he was all tenderness.

I leaned forward and kissed him, slow and lingering. His hand moved up to cradle the back of my neck, deepening the kiss with just the right amount of pressure. My fingers threaded through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.

“You’re really not finishing that verse tonight, are you?” I murmured against his lips.

“Sweetheart, that verse never stood a chance the second you said ‘skirt.’”

I burst out laughing, head falling back against the cushions.

He kissed my throat, just under my jaw. “I love you, you know.”

“I know,” I whispered, eyes fluttering shut. “I love you too.”

The rain carried on outside, a slow, steady rhythm to match the warmth pooling between us. His hand never wandered far, always asking silently with every movement. When I shifted, guiding him closer, he followed willingly, lips finding mine again, tongue brushing over mine in a kiss that promised more.

And when things finally drifted beyond the point of return, when our kisses turned heavier, hungrier, I knew I’d never felt more wanted and more safe in anyone’s arms.

We didn’t rush. We explored. We laughed in between kisses. He whispered things that made me blush and things that made me ache in the best way. And when we finally gave in to the heat building between us, it wasn’t just physical it was everything we’d ever been.

Afterwards, we stayed tangled up in each other, limbs lazy and hearts full.

“That was…” I began, but trailed off, too happy to find the right word.

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah. It really was.”

Silence fell for a moment, broken only by the rain and the occasional sound of the wind.

“I do still want cuddles though,” I mumbled against his chest.

He kissed my forehead. “You’ll have to fight me to stop cuddling you now.”

We’d somehow migrated to the floor, still wrapped in the throw blanket, surrounded by the remnants of a half-eaten pizza and forgotten notebook pages. Eddie was drawing lazy shapes on my bare shoulder with his fingers.

“You know,” he murmured, “I’ve written songs for you in my head I haven’t even dared to put on paper yet.”

I looked up, touched. “Why not?”

“Because they’re too soft. Too much. People expect me to write about chaos and fire and... darkness.” He shrugged. “But you make me want to write about softness. Like... like clouds and sunlight and the way you smell like lavender.”

I smiled so wide my cheeks hurt.

“You can still be chaos, Eddie,” I said softly, “but I like knowing I’m your calm.”

He didn’t reply right away just pulled me tighter.

“Next time I get stuck on a verse, remind me to put my hand up your skirt. Apparently, it works wonders for inspiration.”

I swatted him playfully. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet... you still love me.”

“Completely.”

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Whumpee (Nico) Drugged for His Own Good part 15

Warnings: runaway whumpee, severe infection & fever, MED WHUMP, forced medical care, friend betrayal for the greater health of whumpee, sedation

This wonderful anon requested some juicy forced medical care whump sprinkled into this series, so I made it happen! :)

Nico could feel it now. The casts on both legs, even though his head still felt too heavy to move and look at them. The IV needles in his arms supplying painkillers and nutrients to his weak body. No.

"Why'd you run from Amelia?" Medic asked quietly. "She was helping you get better." He reached to adjust one of the needles taped to Nico's arm, but Nico jerked away -- before suddenly realizing he couldn't go far.

He glanced down in a mix of hurt, shock, betrayal and outright panic when he glimpsed the padded leather cuffs around his wrists, restraining him to the medical bed.

Marcus appeared next to Medic, guilt and regret twisting his features. "We're sorry, but... you've proven you'll only hurt yourself if you're left to your own devices. Whether you like it or not, you need help to heal. The infection has gotten out of hand, and could have killed you had we not found you in time--"

"GET AWAY!" Nico shrieked, and started thrashing desperately, yanking at his restraints and discovering that even his ankles were cuffed down. He was trapped.

Just like Villain had me, his mind whispered. I'm trapped again. And this time there's not even a flicker of a chance of escape.

Nico's breaths came in shallow pants as he panicked, hysterical with terror. He couldn't stop struggling even though he knew it was futile. The instinctual NEED to get out of here was all that was driving him.

"Dang it -- heart rate's spiking," Medic growled. "Nico, listen to me man -- you have to calm down. Your body can't handle this right now."

But Nico was too lost in the overwhelming fear overriding all logic. He couldn't stop.

"I'm gonna have to put him back under to keep him from overstraining himself," Medic barked. "Hold his head still so I can get a sedative in his neck."

"No! DON'T FREAKING TOUCH ME!" Nico screeched, throwing his head sideways in a desperate attempt to evade the hands reaching for him.

But there was nowhere he could go. He recognized Marcus's hands on either side of his jaw, rough and calloused like they were as they held his head still, and Amelia's softer hands gently holding down his shoulders.

"LET GO!" Nico howled, doing his best to crane his head around and sink his teeth into any flesh he could reach. Bite the hands holding him. "That's an order, don't you dare disobey it!"

But Marcus was quick to shift his grip to a better position where he could hold Nico's head and avoid getting bitten. And they both knew Nico didn't hold any authority anymore as team leader.

Nico was hyperventilating, barely hearing the words of reassurance from his teammates as they carefully held him still while Medic prepared the sedative to knock him out.

Not again -- NOT AGAIN! Nico's mind screamed helplessly. He let out an anguished wail when he felt the prick of a needle in his neck, his sight almost instantly going fuzzy as the drugs were injected into his bloodstream.

"Please..." he whined pitifully, voice slurring. "Don't do this..."

"You need to heal, Nico. We'll talk more about what happens next once you've recovered a bit. I swear you'll feel better soon." He was pretty sure that was Medic's voice speaking, but it was all fading away now, the color bleeding away from the world as his eyes rolled back in his skull -- and he blissfully passed out.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @written-in-the-stars135 @neverthelass

@starz8nk @redwinesupanover @whumpisgoodwhumpislife @theforeverdyingperson

@f1sh-bone @whumped4whumplover @theasexualwriterrat @whatwhump

[balek-noname]

Jason birthday

I'll hold your hand when i get my scenario out alright, don't misunderstood what im saying ok.its not a "ThE bAtfAM dOnT CaRe FOr PooR JAsOn" kind of post.

To put some context, i recently forgot the birthday of one of my closest friend because i had 2really busy and stressful months. Anyway all that made me think of how easy it is to forget that kind of things when you get lost in your little routine,when every day look alike but some how you still manage to get bad news every day, even if you think of the person like really frequently.

So imagine, the whole death followed by resurrection happens, think go how they suppose to go anyway, at some point jason and bruce are somewhat amicable and he pass by the manor every once in a while for XY reason.

Now you have to understand that jason birthday wasn't celebrated for at least 4-5years, because:

he was dead ,and it’s kind of awkward to throw a party for a dead guy. It became somewhat of a sorrow date ,but there was still one that outshined it , the day of his death. His family with the pain of losing a child,a brother,the guilt and remorse coming with it , preferred to think of the day that took him away from them rather than the one where he came to be. It become something that they brush under the rugs (because it makes them realise so much more fuckup things that they knew would ruin their mental state further ). Expecially as the family grows, nobody really know when it is and the ones who knows never mention it .

At some point of course he came back to Gotham but they weren't that kind of close anymore , he became something they knew they couldn’t accept, a guy that didn’t valued life enough . But it was still their Jason , so they had to shut down when they knew he wouldn’t back down , still to protect themselves from the pain. It wasn’t Jason who died tragically in front of them , he was red hood that they had to work against.

and even at this point in the scenario where they made some kind of peace ,he isn't a frequent guest of the manor. When the period surrounding his death anniversary arrives , nobody could find him , even in the back alleys and streets he made himself quieter and smaller.

And life goes on ,and that one day arrive, jason dont like that day but he make it through, visit the grave of his parent like he did every year since he got back to gotham. Spent a few hours on the phone with his friends who wanted to plan something later in the week despite his reluctance . Went through his old street, buy treats for the dogs there, helped an old lady with her groceries, play with kids at basketball and stopped a purse thief. He had done everything he could to makes himself forget which day it was and try to go the fartest away from the people knowing how important of a date it was,but hey he couldn’t push the forward button anyway so he would make it somewhat enjoyable .

20h00 arrive on the digitalclock of his appartement, since the start of the day nobody in his family reach out to tell him happy birthday, he is relieved he didn't want them to,right? He didn't go back at his appartement to make himself findeble he was just tired.

21h00,nothing.

22h00,nothing.

23h00,nothing.

23h58,jason stare at his ceiling, incapable of sleeping . Of course they didn't care,maybe his past was too much to forget.

Nobody hear from him for weeks after that , he wasn’t hurt just…busy.

Nobody knew why , but Jason wasn’t known for his social tendencies, anyway as long as he doesn’t get back to his old ways it’s ok. After all they had busy weeks and were too out of it to worry.

“Wait,what do you mean August was week ago,aren’t we in July??”

[dandylion240]

“Where do you want this” Jayden asked as he came through the door of the shelter.

“Over here.”

Jayden turned towards the the voice directing him, hoping his arms held up long enough.

“Let me help” a perky voice offered as the sound of feet scurried towards him.

With the help of Miss Perky Voice he managed not to drop the heavy box. “Thanks” he panted, now that the box was out of his arms.

“No problemo” his helper said sticking her hand out “I’m Amanda. Mandi if you like.”

Shaking her hand, Jayden grinned grinning “its nice to meet you.”

“Your Jayden aren’t you” she beamed up at him “Evan talks about you all the time.”

“He does” he asked sitting on the edge of the table.

“Yeah” her ponytail bounced around her head.

“What does he say about me” curiosity getting the best of him.

“Nothing bad” she teased stepping closer like she were about to share a secret. Crooking a finger for him to lean in close “he loves you.”

Smirking he nodded “he told you that did he?”

“Not in so many words but I can tell” she gazed at him almost daring him to say otherwise.

Unsure what to say to that Jayden stood up stretching. “Well I better get back to work. I’ve got a truck full of boxes to unload.”

“Want some help” she offered following him.

“They might be too heavy for you.”

“I’m stronger than I look” she assured him.

“In that case I welcome the help” he smiled beginning to like the talkative girl. Reaching the door he held it open for her but she walked past him. “Hey where are you going? I thought you were going to help.” She simply waved him on as she kept on walking.

A few minutes later as he was lugging in another heavy box he saw her coming towards him with a grin on her face. She was pushing a dolly with several boxes from the truck on it.

“See” she giggled “I told you I’d help.”

Scratching his head watching her “why didn’t I think of that?”

“As my mom always says work smarter not harder” she rolled her eyes at him “you’re such a guy.”

Snorting as he helped her empty the dolly “there are those who would disagree with that.”

“Then tell them to come talk to me and I’ll set them straight” she dead panned.

“I bet you would” he laughed “once the truck is empty what do we do?”

“We sort it all” she shook her head at him like it should have been obvious. “Hopefully out of all this there will be items that will fill a few Christmas lists.”

“Let’s hope so” he agreed somewhat daunted at the task.

“Ready to go home” Evan asked as he joined Jayden as he stood sorting.

Stretching Jayden smiled up at him “all done?”

“For today” he closed his eyes leaning into Jayden “this year there’s so many kids.”

Jayden could hear the frustration and weariness in Evan's voice. Putting an arm around him he began walking towards the exit “You do realize you can’t help everyone right?”

“I can try” he said with dogged stubbornness.

Frowning Jayden held the door open for him “there’s only so much any of us can do. I wish there was more we could do but there isn’t.”

“But” he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say as he felt Jayden pull him close as they stood outside on the snowy sidewalk. “I should really stay. There’s so much work to do to get things ready for the annual Christmas party.”

Kissing Evan's forehead Jayden shook his head. “They can manage without us. You’ve done enough. You need to rest.”

“But” he half turned towards the door they just came out of.

“No buts” Jayden insisted “you once told me you were pregnant not sick.” Putting finger over Evan’s lips he continued “but if you keep going at this pace you will be sick. You need to rest.”

“I …. guess.”

“There’s no ‘I guess’. I know” Jayden grinned taking his hand and leading Evan towards the parking lot. “You’re so tired right now I bet you’ll be asleep before we get home.”

“I can’t help it. There’s so much that needs to be done” he yawned leaning more on Jayden as they walked “I really should stay. Last year they counted on me to get everything organized.”

“If I promise to come back tomorrow will you let me take you home?”

“You’d do that for me” Evan blinked at him.

“Anything to get you to put your feet up and rest” he asserted.

“What about the kids” Evan asked not satisfied with his response. “Will you do it for the kids like Mandi?”

“Huh” Jayden grunted “isn’t she a volunteer like us?”

“No” Evan shook his head sadly “her family lost everything in a fire. Before that her parents had both lost their jobs. She comes here to have something to do.”

“I had no idea” he sighed “I just thought she was a volunteer. She’s so bubbly and energetic.”

“I know” Evan agreed “it makes you want to do even more when you hear the stories of those we’re helping.”

“I’m beginning to understand” Jayden admitted. There was more he wanted to say but the sight of his car and the four flat tires took every other thought from his mind “damn it.”

“What” Evan asked confused.

“Someone has slashed the tires” he hurried forward kicking at the left back tire with his toes.

Whirling around at the sound of laughter coming from the alley. Jayden came face to face with the source of the laughter, a young boy sitting next to a dumpster in a thin jacket barely more than a windbreaker. “Did you do this” Jayden demanded.

“Nope” shaking his head unconcerned with the anger being directed at him. “Why’d I wanta do that? It’s more fun watch’in ya lose your shit.”

“Did you see who did it?”

“How much it worth to ya” he scrambled to his feet holding his hand out, fingers red and chapped from the cold.

Staring at the outstretched hand a moment before slowly giving the kid all the spare change he had in his pocket with a few dollar bills mixed in. The boy frowned at the offering before shoving it in his pocket. “Some guy” he mumbled before turning and shuffling away down the alley.

“Wait” Jayden called after him. “What did this guy look like?”

“That’ll be extra” the boy said sizing up the two young men in front of him. Walking towards them the bottom of his old sneakers catching on a crack in the sidewalk tearing further and almost tripping him.

“You should go inside the shelter” Evan suggested “they’ll give you better shoes and a coat that’ll keep you warm.”

“Noth’in wrong with what I have” the boy snapped spitting into the snow.

“There’s food too” Evan continued his instincts to help this kid taking over.

A look of disdain flickered across the boys dirty face “are you one of those do gooders”?

Recognizing the identical stubborn looks, Jayden knew Evan was as determined to get the boy inside the shelter as the boy was adamant not to go inside. Shaking his head at the standoff he said “if I give you a twenty will you tell me what you saw?”

Turning his attention to Jayden with renewed interest. Holding his hand out he demanded “give it.”

Nodding towards the shelter "only if you promise to go to the shelter as my fiance suggested.”

“Yeah yeah” he waggled his fingers impatiently.

Glancing at Evan, he shrugged as if to say what else can I do. “Alright” he laid the twenty into the open grubby palm.

“It was some old dude in a hoodie” he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to walk away.

“Not so fast” Jayden stepped in front of him “for twenty bucks I expected a little more than that.”

“What you expect and what you get are two different things” he quipped. “Information’s not cheap. But he had dark hair and eyes” stepping back “he was humming something too.”

“What” Jayden asked determined to get as much out of the kid as he could.

“How should I know” he spat “some Christmas song. It’s playing all the time.”

The door to the shelter opened the musical notes of All I Want for Christmas could be heard until the door shut again. “That’s it. That’s what he was humming” the boy shouted before he sprinted down the alley.

Previous/Next

[omg-snakes]

I was so, so lucky to meet a very special trio of snakes for a class I'm taking on methods in field ecology. One of my two professors is a specialist in garter snakes and was kind enough to bring three different species in for us to compare in person and observe up close. The first was the gorgeous common garter snake, Thamnophis sirtalis, pictures above. She was so calm and well-mannered!

Next was this tiny (by comparison) T. elegans dude, a western garter snake, who was wary of the camera but very patient about being passed around by a group of excited college students. He matched my classmate's sweater perfectly!

Finally, an endangered and incredibly precious T. gigas, the giant garter snake. She's about half of her maximum adult size, so a giant indeed! She musked and peed a bit but for the most part this gojira-faced beauty was pretty chill. We got to observe a full work-up for her including documenting records and microchipping.

She's one of the last of her species. Despite Herculean efforts by her protectors and conservation experts (mostly just one man and his dedicated team), this is a very difficult species to observe in the wild and their habitats are disappearing faster than their need for prioritization of protection in a given area can be assessed. These snakes rely on riparian habitat near rivers, which is also unfortunately a favorite for human development. At this time we don't know how exactly many giant garter snakes are left or whether their current populations are stable.

Today we got to visit their marshland habitat and watch these three go back to the place where they were caught. It was a huge honor and something I'll carry with me forever.

[andy-clutterbuck]

Andy behind the scenes of The Ones Who Live

[xaverie]

And you know what? I-

...what was that?

O-okay...

--James?!

Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc. (ΔΣΘ) is a historically African American sorority. The organization was founded by college-educated women dedicated to public service with an emphasis on programs that assist the African American community. Delta Sigma Theta was founded on January 13, 1913 by twenty-two women at Howard University in Washington, D.C. Membership is open to any woman, regardless of religion, race, or nationality. Women may apply to join through undergraduate chapters at a college or university or through an alumnae chapter after earning a college degree.

[simiansmoke]

"What if King Boo licked you, would it be considered a bath... or like, smthin else. considering his tongue pretty big not gonna lie"

"...uhh-NO...?? Baths and grooming are from Kong to Kong only! And potentially other uh...species Kongs might...intermingle with-..."

"NOT THAT THEY DO OR ANYTHING-! Wait...whaddya mean 'SOMETHING ELSE'?!"

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Whumpee (Nico) Drugged for His Own Good part 13

Warnings: runaway whumpee, severe infection & fever

The noise of traffic roaring past was constant and deafening... until it suddenly wasn't. And that's when he knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

He stopped limping for a minute in confusion, panting from the effort as he craned his head to look behind him where he'd come, peering through hazy vision to see what was happening. Why was the world so dang blurry??

But when he finally managed to focus his vision on what was going on at the end of the bridge, his eyes widened with horror, his heart plummeting to the soles of his feet with dread. There were several police cars parked there blocking all traffic from going on the bridge, none of which had their sirens on, only lights -- to avoid alerting him of their presence. Nico's eyes snapped desperately to the other side of the bridge, the way he was heading to escape -- and police cars had blocked off that end of the bridge too. He'd been caught.

Nico wanted to break down sobbing. He'd been so close to making it out of his home city, to where he could leave his team behind and start fresh somewhere else. He'd only had half a bridge left to walk before his freedom would be reality.

But how had his friends found him?? And how had they gotten the police forces in both cities to work together to corner him on the bridge and cut off his escape?

Nico bit back a wail of despair as one non-police car was let onto the bridge, driving over to him. He knew exactly who would be in it. So it was no surprise when the vehicle came to a stop near him, and several of his friends came flooding out.

Medic, Amelia... even Marcus was here, curse it all. The dreadful trio.

Nico backed up as they approached until he was at the very edge of the bridge and could retreat no further, trembling all over.

All three of his friends froze, except Medic, who took a step forward with hands raised placatingly. "Nico, listen--"

"How did you find me?" Nico snarled.

Medic's lips tightened. "You have to under-"

"I asked how the hell did you find me?"

Medic shared a glance backward with Amelia and Marcus. "We put out missing person notices everywhere. Someone was driving by and recognized you, then called us.” He took another cautious step closer. "Nico please--"

"Stay back!" Nico barked, swaying unsteadily and dangerously close to falling off the bridge. "I don't want your help! Any of you! I won't trust you again!"

Medic flinched, eyes wide. "You're unwell," he spoke calmly, trying to soothe Nico's panic. "I can see it in your face. You need help. Badly. We're lucky we found you now before you got yourself killed -- you look one heartbeat away from collapsing."

He's right, you know, Villain's phantom voice hissed to Nico. You're actively dying, like I said before. How pathetic. Poor, poor little you--

"Nnnggh... s-stop it..." Nico clutched his head in his hands. "You're not real! Leave me alone!"

"Who are you talking to?" Medic frowned worriedly. "If you're hearing things we really need to get you to a hospital. You're looking pale and clammy like you're one second away from passing out. Can you please come away from the edge?"

Nico started hyperventilating. This was all going wrong. Villain was shouting in his head, Medic was saying something else, his head was pounding with pain and fever--

Too much. Too much. He just wanted everything to STOP.

His vision was going double, the world swimming and warping in weird ways before his eyes, and darkness was rapidly creeping in on him from all sides.

His legs went weak, and he staggered heavily to the side -- but one foot didn't land on solid ground.

"NICO!"

He was distantly aware of someone screaming his name, but the voice sounded... so far away...

He felt the rough texture of the bridge as his torso hit it, before he was falling through the air toward the frigid waters below. His mind was full of cotton, and there was the distinct tinge of fear spiking through him -- but it felt muted, dulled. Detached from reality.

His sight left him a millisecond before he hit the water, the coldness enveloping him completely. He didn't fight it -- everything hurt too much. He was cold, exhausted, and in pain. All he could do was float, and give in to the darkness consuming him.

And it was peaceful like that, in the way death is.

Cold and silent. Dark and calm.

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